It almost looked like Brinkley might burst into tears when he found out that he wasn’t coming with us on the private jet to track down Joe’s data-hacking ex-girlfriend, Harlow.
My assistant has been on numerous luxurious vacations with me, so I’m sure his crushed feelings were more about not getting to spend time with Joe than about missing out on the cushy plane ride.
I would have probably caved and let him come along, if I didn’t secretly want to spend some quality alone-time with Joe. The man is a bit of an enigma––a dazzling, magnetic enigma.
On the one hand, the information Joe sold about my family and the potential for copycat leaks is wreaking havoc on our lives. The private information he found started a chain reaction that has my grandfather looking wan and truly worried for the first time that I can ever remember. That stoic man is normally able to calmly handle anything that life throws his way. Whatever this additional secret is has him truly rattled. And none of this would be happening if Joe hadn’t started this mess.
On the other hand, I’m attracted to Joe in a way that I haven’t experienced in a very long time––too long. He’s strong, smart, and so damn sexy.
His Henley shirt is a size too small, which allows me to see his muscles ripple whenever he moves his arms. And those blue jeans… Suffice it to say, they hug him tight in all the right places. It’s all I can do not to stare and drool.
The man exudes raw sexuality from his pores. I can’t even begin to imagine how glorious it would be to be writhing beneath him or bouncing atop him as we claim each other.
I’m beyond curious to see what his ex-girlfriend looks like. He mentioned that their relationship didn’t end on good terms, but does he still have lingering feelings for her? When the two of them see each other again, will it cause a steamy rekindling of their romance? I sure as hell hope not.
Even though Joe is merely a contractor doing work for me, and I have no right to stake a claim on him, the thought of him reuniting with his ex-love makes my insides feel jittery and jiggly in a nauseating way.
When we board my company’s jet, Joe lets out a low whistle, which I now recognize as his way of nonverbally expressing that he’s impressed by what he sees. This time, he adds, “Nice digs.”
“I’m glad you approve.” I give him a wide smile, enjoying sharing this plush side of my life with him.
When Flo, our flight attendant, asks what we would like for dinner, I turn to look at Joe. “Is sushi okay?”
“Umm, not if you want me to eat it,” he answers with a look of pure disgust pinching his features.
“What would you like?” Flo asks him.
“Don’t you have any normal food, like chicken fingers, or something? Just feed me like a hungry eight-year-old,” he answers.
“I’ll see what I can do,” the efficient woman responds.
Not wanting there to be any confusion, I say, “I’ll still have the sushi.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Flo says, already on her way to make it happen.
When our food arrives, I grin over at Joe’s plate before teasing him, “Would you like a juice box with that?”
“Very funny,” he grumbles, but the sly grin on his face makes it obvious that he’s amused. Proving that he’s a good sport, he adds, “I prefer chocolate milk with my chicky nuggies.”
The surprised laugh bursts out of me. I’ve never known such a big, strong, masculine man to be so comfortable making fun of himself.
In a matter of moments, Flo presents Joe with a tall glass of chocolate milk with a curly straw.
The surprised man says, “Oh, I was just kidding.”
“All right, then,” Flo says, already moving to return the beverage to the galley.
Joe stops her by saying, “But since you made it, I’ll gladly drink it.”
When he makes grabby hands for the glass, Flo and I both laugh at the ridiculous man. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Flo be anything but a staunch professional.
The lovely sound of her laughter makes me realize that in all of these years, I’ve never properly thanked the woman for constantly being on-call to drop everything at a moment’s notice and fly wherever I say, while efficiently taking care of anything I want during our flights.
Giving her a genuine smile, I say, “I don’t know how you do it, Flo. I’ve never brought a child on board the jet, yet you had the right ingredients to make this big kid happy.”
I thumb Joe before adding, “You’ve never failed to make any of my crazy requests a reality. You’re wonderful at this job. Thank you.”
The woman flushes at my sincere compliment. “Oh, Ms. Morrow, that’s so kind of you to say.”
“Call me Alex,” I offer, surprised to find that I’ve never suggested the informality before.
“Thank you, Alex,” the woman says before heading back to the galley.
Joe is giving me a warm smile. “You made her day.”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on me.” Although I make the statement in a teasing tone, there’s more truth to it than I’d like to admit.
I’ve been lax about making sure that my staff members feel valued and appreciated, so I silently vow to be better about that going forward. Deep down, I know that I’m not any better than anyone else, but the status and power that comes from my family’s wealth can make that fact easy to forget when everyone is constantly jumping through burning hoops to keep me happy.
As soon as we finish eating, Flo arrives to clear away our dishes. “We have almost four more hours of flight time, if you’d like to get some sleep.”
“Good idea,” I respond.
Flo is already walking away when it hits me. The expression on my face must betray how distraught I feel because Joe asks, “What’s wrong?”
When I don’t immediately answer, he says, “Let me guess, there’s only one bed to sleep in. Is this your slick way of seducing me?”
“Yes… I mean, no.” I stammer. At Joe’s confused expression, I clarify, “Yes there’s only one bed, but that’s not what’s upsetting me.”
“Oh really?” Joe waggles his thick eyebrows suggestively.
I roll my eyes at the man’s overt flirtation. “Yes, really. You can have the bed, and I’ll stay out here. The seats recline all the way back.”
After I lean my chair back, Joe says, “You take the bedroom, and I’ll sleep out here. My mama would take away my Southern Gentleman card if I stole a woman’s bed.”
I grin at the silly man before saying, “No, really, it’s fine. I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”
Giving me an assessing gaze, he says, “Don’t tell me that you’re one of those workaholics whose mind never shuts off long enough to allow for sleep.”
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
He continues staring, making it obvious that he’s not going to let it go until he knows what is bothering me. Huffing out an exasperated breath, I finally say, “I never sleep without my stuffy.”
“Your stuffy? Is that some kind of fancy, high-tech breathing apparatus?” he asks, obviously confused.
“No, he’s my stuffed bunny, Mr. Fluffy.”
“It’s not an actual rabbit that’s been preserved through taxidermy, is it?” he asks.
“Eww, no! That’s disgusting,” I grouch, annoyed that he would think that of me.
He shrugs his wide shoulders. “Rich people are an eccentric bunch.”
“Mr. Fluffy is no more real than a teddy bear,” I assure him.
Despite how much I keep silently telling myself that Joe has no right to judge me, I feel my cheeks heat at the amused look he gives me after my embarrassing admission sinks in.
“So, the great Alexandra Morrow still sleeps with a stuffed animal every night?” He’s quirking one eye brow as if he can’t quite believe it.
“So what?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “Mr. Fluffy is soft and warm. Snuggling up next to him comforts me and helps me relax.”
Joe shifts in his seat before saying under his breath, “I never imagined that I’d be jealous of a stuffed animal.”