Page 19 of Forbidden Eyes
And the guilt starts again.
My brief conversation with Carter last night distracted me from that particular emotion and replaced it with a more unfamiliar one. Not in this moment, though.
I finish the rest of my coffee and squeeze Emily’s shoulder as I pass on the way back up to my room. It’s nine thirty, and there’s no way I’m risking being late for Carter this morning.
Auntie Gabby and Aunt Emily came back late last night with several bags full of clothes for me. I had to borrow the bikini, but they doubled the wardrobe I carried with me from home. Most of the new clothes are now packed ready for my adventure, although I have no idea what we’ll be doing or what I should wear. There isn't a suit or formal pants in the collection. Just some tidy jeans, a couple of tops and a pretty dress. Nothing that indicates business.
Back home, it’s rare I need to dress up. My wardrobe contains all the clothes I’ve ever needed from the most desirable fashion names, but what’s the point of them if I never go anywhere or do anything that warrants me wearing them?
At ten before ten I head downstairs with my bag and linger in the lobby. My stomach is uneasy, and I can’t keep still, walking back and forth over the same couple of metres. It’s just excitement—excitement that I'm finally doing something. Nothing to do with the gorgeous man I'm flying off to Miami with.
Not at all.
“Ready?” his low, husky voice asks, startling me.
Carter stands in the doorway, dressed in an impeccable suit that only emphasises his build. But his face is flat. No emotion. Nothing I can read as either enthusiasm or impatience.
I nod, having lost my tongue once again, and follow as he leads the way to his car. As I dump my bag in the backseat my brain starts to switch back on. Questions begin to fire in my mind, but as soon as he starts the engine, and I watch his hands grip the leather of the steering wheel, they vanish. His presence and my proximity to him wipe out the brain cells that have never failed me before now. My eyes watch his hands as he tightens and relaxes his grip. All the heat of my blood rushes to my chest and my stomach as I assess his strength. His control.
I look away, frustrated with myself, and stare out the window as Carter drives. I'll focus my attention on anything but my companion, hoping sensible Fia materialises.
The journey is short, and we’re at the airfield in under twenty minutes. “This isn’t O’Hare.”
“Good observation,”
“I thought we were flying to Miami.”
“We are.” Carter doesn’t elaborate. Of course, we wouldn’t take a commercial flight. The holidays and trips we’ve taken have always been private. Why would Uncle Quinn operate any differently?
“Is this a company jet or chartered?”
“The company.”
I’m getting pretty fed up of the brief answers, but I need the blood to return to my brain in order to engage in some actual conversation. It’s like Carter has cast a spell over me, taking me back to the sixth grade. Add in my genuine excitement at getting a glimpse into a new world, and I can see why I feel like a schoolgirl again.
We drive around to a small hanger where there is a sleek jet on the tarmac. Carter exits the car and heads directly to a member of the ground crew. I wait and give myself a moment. If this is going to work, I have to snap out of it and get my errant hormones under control. I’ve seen good looking men before, although never a boyfriend, and he shouldn’t cause me to act like this.
I grab my bag from the back and follow Carter before heading up the steps to take a seat.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I reach the door.
“Getting on the plane. This is our ride, right?”
He nods, and I turn to take a seat in the plush leather chairs.
It’s a three-hour flight to Miami. That’s all the time I have to change Carter’s opinion of me. He might have agreed to teach me last night, but I’m not so sure he meant it given our level of conversation this morning.
Ten minutes later he climbs on board and sits in a spare chair on the other side of the jet, a few seats behind me.
“I thought you said you’d teach me?” I ask, not looking around at him.
“We’re on a plane to Miami. Not sure what you’d like me to teach you about that.”
“Why are we going to Miami?”
“Business.”
His answer pisses me off, but we’re interrupted by the captain announcing our departure. The plane taxis out and we’re in the air in less than a minute.