“They can hear you.”
His face softened into an affectionate smile.
“I understand that there’s a lot to be planning, I really do. But before you start buying us horses to race in the Kentucky Derby—”
“—the Kentucky Derby, that’s what it’s called—”
“—let me suggest that you get a little sleep.”
I looked at him doubtfully, but he gestured to the chair with one of those self-righteous looks I’d come to know and love and despise so well.
“I’ll guard them with my life, you have my word. But you,” he pressed me carefully down into a chair of my own, coaxing that sleep mask back up to my eyes, “have drunk enough to make the boys of Ireland proud. Let’s say we sleep it off a little, yeah?”
The chair did look tempting. And what he was saying did make a hell of a lot of sense, but the workaholic in me didn’t really know what ‘sleep’ was.
“I’ll just write emails,” I promised, in what I took to be a very rational voice. “Save them as drafts for later.”
The mask snapped down over my face.
“Rest,” his voice drifted out of the darkness, “we’ll work it out in the morning. It’ll keep until then.”
I didn’t want to do it. I really didn’t. But the plush leather was so inviting, and the second my eyes were closed, I realized how very heavy they’d become. The last thing I remembered before drifting off was a soft rustling sound just over my shoulder. A pair of lips brushed against my forehead—so soft that it was possible I could have imagined it.
A second later, I was awake no more. Drifting in and out of a dozen different time zones as I surrendered myself to the tranquil clarity of sleep.
WHEN I OPENED MY EYES, what felt like years later, it was still dark outside. Still dark, and yet, I sensed that I had been sleeping for a good long while. It wasn’t until the wheels of the plane jerked hard against the runway, that I realized we had been flying with the clock. Meaning that we might have spent the last six hours in the air, but only thirty minutes had passed in actual time, making it just a little past one in the morning in New York.
“Nick?” I murmured automatically, trying to get my bearings as I glanced around the darkened cockpit. As if to reply, all the lights turned on suddenly to greet me.
“Good morning, sunshine!”
A hot cup of coffee was thrust under my nose. Followed by an insufferably bright smile.
How was it that no matter how many times he crisscrossed the globe, Nick always managed to look as if he’d slept a full eight hours? Even now, after a night of heavy drinking followed by a midnight sprint through downtown Spain, he was all lit up inside. Not a single shadow beneath his sparkling eyes as they beamed down at me, dimples and all.
“It’s dark outside,” I croaked in response, taking the coffee with a petulant swipe.
He grinned. “Yes, but technically morning.”
Remind me to set the Oxford Debate Club on fire.
“At any rate,” he reached down and pulled me gracefully to my feet, “there’s a car ready to take you back to your apartment, your briefcase is already packed, and I’ve had the stewardess lay out some clothes for you to change into.”
My face blanched, and he was quick to explain.
“Not that this late-night clubbing look doesn’t suit you, but I figured you might want something a little more put together now that we’re back on American soil.”
Okay...things were moving a little quick for me to keep up with. Scalding as it was, I gulped down the coffee, and felt as the synapses in my brain slowly blinked back to life.
“Um...thank you,” I murmured, unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of this speech. When Nick was up—he was up. But getting him there often required help from the governments of two separate countries. Wherever he was departing, and wherever he was arriving. Needless to say, it was a speech I had made many, many times myself. “How did you get clothes in my size—”
I started to ask the question, then glanced up at his sarcastic smile and caught myself just in time. Of course his private plane was stocked with women’s clothing. Wake up, Abby.
“I’ll just...get changed.”
With as much dignity as I could muster, I headed to the back of the plane—the ‘bedroom’ portion that I had never spent more than a minute in on any day before. Sure enough, stretched out across the bed was enough ‘jet-setting garb’ to make the designers proud. I needed only a glance to see that it was in exactly my size. There was even a pair of boots to match.
With a secret smile, I slipped inside and shut the door to change. Thinking, for the first time since running away from the club, that being Nick’s girlfriend might not be so bad after all.