“You will.” There’s not an ounce of doubt in his voice. “I can guarantee it.” His grin turns cockier, if that is even possible. “If I’m wrong, I’ll spring for a bottle of Dom Perignon for you to drown your sorrows in.”
“And if you’re right?” I try to contain the smile on my face and end up smirking instead.
“I’ll spring for a bottle of Dom Perignon to celebrate.”
I laugh out loud. “You’re quite the negotiator, I see?”
He leans in closer to me, his voice lowering again. “I really don’t see how I lose if I have you sitting across from me.”
My breath catches in my throat as my heart misses at least one beat, maybe two, before I gather my wits and respond. “How can I say no to that?”
3
Lost Luggage
“What do you mean, my luggage is lost?” I stare wide-eyed at the customer service agent. “It was a direct flight! How is that even possible?” My hand makes a loud slapping sound as it lands hard and flat on the counter between us.
She clears her throat, her eyes darting everywhere except on me. “It seems it was never loaded on the plane in LAX. Some sort of mix-up with the cart it was placed on.”
“Some kind of mix-up?” I repeat, not even sure why, because I know it’s not going to change the predicament I’m in. “Well, how long is it going to take to fix it? I need my luggage.”
“Of course, ma’am.” She nods, her bobbed haircut swishing around her chin from the motion, as she reads the computer screen in front of her. “It was placed on another flight to New York City just three hours after yours and is expected to be here at eight-thirty this evening.”
Well, that’s not so bad, I suppose. At least I’ll have my clothes for my interview tomorrow. Before I can respond, she continues in a rush. “We will, of course, have it delivered wherever you’re staying, ma’am. Free of charge, of course.”
I scoff and shake my head in frustration. “I would expect so.”
“Can you give me an address where we can have it delivered, and a phone number to reach you at?”
I sigh, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm my nerves. I’ll have my clothes by this evening. Everything is going to be fine. I just need to breathe. I blink my lids open and award her with the most gracious smile I can muster. “Of course. I’m staying at The Sapphire Resorts on Wall Street. My cell number is 213-774-8448.”
“Thank you, Ms. Adams.” She slides a card across the counter to me. “Please, feel free to call me if you have any other issues at all. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Thank you, I appreciate your help,” I reply, about to walk away, but then step back to the counter. “Can you tell me which direction I can find a taxi?”
She smiles, then points to my left. “Just go up those stairs and straight through the sliding doors. The taxi station will be on your right.”
“Thanks again.” Less than five minutes later, I’m up the stairs and about to walk through the sliding doors when a hand latches onto arm, stopping me in my tracks. I spin around, then freeze, the corners of my mouth lifting in recognition. “Fin.”
“Chloe.” He draws me from of the doorway, out of the way of foot traffic, then releases his hold. “I thought that was you.”
“You’re still here?” I ask, finding it curious that he is.
“So are you, it seems.” He chuckles, his fingers brushing over the stubble lining his face. “I ran into a colleague. We had a quick drink before his flight.” He lifts his chin toward me. “What’s your excuse?”
I frown, lifting my shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Lost luggage. It seems it never made it onto our plane in Los Angeles.”
“Well, shit. That’s not good news for the snappy outfit you planned on wearing to your interview tomorrow,” he teases, a smile tugging on his lips.
“Yes, well, don’t you fret. I’m told it’s on the next flight in and will be delivered to my hotel this evening.”
“Phew.” He chuckles again. “Not that I don’t think you look exceptional in that outfit.” His eyes trail over my bare legs for at least the third time today. “But, I don’t believe it meets the dress code for the restaurant I’m planning on taking you to tomorrow evening.”
“We could always grab a hot dog and take a walk through Central Park instead,” I suggest. “I am a simple girl, truth be told.”
He shakes his head back and forth, the dimple in his cheek appearing as he gives me a wide smile. “Chloe, there isn’t anything simple about you.”
I feel my traitorous cheeks heat, belying the confidence I want to portray, but give it my best shot anyway. “Fin, the same could be said about you.”