Page 14 of Matchmaking the CEO

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Chapter Four

Natalie

"What is this life?" I wondered out loud as I was filling my plate with free treats in a private lounge at Logan International Airport. When Jeannie told me her grandson and I would be flown in his private jet to Martha’s Vineyard, I thought she was kidding.

I could have simply traveled by car and then taken the ferry there, but all expenses were paid, so who was I to say no?

When I entered the airport, a steward was waiting for me. He led me away from the crowds of mere mortals into this blissful heaven reserved only for the elite. The lounge was small, but everything inside had been chosen with great care, such as fine leather seats and couches. My favorite part was the food. So far, I'd eaten salmon carpaccio, beef carpaccio, three assortments of pasta, and now I was trying some steak. I was fairly certain I'd fall into a food coma during the flight.

The same steward informed me that Mr. Whitley would be late, and he probably wouldn’t even make it to the lounge. I was shocked. If I had access to free food and drinks, I wouldn't sneeze at it. But Mr. Whitley was flying in from New York, so he most likely wouldn’t get off the plane. I only had one other companion in the lounge, an elderly man who seemed to be way into his eighties. He moved very slowly, but he was dressed to the nines and had put his napkin in the collar of his shirt while he savored his cheesecake.

The staff was eyeing me suspiciously. I didn’t blame them; I was pretty sure no one stuffed their faces the way I did, but everything looked far too good. I took my plate with the steak back to the small table I'd chosen, the one closest to the windows so I had a direct view of the runway. It was somehow separate from the rest of the airport, which I suppose was to be expected. The private planes looked like toys next to the regular ones.

I closed my eyes, savoring my steak. It was medium. I usually ate medium rare, but this one was so tender. It was better than anything I'd tasted. They also had plenty of champagne and wine, but I stuck to sparkling water. I didn't want to accidentally be tipsy when I met my employer—well, the grandson of my employer. I didn't want to do anything that could cost me the job.

I texted my best friend, Larissa, sending her a pic.

Natalie: The lounge is incredible. Can’t wait to see the plane.

Larissa: Looks good. Keep all details for when we actually meet. Hopefully this century. I’ve got so much to do before leaving for Bali.

She’d been my best friend since high school. She was a yoga and Pilates instructor and decided to move to Bali for three months and film online classes from there. I was determined to catch up with her soon.

At four o'clock on the dot, the same steward approached me.

"Ms. Summers? You’ll be escorted to the gate in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," I said. "I appreciate the heads-up."

After he left, I hurried to the bathroom to inspect my appearance and freshen up. It was insanely warm outside, so I was wearing a yellow summery dress with cap sleeves that wasn’t too snug on my body. I put on a bit of makeup, refreshing my lipstick. I wanted to look presentable and professional.

"Okay, ready to go, Nat. This is going to work out."

I was excited to meet Jeannie’s grandson. I wanted to ask him a bit more about his grandmother. Sometimes it helped to hear other people's opinion about a person. It could round out my image of her so I knew what made her tick and could deliver the best ninetieth birthday party ever.

I didn't have my carry-on with me because the steward had informed me he was taking care of transferring it directly to the private flight. I loved all the attention and could totally get used to traveling like this.

"Ready, ma'am?" the steward asked when I returned to the lounge.

"Yes."

I followed him through the narrow corridor leading to a staircase, and we went down one level. There was only one flight that seemed to be operating from here. Another steward stood behind the boarding gate. I was alone.

"Is Mr. Whitley already on the plane?" I asked.

"No. He disembarked for a moment. He'll be here shortly."

I went to the gate, glancing around. I wasn't used to this luxury, and I felt out of place. I played with the pendant at my neck, looking down at my flat shoes. They were bright red and thankfully still in good condition; I could be very hard on my shoes.

I smelled him first—a subtle but poignant scent of leather, wood, and ocean.

"Mr. Whitley." The steward straightened as if he were military standing to attention.

I looked up to see Jake, and my knees instantly turned to mush. I’d never,everhad such a reaction to a man, not once in my thirty years.

The suit he was wearing fit him like a glove. It was classy and looked very expensive. It was simple, dark blue, matched with Oxford shoes that were polished to a solid shine. Everything about him screamed perfection. His dark hair was ravished, but in a way that made him look sexy and put together at the same time. His blue eyes were trained on me, and something told me he didn't like what he was seeing.

I, on the other hand, couldn't even open my mouth to introduce myself. I was too stunned by Jake; it was like I was meeting a movie star, or royalty. I’d never seen anyone carry himself with such confidence.


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