Page 24 of Double Deal

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“What is it? Are you okay? There’s an Uber…”

“Oh my God, the Uber!” I sit up, immediately panicked. “Tabby… Run outside and tell him I will be there in three minutes, tops! Go!”

“Okay!”

She hustles off and I lurch toward my closet, grabbing whatever is closest, plus two pairs of sandals and a handful of bras and panties from my top drawer. I don’t have time, but I open my other drawer and dig way to the back, happy to find that there is a single, midnight-blue two-piece bathing suit back there. It is insane, but I toss it in the bag anyway.

I don’t wear a lot of makeup, so I just stuff tubes of concealer and eyebrow pencil and mascara into the front pocket of the bag, zipping it closed as I dash down the stairs, probably leaving a trail of panties behind me.

The Uber driver gets us to the private airfield just as the jet taxis to a stop. I am so nervous, I feel like I could cry or laugh hysterically at any moment. This is just so weird.

Gathering my canvas bag and purse, I haul myself out of the back of the Uber and start walking across the tarmac like this is something I do every day, as the jet hatch opens and the staircase unfolds. I pat my pockets and my purse, mentally counting to make sure that I didn’t forget anything, that I have my act together, that I am ready to do whatever it takes to keep my fantastic job. The one I’m lucky to have, the one I’ve taken for granted.

A pair of unmistakably masculine feet descend the stairs one by one in designer flip-flops. For some reason, this detail stands out. Strong feet. Sexy toes. Sexy man feet.

My eyeline travels upward over muscular, bare calves, then long linen shorts, a leather belt, and a loosely fitting linen pullover tunic.

A wide, perfectly white smile gleaming at me from between tanned, dimpled cheeks… in a strangely familiar face… surrounded by wavy curls of light-brown hair.

“You must be Opal,” he says in a voice that is both very familiar and very surprising.

He jumps the bottom step and reaches out with one hand to take my overnight bag from me. Stunned, I let him do it. With his other hand, he reaches out to shake mine. His grip is firm but not brutish. His palm is wide and smooth, not too soft and not too dry.

I just stand there, unable to do anything but blink.

“I’m Calvin Galloway,” he croons through a sideways smile. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

Chapter 11

CAL

When she startles, I realize I have seen Opal before. She had that very same look on her face during the conference call, when Irving suggested that she should come to the Keys. Wide-eyed, frightened, shocked. And yet, inquisitive and willing. Intelligent eyes. More than competent.

I reach out to shake her hand, and she instantly blushes. As her cheeks redden, they reveal an entire constellation of charming freckles. That, combined with the unhidden display of emotions on her face give the impression of a very earnest and uncontrived person. A truth-teller.

“You’re Cal… I mean, Calvin Galloway?”

Her eyelashes flutter slightly as she struggles to recompose herself. Her hand in mine is soft and relaxed, and I almost don’t want to let it go. It feels good there. It fits nicely.

“Calis fine,” I smile, relieved to see that she smiles back. “Is this all you brought?”

She scowls at the overnight bag, pinching her lower lip between her teeth thoughtfully.

“Well, I wasn’t really sure what to bring,” she explains quickly. “Should I… I mean—”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” I interrupt, realizing I’ve implied she was unprepared or something. “I was just asking if you had more bags for me to carry. It’s part of my duties as concierge.”

She squints and looks up at me, her mouth quickly pursing into a knowing smirk.

“You’re joking with me,” she says.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not. It’s just that your brother… Well, it’s much harder to tell when he is joking.”

“That’s because he’s terrible at it,” I chuckle, stepping aside so she can mount the stairs ahead of me. “But don’t tell him I said so. Please. He has no sense of humor about his lack of a sense of humor.”

“Oh, I won’t!” she laughs. “I think he thinks he’s pretty funny.”


Tags: Jess Bentley Erotic