Page 3 of Kiss of Smoke

And there went my libido again.

Lachlan shook out his paper and lowered his gaze. “I never said we don’t need her,” he murmured, his soft tone laced with a hard edge. “I just want to make sure she’s not compromising her personal life for our business.”

“You’re no’, are you, Chloe,” Alec said with a wink. He made it a statement, obviously confident I would agree with him. Looking at him, it was easy to see why. His tight-fitting gray sweater hugged his chest, and his black dress pants pulled taut over his muscular thighs. Sunlight played through his hair, turning the thick, red-gold waves to copper. His green eyes were…mesmerizing. It was the kind of dramatic word heroines in silly romance novels used, but it was the only way to describe the currents that ran through my body when he looked at me.

Vaguely, I heard myself say, “No, sir, Mr. Murray. As Josh said, I’ll see him for the rest of my life when I get back.” And maybe I had a guilty conscience, because as I tore my gaze off my gorgeous boss, I could have almost sworn I saw my fiancé standing across the terminal.

Great, I was so inappropriately horny I was hallucinating.

Except…wait a minute. My heart skipped a beat, and it was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

I wasn’t hallucinating Josh. That was Josh. My fiancé, Josh Bennington, was standing in JFK Airport—and he was kissing another woman!

The world tipped on its axis. Later, I wouldn’t remember leaving my seat or crossing the terminal. One minute I was sitting, the next I was standing beside my fiancé with my fists balled at my sides as he deep-throated a redhead.

“Josh?” My voice came out as a strangled croak.

He and the woman sprang apart so quickly it was almost comical. Almost. There was nothing funny about what was happening. We stood in front of a small food court, and people in line had started to stare.

For a second, Josh looked like he’d seen a ghost. Then he gaped at me. “Chloe? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” My heart pounded so hard I thought I might pass out. “I’m getting ready to board a flight to Scotland. What are you doing here?” I looked at his companion. Now that they weren’t sucking each other’s faces off, I recognized her as a lawyer from his firm. My jaw dropped. “Clarissa?”

She had the decency to flush. “Chloe… I don’t know what to say…” She was dressed in a white pantsuit, and there was a small wheeled suitcase at her side. Josh wore jeans and the Yale sweatshirt I bought him when he got accepted to law school.

“Are you guys together?” I asked, looking between them. “Josh?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “The firm sent me to pick up Clarissa from the airport. My hotel is nearby, so it made sense.”

“Did the firm ask you to kiss her?”

“Chloe—”

“Are you cheating on me, Josh?”

He pressed his lips together, his expression stony. There had to be an explanation. I waited for him to say “this isn’t what it looks like” or “an anvil fell on my head and gave me temporary amnesia so I forgot about our engagement.” But he just stared, his shoulders rigid.

My throat thickened. Oh my God, I was going to cry in front of all these people. “You couldn’t wait until I was out of town? You had to show up at the same airport I was leaving from?” My voice cracked. “At the same time in the morning?”

He drew himself up. “You’re on a private flight. When the partners at work fly private, they board from the tarmac. I thought it would be the same for you.”

Alec’s deep voice rumbled behind me. “You thought wrong, lad.”

I turned to find him and Lachlan behind me, and my throat burned with tears. How fucking humiliating. In the space of five minutes, I went from discussing my wedding plans to getting dumped in front of my bosses and a bunch of business travelers next to the Cinnabon stand. It was like something out of a bad movie, except it was my real, stupid life.

Face burning, I faced Josh. “How long?”

He blanched. “Chloe, I don’t think—”

“How. Long.”

“About a year.”

The ice in my veins turned to fire. “You’ve been fucking her for a year?”

“Chloe—”

“You selfish, arrogant asshole!” My voice climbed, drawing more stares, but I didn’t care. I wanted to take off one of my new pointy heels—patent leather Louboutins I got on deep clearance—and stab him right in his all-American, country club face. “All those nights you were supposedly out late with your law firm friends, you were really screwing her?”

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