Page 14 of Tempting Eden

I changed the subject, lest he hit any landmines. The grounds of my history were littered with them. “We’ll be flying to Belle Mar next Friday, by the way.”

Surprise dashed across his face in a quick burst.

“We?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I pointed my fork at him. “My assistant and me. We’re going to have our first pre-opening sales party. Two months is no time, and we’ve already wasted two weeks on sales prep, designers; all that extra crap. At the beach is where we’ll shine. Selling is what we do. We’ll fly out Friday morning on the Thornfield plane. I want you to plan the party, make it sparkle, make it rich, luxurious, fancy—or any word that is remotely in the same realm as those ideas.”

I speared another piece of lettuce.

He rubbed his hand across his face, clearly thrown.

“What?” I asked.

“We’re flying?”

“I’m pretty sure I said that. What, you afraid of flying?”

“I wouldn’t really know.” He said it so quietly I barely heard it over the crunching of my salad.

“You’ve never flown?”

“No, not yet.”

“Never?” I coughed, a bit of feta caught in my throat. I sputtered. He rose to help me, but I held a hand out, the opposite of the international sign for choking. I took a sip of water and calmed. My face flushed pink.

“I, well, sorry about that.” My voice sounded strangled. I willed the cough away lest I make an even bigger fool of myself in the restaurant.

“It’s okay. I didn’t know you’d be so surprised.” His striking blue eyes seemed to be laughing at my distress.

“It’s just, I don’t know. It’s…”

“Odd?” he asked.

“Interesting,” I said at the same time.

He gave me a slight smile, just one corner of his mouth turning up in amusement.

“You’ve never wanted to go anywhere far? Just get away?” I used to love flying, loved the feeling of leaving some place and going on an adventure. Now it was old to me, boring even, just a means to an end, a long span of empty time I had to relive my mistakes over and over while the hum of the engine bored into my mind.

“I’ve never really had the opportunity.” He took a long drink of water, tilting his somehow elegant neck back a bit.

I remembered he said he hailed from Lowood, decrepit government projects on the East end of Birmingham. No, I supposed there weren’t many opportunities for air travel over on that side of town, even though the airport was less than a mile away. I frowned at the ugly irony.

He seemed to read my thoughts. “My foster family never took us anywhere. They didn’t have the money or the inclination. They weren’t exactly the nurturing sort. Once I went to college, I certainly didn’t have any money for travel. I had hoped to save some money now that I’m working and do some traveling, though.”

Jesus. He’d been in the foster system. He must have been especially tenacious to survive Lowood and turn out so well, especially with no family support at his back. I couldn’t imagine how hard his life had been. Empathy had never been my strong suit, but the thought of walking a mile in his shoes made my bum ankle ache even more.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” I said.

“There certainly is,” he agreed, his tone somehow even richer, deeper. His glance chanced down to my lips and back up to my eyes.

Noted.

CHAPTER FOUR

JACK

MS.ROCHESTER SET Ameeting with the interior designer for the Wednesday prior to our departure for Belle Mar. The Atlanta team brought room mock-ups and sample finishes intended to woo potential buyers. The designers were like a troupe of traveling salesmen who specialized solely in ostentatious bling.

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