Page 16 of Tempting Eden

“Hotel Carter, just down the beach from the Belle Mar.” I filled in.

“Great. Shall I put the items to your attention, Ms. Rochester?”

“No, put them to Jack’s. If his abilities so far are any indication, I think he’ll be more than up to the task of sorting through whatever you send him.”

Bess’ assistant began packing their items on the metal rolling cart. Bess made no move to assist her and instead inquired if Ms. Rochester had any other projects coming up where she could be of assistance.

I lifted the heavier boxes and helped Bess’ assistant arrange everything so they could get out in one piece.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“My pleasure.”

Once everything was ready, Bess gave Ms. Rochester air kisses. She then sidled to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing against me and whispering “call me” in my ear. I extricated myself from her embrace and gave her a perfunctory nod.

She winked and, after barking an order in Chinese at her harried assistant, they left, shutting the door behind them.

Ms. Rochester leaned against the table and crossed her arms over her chest. The look she gave me was her signature direct engagement, nothing filtering her emotions. “So, what did you think of Bess?”

“She’s an excellent designer.” I took the few steps to reach her. “She has a great grasp of how to put together a compelling space.”

She looked up at me, eyes teasing. “Is she a perfect ten?”

Tricky. I chanced it and put a hand on her elbow. “Not to me.”

When she didn’t move away, a pulse of pure heat shot through me.

She smiled, her pink mouth a beautiful bow. “Good. Now get on the horn to Hotel Carter and let them know the design package is coming and that if the boxes are so much as chafed around the edges I’ll have someone’s head.”

“I’ll get on it.”

“Damn right you will. Only one month and a week left. Tick tock, Jack. Tick tock.” From jealous, to boisterous, to demanding in moments. She made my head spin. In fact, I was certain she would make anyone’s head spin, even medical professionals.

She took a few steps to the door. “Oh, and Jack?”

“Yes?”

“I totally saw you checking out my tits.”

I hefted my canvases up under my arm and pulled my carry-on with my other hand. Ms. Rochester walked ahead of me, rolling one huge bag and one carry-on along behind her. I’d never seen her dressed so casually in a large sweater with leggings. The sweater was wider than it was long, so I got a great view of her ass as she walked, hips swaying. She was practically jaunty, as if she loved flying.

I intentionally trailed behind her, enjoying the view immensely. At least I was until I realized she was walking toward what looked like a kid’s toy plane. There was no way it had more than four seats, if that. I swallowed hard. Would our luggage or my canvasses even fit? Would I? My heart beat faster, fear mimicking exertion.

My steps slowed, as if my feet were glued to the tarmac.

“I thought when you said we were flying, that we would be on an actual airplane.”

She glanced over her shoulder and gave me a dazzling smile. “Thisisan actual airplane.”

“It’s the size of a drone or something. Or a drone’s little brother who hasn’t hit his growth spurt. The one all the other drones pick on.”

The real planes, the ones that seated hundreds of people, took off overhead, going wherever real planes go.

“It’s plenty big enough. I promise. This little beauty is Thornfield’s pride and joy.”

I shook my head, though my steps had sped a bit faster after she’d smiled. “No, this is that airplane you read about on the news where the two media moguls, or the two adventurers, or the two businessmen, or the tworeal estate peoplecrash into a forest somewhere and are never found alive, or even dead, again.”

She shrugged and greeted who I assumed was our captain with a hug. I’d never seen such an open display of affection from her, but it seemed so natural and genuine. It suited her. She had a warmth hidden under her unpredictable exterior. Maybe that was her one constant. I didn’t know about it because I wasn’t able to see it all the time—or ever, really. For someone who seemed to be an open book, Ms. Rochester held more than a few secrets.

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