Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
She turned her head to the side, breaking the kiss, but I continued anyway, my lips descending over her jaw, down the soft skin of her neck. My hands settled on her waist, where the embrace felt natural and right.
“Tell me,” she said between hurried breaths, “something you’ve never told anyone else.”
I paused, lingering with the tip of my nose just beside her ear. “What?”
“I don’t know anything about you.” Her hands coursed down the back of my neck, her arms resting on my shoulders. In response, I slid one hand up her spine until I could tangle it in her dark hair.
“You already know a lot about me.”
“Tell me.”
I drew back so I could see her reaction. So she could watch me and know it wasn’t a lie. “All right. I drink bourbon when I’m missing home.”
Her mouth tumbled open in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” I silenced her next question with my lips.
Her arms locked tighter around my shoulders, and she rose taller so she could press her body against mine. She had to be standing on her toes to do it, and I was filled with the desire to lift her into my arms and carry her to the bed. I wanted to peel our clothes off until nothing was left between us, and fuck her until I was the only thing she remembered about South Africa.
But there was so much happening that was bigger than us, and I had to deal with it first.
“Do you want to stay?” she whispered.
I groaned at the question. Every passing second the illogical part of my brain made more sense. “Fuck, yes, but I can’t.”
I wrapped my hands around her wrists when she set her palms flat on my chest. Could she feel my heart banging against my ribs?
“Okay,” she said. “When will I see you again?”
I gave her the most honest answer I could. “I don’t know.” I brushed my lips over hers in a final kiss, then forced myself to step away before giving her the answer I wanted most. “Soon.”
22
OLIVIA
After Ethan left, I ordered dinner and forced myself to stay awake. Fletcher appeared with new clothes and a box of hair color. It wasn’t until he’d gone that I discovered the instructions were in German. It was a luxury hotel, though, and a phone call to the front desk solved the problem. The female concierge was charming and helpful, offering to do it for me when she saw the angry cut on my hand.
When it was done and the concierge excused herself, I took a hard look at my new golden-brown locks. You’ve done this before, you can do it again.
I pulled Ethan’s white t-shirt from the backpack, changed into it, and somehow the phone found its way into my hand. I stared at the contact. Unfinished Business. What was I doing? What was this . . . feeling? I shoved the phone back into the bag.
My spent emotions and jetlag crushed me onto the mattress, and thankfully it was a dreamless sleep.
In the morning, I rode to the Osterhägen plant in a town car, was ushered into an empty conference room, and thirty seconds later a man sauntered in.
“Ms. Wallace? I’m Jason Dunn.”
“Olivia,” I said.
This was the cop from the picture with the ballerina. He wasn’t as tall as his brother Shawn, but he was built like a wall. And while his suit fit him, it didn’t match the body wearing it. Dark, no-nonsense eyes and a hard jaw covered with a few days of scruff, and a hint of aggression.
What struck me immediately was how much more American he seemed than Shawn. No German accent. He was a less refined version of his brother. This was the style of man I usually preferred, but Jason lacked the intense eyes and the intrigue of a much taller one I knew.
When we shook hands, Jason’s lingered a moment too long. “Where do I know you from?”
My breathing quickened. “I get that a lot. I must have one of those faces that looks like someone everyone knows.”
That had to go down as the worst lie in history, but he seemed satisfied.
There was a secondary, smaller jet in the Osterhägen fleet, an older Hawker the company used whenever the Gulfstream was transporting clients or on loan to a board member.
“Your situation’s temporary,” he said, “and I know you need to keep a low profile, but there’ll be a lot of international guests attending Shawn’s wedding. I can put you into rotation with the Osterhägen flight crew if you’re interested.”
Pleasant surprise washed over me and I nodded enthusiastically. Then I paused. “As long as it’s safe for everyone.”
He used the pad of his thumb to absentmindedly spin the wedding ring on his finger. “You’ll be abroad or in the air more than you’ll be in Munich. That’s what Ethan and I figure.”