By marrying you off …
"Different how?"
I rattle off several examples. The way she looks at him. The way she spends extra time readying herself in the morning. The stolen glances. I've noticed it all, even with my nose buried in my phone half the time.
"So you think that's why he invited Mr. Waterman over?"
"That's my fear. Just be careful, sis. Tone it down a notch. Maybe keep your distance from Jensen for a bit?"
She sits cross-legged at the head of her bed, cupping her chin in her hands.
Life just got real for my little sister, but on a positive note, the seed has been planted.
THIRTY-ONE
DANE
If I were a romantic man, I might appreciate the fact that I'm boarding a private jet with the most beautiful woman in tow. She's wrapped in a cashmere pashmina the color of lambs' wool, hidden behind oversized sunglasses, and her lips are kissed in red.
She's the epitome of elegance and grace, and she's trembling like teacup Chihuahua.
I take her hand, leading her into two leather chairs. I typically take the window seat, but the view of the clouds might help soothe her nerves until we reach our cruising altitude, and the champagne begins to flow.
To the flight attendants buzzing about, I'm sure we look like a contented couple headed for a honeymoon getaway.
"You're going to be fine, Bellamy."
She slides her bag under her seat, dragging her hand along her soft wrap. A push of air passes her bright lips, and she nods. "It's exciting. I think that's it. I'm more excited than nervous."
I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips, depositing a reassuring kiss as the jet staff handle last minute preparations. She watches it all, taking it in like it's the most fascinating thing she's ever seen.
I tug on my sleeve to reveal my timepiece. "We should touch down in about three hours. Did you get the itinerary Marlene sent?"
Bellamy nods. "Yep. We land at four. We'll check into the hotel. Dinner at eight. The conference will be Saturday. All day. Then we fly back Sunday morning."
The captain's voice comes over the intercom. Within seconds, we begin to taxi to the runway. When the plane comes to a complete stop and the jets fire up, Bellamy reaches for my forearm, digging her nails into my flesh.
The plane pushes forward, faster and faster, the momentum shoving us back against our seats. Thirty seconds later we're in the air, climbing higher until we rise above wispy clouds and the acres of trees and land below us look like earthen quilt squares.
When the captain announces we've reached forty-one-thousand feet, a flight attendant makes her way toward us with a tray of champagne flutes. I take them both, handing one off to Bellamy.
"Should we toast?" Her excitement is almost contagious, and her ruby-stained mouth is spread wide.
"Sure." I tilt my glass to her. "To Bellamy's initial plane ride. May it be the first of many."
We clink and sip, and she turns to gaze out the little oval window. When she tucks her hair behind her ears, I notice she's wearing the champagne earrings, which is good. I need a reminder of the nature of our partnership because every time I've looked at her this morning, a warm fullness spreads across my chest.
"What's this restaurant you're taking me to tonight?" she asks. "I packed that coral dress you like. The strapless one."
Her eyes dance into mine the way they always do when she seeks my approval. The woman loves to dress for me.
"A friend of mine owns a place in downtown Nashville. We're getting the private tour and a seat right in the kitchen."
Bellamy's face lights. "That'll make for a fun date."
Her fingers lift to her mouth and her gaze falls to her lap.
"It's not a date," she says. "I didn't mean to call it that. I'm sorry."
"You can call it a date," I say. "But it doesn't mean we're dating. It just means I'm treating you. Rewarding you for coming with me."
She reaches for her bag and pulls out a book she'd purchased on our drive to the airport, hastily flipping to the first page like she's in desperate need of a distraction.
"I know, Dane. You act like I'm going to forget. You're not my boyfriend. I'm reminded of that every single day." Her words are bathed in defeat.
My lips part to respond and then I save it. Apparently I've already made myself crystal clear.
Every single day.
"Have you spoken to your sister yet?" I change the subject. The less we talk about us, the better.
"I planted the seed last week," she says, turning a page in her book and sighing. "She starting to realize there's a real possibility that our father might marry us off."
"So the next logical step would be to pack up and leave."
"Right."
"When?"
"Very soon. I've been looking at apartments all week." She turns another page. "I was going to talk to you about taking some time off next week to tour them. I'm looking for something close to the University of Utah, so she can still attend school while I work."
"My offer still stands."
"Yes, I know. Thank you. But I'm not looking for a handout."
"It wouldn't be a handout. This is what I do, Bellamy. This is what I live for."
"That and wind turbines and solar panels." She turns and offers me a wink, a bit of reassurance that she forgives me for my emotional deficits.
I lean in, whispering into her ear, "That's a very smart mouth you have right now, Bellamy. I just might have to punish it tonight."
***
"Did you bring the notebook?" I unknot my tie and yank it from my neck as Bellamy slinks into our hotel room after dinner. My good friend and chef, Daniel Bilby, prepared us a steak and lobster dinner, and we watched the kitchen madness all from a private booth in the kitchen.
I've never taken a woman on a date like that, and being in the midst of the action meant having to forgo any action of our own, but it also sucked any and all romance from our "date."
Completely intentional.
"I didn't."
"And why not?"
"It's still empty."
She steps in front of the wardrobe mirror, reaching behind her and sliding the zipper of her dress down until her bare back is exposed.
"Did I tell you to undress?" I come up from behind, resting my hands on her soft shoulders. My lips fuse with the curve of her neck, and I help myself to a biting kiss.
"Oh." Our gazes meet in the reflection of the mirror as she pulls her hair over her opposite shoulder. "I didn't know we were doing that tonight."
"And why would you think that would be off the menu?"
"You barely looked at me all night. You didn't touch me but once or twice, and not in the way you usually do." Her eyes widen. "Not that it bothers me. I figured you weren't in the mood. You seemed preoccupied."
"You're perceptive." I kiss her neck. "I'm always in the mood. I crave you always. What makes you think I wasn't saving my appetite for the hotel?"
I ran cold because I had no choice earlier. I lost track halfway through dinner as to how many times I'd mentally pictured myself slipping my fingers up the back of her neck, grabbing a handful of her soft, blonde waves, and pulling her into position against the nearest wall.
But now that we're completely alone and free to openly step into the shoes of our respective roles, I'm running hot.
She glances around our presidential suite and then hangs her head. "For a man who prefers his life to be … uncomplicated … you're the most complicated person I've ever known."
She isn't the first person ever to tell me that.
"Life is never uncomplicated," I say. "I just prefer my personal life to be uncomplicated."
Bellamy sighs, pulling away from me slightly.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "I was going to say something, but there's no point. Just … tell me what to do."
"Well, that's sexy."
"No. I didn't mean it like that."
"How did you mean it?"
"Just tell me where you want me, tell me what you want me to do. I'll do it. That's why I'm here."
The way she says it almost breaks my heart. I slide my hands under her arms, snaking around to the front of her. After taking a handful of her ripe breasts, I press her body back against mine.
"You know you're an important part of my life," I say.
Bellamy pulls her gaze off the mirror, turning her head to the side.
"What now?" I ask.
"Don't say things like that." Her heart pounds against the palm I have pressed into her chest.
"I'm just being honest. You are important to me. Don't read into it. Simply take it at face value." I realize I'm asking a woman to do a most impossible task, but if anyone can handle it, it's her. "I enjoy our time together. I look forward to it."
The highlights of my weeks always involve her.
"I want you to feel special," I add. "If I take you on a date or buy you a gift or pay you an unexpected compliment, it's because you've earned it. And even when you're on your knees, bound and servicing me, it's only because you're worthy of the task at hand. No one else but you."