I nodded, my heart hammering in my chest.
I felt hot, and I knew my face must have been beet red.
His presence was unnerving me, making me so hot and bothered that I couldn’t even think straight. I needed a break.
“Um, can I… where’s the restroom?” My blush seemed to deepen as I said the words, like it was embarrassing to be talking about going to the bathroom in front of him. “Over there,” he said, pointing to a door toward the back of the plane.
“Thanks.” I headed for the bathroom, on the way passing another open door, which led to an alcove that had a bed in it. A bed! Callum had a bed on his plane! Was he that horny? He couldn’t even go on a two-hour flight without having sex? Of course not, I told myself. First of all, people slept on planes all the time. And someone like Callum probably took tons of international flights, flights that took hours and sometimes even days. Of course he would want to be comfortable.
Still.
It was naïve of me to think I was the first woman he’d brought on this plane, and even more naïve to think that Callum hadn’t used that bed for something other than sleeping. I pictured a gorgeous woman, someone exotic looking with all kinds of curly dark hair and perfect tan skin, imagined her being tied to that bed, her head flung back in ecstasy.
Stop, I told myself as I splashed water on my face. I’d been right – my cheeks were rosy red, the color deepening high on my cheeks. I took a couple of breaths and splashed more water on my face, drying my skin with a luxurious hand towel that was sitting next to sink, its fabric monogrammed with Callum’s initials.
My phone began ringing in my bag, and I lunged for it, a conditioned response ever since I’d been filling out all those applications and sending out all those resumes. I didn’t know why I always got so excited when my phone rang – so far I hadn’t gotten one call back. But it only took one, I reminded myself. Just one person to call me and get me in the door.
I crossed my fingers for an unfamiliar 212 number to be flashing on my caller ID. But it wasn’t someone calling from a publishing house. It was my mother.
I hesitated.
The last thing I wanted to do was talk to my mother while I was on Callum Wilder’s private jet, about to be whisked away for a sex-filled weekend romp. But experience told me that if I didn’t answer, my mom would just keep calling back until I did. And if I still didn’t answer, she might call Nessa to find out where I was.
Nessa! Oh, God. I’d forgotten to tell her not to tell my mom where I was. Not that she would, I didn’t think, but…
I answered the call.
“Hi, Mom,” I said cheerily.
“Hi, Carrie!” my mom said. My mom insisted on calling me Carrie after Carrie Bradshaw, even though I specifically told her that reference was very outdated, and that I was nothing like Carrie Bradshaw.
“What’s up, Mom?” I said. “I can’t talk long, I’m, um… I’m getting ready to… I’m at a coffee shop filling out resumes.”
“Oh, how fancy,” my mother said. “I just wanted to call and say hi, let you know I’m thinking of you. Did you get a chance to read that article I sent you?”
“What article?” My mother talked a mile a minute and also had a strong southern accent. Even though she lived in Michigan, she’d been born in North Carolina, and when she got excited about something, her accent came through, hard and strong, sometimes making it hard to understand her.
“The one about the cast of Temptations,” she said. “Their real life romances? On and off set?”
“Oh,” I said, vaguely remembering something about that showing up in my inbox. “No, I haven’t gotten around to it.” My mother was obsessed with soap operas, namely the show Temptations, and I’d made the mistake of watching it with her one day before I left for New York in an effort to bond with her. She was now doing everything she could to get me interested in it, even though the storylines were trite and melodramatic.
“Well, you have a busy life I’m sure,” she said. “Have you found a job yet?”
“No, Mom,” I said. “Not yet.” In fact, I’m not even looking for a job right now, I’m on the private jet of some billionaire who wants to use me for sex.
“You will, honey,” she said. “You will. Now, tell me all about New York.”
“I’d love to,” I said. “But I’m in the middle of filling out an application. Can I call you back?” I made sure not to say exactly when.
“Of course, of course,” she said.
There was a knock on bathroom door.