I paused, surprised by the humor in his eyes.
“Ungentlemanliness?” he teased. “I dare you to say that five times fast.”
I eyed him warily. “I mean it. Quit it.”
His reply was to shrug and lead me out to the car in silence. And it seemed he was set to grant me my request. The car ride to the airport was awkward and quiet and I really just wanted to be able to put more than a couple of feet between us.
Upon arrival at the airport, I said to Caine, “I’ll meet you on the other side.”
His eyebrows drew together. “What are you talking about?”
I handed him the boarding pass I’d printed off. “You’re flying first class. That means you go through first-class security and get to wait in the first-class lounge.”
“And what are you?” he asked, snatching my boarding pass from my hand. “Economy? Are you kidding?” he huffed impatiently, and grabbed my bag. Before I could say a word he strode off.
“What are you doing?” I hurried to catch up with him in my stupid heels as he marched to the fast-lane check-in and right up to the check-in clerk.
“We need to upgrade my employee’s ticket to first class. Is that possible?” He slid my boarding pass across the desk to her.
“What are you doing?” I repeated. “I don’t need a first-class seat. I never sat in first class with Benito.”
“That’s because your former boss is a tightfisted bastard. My employees don’t sit in the cheap seats.” He threw me a glare that said, Now, shut up.
Once my ticket was upgraded, Caine tersely ushered me toward the first-class lounge. He dropped our bags at the bar. “I need a drink. Do you need a drink?”
I definitely needed a drink. “A mimosa, please.” I slipped onto a stool beside him and we waited in uncomfortable silence as the bartender poured my drink and got a draft beer for Caine.
A beer.
That was not what I was expecting at all.
For some crazy reason the fact that Caine was drinking a beer in his fancy-ass suit in the first-class lounge made me smile.
Feeling my stare, he glanced at me. “What?”
I looked away and lifted my glass to my lips. “Nothing,” I muttered.
“Lexie?” I jerked in surprise at hearing my name called from behind me and spun around on my stool. My eyes moved up the tall, fit, stylishly attired body standing inches from me until they stopped on the familiar handsome face of Antoine Faucheux.
“Oh my gosh, Antoine.” I hopped off the stool to hug him and felt his strong arms wrap around me.
He gave me a squeeze and kissed me once on both cheeks. His dark brown eyes glittered happily into mine.
Antoine was the men’s fashion buyer at Le Bon Marche in Paris. We’d known each other for four years because of my work with Benito. Mostly we met up while I was in Paris with Benito, but the last time I’d seen him was in New York when he came over for fashion week. He’d even propositioned me the first time we hung out, but I was in a relationship at the time, and the next time we met he was in a relationship, and so on and so forth. It was a shame. Definitely a missed opportunity.
He shot a look over my shoulder and I tensed, remembering we had an audience. I glanced back at Caine, whose hard appearance didn’t exactly compel a person to be friendly, but my mother had raised me to be well mannered. “Antoine, this is my boss, Caine Carraway. Mr. Carraway, this is a friend of mine, Antoine Faucheux.”
Antoine held out a hand with a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said in his gorgeous accent.
Caine stared at his hand and for a moment I worried he wasn’t going to shake it. I breathed a sigh of relief when he did.
Antoine immediately focused on me. “It’s so good to see you. I’m over here visiting a friend and I met up with Benito. I was shocked when he told me he fired you. What an idiot.” He tilted his head and gave me his sexy low-lidded stare I liked so much. “I’ve never seen anyone anticipate someone’s needs the way you did Benito’s. You know he’s having a terrible time without you.”
I grinned, feeling smug. “Good.”
Antoine laughed and then shot another glance behind me at Caine. “It looks like you’re doing fine.”
It did look like that, and I had no intention of telling Antoine the truth. Instead I gave him a noncommittal smile and a shrug.
“Well”—he pouted a little and it would have looked ridiculous on any man but him—“I have to catch my flight to Paris. It was a short trip this time, but next time I’m in Boston, or New York even, we should catch up.” He lowered his voice and gave me a knowing look. “Noelle and I broke up and I heard you’re not seeing anyone, yes?”