Tempting the New Boss(10)

“Miss White sent your wallet over as well.” The pilot handed it to him.

“Thanks. I forgot to tell her to.”

“I did,” Camilla said. “When I asked for the picture of your ID.”

He smiled at her slightly and slid the wallet into his back pocket.

After instructing them to buckle up for takeoff and warning they only had five more minutes for cell phones, the pilots disappeared behind the cockpit door.

Her cell rang and she saw her sister Carly’s Westchester number.

“Go ahead, take it.” He got out of his seat. “I want to run something by the pilots.”

“Hi,” she answered when he was gone.

“It’s just your older sister bothering you on your first day.”

“Which one?”

Carly pretended to be insulted. “The only one who was organized enough to have flowers delivered to your new office to celebrate your freedom from that horrible law firm!”

“Carly, you are so sweet.”

“Did you get them before you left? I knew you’d only have them for a little while, since you’re traveling, but I think it’s important to have a special treat on your first day.”

“Absolutely. They were gorgeous.” She’d missed them at the office, but no need to spoil the thoughtful gesture.

“So, how is it?”

All in all, Camilla was feeling pretty good about the whole first day thing. Meeting? Check. Bonding with the boss? Getting there. Jetting off in a private plane? Double check. Who wouldn’t rather take a trip to Europe with the boss instead of the usual first day tedium of learning where the office supplies were and waiting for IT to hook up your computer?

“Great,” she summarized since she had at most five minutes. “But we’re about to take off.”

“Oh, you lucky girl. I was in London around ten years ago, and there was this sheik who was so attentive that—“

“Carly, I have to go, really. You are such a good sister to send me first-day flowers and call me.”

“I know. I am. Be sure to tell Mom that when you talk to her. Tell her your big sis is looking out for you in the devil city until you can make your way home to your solid Midwestern roots. Never mind. I’ll tell her myself.”

She laughed. “I will, too. Now, I love you. Bye.”

“Wait! No hustling me off the phone until you spill how the big boss is. He looked really cute in the profile I saw of him.”

Despite that her boss clearly had a few quirks she could help him with, things were going to be okay between them. She could feel it. Stepping in for him at the meeting when he had shut down had felt natural, good. “I like him,” she decided on.

“Well, I’m glad. But don’t like him too much. He’ll be sitting across from you in his fabulous plane in some perfectly tailored suit and giving you the eye.”

Talbot came back down the aisle and resumed his seat, then kicked his gym shoes off.

“Not exactly. But I have to go. We’re about to take off.”

“Be good. And remember no imbibing to excess. You know that always makes you too flirty, and that is not the first impression you want to be giving.”

“Of course. Don’t be silly.”

“Hey, I remember Reno.”

That was the thing with sisters. They remembered everything, in this instance one wild night when she found out she passed the bar and she and three of her sisters, Brandy, Dee Dee, and Carly, flew to Reno on the spur of the moment. Not a good idea in retrospect. The headache pounding at her temples the next day from the tequila shots could have shaken the scenic mountains outside the window of their hotel. And some guy named Franz who she absolutely didn’t remember kept sending her completely inappropriate emails for weeks thereafter, though thank God her sisters assured her she’d never been alone with him.

Carly added, “Although it’s good to let go sometimes. So don’t be too hard on yourself if you do.”

“There’s a mixed message if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Nuanced, not mixed.”

She smiled. “Okay, I will. I mean I won’t. I promise. Got to go.”

She hung up and glanced at Talbot to see if he had been listening to that last part, but he gave no indication, and in minutes the plane was headed into the clouds, the altitude allowing them to escape the storm. Early afternoon sunlight filtered through the tufts of white dotted here and there outside the window.

Talbot extracted a magazine from his briefcase and began to read it. Apparently, he’d had enough small talk. She couldn’t blame him. That was probably more than he’d had in the last year. She stood up to get her iPad from the overhead where she had stashed her computer bag, and the plane lurched unexpectedly, forcing her to grab on to his seat back to steady herself. Her fingers brushed his hair, and he looked up at her. She’d been to St. Martin once, and that was what his eyes reminded her of. The cobalt Caribbean sea washing over her. His hair was silky, and she wondered how it would feel to run her hands through it, to feel it against her cheek. She let go of his seat. “Sorry about that.”