Читать книгу Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation: Billionaire's Contract Engagement / Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation - Майя Бэнкс, Michelle Celmer - Страница 12

The car that Evan had sent to collect Celia pulled up to the plane parked on the paved landing area that led to the single runway and stopped just a few feet from where the door to the jet lay open.

Celia looked out the window to see Evan standing a short distance away. He was waiting for her.

The driver opened her door, and she stepped into the afternoon sun. She blinked a few times then pulled her shades from her head over her eyes. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so obvious how she ate Evan up with her gaze.

He was dressed casually. Jeans, polo shirt and loafers. She’d only ever seen him in suits, and she hadn’t imagined he could look better. She was wrong. So, so wrong.

The jeans cupped him in all the right places. They clung to his thighs, rounded his butt and molded to his groin. They weren’t new, starchy-looking jeans, either. They were faded and worn, just like a good pair of jeans should be.

“Celia,” he said with a nod as she approached. “If you’re ready, we can be on our way.”

“I just need to get my luggage …”

She turned to see that the driver was handing her luggage to a uniformed man.

“Okay then, I’m ready,” she said cheerfully.

He smiled and motioned for her to precede him onto the plane. She mounted the steps and ducked inside.

Her eyes widened at the luxurious interior. It was simple and understated, but she recognized it for what it was. Very expensive comfort. She shoved her shades up so she could get a better look.

There was nothing gaudy about any of the furnishings. It looked very masculine. It even smelled masculine. Leather and suede. Earth tones.

Beyond the three rows of seats, there was a small sitting area with a couch and one chair with a coffee table and a television. To her left between the seats and the cockpit was a small galley area complete with a steward.

The older man smiled at her and welcomed her on board.

As she and Evan took their seats, the steward introduced himself as William and asked her if she wanted a drink.

She glanced at Evan then back at William. “Do you have wine?”

William smiled. “But of course. Mr. Reese keeps the airplane stocked with all the necessities.”

She’d agree that wine was very necessary.

A few moments later, William returned with two glasses of wine.

“The pilot wished me to tell you he is ready for takeoff at your convenience.”

Evan took the glasses and offered one to Celia.

“Tell him I’m ready.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll close the doors and we’ll take off shortly.”

“Comfortable?” Evan asked Celia.

She settled back into her seat and sipped at her wine. “Mmm, very. Nice jet.”

She should have sat across the aisle from him, but that would be rude since he’d chosen the seat next to her. His nearness was killing her, though. His scent drifted enticingly across her nostrils and she could feel his heat. When he moved, his arm brushed against hers, and short of shifting in her seat—which would be terribly obvious—there was no escaping him. Furthermore, she didn’t really want to.

It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest they use the time on the flight to go over her ideas, but she couldn’t bring herself to have business intrude.

She mentally shook herself. Intrude on what? This wasn’t some romantic getaway. It was business. Only business and nothing else.

It was unfair that she should be attracted to someone who was a solid no in her rule book. She’d never broken that unspoken rule. She had never been tempted to get involved with someone she worked with, or worse—a client. It didn’t matter, though, because she’d carry the stigma of someone who advanced her career by bestowing sexual favors.

The memory sent rage curdling through her veins. She had to work at keeping her fingers relaxed. She’d worked damn hard to go beyond her family’s expectations. And to have it all taken away by someone in a position of power over her made her head explode.

The advertising community was small, and gossip was rampant. She was under no illusion that fleeing New York made it possible for her to leave what happened behind. It hadn’t been private. It had been very, very public.

She knew speculation ran wide. She knew people talked. Knew her coworkers probably whispered behind her back and pondered the possibility that she’d slept with Brock or Flynn Maddox to secure her position in the agency and to be granted the opportunity to land Evan Reese’s account. They probably thought she’d do whatever it took to persuade Evan.

The only person she’d bothered to defend herself to was Brock, and she figured she owed him that much if he was going to hire her. Only he knew the truth about what really happened at her former agency. And when he’d assured her that she’d suffer no such situation here, she’d believed him. It might make her unbelievably naive after her last run-in with her boss, but Brock struck her as a deeply honorable man, and more importantly, someone who kept his word.

“Is everything all right?”

Evan’s softly spoken question jarred her from her thoughts. His hand had gone to hers, and he carefully uncurled her fingers that were wound so tightly that the tips were white.

“Do you have a fear of flying?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”

He studied her intently, his gaze stroking her cheeks and then her mouth.

“Seems a shame to waste time on such unpleasant thoughts.”

The urge to deny that her thoughts had been unpleasant lasted all of about two seconds. She wrinkled her nose and grinned ruefully.

“Busted.”

He chuckled. “I like an honest woman.”

It was then she realized that they were already in the air. Wow, she really must have been intensely lost in thought to have missed the takeoff.

“Relax. There’ll be plenty of time to discuss business during our stay. Let’s begin the trip by enjoying the short flight.”

Either she was exceedingly transparent or he’d just anticipated her jumping into things right away. Either way, she was perfectly willing to delay their discussion until she felt a little more on equal footing. Sitting here in such close proximity on his jet, drinking his wine … it was more than a little overwhelming.

His hand remained on hers, his thumb sliding idly over her knuckles in a soothing pattern. She liked it. She liked it too much.

Survive, Celia. Survive this weekend. Be a professional. After this weekend you’ll only have to see him in a business environment.

She swallowed and let calm descend. There was no way she’d screw this opportunity up just because she couldn’t get all her girly hormones in check.

The flight went quickly, and oddly, after the first awkward moments, Celia sat back and enjoyed the casual conversation with Evan. William had kept a steady presence to refill their wineglasses and offer a variety of finger foods. By the time they landed at the Airport in the Sky, Celia was limber and completely relaxed. Probably due to the wine.

They were met by a hotel representative and were quickly whisked into a waiting shuttle. It only took a few minutes to arrive at the gorgeous beachfront resort. It was so beautiful, it took her breath away.

The sunset over the water gave the place a decidedly romantic feel, but then they were here for a wedding, so Celia supposed it was only appropriate that romance positively danced on the air.

Evan escorted Celia through the glass doors into the lobby. A bellhop followed behind with a rolling cart that held their luggage.

“Wait right here,” Evan murmured. “Take a seat if you like. I’ll get our room keys so we can go up.”

Before he could go, a feminine voice rent the air.

“Evan! Oh, Evan, you’re here!”

Evan stiffened against Celia. He went positively rigid, and Celia could swear she heard him curse under his breath. Celia turned in the direction of the call and saw a regally dressed older woman hurrying across the lobby, her heels tapping delicately on the polished floor.

Behind her, a grim faced older gentleman flanked by a younger woman and a man who looked slightly younger than Evan, walked slower but with no less purpose in Evan’s direction.

To her surprise, Evan took her left hand in his and held it close to his side. He fumbled with her fingers even as he looked up with a welcoming smile. It looked completely forced to Celia, but the woman didn’t seem put off.

The woman threw her arms around Evan, and still, he didn’t let go of Celia’s hand. He returned her embrace with his free arm and said, “Hello, Mom. I told you I was coming.”

“I know, but after Bettina told me she’d been to see you and when she told me that …”

She broke off and looked curiously at Celia, whose hand was still securely held in Evan’s.

Then his mom looked back at Bettina, confusion clear in her eyes.

“But my dear, you told me that Evan wasn’t seeing anyone, that he just told me that to ease my concern.”

“Did she?” Evan asked in an even tone. He pinned Bettina with a stare that would have had Celia fidgeting.

His mom nudged him impatiently. “Well, introduce us, Evan.”

“Yes, do introduce us,” Bettina said in a chilly voice.

About the time she felt Evan’s grip on her hand tighten and the cool metal slide over her finger, Celia regretted having agreed to come. She tried to look down, wondering what Evan had done to her finger, but he kept his hand over hers. Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. She felt as if she’d just entered a minefield.

“Mom. Dad. Bettina. Mitchell.” His lips curled when he said the last and Celia zeroed in on the man in question. He had to be Evan’s brother. The similarity was striking. “I’d like you to meet—” His entire body tensed and he gripped her hand almost painfully. It was like he was sending her a silent message. “I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Celia Taylor.”