Читать книгу A Weekend With Her Fake Fiancé - Traci Douglass - Страница 11

LATE THURSDAY MORNING, Zac took a moment to collect himself as he stepped into the ticketing area of Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport. There were, of course, dozens of people milling about, but his eyes went immediately to a petite beauty with glowing mocha skin and copper-streaked curls, standing on the other side of the security gate, checking her watch.

Dressed in jeans, an emerald-green turtleneck, a black parka and black suede boots, Carmen looked a far cry from the way she looked dressed in her usual scrubs at the hospital. Younger and way sexier, if that were possible.

Whoa, cowboy.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself why he was here. This wasn’t a vacation. This wasn’t about sex. This was work.

After going through the security checkpoint, he strode toward her, coming up on the side opposite to where she was looking.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, setting his leather carry-on bag on the floor near his feet.

She turned and looked him up and down, checked her watch again, then took off for the nearby escalators, calling to him over her shoulder as she went. “You are late. I hope this isn’t a sign of how the rest of the weekend will go. And you’re also overdressed.”

“I wasn’t sure what to wear. We didn’t discuss that,” he muttered, racing after her and catching her up near the end of the concourse, feeling uncomfortable now in his dark jeans and tweed blazer, with the open collar of his white dress shirt suddenly too confining for comfort. “You already have the gate number?”

“Don’t need one,” she said to him over her shoulder. “Private jet, remember?”

“Right.” Zac nodded, feeling even more like an idiot. He knew that. Should’ve remembered from the days traveling with his father.

He forced his attention away from the seductive sway of Carmen’s hips as she walked slightly in front of him and focused straight ahead instead.

Mind on the game, buddy.

A flight attendant waited for them near a side door and escorted them out onto the chilly tarmac, where Zac got his first view of the plane, which was similar to the one his father had owned when Zac was growing up. The knots in his gut tightened.

They approached the small, sleek white aircraft with the fancy logo of the California clinic painted on its tail. Whoever owned that clinic certainly had cash in the bank. These things carried a sixty-five to seventy-million-dollar price tag. Flew like a dream too.

Back in the day, before his father’s betrayal had caused the world Zac knew to crash down around him, he’d logged enough flight hours to become a pilot himself. But that had been another life—a different Zac.

“Here we are,” the flight attendant said, stopping at the bottom of a set of steps. “Enjoy your flight.”

“Thank you.”

Carmen climbed the steps in front of him and Zac did his best not to notice how her jeans cupped her cute butt perfectly. She stopped just before the top and turned to face him. Distracted, he nearly collided right into her. Good thing he had a firm grip on the railing, otherwise he might have had to grab her to keep his balance. And touching her at this point, even for safety reasons, would be a big mistake.

“Ready for this?” she asked. “Did you bring your dossier?”

He squinted up at her in the sunshine and avoided staring at the gold cross necklace nestled atop her bosom. “I am. I did. Did you?”

She inhaled deep, then nodded. “Yes. We can go over them during the flight. I was hoping you’d be on time so we could do it beforehand. I think Priya and Lance have already boarded.”