Page 28 of Wild Card

She jumped. She hadn’t expect anyone up here besides her best friend, but the pixie-sized brunette, dressed in a stylish black pantsuit and toting a flashing smart pad, smiled like she greeted paranoid strangers every day. Not complete strangers. The woman knew her name. How? Why?

“Yes?” Next to the beauty, who floated more than walked and smelled like a newly minted angel, Jen felt like a hobo. Didn’t matter that her T-shirt was her best from the alt-rock bands collection—could one go wrong with the Arctic Monkeys?—she still smelled like a locker room and likely looked worse.

“Hello. I’m Francesca Young, the hotel’s lead concierge.”

“Lovely to meet you but I’m up here to meet someone, and—”

“Yes.” The girl smiled. Seriously, how could so much flawless bone structure be stuffed into one person? “I know.”

“You do?” Her heart lightened. Maybe Tess wasn’t really out there walking on a windswept ledge, like she’d imagined. If the concierge desk was involved here too, maybe this really was just a minor detail about the wedding. “Awesome. So where is she?”

“You mean where is he?”

“He?”

The question mark in her tone didn’t seem to matter now. “Right this way, Miss Thorne. Everything’s ready.”

“Ready for what?”

The last word stammered out differently than she’d planned. But she also hadn’t anticipated following Francesca out the door, around the corner, and onto a huge helipad—where, indeed, a helicopter was parked.

The door was open and waiting. Standing in front of that portal, wind whipping his hair back, a black T-shirt and jeans turning him into sin on two feet, was the beautiful bastard who hadn’t “let her be” at all.

He’d just been away. Plotting. Planning. Then implementing.

This was implementation, all right. With a huge, capital I.

Because of her. For her.

Just the sight of the helo brought her own words back to mind, clear as the moment right after she’d uttered them in the bar. That’s another fantasy of mine, you know. To know what it’s like to fly with you…

He’d sat in that big bed and begged her for more fantasies. Her resistance had been unnecessary. She’d already given him the answer. The moment he’d figured that out too, he’d gone to work on living up to his seductive promise. Now it’s your turn…for fantasies bein’ granted.

He’d even enlisted Tess in his cause. She envisioned her friend now, giggling as Sam explained his plot, totally agreeing to send that text on his behalf. A glance around the deck confirmed it. No Tess in sight.

Jen wanted to—needed to—get pissed about that and the rest of the man’s shenanigans, but even her best efforts couldn’t summon the ire.

Simply put, she just didn’t want to be angry.

She wanted to give in to the rest instead. The giddy leap of her stomach at beholding the powerful lines of the helicopter. The girlish flip of her heart at taking in the majestic man next to it. The tender squeeze of her soul when he beckoned to her, palm turned up, long fingers extended.

She shifted on both feet. Twisted her hands around her tote. Chewed the inside of her cheek into hamburger.

What was the harm in taking that hand? Of letting him give her this last, exciting adventure? Clearly, he planned on piloting the flight, meaning he’d be focused on keeping the helo in the air instead of touching her—though God only knew where her naughty dreams would flow once she watched, up close, his hand on the stick…his fingers on all those switches…

Oh, who the hell was she trying to kid?

Bee. Honey.

Fighting Mother Nature just wasn’t a good idea.

She shook her head. Rolled her eyes. Split a huge grin. Then made her way across the pavement, toward the man who outshone every light around and below with the joy of his barely tamped delight.

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