Page 10 of Kissed and Missed

“It wasn’t,” he assures me hurriedly. “I just realized I need to do something. Right now.”

6

JULIAN

There have only been a handful of moments where I knew, without a fraction of a doubt, that my life was about to change completely.

When my ex-wife told me she was pregnant, and when my daughter was born.

When I had an eight-figure offer for my first company, and decided I was going to turn it down.

When Honor Vogel told me—in not so many words—that she wanted me to love her.

It’s one thing to develop feelings for someone you shouldn’t, but it’s entirely another to decide you’re going to act on them. Not just a kiss, or being her friend, or even confessing your feelings. No. I mean to throw yourself, headfirst, into making this woman love you, no matter the cost. Even if it makes you less than the man she believes you are.

Good men do not pursue their daughter’s ex-girlfriend, but in that moment, I knew it was exactly what I was going to do.

In every choice I’ve made for twenty-four years, I put Riley first. Now, I can’t bring myself to care what she thinks. If she disvalued a person like Honor to such a degree that she would beunfaithful, my daughter doesn’t get to claim any part of her. God knows that won’t be how she sees it, but I refuse to feel bad.

Honor is a once in a lifetime event. Nothing and no one has made me feel as good as she does. Never have I been so attracted to a woman or had fantasies like the ones she inspires in me. I trust my intuition, and right now, it’s bellowing that if I don’t fight for this woman, I will regret it the rest of my life.

If she didn’t feel the same way, I would find a way to live with these feelings. Shedoes, though. Honor has spent the past six weeks as miserable as I have. By some miracle, she wants me, and I’m done punishing both of us on my daughter’s behalf. As a parent, it’s difficult to admit it, but her behavior and attitude make Riley undeserving of it.

Which is why I got on a plane.

It’s the logical course of action if you have access to a private jet and need to make a swift trip across the country to seduce a woman eighteen years your junior.

Seduce. Christ. Is that what I’m trying to do?

“Mr. Ballard?” I’m ripped from the very enjoyable mental image of what such a course of action may lead to, by the voice of the flight attendant standing hesitantly beside my seat. “The pilot asked me to inform you we’ll be landing shortly, Mr. Ballard. Would you mind fastening your seatbelt?”

I clear my throat, adjusting the blanket across my lap, conscious of the effect thoughts of Honor have had on me. “Of course.”

“Can I get you anything else?” There’s no mistaking the hopeful, eager tone, nor missing the fact she has undone two buttons on her uniform top since I boarded.

Christ.

Averting my eyes, I busy myself with shoving my laptop into the bag beside me. “No. Thank you.”

She heads off in the direction of the cockpit without another word, and I sink back into my seat. Staring out the window, I watch as the landscape below the plane grows larger and more distinguishable. The sun is rising above the Eastern Seaboard, and while I meant to sleep during the flight, I could never quite manage it.

For hours, my mind has been turning through every possible scenario that might arise from me coming here, developing alternative plans, and firing off emails like a madman. Now that pursuing Honor is what I’ve decided to do, it’s like a switch has flipped inside me, and I’m not leaving anything to chance.

The plane dips lower and, feeling restless, I take out my phone, checking my staff has executed the steps I put in motion for the tenth time, and it’s with no small amount of satisfaction I find everyone has done their job. If anyone found it strange I would cancel everything on my schedule for the next week, charter a plane to fly through the night to New England, and set them a series of strange, seemingly unrelated tasks, they were wise enough not to say so.

I try to be an approachable leader, but the people who work closely with me have done so long enough to sense when I don’t want a discussion, and this is one of those times.

The jolt of the landing gear engaging sends my heart into my throat, and my hands tighten on the armrests. The plane touching ground seems to have driven home the reality of what I’ve decided to do. I should feel fear or panic, but instead, a calm has settled over me.

This is happening, and for once in my life, I don’t feel the need to analyze it.

I keep my head down as the plane door opens and I’m hit by the first blast of icy New England wind. It’s been a long time since I spent any significant amount of time outside of SouthernCalifornia, and as I hurry down the steps toward the car waiting on the tarmac, I’m reminded why.

“Good morning, Mr. Ballard. Welcome to Connecticut,” the driver greets me smoothly, standing back to allow me to duck into the warm back seat of the car.

It says a lot about my level of obsession that even the freezing February wind doesn’t deter my resolve. On the contrary, the knowledge that Honor is within a few minutes of me has my earlier exhaustion fading away, and I sit up straighter as the driver gets in, pulling off his gloves. My assistant has already handled the travel arrangements, and I stare out the window as we leave the airport, making the short drive into the small city where Honor grew up.

It’s a beautiful place, even with snow piled up along the sides of the road and wintery, gray light filtering down through a blanket of clouds. Beautiful old Colonials line the road, separated from traffic by low rock walls, their roofs and driveways dusted by recent snowfall.

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