Page 62 of The VIP Package

Camille laughs again, spearing her last bite of rockfish. “You used that word to describe my breasts when we first met. Which do you find more exquisite?”

“No contest,” I say, twirling my noodles through a puddle of sauce. “Your breasts covered in linguine.”

She laughs and lays down her fork on the edge of her plate. “Thanks, Ash Hole.” She crumples her napkin on top of it. “That was delicious. Almost as good as the meals you’ve had Lars dropping off for me.”

“You liked yesterday’s tofu and cous cous with mango dressing?”

“Amazing. He must have made you the same thing?”

“I’ll see if I can get you the recipe.”

“I wish I could thank him myself, but he just leaves the food at the door.”

“I’ve requested he not disturb you.” Clearing my throat, I twist up my last bite of pasta. “I need to tell you something.”

“Oh?” A shimmer of worry shines in her eyes. “Sounds serious.”

“A little.” I still can’t believe that describing my infidelity didn’t send her screaming for the hills. Perhaps this will do it. “I haven’t been honest with you.”

Her posture goes rigid, though she’s trying so hard to look cool. “About?”

“It’s true I’ve been speaking with airline executives about the strike.” I did make an effort, at least. “But I could have tried harder.”

“Ash, you’ve gone above and beyond?—”

“My private jet could get you anywhere you needed to be in a matter of hours. The pilot returned from vacation to fly me to that meeting in Negril.”

That stops her in her tracks. “I wondered.”

“About?”

“If the plane you took that day was just too small to get me back to the states. Or maybe too expensive for?—”

“Size is certainly not an issue.”

“No kidding.” One edge of her mouth quirks.

“And as for money?—”

“I get it, Ash. You’re not exactly digging loose change out of the sofa.” The other corner of her mouth tips up. “So let me get this straight—you’ve been holding me hostage for sex.”

I study her face, waiting for some other reaction. “Should I be concerned you look delighted by the prospect?”

“It means youwantto be with me, Ash Hole.” She snatches my hand off the table, twisting our fingers together. “Which works out well, since Iwantto be with you.”

A niggling sense of unease wells up in my chest. “I told you I’m a liar and a cheater.” I don’t understand why she’s still looking at me like shelikesme. “I’ve told you feelings can’t be part of the equation. That I’ve been keeping you here under false pretenses.”

“Oh, honey.” Her expression is one I suspect she’d reserve for a senile old man. “First of all, you lied and you cheated—past tense, but still true. That doesn’t make you a liar or acheater anymore than a few instances of peeing on a campfire to extinguish it makes you a firefighter.”

I stare at this beautiful woman. This gorgeous, clever, completely mad human. “Are you utterly insa?—”

“Secondly,” she continues like I’m not even speaking. “You insist feelings aren’t part of the equation, but you know what I’ve seen in almost a week of knowing you?”

I don’t even open my mouth to reply, since she’s on a roll now.

“I’ve seen a man so concerned with employee satisfaction that he invents a goddamn holiday to give them paid time off. I’ve seen a man who knows he’s a little bit brusque, but he’s quick to apologize and own his mistakes.” She squeezes my hand as her voice becomes serious. “And I’ve witnessed a man willing to share his deepest shame and pain. I’m sorry to break it to you, Ash, but those actions are all based onfeelings.”

Fuck me.

---