Page 60 of Who's Your Daddy
“Cal.” There’s that growly little ball of energy again.
The helicopter lifts off then, and Lola hisses, then mutters a “shit,” squeezing my hand so tight I think I might lose blood flow.
Chuckling, I pry myself free and grasp it with my other hand, then tug her close and slip my arm around her. The armrest between us makes it a little uncomfortable, but I allow the metal to dig into my hip so that I can hold her and press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got you. You’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t pull back. In fact, I could almost swear she relaxes into my embrace. And I like that a bit too much.
Landing goes about as well as takeoff did. Eyes screwed shut and shaking like a feather, Lola allows me to lead her down the three steps off the helicopter.
Our driver awaits, and as he navigates through Boston, she checks emails and I confirm that Sloane hasn’t forgotten to pick up Murphy. She assures me that she’s got it all under control, reminding me that she’s been raising T.J. all these years without incident. Somewhat mollified, I settle back in my seat and will my body to relax.
The hotel reminds me of Europe. Practically every surface is marble, and the ceilings are covered in incredible artwork. The chandeliers offer little light but plenty of charm.
At the front desk, an attendant greets us with a smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, how was your travel here?” He holds out a tray, offering us glasses of champagne.
I take a sip of mine, strangely thrilled by the way he addressed us.
Mrs. Murphy.I’ve never really considered having a Mrs. Murphy.Never thought I’d meet a woman interesting enough to hold my attention for more than a few days.
But Lola? Though it may have only hit me recently, I can’t deny she’s had it for eight years. Since the day my father called me into his office and introduced me to his new paralegal.
I’ve always been interested. Now, though, it’s become an infatuation. Maybe the Jersey air has done something to my head.
Slowly, I take another sip of my champagne, relishing the crisp flavor. I don’t mind feeling this way at all. Maybe we’ll just stay in Jersey.
Movement beside me catches my eye, and when I glance at Lola, I nearly choke on my drink.
She scowls at me, then at the man across the counter. “Not Mrs. Murphy. I’m Lola Caruso, Mr. Murphy’s colleague.”
The man blanches. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I smirk. “I’ll take being mistaken for Mr. Lola Caruso any day of the week.”
Lola huffs out a breath, the sound sending a ridiculous thrill through me.
“Well, right, okay,” the man says.
He’s working through an issue. I can see it in the way his eyes keep darting to the package in his hand.
“If you’re ready, I’ll escort you to your room.”
Lola stiffens beside me. “Rooms.”
“Room,” the man replies.
“Rooms.” Lola holds the last sound,roomzzz.
“Room.” The man holds up the room key. “There is only one.”
“No.” Lola shakes her head and looks at me, fire in her eyes. “No.”
“Yes, unfortunately we’re completely sold out.”
“This is?—”
Before Lola can rant at this poor guy who’s just trying to do his job, I grab the key from him. “Perfect. I’ll take it from here.”
He rounds the desk, smoothing out his vest. “Please, let me show you to your room.”
