Page 115 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“Yes. This is permanent.”
Nathan sighed heavily. “I’m disappointed, but I understand. You’ve always been professional, and I respect your decision.”
“Thank you.”
“Let me think about your alternative suggestion. Maybe one of your other girls would be a good fit. I’ll call you back when I’ve made up my mind.”
“Take your time.”
After I hung up, I sat back in my chair and looked around my office. This business had given me independence, financial security, and the means to support my parents. But it had alsobeen a shield, a way to control intimacy without risking my heart.
But somehow Christian had come into my life and I’d let down that shield.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s fine,” I murmured. And why did I need convincing?
Chapter
Twenty-Six
NAOMI
I was aboutto ask Christian something I’d never asked any man before.
A surprise getaway. My idea. My planning. My initiative.
“You’re quiet this morning,” Christian said, glancing up from the Wall Street Journal he was reading while eating his scrambled eggs. “Is everything okay?”
I set my phone down and reached for my coffee cup, buying myself a few more seconds. “Actually, I have something to ask you.”
His eyebrows rose. “I’m listening.”
“How would you feel about going away with me this weekend? Somewhere special. A surprise.”
Christian’s fork slid into his mouth and his brows dipped as he chewed and swallowed. “This weekend?”
“I know it’s short notice. If you can’t move your schedule around, I understand completely.”
“Naomi.” He set his fork down and reached for my hand. “Say when and I’m there.”
The anxiety on my shoulders lifted. “Really? Just like that?”
“Just like that. I’ll move whatever needs moving.” He bent and kissed the back of my hand. “Where are we going?”
“That’s the surprise part. You’ll find out when we get there.”
Christian smiled, warmly. “I love that you planned this. When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow night. We have an appointment with the private jet at eight.”
“Then I’d better start making calls.”
The Gulfstream’s engines hummed steadily as we cruised at thirty-seven thousand feet. Christian had fallen asleep an hour into the flight, his head resting against my shoulder while I ran my fingers over the waves on his head. The cabin was dimly lit, most passengers on red-eye flights would be sleeping, but I watched him breathe evenly in the peaceful darkness.
The sharp lines of his face were softened when he slept, and the constant alertness he maintained as a successful attorney melted away.
“Good morning, passengers. This is Captain Jones with an update on our flight.”
Christian’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of the intercom.
