Page 59 of Seductive Scoundrel

“Perfect,” I say to no one, but get a grin from a guy walking by.

Mia: On my way. See you soon.

The airport is busy, and I’m kind of surprised. Palm Beach is the retirement capital of North America. But the airport isn’t only packed with seniors, there’s a bit of everyone – old and young, business and holiday.

“I’m sorry, miss, but can you please help me?” an older gentleman asks as I stride by.

It’s not nice, but I almost consider pretending not to hear him. Dean issoclose that I can taste him. Smell him. But my upbringing and sense of decency won’t let me, so I fix a smile to my face and turn around.

“How can I help you, sir?”

The old man’s dark eyes light up and I’m instantly glad I stopped because I’m betting no one else did. He shuffles a few steps closer, then holds out his ticket, his hand shaking. “I’m lost. Can you tell me where this gate is?”

I close the distance between us, look at the ticket and then at the signage suspended from the ceiling. He’s not even close, and his plane is going to board soon. From the measured way he shuffled towards me, he’ll never make it.

“It’s that way,” I reply, pointing down the adjacent hallway, “but you’ve got some distance to go. Just a second,” I add, spying an electric cart coming towards us. I flag the security guard down. “Hi there, this gentleman needs to get to his flight on the other end of the airport. Can you give him a lift?”

The old man’s hand wraps around my wrist. “Thank you,” he whispers next to my ear. “I’m on the way to visit my grandkids, and I don’t want to miss the plane.”

“I’m just on my way to do a pickup, but can radio for another cart. One should be here within 15 to 20 minutes,” the attendant says.

The old man’s hand falls away from mine because we both know that’s too long to wait. Then I spot a wheelchair on the back of the cart.

“Can we borrow your wheelchair instead?” I ask. It’ll still be tight and considering I’m wearing a fitted dress and heels – sky-high heels – it won’t be easy, but I’ll do my best to get him there on time because as a kid, I would have been devastated to miss a weekend with my grandpa.

“Sure,” the attendant agrees, setting the chair beside us. “Just leave it at the gate.”

“Thanks. Get in, sir, you’re going for a ride.” I hook my bag onto the back of the chair as he sits down.

“I don’t know how to thank you, miss.”

“My pleasure. Make sure you hold onto your bag.”

Somehow, I fly through the airport, getting my passenger to the gate just as the final boarding call is announced. Once we say our goodbyes and I leave him in more capable hands, I pull out my phone to let Dean know I’m running – literally – late.

Mia: Sorry, it’s taking a bit longer than expected. Be there ASAP.

Dean: Everything okay?

Mia: Yes, just had to help someone. Tell you about it in a minute.

Dean: Okay. Can’t wait to see you.

“Now to get back,” I mumble to myself, bending down to adjust the strap on my heels. These shoes make my legs look amazing and aren’t totally uncomfortable unless you run across a football field – or two. But now my feet and legs are throbbing.

“Okay, Georgie Girl, looks like my plane is boarding on time. Tell the kids I love them, and I’ll see you guys soon. Let’s order in tonight and make a fort in the living room for movie night,” a familiar masculine voice says.

I know that deep voice and I’ve heard Dex Pruitt refer to his wife by that nickname more than once. In fact, I don’t know her real name, but I’m guessing it’s Georgina.

Without straightening, I look right, peeking through my hair. Dex is standing in front of the arrival/departure board a mere 10 feet away.

Shit!

Double shit!

Panic surges through my body and the need for escape takes over. I glance around, trying to find a way to get past without him noticing because – of course – he’s standing right where I have to walk.

How am I going to explain why I’m here? What if he connects me to Dean and thinks that Dean’s pumping me for information or steering the audit? That would be bad – very bad.

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