Page 44 of One Night in Paris

The line was long, but it was moving. “It’ll be fine.” Giving her a reassuring smile, I got into line behind an older couple dressed in Hawaiian shirts, the man wearing black socks hiked up to his knees with shorts and sandals.

“Logan, I think you should just go to the other line.” Harper nudged me as we wound our way through the endless loops of fabric cords.

Refusing to even check the time, I shook my head. “Nah. For all we know, our flight’s delayed anyway.” I actually knew that it wasn’t since I had alerts set up on my phone to tell me if it was. I just had to hope we’d make it.

When we finally reached the front of the line, I was reminded that I’d have to take off my belt and shoes, unlike for TSA Pre-Check. Not wanting Harper to see my irritation, I bit it back and went through the routine. Of course, my bag got pulled aside to be checked and swabbed. By the time we got through security, they were already boarding our flight.

“We’ll need to hurry down to gate eighteen,” I told Harper as she rushed to put her shoes back on.

Nodding, she stopped and took them back off. “I’m down for it,” she said, causing me to grin.

We didn’t run through the airport, but we walked as fast as we could, me dragging the small suitcases while Harper held on to her massive purse and shoes.

Breathing hard, we approached the podium where one small, older man was talking to the attendant. All I heard was something about not wanting to get on the plane without speaking to the pilot…

“Mr. Winters,” she said to me, scanning my ticket on my phone. “Cutting it kind of close.”

“So sorry,” I murmured. She nodded and moved to scan Harper’s ticket. With only a few seconds to spare, we made it onto the flight.

The situation with the old man must’ve been resolved because we pushed back from the gate about the same time Harper was getting her shoes on. Our comfy seats were right next to one another, so she could shoot me daggers all the way to California.

“Sorry,” I told her for the hundredth time.

Grinning at me, Harper said, “It’s okay. Next time I’ll know.”

The flight was uneventful. I missed having my own private jet, but we were able to chat and watch a movie together, which was fun. I also had the opportunity to prep Harper on what to expect when we arrived. For the most part, I wanted her to take notes, but we would debrief after the presentation, and I’d pick her brain then.

At the airport, the car was waiting for us. We didn’t have much time before the meeting, so I didn’t bother to go to the hotel. Instead, we went straight to the offices of Sky High.

The moment we arrived, the games began. Dave shook my hand and offered me a cigar, which I declined. “You’re going to be a very rich man when this is all over,” he said, leaning in.

I smiled, but I was already a very rich man, so I didn’t need this project if I didn’t like it. Something about this guy had always rubbed me the wrong way, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. He was a bit of an odd duck, that was for sure, but there was something else. Maybe I’d figure it out during the presentation.

“Who’s this?” Dave asked, eyeing Harper like she was prized poultry hanging in the butcher shop.

“This is my assistant, Harper Reynolds.” I kept my tone professional, not predatory, like I wanted to.

“Well, well, nice to put a beautiful face with the name,” he said.

Harper shook his hand, but she looked uncomfortable, so I hastily moved us away.

“He seems… nice,” she said sarcastically. Saying nothing, I moved her along, not wanting to let Dave get too close to her.

Harper and I settled into a couple of seats in their banquet hall. Other representatives from different firms were there. Knowing most of them, I stood up and shook their hands as they came by to say hello. Now, I just wanted to hear Dave’s pitch so I could assess the situation and get out of there.

Sitting next to Harper, I asked her quietly, “Is there anything, in particular, you want to see while we’re here?”

Her eyes lit up. “Actually, if we have time, I’d love to see the Golden Gate.”

“You mean McDonald’s?” I teased.

Giggling, she said, “I believe those are the golden arches.”

“That’s right.” I winked at her. “I think we can manage that. It’s not far from here.”

I loved to see her face glow with excitement and know I’d been able to make that happen. Still smiling, I turned my attention to the podium where Dave was beginning his speech.

The moment the man opened his mouth, I knew something was off. The numbers he was showing us didn’t align with what I knew to be the budget the city had set for this project. I’d done some research on my own as well, so I was aware of what this project should entail.

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