Page 61 of The Billionaire Is Back

“Which airport are we flying out of?” I ask, trying to make polite conversation.

“Jetport in Portland,” he says, holding me close. “We have time.”

“I feel like we’ve hugged for long enough now, don’t you?”

“Your neighbor is still watching us.”

“She has arthritis in her knees. She moves very slowly. We’ll be here all day if we wait for her to get back inside her house.”

He still doesn’t let go of me.

“Don’t we have to get there early to go through security or something?” I ask, and dammit, now I have to breathe, and he smells like a cinnamon roll that got left out in the snow and then got warmed up again by the fire in a billionaire lumberjack’s cabin. I hug him tighter and groan a little. To make the hug appear really authentic.

“Actually, TSA requires all owners of private jets to pat down their guests. If I’m not satisfied with my preliminary inspection I have the authority to strip-search you.”

“Oh, for the love of cream puffs.”

“Fine, I’ll let go of you.” He smiles and cups my cheek, stroking my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

I am ninety percent certain there wasn’t any flour on my face because Ichecked ten times. “Flour?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to touch your face.”

I was preparedfor Grady to try to seduce me in the back of the limo during the hour-long ride to Portland, but he didn’t. He was preoccupied with business calls and emails, so I tried texting Vera again, since I saw that she replied to some people’s comments on the bakery’s IG post from yesterday. I’m glad to know she’s probably alive, but I still get no reply. I thought Grady would attempt to initiate me into the mile high club on the plane, but the pilot and attendant are about ten feet away from us, and it’s only a fifty-minute flight. I have a mimosa, watch an episode ofFriends, and then I have another mimosa.

By the time we land—and I know for sure that we aren’t going to crash—I am almost relaxed. Or at least this is what I think I remember it feels like to be relaxed. I give the flight attendant, Judy, a hug and give my compliments to the pilot, thanking both of them for making this such a pleasant experience.

Grady shakes both of their hands, tells them to say hi to their family members, each of whom he seems to know by name. Which is sweet. He has been a perfect gentleman with me as well ever since I told him I want to keep this arrangement strictly professional. Which is annoying. But also perfect because it gives me a reason tobe annoyed with him. Which is relaxing because it feels familiar.

He holds my hand as we take the steps down from the jet to the tarmac in some special part of LaGuardia Airport. “Welcome to New York,” he says.

I’m too nervous about tripping to gaze around, so I fix my attention on the two Lincoln Town Cars that are parked nearby.

“The air doesn’t smell as good as it does in Beacon Harbor,” I mutter.

I catch his expression out of the corner of my eye, and you’d think I just slapped him.

“But I bet the people here smell great,” I offer.

He forces a smile. “Some of them.” He leads me toward one of the cars.

A chauffeur who looks kind of like the one we had in Maine but not quite gets out, tips his hat at me, picks up my luggage, and puts it in the trunk of one of the cars, but not the one he just got out of.

Grady takes my hand in his and slowly licks his lips.

Here we go,I think to myself.He’s going to make his move in the back seat of the town car with “New York, New York” playing on the stereo or something. I can’t wait to not fall for it.

“Well,” he exhales. “I have back-to-back meetings, so I’ll be at the office, and then I’ll see you for dinner tonight.” He raises the back of my hand to his lips. “I hope you have a great day, Claire.”

“What? You’re leaving me? I’m going to be on my own all day?”

He smirks. “I will not be escorting you around town today, no.” Letting my hand slip from his, he goes around to the side of the town car. “That doesn’t mean I’m leaving you alone.” He opens the door to the back seat, and out pops Vera.

My best friend Vera.

The one who hasn’t been replying to my texts.

She is squealing.

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