I bit back a smile as Grant turned to the woman in question.
“They’re not married,” the woman whined.
Lizzy held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. I thought she might curl down four, leaving the middle one up, but she didn’t.
“They weren’t wearing those,” the flight attendant went on.
Grant sighed. “I’m sorry about Mandy. She’s not a part of our normal crew. Again, we were left with few options in our scramble to accommodate your needs.”
“Not a problem,” I said and gave Lizzy a look to hopefully muzzle her. There was a good chance we might need to use their services in the future.
“Really, Grant King, after everything! Remember, I did you a favor.” Mandy stomped out the door and down the stairs in a huff.
“Sorry about that,” Lizzy said. “But you’re better off knowing so you don’t lose future clients.”
“It’s okay,” Grant said.
Lizzy nodded and made her exit, leaving me alone with the other King.
“You’re based out of….” I asked.
“A little town in the western panhandle of Maryland. Though as you can see, we can handle international flights.”
I extended a hand. “I’m sure we’ll use your services again.” As we shook hands, I wondered if I was imagining a resemblance to my dad there around his eyes.
“We welcome it, even last-minute flights. You won’t have to worry about Mandy again though.”
“It’s good to hear. While I had no problem handling her, she didn’t treat my wife as a valued customer.”
Grant nodded. “Noted.”
I wanted to ask him who his father was, but I stopped myself. My father wasn’t the only man in the world with the last name King. Just because Grant shared ours didn’t mean he was a brother or even a relative. My mother wasn’t the only one guilty of cheating. My father was no innocent in the failure of their marriage. But would he keep information about a half-sibling to himself?
Standing at the door didn’t prepare me for the wall of heat when I was fully outside. Lizzy waited for me with a hand to her forehead to block the sun as a customs agent looked over her passport. I met them at the bottom and handed him mine.
“Thank you, Mr. Black,” he said.
When he walked away, I took Lizzy’s hand. When she glared at me, I said, “You’re a good actress. Just do what you do best and pretend.”
Six
Lizzy
Oh, how I wanted to throttle the man. “Pretend what?” I said quietly through gritted teeth so the customs agent, who was still in earshot, wouldn’t hear.
I was already on edge from being forced to wear a bikini off a plane. Like who does that? But the packed bag I’d been given left me no options.
“Pretend you don’t like me holding your hand.”
“Ego much?” I said, not looking at him.
“My ego isn’t in play. Yours is. Pride won’t let you admit you still want me.”
“What I want is food. Not you.”
“Liar,” he said.
I shifted to face him, stopping his forward progress. “Let’s get this straight. The only liar here is you, Mr. Black.”
“It’s called subterfuge. You know, the kind that’s keeping you alive.”
I didn’t exactly understand why this destination would keep me safe.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Given the tropical setting, it might have been romantic if this wasn’t all so fake. I understood why so many bikinis had been packed for me, not that I liked it. A pair of shorts would have been nice. If the woman who had swapped clothes for me in the tunnel had done my packing, she’d lost her girl card. Because only a man would think bikinis were the only necessary clothing for me on an island.
I would have walked off except Striker had shackled my hand to his by lacing our fingers together, kicking my heart rate up. I wanted to lie to myself and say it was the rage I felt, but I wanted the man in the worst way. Good thing my head was still in the game and wouldn’t allow me to be so stupid.
As we reached the airport entrance, I instantly knew where we were. Providenciales International Airport was in Turks & Caicos. Before everything had happened with Bailey going to Scotland, I was going to suggest a girls’ getaway here for the two of us. Now I was here with him.
When we stepped inside the small airport, I freed myself from Striker’s grip and made a beeline for a shop. The hat in the window display had grabbed my attention. The sun would be great for a tan, but I had a tendency to burn more than anything else, damn my genes. A floppy hat was a must in weather like this.
As I walked in, I spotted a wall full of short, tanks and other clothing items not swimwear. I walked over and grabbed things because the sarong I wore was so wrong for the beach. It was more for lounging by a pool. If I’d been told someone would pack for me, I would have given them instructions. Then again, I hadn’t even known our destination. I ground my molars before taking my selections to the corner marked as a dressing room.
I had the door almost closed when Striker pushed his way in.
“Excuse you,” I complained.
“There’s only one changing room.”
“And?”
“And it’s not like I haven’t seen the goods before.”
“It’s not like you’ll ever touch me again,” I said tartly.
His eyes dropped as if assessing every inch of my skin before he stepped forward, crowding me in the small space that barely fit the both of us. My back hit the wall as he leaned down. I thought he might kiss me—and I might have been slightly disappointed when his lips ghosted over mine before reaching my ear.
“Now that you’ve made your intentions clear, let me tell you mine. I will not touch you unless you beg me to.”
His words landed on my skin, and I shivered. When he pulled back, he smirked, his gaze going to my chest. I glanced down and saw my nipples were hard and puckered the fabric, belying my reaction to his closeness. I let my gaze fall to his crotch, making my point. He didn’t seem to care and dropped his shorts, letting me see his hard cock straining his boxer briefs.
“I don’t want to want you, but I do. Trust this, I won’t act on it.”
Personally, I was glad he wasn’t commando, because I might not have been able to pull off what I said next. “Good, because you might be a decent lay—”
“Decent?” he asked, pulling on a pair of solid blue board shorts.
“Okay, a really good lay, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever make the same mistake by screwing you. Bet or not.”
“I’ll never force you to do anything, bet or not.” He opened the door and stepped out with his bag and the shorts he’d been wearing in his hand, still wearing the new ones. Before he closed the door, he said, “But always remember, you’re only as good as your word.”
He had me with that one. I’d called him a liar and here I was saying my word wasn’t good. I sighed. The man messed with my head, but I didn’t want him to break my heart. My snark was more defense than offense.
I pulled on a pair of shorts, which hadn’t been packed for me. Then I pulled on the off-white crochet cover-up with fringe that had brought me to the back of the store. It was gorgeous and did the trick.