Vetiver.
That was the note I couldn’t let go of. Everything else in the bottle existed to hold that one note in place. I tested strip after strip that could’ve belonged to anybody. I wasn’t looking for anybody. I was looking for Ducane. Unexpected. A little dangerous before he let you in.
I remembered every note.
I remembered him.
How could I forget?
I glanced back at the placard beside the door because the aroma made no sense, and I needed the name to either confirm or release me.
D. S.
My pulse picked up fast, loud enough that I felt it in my throat. I scanned the suite looking for anything that would tellme I was wrong, some detail that didn’t add up. Some excuse to close the door and head back to my galley. But the bathroom door was already moving. I was completely out of time.
I turned to leave, and my earring hit the floor. I froze. I started to turn back for it, then thought better of it. I was not bending over in this man’s suite right now. I was not doing it.
The bathroom door swung open.
“Shit,” I murmured.
Ducane Simmons stepped out, making the decision irrelevant. Dark linen pants, white tee, toothbrush still in his hand. The toothbrush stopped moving.
“Skye.”
This week was supposed to be another quiet one.
No calls. No courtrooms. No version of me that belonged to anybody else. Just water, sleep, and five days to figure out what I wanted next out of life for real.
I had already spent the first week off doing it right, according to Dr. Charles, who had also confirmed that my blood pressure was trending in the right direction. I’d slept in most mornings for the first time in years. Hit the gym when I felt like it, not because my schedule demanded it. Even went house hunting one afternoon. I walked through three properties with a realtor and made an audacious offer on one I fell in love with.
The penthouse had served its purpose. But I was a man on the cusp of building the rest of my life the way I wanted it. Done pretending the bachelor life was all I wanted, when a kid running through the backyard chasing bubbles meant more to me than starting the entertainment division ever could.
I hadn’t figured out yet what any of that looked like, or who it looked like it with. Until now.
Skye Campbell was standing in front of me. In the flesh. I took her in, missing an earring and all. She was still the finest woman I had ever met. I stepped forward as she began to calculate the distance to the door.
I knew it was her without her needing to turn around. Those white strands threaded through her curls always made her easy to find in a room, no matter which way she was facing. My heart did what it always did when it came to Skye, which was too damn much. I had been in love with this woman from day one.
A lot could change in that time. It had. But the feeling of being home around Skye hadn’t moved an inch.
She turned around with a composed face, professionally and impressively so, but her eyes gave her away for one second before she locked them down. Just that brief moment alone had me yearning.
I owed her an apology. I had no business saying anything other than I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, and baby, please give a nigga another chance in whatever order she needed to hear it. Instead, I went with what came out.
“Skye, damn, it’s good to see you.”
Stupid ass nigga.
She squared her shoulders. Those full lips were about to tell me the ship had sailed, but the slight cock of her knee said something else. I had known her long enough to know which one to believe.
“Mr. Simmons, thank you for flying with Premier Wings. Can I get you anything before we begin our flight?”
The practiced tone told me how she planned to handle this. Handle me. The joke was on her. I’d come for her once before. I was about to do it again.
“Have dinner with me. Tonight, when we land.” I watched her face stay exactly where she put it. “I owe you that much.”
She let the silence sit there before she answered, giving nothing away.
