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Rachel rolled over in bed to glance at the time and then shot out from under her covers, adrenaline coursing through her chest. It was day one of her internship at Madison Park and already, she was late. Her cheap phone must’ve died sometime during the night and failed to sound her alarm that morning.
So much for impressing her new boss.
She scrubbed her face in front of her bathroom’s cracked mirror, threw her hair up into a messy bun, and slipped on the knock-off black Prada skirt and white, lacy blouse she’d painstakingly laid out the night before. Stumbling across the floor of her tiny, studio apartment, she managed to pull on her black patent stilettos and purse before running to meet the bus.
It was forty minutes later when she sprinted into Madison Park, her hair falling out of its bun and face flushed. Logan stood at the front reception, talking to a man dressed in a gray jumpsuit and the word plumber stitched in red on one side. He turned when she came in, his gaze running over her and his jaw slackening.
“I know, I know, I’m a mess,” Rachel gasped between breaths. She clutched a hand to her stomach and bent over to allow the oxygen to reach her brain. “But I promise, this won’t be every day. My alarm didn’t go off.”
Logan swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and slowly buttoned his three-piece navy pinstriped suit. He cleared his throat and gave her a tight nod. “No worries. You’re just in time; we leave in two minutes.”
She ran her fingers over her hair, hoping to smooth the flyaways, and smiled. “Surely, not another case of dinner espionage? I think dining with you is going to get me in trouble, Logan Madison.”
A smile quirked on his sculpted lips and he dismissed the plumber with another nod of his head. Grabbing a tan leather briefcase, he ushered her out the door with his hand and softly chuckled.
“No dinner espionage, unfortunately,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “This is much more important. We’re meeting with Mary Prescott.”
Rachel’s heels dug into the pavement outside the restaurant and she grabbed Logan’s arm with a tight grip. “Are you talking about the Mary Prescott? The southern queen of food with her very own show on the Food Channel. That Mary Prescott?”
He grinned at her. “The very one. We’re taking my jet to meet her in Houston. I hope you don’t mind a little jaunt over the country.”
Of course, Logan would have his own jet. He was insanely wealthy now. And of course he would be taking her last minute to meet a bona fide A-list celebrity. Life sure had changed for him since their childhood. She inhaled deeply and realized she was still holding onto his very buff lower arm. He definitely hadn’t let himself go after retiring from baseball.
With an embarrassed smile, she dropped her hand and tilted her head. “Not at all boss. Lead the way.”
Logan’s sleek black Lincoln town car drove them across San Jose to the airport. His private jet sat on the runway like a beacon of royalty. The shiny white metal panels gleamed in the late morning sunlight and the stairs had already been lowered. A flight attendant greeted them inside, offering them each a drink to start their journey. Rachel chose a plush tan leather seat that looked out the window and Logan sat next to her, immediately pulling a tablet out of his briefcase and getting to work.
Rachel gazed out the window as the engine roared to life, excited for the start of their journey. Already, this was so much better than waitressing. She felt the familiar thrill that she had every time she’d marched down the catwalk: the anticipation of something new and exciting. Interning with Logan was really going to open doors for her, she could just feel it.
“No matter how many times I fly, I never get tired of the excitement of liftoff,” she said, turning to watch Logan lower his head even further over the tablet, his cheeks turning red.
He huffed and wrinkled his nose. “I’m not sure I can agree.”
She hit him lightly on the shoulder and grinned. “Don’t tell me Logan Madison is afraid of flying? The boy who would sail down our driveway going a hundred miles an hour on his skateboard?”
He looked up at her and grimaced as the plane began to roll forward on the tarmac. “There’s a big difference between skating safely on the ground and hurling yourself into the air at speeds that mankind wasn’t meant to reach.”
She laughed and gazed out the window, watching the airport fade away. Her father owned his own jet, too, but he never would’ve taken Rachel on it. It was purely for business. According to her father, her head was too stuffed with nonsense to ever succeed in anything. So, he didn’t even bother. Michael had been the protégé.
If it had been a hundred years ago, the only thing Rachel would’ve been good for was being married off to a potential wealthy business partner. She shivered at the thought. Thankfully, she hadn’t been born in those times and she’d been able to break free of the influence of her father’s wealth.
The plane picked up speed along the tarmac. She could feel Logan tense next to her, his hands gripping the tablet so hard, she was sure he was going to shatter it. The nose of the plane began to tilt upwards and Logan abandoned the tablet, grasping the armrest instead. The blood had drained from his face and he stared glassy-eyed at the seat in front of him.
She wasn’t sure why she did it, but before she could stop herself, she placed her hand on top of his. He was shaky and cold, but responded by turning his hand over and curling his fingers tightly around hers. Delicious flames cascaded up her arm from his touch. Rachel had a hard time not shaking herself, but it had nothing to do with the altitude. They stayed like that for several minutes until the plane righted itself in the sky and the flight attendant began to move around the cabin, offering them snacks and refills.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about that,” Logan said in a low voice, loosening his grip on her hand. He turned his intense gaze toward her and smiled weakly. “If any of the boys down at the gym found out I freak out on an airplane, I’d lose all my man points.”
Rachel covered her mouth with her fingers and laughed. He really was the sweet guy she remembered. Still cracking jokes at his own expense.
“No problem. Your secret is safe with me.”
He dropped her hand and she couldn’t help but mourn the loss. But that was crazy. Logan was her brother’s best friend. She’d known him since he wore his hair shaggy and long over his ears, had thick, plastic framed glasses, and sported the same pair of cargo pants every day of the week. This was th
e same Logan.
Not to mention, he was her boss. And having feelings for the boss was a big no-no.
LOGAN TRIED TO KEEP his attention focused on his work for the rest of the five-hour long flight, but it was hard to do with the lovely woman sitting next to him. He enjoyed hearing her musical sighs as she stared out the window and watched the clouds pass by. She was full of childish wonder, but there was no doubt that Rachel Knight was no longer a little girl.
