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“Okay, well, Natalie…” Jamie gives me a tight smile and a wave of his hand. “Anything to add? Any questions for Mr. Saman?”
Somehow, I manage to say the right words in the right order. Tor gives quick, yes and no answers, interjects where he should, but every word turns me into a throbbing, needy mess
“So, did I pass?” he rumbles, his white shirt tight over his chest as I’m hypnotized by the way his Adam’s apple moves under the dark scruff of his beard. His blood-red tie points directly at his crotch like a flashing sign.
Right here. Look here. Every inch is waiting for you.
“Miss Fillmore will send the results to your HR department,” Jamie chimes in impatiently when I don’t answer. “We are all set for today.” He taps his phone. “Thank you for coming in.”
“Turned out way better than I expected.” He turns to Jamie. “I need a minute with Miss Filmore if you don’t mind.”
Jamie shoots me a look, closing his laptop. “I’m sorry. That would not be appropriate.” He hesitates at the dark look Tor is leveling at him, but continues. “Miss Filmore needs to remain neutral. Isn’t that right, Natalie?”
They’re both staring at me as I nod blankly.
Jamie flashes me a get-it-together look.
Gah. “Company policy, I’m afraid,” I say, finally. My fingertips are cold and my need to be away from him right now is making my pulse pound in my ears. A pressure building behind my eardrums making everything sound like we are in a wind tunnel.
“Company policy,” Tor repeats, twisting his head back and forth, cracking his neck as the whooshing in my ears starts to soften.
“Right.” Jamie interjects then finishes, “We both need to get to the airport, so…” He leaves it hanging there as Tor rises to his feet.
“Don’t want you to miss your flight.” He aims his words right at me, nods to Jamie, then spins and heads out the door as I lean on the table to keep from falling down.
Two hours later, I’m racing across the marble floor to the security line at the airport to head to Sasha’s wedding in Massachusetts. I drag my roller bag behind me. One wheel is loose so the handle wobbles and shakes against my palm. I can’t stop thinking about him. But I’m determined to shake this off. A few days away will do me good.
And then he’ll be nothing more than inspiration for me in the shower with my handheld.
The security line for Terminal C is just ahead and I force my feet to walk in that direction, I step in line behind two young guys with back packs and the vague scent of reefer swirling around them.
I slap down my passport for the TSA agent. Fortunately, even losing my wallet won’t prevent me from making my flight and getting my head straight.
A few more feet and I’m out of here. Out of his life. Out of—
“Excuse me, Miss. I need you to step out of the line please.”
“Sorry?” I blink at him through the plexiglass barrier.
The TSA agent frowns, and I notice that he’s not alone. There’s a woman standing behind him and a little to his left, looking me up and down. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist,” he says, and my heart starts to flap around in my chest.
“What’s this about?”
No answer. The TSA lady takes me by the bicep and we round a corner into a more private area.
And standing there, looking all cocky and sexy and delish, is Tor. What the toffee fudge is he doing here? And grinning? Grinning?
“Excuse me.” Tor’s voice echoes on the cinder block walls as he comes through the doorway. “I’m Mr. Saman.” They both give him a knowing look and I’m more confused than ever. “I do hope she didn’t give you any trouble. Sometimes the ones that are non compos mentis can be a real handful.”
The male agent nods patiently. “We did wonder why she felt she needed a passport to fly to Massachusetts.”
Tor nods patiently in return, and then lowers his voice. “There’s just no reasoning with them. Trust me.”
Wait just a stinking minute. ““What the hell is happening here?”
They all ignore me like I’m not even there. Infuriating. Tor pulls a folded stack of papers out from the inside pocket in his stupid sexy gray suit. “Here are the conservatorship papers. If you need to see them in person. I emailed them over earlier when I sent her photo.” He hands the papers to the agents who nod at each other, then look at the top sheet.
“Just glad we got her before it was too late.”
“Too late?” I snap. “Too late for what?”
Again, zero response. Not even a glance in my direction. “I’ll take it from here.” Tor says and they step back.
He reaches for my arm to lead me away, but I snatch it back and wave my finger at him. “Oh, no you don’t, Mr. Suspect. I’m getting on that plane.”
