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He unbuckled his seat belt, stood, and opened the door, letting in a blast of warm, humid air scented with some kind of flowers. Jasmine? Maybe hibiscus.
She swallowed her irritation, forcing her voice to remain even. “You aren’t going to take me in to the terminal?” Since the gate wasn’t even in sight, she’d have a heck of a hike. “Will the tram come out this far?” Even as she asked, she knew the answer. A single runway hemmed in by trees on a tiny island…
The pilot hopped out and held a hand up to her. “Ma’am, we are parked at the terminal. If you’ll head into that blue building there, Customs will process your arrival.”
Arabella accepted his help down the three steps and onto the gravel runway.Gravel!“Right there, you say? That rundown shed?” Her temples throbbed in time with her words. The garish paint had been slapped on ancient, cracked stucco, wire poking through at odd points.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll bring your luggage inside in a moment.”
With no alternative, she started toward the open door, her heels scraping against rocks. As soon as she checked in, she’d send to HR a bill for the Italian leather creations. Four-inch heels with hidden platforms taking her an inch higher were never intended for gravel and dirt. The miserable things were hell on her feet, despite being custom-made. At just over five feet tall, she’d worn such shoes to work every day since college graduation.
With a little notice, she’d have been able to change to more practical footwear.
Of course, with a little notice, she’d have managed to create a situation to prevent her leaving.Dammit.
Outside the “terminal,” she paused to study the open doorway. A sign beside it announced she’d arrived at an international airport. If the rest of the letters hadn’t been so faded, she might have known which one. Stepping from blazing sunlight into the dim interior, onto the blessedly even concrete floor, Arabella lifted her sunglasses onto her head and blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust.
She was about 99 percent sure she’d arrived in the Bahamas. She didn’t know if other areas of the Caribbean had pink beaches, though. Most of her coworkers traveled there often, but she didn’t have time to listen to stories about their vacations.
A single counter stood against one wall in the small building, manned by a beaming dark-skinned woman in a sleeveless cotton dress the same brilliant blue as the building she worked in.
“Welcome to the Bahamas. May I see your passport?”
Okay. At least they’d established the country.
An hour later, she’d managed to get through Customs. Three minutes of flashing her passport and fifty-seven of chitchat from a woman with lots of time on her hands.
Finally, she stood outside the hut again, next to her new silver Tumi hard-sided luggage full of whatever Emily, her PA, thought she might want to take on the trip. She prayed either it was suitable or the resort had a good boutique. Despite working for her for over five years, the young woman still wore pleated skirts and button-down blouses that made her look like a Catholic schoolgirl. If they allowed them eyebrow piercings and blue hair. Still, her business degree and basic common sense made her an asset. But she’d never had the nerve to send her shopping…
According to the Customs lady, she had a half hour wait for a land taxi to take her to a water taxi to take her to the resort on the opposite side of the island. Before her car arrived, the pilot emerged from behind the building, deep in conversation with a tall man whose olive-skinned good looks made him a candidate for a magazine ad for high-end skin care products. Unlike Charlie’s ginger bristles, his neat black scruff clung to a chiseled jaw, making her fingers itch to touch it. His hair was combed, but a wisp of breeze lifted a lock and dropped it over his forehead, giving him a youthful jauntiness. Jeans, loafers, and a polo made up his ensemble. He walked with an easy, long-legged stride as if he hadn’t a care in the world. What must that be like?
Pausing before climbing the stairs to the plane, he turned and, one raven brow arched, held her gaze. Her breath caught.Don’t leave.But Charlie hollered something, and he nodded and, lifting a hand to her, boarded.
A moment later, they taxied off down the runway and then disappeared between puffy white clouds in the cerulean sky.
Sure, the one hot guy on the island left as she arrived. For one heady moment, she’d almost had the flash of an idea about a vacation romance. Or a fling. Sex filled a basic human need. One she’d been neglecting for quite some time.
Lucky she had work to keep her company. As always. She’d learned her lesson about romance long ago and didn’t often indulge in sex even for release. She had her eyes always on the prize. The presidency.
Dammit. I could have found an hour or two for him.
When she became president, nobody would be forced to take time off. For now, Arabella could settle into her room and work. Room service. Internet. Work. Comfort.
She removed her beige linen suit jacket, smoothed her skirt, and winced at her scraped-up shoes. The heat surging through her blood was related to the weather, and not the man who’d left. Getting all hot and bothered for someone she’d never see again held zero purpose.
