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“There’s a bedroom?” Liza murmured, glancing at Matt, who was amused by her reaction to his bougie-as-fuck private jet.
Matt led her to an oversized seat, and she slipped her laptop case off her shoulder, placing it on a side table. Then she pulled her cross-body bag off, putting it on the floor before sitting down. Matt took off his suit jacket, draping it over the back of a nearby chair, then claimed the seat across from her.
“Dinner will be served about an hour after takeoff.” He loosened his tie. “Where do you stand on red meat? Because I’d arranged for filet mignon before I realized I’d have a guest.”
“I love steak.” Liza recalled the snacks she’d packed for her “dinner” on the flight she’d missed. She wasn’t going to have a problem pitching the ham and cheese sandwich she’d made before leaving home. “It sounds wonderful.”
“The jet can’t fly directly to Honolulu, so we’re stopping in Denver to refuel before continuing on. That’ll take about an hour.”
“Okay.”
“Then we’ll be on our way to the islands. We should, if all goes according to plan, land in Hawaii at three a.m. their time. I realize that is less than ideal, but I had several meetings scheduled for today and I couldn’t leave any sooner.”
“Lucky for me. My original flight had me getting in around eleven p.m., so being four hours late versus twenty-four hours is a gift. Matt, I really appreciate you letting me hop on board.”
“You’re helping me reduce my carbon footprint,” he said, winking shamelessly.
“Damn, I wish you hadn’t pointed that out because I’m not reducing it enough,” she chastised.
Matt acted as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve arranged for a car to pick us up when we land and drive us to the hotel.”
The flight attendant returned from the bedroom. “Can I offer you anything to drink while we wait?”
Liza started to take her up on the offer, dying for a glass of wine, but Matt shook his head. “Not at the moment.”
The woman walked back to the front of the plane, disappearing from view.
“I could have gone for a glass of wine.” She was sort of annoyed that he’d spoken for both of them.
“And you can have some. Later.” Matt rose, offering her a hand to help her up as well. “First, I need you to come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
Matt kept hold of her hand, leading her down the wide aisle until they stood at what she assumed was the bedroom door. It was where the flight attendant had taken Matt’s luggage.
He was acting different today, more at ease, almost playful, if that was something he was capable of, and she wondered what had changed.
Maybe he felt more comfortable with her now that they’d established sex was off the table. Or maybe—God, she hated to think this—he was genuinely happy with Patricia, and she was hanging out with a man in love.
Ugh. That thought made her want to vomit.
Before she could come up with another, less puke-inducing idea, Matt opened the door and pulled her inside the bedroom.
Liza’s curiosity overrode the part of her brain screaming at her to turn around and go back to the main cabin of the plane. Because the last place she should be with Matt was a bedroom.
Instead, she surveyed the room, amazed by the sheer luxurious elegance. She didn’t know who Matt’s interior decorator was, but they had great taste.
“Wow,” Liza whispered, taking in the king-size bed with an ornate mahogany headboard, the matching nightstands and dresser, the soft lighting, and the large-screen TV hanging opposite the bed that was one of the kinds that looked like artwork when turned off. The bed was adorned with a fluffy white duvet and at least a half dozen deep blue throw pillows. “This room is incredible.”
“Glad you approve.” With a hand on her lower back, Matt moved her farther into the room, before stepping in front of her and pointing to her ripped jeans.
“Now… Take off your pants.”
Chapter Seven
The scowl Liza shot Matt amused him.
“Excuse me?” she asked haughtily.
