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Most of the passengers in business class were frequent fliers who probably knew the spiel as well as the staff, and she didn’t doubt that he was one of them, but he gave the flight attendant his attention anyway. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the safety procedures and everything to do with her big...smile.
When the presentation was finished, he turned to Allison. “Are we being picked up at the airport?”
She shook her head. “John always preferred to have a rental car rather than be at the mercy of someone else’s schedule. I didn’t think to ask what arrangements you wanted made.”
“I would have told you to make the usual arrangements,” he said, and smiled.
And damn if that smile didn’t make her toes want to curl.
In an effort to refocus her thoughts, she said, “Did you want to review any of your uncle’s notes before the meeting?”
“I did that last night.”
“Do you have any questions?”
He shifted in his seat, so that he was facing her more fully. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you pretending that nothing happened at the Christmas party?”
She felt color climb up her neck and into her cheeks. So much for her determination to stay focused on business. “I meant—do you have any questions about the meeting?”
“No,” he said. “But I want to know why you’re pretending the kiss we shared never happened.”
Since he obviously wasn’t going to let her ignore his question, she decided to answer it succinctly and dismissively. “Not making a big deal out of it isn’t the same as pretending it never happened.”
“So you do remember it?”
She scrolled through the notes on her tablet. “I remember that it was late, there was mistletoe, we both had a little too much to drink and got caught up in the spirit of the holiday.”
“Do you want to know how I remember it?”
“I’m actually a little surprised that you do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I would have thought your sojourn with Melanie would have eradicated one meaningless little kiss from your mind,” she said.
“Let’s put aside the inaccuracy of your description until after you explain who the hell Melanie is.”
“Melanie Hedley,” she said.
“The name sounds vaguely familiar,” he admitted.
“Perky blonde, works in marketing.”
His confusion finally cleared. “You mean Lanie?”
“Yeah, I guess I have heard some people call her Lanie.”
“And the sojourn?” he prompted.
“Your ski trip.”
He shook his head definitively. “I didn’t go with Lanie.”
“And yet she couldn’t stop talking about the wonderful lunch you had at a fabulous little café by your hotel.”
“We did have lunch together one day,” he admitted. “I ran into her in the lobby of the hotel when I was heading out to grab a bite and invited her to join me. It wasn’t anything more than that.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she told him.
“Apparently I do,” he said. Because he could tell by the tone of her voice that she’d arrived at her own—and obviously erroneous—conclusions. “Do you really think I was sleeping with another woman the night after I kissed you?”
“I really didn’t give it much thought at all,” she said, shifting her gaze to the clouds outside the window.
If he hadn’t already suspected that she was lying, her refusal to even look at him would have triggered his suspicion. “Yes, I went away with some friends. And yes, I received a couple of offers to hook up while I was there.
“But I didn’t consider any of them for more than two seconds—” he shifted so that his shoulder brushed against hers, and lowered his mouth closer to her ear “—because since that kiss we shared under the mistletoe, I haven’t been able to go much longer than that without thinking about you.
“And when I think about that kiss, I remember how good your body felt against mine, and how surprised—and incredibly turned on—I was by the passion of your response.”
“You’re right,” she said shortly. “Our memories are different. But considering that we’re going to be working closely together, I think it would be best if we both just forgot about that kiss.”
“I already know that I can’t,” he told her.
“Maybe you just need to try a little harder.”
“Are you saying that you have forgotten?”
“I’m saying that I’m not going to let anything interfere with our working relationship.”
“I know how to separate business from pleasure,” he assured her.
“Let’s keep the focus on business,” she suggested.
“That doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun.”
“I like my job and I want to keep my job,” she told him. “Which means I’m definitely not going to sleep with my boss.”
His lips curved. “I’m not your boss yet.”
She lifted a brow. “Your point?”
“We could use the next few weeks to get this...attraction...out of our systems, so that it won’t be an impediment to our working together.”
“Thank you for that uniquely intriguing offer,” she said primly, “but no.”
* * *
Despite his blatant flirtation on the plane, when they got to the St. Louis store and started to review the books, Nathan proved that he did know how to separate business from pleasure.
Allison was impressed by his knowledge of the company’s history and employees and the diligence of his work. She hadn’t assumed he was moving into the CFO’s office because his name was Garrett, but she had suspected the familial connection had paved the way. Watching him work, she realized that had been her error. Nate was going to be the new CFO because he was the most qualified person for the job.
Still, it took several hours before the discrepancy was found. Working together to match invoices to payment receipts, it became apparent to both Nate and Allison that some numbers had been transposed when the deposit was made. Instead of $53,642 being deposited, the amount was noted as $35,264—a deficit of $18,378. But what seemed like a simple accounting error was further complicated by the facts that the payment had been made in cash (apparently office furniture for an upstart law firm that didn’t yet have a checking account) and no one seemed to know where the $18,378 had gone—or they weren’t admitting it if they did.
To a company that did hundreds of millions of dollars in business annually, the amount was hardly significant. But the misplacement of any funds, whether careless or deliberate, was unacceptable from an accounting perspective. The head of the store’s finance department agreed and promised to locate the missing money before the end of the week.
“I’m surprised you’re going to leave it for Bob to deal with,” Allison said when they’d left the man’s office.
“They’re his people,” Nate said. “And I have no doubt he already knows who is responsible for making that eighteen thousand dollars disappear.”
“So you don’t think it was a mistake?”
“I would have believed the transposing of the digits was a mistake if the correct amount had actually been deposited—the fact that it wasn’t proves otherwise.”
“You don’t want to know who did it?”
“I will know,” he said confidently. “But I don’t need to know today.”
“In that case—” she glanced at her watch as they made their way toward the exit “—we should be able to get to the airport in time to catch an earlier flight back to Raleigh.”
“That would be good.” He stopped to pull his phone out of his pocket and frowned at the message he read. “But I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Apparently a storm has moved into this area. I just got a notification from the airline that our flight has been delayed.”
She pulled out her phone and found that she’d received the same message. “There has to be a mistake—the forecast was clear.”
“Then the forecast was wrong.”
She halted beside him at the glass doors and blinked, as if she didn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Or rather not seeing, since the blowing snow made it impossible to see anything past it.
Nate was focused on his phone, checking for updates from the airline. “All flights are canceled for the next twelve hours.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” She couldn’t help but think of the promise she’d made to Dylan that morning.
“Find a hotel,” he said easily. “Hopefully one that isn’t too far away from where we are right now.”
“A hotel?” she echoed.
“Unless you want to bunk down here?”
“Of course not.” What she wanted was to be back in Charisma, in her own apartment with her son—not stranded in St. Louis, and especially not with a man who made her feel nothing but heat despite the obviously frigid temperatures outside.
“There’s a Courtland not too far from here,” he said. “Let me just give them a call and see if we can get a room.”
“Two rooms.”
But the room situation wasn’t really her biggest concern—nor was the fact that she hadn’t packed an overnight bag. She was more worried about the fact that she hadn’t packed anything for Dylan. Of course, her ex-husband knew that Mrs. Hanson, the widow who lived across the hall from Allison and Dylan, had a spare key and could let him in to get whatever he needed. She just wasn’t sure that Jeff would know what their son needed.
Did he know that Dylan had specific pajamas that he liked to wear when he stayed at his dad’s house? Would he remember to pack Bear, the little boy’s ancient and much-loved teddy bear? Would he make sure that Dylan did his homework? Would he remember to pack his lunch for the next day? She worried about all of those details while Nathan made a phone call to secure their hotel rooms.
Less than five minutes later, they battled the blowing snow and howling wind toward their rental car in the parking lot. Despite the wild weather, Nate went around to the passenger side to open the door for her, an unexpectedly chivalrous gesture that reminded her there was more to the man than his reputation implied.
She slid into her seat and buckled up, aware that the roads were going to be icy and slick—and still not nearly as dangerous as spending the night in a hotel with Nathan Garrett.
Chapter Four
It took nearly twenty-five minutes to travel the six miles between the store and the hotel.
And for every single one of those minutes, Allison was grateful that Nate was behind the wheel. She considered herself a good driver, but she had little experience driving on snow-covered roads and absolutely no experience navigating unfamiliar streets in whiteout conditions.
As Nathan eased to a stop at a red light, he glanced over at her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
“You’re clutching your bag so tight your knuckles are white and you haven’t said a word since we pulled out of the parking lot.”
“I wanted you to be able to focus on the roads.”
“I’ve driven in worse,” he assured her.
“Really?”
“I went to New York University,” he said.
“You have to be crazy to drive in New York City on a good day.”
“A little bit,” he agreed, easing into the intersection when the light turned green.
“There’s the hotel,” Allison said, recognizing the distinctly scripted C that was the Courtland trademark.
He pulled into the underground parking garage and found a vacant spot. “At least we won’t have to brush snow off in the morning.”
“I’m hoping it will all be melted by the morning.”
“That’s definitely wishful thinking,” he told her. “But as long as the storm has passed, we’ll get home tomorrow.”
She nodded and followed him to the elevator.
“Ever checked into a hotel without a suitcase before?” he asked her.
“No,” she said, just a little primly.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Does it make you feel like you’re on your way to an illicit rendezvous?”
“No,” she said again, because that was something she definitely did not want to be thinking about. “I don’t do things like that.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
He flashed that tingle-inducing smile. “Too bad.”
When the elevator opened up on the main level of the hotel, he went directly to the check-in desk and spoke to the woman behind the counter. The name on her tag was Sheila, and she smiled warmly at Nate.
Part of the customer service or proof of the effect that he had on all females? And why should she care? He could flirt with the desk clerk and every other female in a ten-block radius, if he wanted—and he probably did. She just wanted to get to her room to make a phone call.
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