Slightly Irregular (19 page)

“There’s a seat across
the aisle that’s open,” I suggested as the plane began to taxi down the runway. “In fact,” I paused to look around the compartment, “we’re the only ones in business class, so there’s no need for you to crowd me.”

“I’m not crowding you,” Liam said between gritted teeth as he pried one hand off the armrest long enough to yank tightly on his seat belt.

Leaning to one side, I looked him up and down. I could see the rapid, uneven rise and fall of his chest beneath his rumpled shirt as he choked in breaths. His thigh muscles were taut, his feet braced firmly on the floor. As the plane bounced slightly upon takeoff, the color drained from his face.

I laughed. “You’re afraid of flying.”

“No, I’m afraid of crashing.”

His knuckles were snow white. I reminded him, “You know you’re more likely to wreck your car than to die in a plane crash.”

“Yes, but if I wreck my car I don’t fall thirty thousand feet.”

As the plane leveled off slightly, Liam seemed to relax. Well, it was either the leveling off of the plane or the knowledge that the flight attendant was about to get him a beer.

The roughness of his denim jeans rubbed distractingly against my leg as he continued to fidget in his seat. And I wasn’t the only one distracted, either. The tall, lanky flight attendant with her perfectly made-up face and manicured nails must have checked on him three times before we even reached cruising altitude, while practically making me go self-serve.

“Here you are, sir,” she said, in what I could only classify as a coo. “Are you sure I can’t get you something else?”

“Thanks,” Liam said, his voice less tense.

I glanced around him. “A pinot grigio would be nice, though.”

“Of course,” she answered, in a tone that made me wonder if I’d be drinking it or wearing it.

As soon as she’d stepped into the galley, I said, “If you two need some private time …”

“Jealous?”

“No. I just have better things to do than beg for a drink. I have a command performance in”—I checked my Liz Claiborne watch from the Vero Beach outlets—“less than three hours. Drinking for fortification is an essential part of the performance.”

“Is this our dinner with your family?”

Our?
When did that happen? “No, it’s my dinner with my family. You can sit in your room and watch anything from cartoons to porn. Whatever floats your boat.”

Reaching into the pocket of his very Florida, faded-palm-tree-motif shirt, he pulled out a folded slip of paper. Before he had the thing completely open, I knew it was the e-mail I’d sent. Since I’d copied it directly from my schedule, it did include the Thursday-night Tanner family gathering. Well, Tanner family plus one. Two if Liam showed. This was supposed to be my time to get to know the groom a little bit better. Which sounded a lot like getting to know a dust tumbleweed, but hey, I wasn’t dealing with options. I felt guilt wash over me. I was being catty when it came to David, but that was my jealousy rearing its ugly head.

I thought about the duffel he’d so unceremoniously shoved in the bin, and said, “Dinner is dressy.”

“You want me to wear a dress?”

Between the heat of his body being in such close proximity, the scent of his cologne caressing my senses, and the incessant rub of his leg against mine, I was fast running out of patience. “I mean, tie and jacket, which I doubt you crammed into your …
luggage
.” I made the last word sound like an STD.

“I might surprise you,” he said as he accepted an array of snacks from the devoted flight attendant.

I, on the other hand, was practically tossed a bag of pretzels with my wine. Maybe she was hoping I was one of those peanut allergy people and might die of anaphylactic shock so she could have Liam all to herself. Not that I had him. No, that much he’d made perfectly clear with the whole not-wanting-to-sleep-with-me speech.

“How are things at work?” he asked casually. Half the bottle of beer was gone, and the color had returned to his knuckles.

“Busy because of the Ellen situation. How weird is that?”

“Don’t know,” he answered with a shrug.

Of course, it was a shrug that caused us to rub shoulders. I’d had only a few sips of wine, but I took a hefty gulp, hoping it would douse the heat in my belly.

“I don’t know Ellen well, but Tony thinks it might have been her reaction to Dane bringing him in as an equity partner. That cuts into her profits,” Liam said.

I hadn’t thought of that, though I felt a kinship with Ellen. There was nothing I hated more than getting screwed on a paycheck. “I thought Tony was supposed to be some hotshot rainmaker.”

“He is.” Liam agreed, pressing his head back into the pillow so his brilliant blue eyes locked with mine.

As usual, a lock of jet-black hair had fallen haphazardly onto his forehead, and it took all my strength not to reach out and brush it back into place. One thing I knew about Liam was that it was in my best interests to stay hands-off.

“Maybe she had a midlife meltdown.” Or just caught a glimpse of her hideous shoes and went into hiding.

“Maybe,” he agreed as he stroked the not-yet-five-o’clock shadow on his chin.

Suddenly Liam went silent. It was the noisiest quiet I’d ever endured. Part of me was grateful, but another part of me missed the civilized conversation. It was a side of Liam I’d never seen, and I liked it. I more than liked it.

I am an idiot.

“Are we ever going to talk about the other night?” he asked.

Correction, I am an über idiot. “No.”

“I think we should.”

“Did you know your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device in the case of an emergency landing over water?” His grip tightened on his bottle of beer. “Not that I’ve heard of many people floating away from a plane crash.”

“Nice distraction, but I still want to know why you’ve been so frosty. It’s Thursday, and on Tuesday you were practically begging me to—”

“Can we
please
not go there? Just chalk it up to having a great night, followed by your very thoughtful gift. I just got swept up in the moment.”

“In a moment of Lucky Charms?”

I glared at him. “I was on a high because I knew I’d aced my exam and you … well … just happened to be there.”

“You’re so full of crap.”

“Yeah, well, you aren’t much better. You set me up as a babysitter.” I wiggled my finger a few inches from his face. “And don’t tell me it was some esoteric way of your giving me insight into Tony’s world. Then you have the audacity to think you and Tony can flip a coin and decide just whom I might be interested in. You put one of my best friends to bed naked, and what else? You insisted on coming to this wedding after I explicitly told you to stay home. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget that you humiliated me a scant forty-eight hours ago with your dumb-ass three-wishes bullshit.”

The bastard smiled.

“You are so hot when you’re pissed.” He laughed softly.

I reached under the seat and grabbed my purse and tote. “Excuse me.”

Liam reluctantly released the death grip of his seat belt to graciously allow me to exit the row. He laughed harder when I moved
back one row and squished myself against the window. The only minor satisfaction I got was watching him battle his phobia as the plane landed at Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta. As soon as the flight attendants opened the hatch, Liam zoomed out of the place.

I dallied, hoping he’d get the hint and not linger around the gate, thinking we’d share a cab or something.

My girlish fantasies came true. When I deplaned, Liam was nowhere to be seen.

After taking the plane, a rolling walkway, a train, and hiking up some stairs, I was finally in the baggage claim area. I noticed two things right off. My luggage was slipping back outside on the conveyor belt, and a gentleman dressed in a suit, tie, and hat was holding a sign with my name printed on it. There were times when my mother’s attention to etiquette paid off. Sending a car for me was an unexpected pleasure.

“I’m Miss Tanner,” I greeted him.

“Simon, ma’am,” he returned in a thick southern accent. “May I take that?” he asked, pointing to my tote.

“I’m fine with it, thanks.”

He just smiled, a display of white teeth against chocolate-colored skin.

“I have two pieces of luggage. But they just went into the twilight zone.”

Simon laughed. “We’re in no hurry.”

“You can’t miss them. My luggage is Barbie pink.”

As Simon went over to stand sentry at the carousel, I dug in my bag, making sure I had the cash for a generous tip. I guessed he was somewhere in his late forties, maybe early fifties, and I also figured he wasn’t raking it in as a livery driver. As an underling
myself, I felt a kinship for him and wanted to make sure I showed my appreciation properly.

Once Simon had my bags on his handcart, I followed him out into the thick, humid air I remembered less than fondly from my college days. Yes, Florida is hot, but I have an ocean breeze and the temperatures rarely climb to the hundred-degree mark. Conversely, breathing in Atlanta was a lot like standing outside and sucking in dryer exhaust.

Simon had been kind enough to leave the engine running, so when he opened the door, I was greeted by a rush of fresh air scented with a spicy oriental blend with undertones of orange blossom and cedar wood. A true blend of sensuality and masculinity. Dolce & Gabbana’s The One for Men. Liam’s cologne of choice.

“Took you long enough.”

“What are you doing in
my
car?” I shot back.

Simon cleared his throat, drawing my attention. “Mr. McGarrity made the reservation, ma’am.”

“Hey, if you’d rather wait around for a taxi or take one of those SuperShuttle things, then—”

“Fine,” I snapped as I got in, carefully dumping my tote and purse between us like a barrier.

“Now is when you say, ‘Thank you, Liam.’”

“Screw you, Liam.”

“We can revisit that issue later.”

“We can revisit that
issue later,” I mocked as I unpacked my second bag. “In your dreams.”

I’d already called the hotel laundry and arranged to have the maid-of-honor dress picked up and steamed. They promised to have it back by late Friday morning, which should get me off the hook with my mother.

My room wasn’t a room. It was a one-bedroom suite with stunning views of Buckhead and the downtown skyline. Lucky for me Lisa and her groom were footing the bill. If not, I’d be down in the basement next to a janitor’s closet. Rooms at the Ritz didn’t come cheap. Obviously, neither did this wedding. Other than the outrageous price of my gown and some shoes I still had yet to see, I was out only fifteen hundred and change. More than I would have liked, especially since the dress had no rewearability. I was dreading the whole shoe thing, though I had a small glimmer of hope because Lisa had instructed me to allow for four-inch heels.

There was a knock at the door, so with my bare feet, I jogged through the eight-hundred-square-foot suite and got on my tiptoes to check the peephole.

No one.

There was another knock. Only then did I realize that it was coming from the door on the side of the dining area. I walked over, placed my ear against the cool wood, and yelled. “Yes?”

“Open the door.”

I unlatched the deadbolt and found Liam standing on the opposite side of the double doors. With the door open, the suites could be combined into a spacious three-bedroom. “What are you doing up here?”

“Your sister took care of it.”

“You hit my sister up for a room?” I asked, kinda stunned. Especially
since his suite had two bedrooms and mine had only one.

“No, this room was booked for your escort. I explained that Tony wasn’t coming, and she spoke to the hotel. I tried to convince her that this was not my style, but she insisted. And before you decide I took advantage of your little sister, I made sure the hotel will bill my credit card.”

“It’s going to run you close to—”

“Six grand per,” he finished. “I’ll live.” He reached onto the table and pulled a chilled bottle of champagne from the bucket, then grabbed two flutes as he casually brushed by me and entered my room.

With my shoes off, he towered over me, so I quickly corrected that by retrieving them and slipping them back on. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”

“You said you needed liquor to get through dinner. I’m just being a good escort.”

“Wait. Tony’s not coming?”

“He said he tried to call you, but you must still have your phone off from the flight.” He popped the cork on the champagne. “Don’t look so disappointed. You’ll just have to make do with me.”

“I’m disappointed for Izzy.”

“So is Tony. Apparently, she’s locked herself in her room and refuses to talk to him.”

“I should call her.” But first I’d have to take my iPhone off airplane mode.

When I went to turn, Liam gently took hold of my upper arm and passed me a flute of perfectly poured, sparkling champagne. Cristal at that. “You sure are living large,” I teased.

“Actually, your family is. Or the Huntington …”