Ten Thousand Words (5 page)

Considering we had reached our destination, I figured Ollie would decide to move on from our meeting, but as we made our way off the plane and into the terminal, he caught up to me and walked with me through customs to baggage claim. We didn’t say much to one another, but it was a comfortable silence.

Big and handsome, he stood next to me at the luggage carousel, scratching at his beard.

Spotting my suitcase, I stepped forward to retrieve it when his graceful large hand closed around the handle, partially enclosing my own. The feel of his warm, dry skin against mine passed a thrill into me. My eyes darted to his, and the smile he gave me was cute. My brain went into a desperate form of overdrive, hoping he’d felt it, too.

“Thank you,” I told him when he set my luggage down next to me.

“Are you staying at The Plaza?” he asked, keeping an eye on the carousel.

“I am,” I replied.

His smile made my heart skip a beat. “Want to share a cab?”

My heart picked up in rhythm, and heat crept from my chest to my cheeks. “That’d be great.”

His gaze flickered toward me, catching my blush, and I thought he enjoyed the sight of it because his eyes twinkled.

“Why are you blushing?”

“I really have no idea,” I replied, miffed that he’d called me out on it.

“All right,” he said, a shit-eating grin on his face now.

Irksome, that smirk.

Perhaps I should just forget about all of this and head out on my own anyway. It would serve him right. I could now see the bastard knew he was a good-looking fellow, and no doubt, he’d noticed the fact that I found him a little more than attractive.

Instead, I busied myself with attaching my carry-on to my suitcase as he hefted his own suitcase off the carousel. When I finished, I looked up to find him watching me.

“Do you have plans tonight?” he asked.

“Oh, um…” Racking my brain for my schedule, I knew my day would be full, but… “No, I don’t think so.”

“Would you have dinner with me?”

“Really?”

He gave me a startled look. “Well, yeah. I don’t know anyone here besides you. It would be nice not to eat alone.”

So, not in a date sort of way then. “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

We made our way out of baggage claim, into the late October morning sunshine, to the taxi line. Within minutes, our luggage was stuffed in the boot of a cab, and we were sitting side by side in the backseat. Through the pungent fumes of the city and some ripe weirdness that was the taxi, I could faintly detect Ollie’s lovely scent.

It took nearly another hour to get to the hotel, and by the time we made it, I was beat. It was only nine in the morning, and I had a full day of meetings with Dreamstone and lawyers ahead of me. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

Ollie and the cab driver pulled our luggage, and a bellhop quickly came and stacked the suitcases on a baggage cart. Before I could think about it, Ollie had paid the driver.

“Here,” I said, fishing through my bag, once more in search of my wallet.

He waved his hand at me, signaling for me not to bother. “It’s nothing, Xanthe. I’m happy to.”

“At least let me pay for half,” I insisted.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dreamstone had already taken the initiative to check us into our rooms the day before, so all we had to do was pick up our keys at the front desk. Normally, check-in wasn’t until three o’clock.

“I have the photo shoot in about an hour,” he mentioned to me as the concierge handed him his room key.

Ollie ended up with a deluxe suite on the fourteenth floor. I guessed he was higher up on the food chain than I was with my ordinary Plaza room on the tenth floor.

Pfft.

“Are you excited?” I asked, hopeful that he was at least looking forward to something new.

He shrugged. I’d take that as a no then.

“What time do you start today?” he asked.

“Eleven. I have enough time to wash off the travel funk and head on out,” I replied.

Ollie bent down close to me, and I froze. I had no clue what he was up to, but then he
sniffed
me.

“You don’t smell too funky,” he said.

“Did you just sniff me?”

“I did.”

A snort of laughter burst out of me. Horrified, I covered my mouth with my hand. Ollie’s eyes widened, but then his face broke into a toothy grin, and he chuckled.

The bellhop stood by the front desk, patiently waiting for us to get over our sniffing business.

“Can I see your phone?” Ollie asked.

Digging it out of my front pocket, I handed it to him. I had turned it on after leaving the plane. Ollie was no novice when it came to other people’s phones, so it seemed, and I watched as he tapped what I could only assume was his number into it.

Then, I heard his phone ring in his pocket, and a sly grin spread across his heavily bearded face.

Sneaky shit!

He’d stolen my number from me.

“I’ll call you later about dinner,” he told me as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You could’ve just asked for it, you know.”

“True, but it was more fun this way.”

In the elevator, he stood close to me, but that was mainly because the bellhop was with us, taking up the majority of the space.

Is it really that warm in here?
I was starting to sweat in odd areas, especially under my boobs. I could smell Ollie even more intensely than I had before, and it was doing me in. My shower would undeniably be a cold one.

On the tenth floor, I stepped out, and the bellhop took my suitcase, leading the way to my room, while Ollie saved the elevator.

“I’ll be in touch,” he softly told me.

My face broke out in a grin, and I gave him a dorky little wave. “Sounds good.”

“Good-bye, Xanthe.”

“Good-bye, Ollie.”

Following the bellhop down the corridor to room 1013, I let him into my room, and on his way out, I slipped him a few bills for his troubles. In the silence, my excitement bubbled up, and I whipped out my phone to call my childhood best friend, Jaime.

“Bro Dawg!” she greeted me after the second ring.

“Jaime, you will
never
guess what just happened…”

Ollie

Xanthe Malcolm was taking up residence in my head. After we had parted ways on the tenth floor, she was all I was capable of thinking about. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about her was so intriguing.

While she didn’t wear her thoughts and emotions for everyone to see, when she’d spoken, it was so free and casual that I couldn’t help but take her for what—who—she was. She was so genuine and comfortable with just being the person she was.

She had listened to me drone on and on about the things I loved—my family, my photography, even Trey.

What did I find out about her?

She’d told me that she was an only child. Her father lived in England—Oxfordshire actually. There was no mention of her mother, and that in itself should be telling. Perhaps it was a painful subject. Xanthe had mentioned spending her early life in the States, but her teen years and young adult life had been spent in Britain. She’d mentioned her best friend, Jaime; Jaime’s husband, Ricki; and her roommate named Rex. Great-Aunt Ellen ran the bookshop Xanthe worked in.

Dropping my suitcase on the bed, I noticed that the hotel room was nice—soothing creams, taupe, and browns and a king-size bed with a decent sitting area. I wondered if Xanthe had something similar to this. I hoped so.

I had only a few minutes available to wash my hands and face, brush my teeth, grab my camera bag and a jacket, and head back down to the main lobby where I was to meet Elaine Ford’s personal assistant, Mandy Arthur. The woman was nice. I’d spoken to her several times over the phone.

My God.

Mandy’s breasts were huge. I tried not to look at them while she had her attention on me, but her blouse was so low-cut that it was hard to look anywhere else. She was an attractive woman, possibly mid-thirties, with lovely, shiny dark brown hair and a pair of the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. She had a dynamite smile, too.

Totally my cup of tea—well, she would’ve been up until about ten hours ago.

Watching her tits sway and bounce with her movements had me wondering what Xanthe’s breasts looked like under that gray T-shirt.

Xanthe had smelled warm, like cinnamon and musk, even under her supposed travel funk. When I had sniffed her earlier, I’d wanted to bury my nose in her neck and maybe give her delicate-looking skin a lick.

“So, as long as we get all the shots needed this morning, we shouldn’t have to worry more about it. We have our team working overtime to produce a cover by Wednesday evening so that everything will be ready for you and Elaine on Friday.”

We arrived at the studio by ten, and it was really just touch and go. I did what was asked of me, and the session went by quickly. It felt strange, being on the other side of the camera.

Afterward, I was allowed to see the photos. They weren’t half bad. The photographer was very good—better than good actually.

Mandy sat with me and explained what the cover artists were going to be rendering. “So, in addition to the cover, other shots will be used for promotional products, stuff designed around the book, like keepsakes—bookmarks, pens, trinkets. We’ll give them to you and Elaine to hand out this weekend.”

“Okay.”

Mandy patted my thigh. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving actually,” I said.

“Come on,” said Mandy, standing up. “I’ll take you for some pizza.”

The pizza place was a ten-minute walk from the studio. Mandy chatted the whole time, telling me about things I should expect over the next few days.

Marino’s Pizzeria smelled so fucking amazing. I groaned a little when we stepped inside. It was a mom-and-pop place with red and white–checkered tabletops and green cushioned pleather booths and chairs. The walls were red brick littered with scenic photos of an Italian countryside and framed newspaper clippings.

We grabbed a booth next to a window, and I picked up a menu showing just the standard choices of pizzas and pasta dishes.

“Do you know what you want?” Mandy asked.

“A pizza is fine,” I told her. “Get whatever you want. I’m not picky.”

“Coke to drink?”

I shook my head. “Water.”

Mandy got up and headed for the counter where she placed our order. Then, she sauntered off toward the back. My guess was, she was going to the restroom.

I pulled out my phone from my pocket. Xanthe’s number had been saved the second she was out of sight that morning, and I was curious as to how her day was going. So, I sent her a text, asking her. A few minutes later, my phone pinged, and my heart skipped.

Xanthe: It’s pretty damn boring. What about you?

Me: The shoot went quickly. That was good. Having pizza with a large-breasted woman right now.

Xanthe: Lucky.

Me: Because of the pizza? Or the breasts?

Xanthe: Both.

I couldn’t help it. I was grinning from ear to ear, and Mandy busted me as she plonked my iced water down in front of me.

“Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes. I got pepperoni.”

“Sounds good,” I said, putting my phone down so as not to be rude.

“So, was that your girlfriend you were texting with?” she asked.

My God, I actually blushed.

“No,” I replied even though I was tempted to say otherwise.

Mandy had been getting a little handsy. Several times throughout the day, she had touched me. Normally, I wouldn’t have minded. A woman this attractive, I might have even encouraged her. But…I found myself wanting another woman to get handsy with me, one with a riot of auburn hair, hipster glasses, and a cinnamon scent.

“You’re single? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well…” I said. “There’s a person of interest. So, yes, I’m single, but I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“Are you gay?”

That had taken me aback, and Mandy laughed at the look on my face.

“Oh, honey, don’t be offended. We get all types in this business. I was just curious, is all.”

“No, I’m not gay.”

“Not with that beard.”

I rolled my eyes while Mandy laughed once more at my expense.