by Dylann Crush
On the twelfth Mississippi Zach opened the door. “Let’s hit it.”
Ten minutes later Reagan tapped her toe against the leg of the seat in front of her on the hotel shuttle. She’d slipped her giant shades in place and silently urged the shuttle driver to go faster with every ounce of her being. Obviously the universe was running interference because even a compact car sporting a donut spare tire zoomed past them on the highway.
“Sir, is there any way you can speed up a bit?” Reagan asked. “We’re in a huge hurry and can’t afford to miss this flight.”
The driver nodded at her in the rearview mirror, but the shuttle didn’t appear to pick up the pace. She should have taken her dad’s offer to charter a plane. Next time she wouldn’t let her fear get in the way.
“You know, we didn’t have time to grab anything for breakfast,” Zach said, nodding toward the cupcake box on her lap. “Think you can spare one?”
Is that all the man could think about at a time like this? She shot him an appraising side glance.
“I’ll share one with you,” he offered.
“That’s generous. You’re willing to share one of my cupcakes with me?”
Zach shrugged. His upper lip curled into a half-smile. “You’ll be rid of me when we land in Miami. How about you think of it as a parting gift?”
“Ha.” He had a point, though. She would be rid of him when the plane touched down in Miami. He’d head off to some deserted beach to snap pictures for his job, and she’d hopefully catch the yacht she’d chartered to her brother’s happily-ever-after festivities. The idea of parting ways should have filled her with a sense of calm. It would give her a chance to get things back on track, be back in control. Instead, the thought of saying goodbye to Zach without getting answers from the past made her feel hollow inside.
“Fine.” Reagan lifted the lid of the box and took out a vanilla cupcake with peanut butter frosting. “Practically like a protein bar, right?”
His tongue rimmed his upper lip. “Gimme.” Grabby hands reached for the cupcake.
Before she closed the box she did a quick count. “Zach?”
“Mmm hmm?” he asked, his mouth already stuffed half full.
“There are only ten cupcakes here.” She pursed her lips and shot him her best icy glare. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
His eyes went wide, his tongue licking a glob of frosting off the corner of his mouth. “Hey, here’s your half.”
“You ate one, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you must have miscounted or something.”
She grasped his earlobe and tugged, a trick that used to bring Teddy to his knees.
“Ouch!” Zach’s hands wrapped around her wrist, and he pulled her hand down to his lap. “I got hungry last night and you were mad at me anyway.”
Reagan jerked her hands away and slapped at his solid biceps. “You jerk. Those are for Teddy and Cal. I can’t believe you stole one of my cupcakes.”
She turned her back to him as best she could on the seat next to him and glared out the window. Any thought of making nice flew by like the buildings she stared at through the window. The storms from the night before had blown over and the sun bounced off the industrial buildings and concrete highway, making her grateful for the oversized shades. The airport beckoned in the distance, only one more exit away.
“You want your half?” Zach asked, nudging her in the side with his elbow.
She chose not to respond.
“Suit yourself.” He inhaled the remaining piece of cupcake, which appeared to be much less than an equal half.
Peering at him over the frame of her sunglasses, she screwed her lips into a frown.
“Too late now.” He held his peanut butter frosting covered fingers under her nose. “Unless you want to suck the frosting off my digits.”
As if she’d suck any part of his anatomy. Not likely. Once upon a time, she felt otherwise. But that was then. She turned her back to him again and began counting Mississippi’s until the bus pulled up at the departure terminal. Then she could do what she did best around Zach—leave him in the past.
Zach licked the remaining frosting off his fingers. That should tide him over until he could get something substantial in his stomach. The shuttle stopped in front of the departure terminal, and he moved into the aisle so Reagan could go in front of him. Clutching the bakery box to her chest, she stepped down onto the curb. He grabbed his bags and followed her.
“I’ve got to check my luggage, so I guess I’ll see you at the gate. Don’t let them leave without me.” He hefted his pack onto his shoulder.
“I guess that’s one benefit to them losing my bag. See you on the other side of security.” She turned around to join the line at the security checkpoint.
Zach moved to the ticket counter to check his bag. By the time he got to the checkpoint Reagan had reached the front of the line. She stood at the podium facing down a TSA officer who stared at her over his glasses. Reagan dug around in her purse, a frantic desperation taking over her usual public demeanor. He couldn’t make out the conversation but the officer directed Reagan to the side where she dumped the entire contents of her purse onto a table and began to shuffle through.
“Excuse me,” Zach said, jostling a few passengers as he ducked under the cord and approached Reagan. “What’s going on?”
She turned her panicked gaze on him. “My wallet. Have you seen it? I can’t find my ID.”
He thought through the events of the past twenty-four hours. “When did you last use it? At the bar?”
“No. You treated me.” She smacked her palm to her forehead. “On the plane! I tucked it into the seat back in front of me while I waited for that stewardess to bring back my credit card.”
“Flight attendant.”
“What?”
Zach grimaced. “They prefer the title flight attendant nowadays.”
“How can you joke around at a time like this? I have no ID. Our flight is boarding. I can’t miss this plane. Teddy will absolutely kill me.” She scooped everything back into her purse and tossed the strap over her shoulder. “I’ll explain what happened. The airline has to have a record, right?”
He shrugged. Who knew what TSA would do in a situation like this? Damn, what should he do? If he lost sight of Reagan now there’d be no way he’d be able to figure out where the wedding was. Until he figured out what to do about Scazzoli’s threat to expose him, his best bet was to stick with Reagan.
And what would she do? Sit around the Louisville airport until Daddy Dearest sent someone to vouch for her? Maybe the airline found her wallet and could fax over a copy of her ID.
“Reagan, wait!”
The TSA officer glared at her as she stood there arguing, begging, pleading to be let through the security line. “My ID is in my wallet. It’s in the back pocket of seat 12A. Call the airline. They’ll find it. You have to let me through. A wedding is at stake. If I don’t get there the whole thing is going to be a big bomb.”
Zach shook his head and floated a hand to his temple. Did she just let the “B” word rip?
The officer stood up from his perch on the stool. “What’s this about a bomb?”
Too immersed in her puddle of self-pity, Reagan didn’t notice the hole she’d dug for herself was growing deeper and deeper. “Everything’s going to be ruined. It will blow up in my face.” With her hands held in front of her, she flung her fingers out. “Boom!”
The officer nodded toward a nearby co-worker who spoke into his radio.
Shit. Zach watched the scene unfold. If he said something, he’d most likely implicate himself and end up cuffed. But if he didn’t say something, she would be hauled away.
A passenger waiting in line held up his cell phone and trained it on Reagan. Hell, Zach couldn’t stand by and do nothing. If word got out Senator Campbell’s daughter shut down the Louisville airport by making a bomb threat other photographers would pick up the trail of Senator Campbell�
�s location and the wedding and Zach would be shit out of luck.
And maybe more importantly, Reagan didn’t need that kind of bad publicity.
He stepped toward her and caught her up in his arms, basically shielding her body from the view of the passengers waiting to go through security.
She pushed against him. “Let go of me.”
Leaning down, he mumbled in her ear. “You do realize you just made a bomb threat, right?”
Her body froze. “A bomb threat?” she whispered.
He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I can assure you this is a misunderstanding. My friend is desperate to get to Miami. Our flight last night was diverted, then canceled, and the delays are causing quite a bit of stress.”
A small group of security officers encircled them. Reagan buried her head against his chest.
“I’m Officer Reynolds. We’re going to need the two of you to come with us.” The officer who appeared to be in charge stepped forward and put a hand on Reagan’s elbow.
“But the flight…” Reagan said.
“Ma’am, there’s no way you’re getting through security without identification. I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you.”
“Let’s go with the easy way, right, cupcake?” Zach clamped her against his side with one arm and shielded her face with the other. “Keep your head down, Reagan.”
She complied, burying herself against his side as they followed the group of officers through an unmarked doorway.
7
Reagan hung her head and slouched against the hard bench. Squirming, she tried to adjust the position of her tush. Who knew a strip search behind the scenes could be so uncomfortable? Not only did the female officer do a complete and thorough inspection of every potential hiding place for an explosive device, she’d also fingerprinted and photographed her, guaranteeing her mortification would be forever immortalized.
Banned from ever entering the Louisville International Airport again, and too chicken to call her dad and ask for help, she sat outside, waiting for Zach to finalize arrangements on their rental car.
How did her life come to this? Twenty-four hours ago, she was a well-respected, professional, corporate executive, traveling to Miami to take care of last-minute details on a wedding she’d spent the past six months orchestrating. She had lists of lists, spreadsheets detailing seating arrangements, who would get which oceanfront hut, how many rose petals should be sprinkled on each tablecloth.
What had thrown her off her game so far that she now sat banished, her insides probed and prodded, in the same rumpled pants she’d had on since yesterday?
Zach.
Zach was what had happened to her.
Everything had been fine until she set eyes on him. And now she was stuck with him. At least for the next 912 miles—the distance her phone showed between Louisville and Miami. Shoot, she’d probably need to get even farther down the coast now since she missed the chartered yacht she’d been so excited to arrange.
Why was Zach being so nice to her? Couldn’t be just the cupcakes, although he did seem enamored with her baked goods and was more than willing to take a bite of the two the security officers picked out. They insisted on sending them through the X-ray machine, as if she’d hide an explosive device inside one of Sweet Sal’s cupcakes. How wasteful!
Convinced they weren’t laden with grenades, they made Zach sample a couple to prove they weren’t baked with poison or something. Now she was down to eight of Sweet Sal’s confections. This whole trip was turning into a disaster.
She looked up in time to see Zach exit through the automatic door. A set of keys dangled from his hand. “I’ve got to walk through the airport to get to the car. Wait here, and I’ll swing by and pick you up in a few.”
Reagan nodded. He dropped his bags at her feet and disappeared back inside. While she waited, she fired off a quick text to her parents and Teddy about how she lost her wallet and was unable to get on the flight and would be delayed another day. Nothing to worry about. No need to mention the unfortunate incident with security. At least not for now.
Her stomach growled. Pressing her palm against her abdomen, she tried to will it into silence. It gurgled in disobedience. Fine. Why not blow the diet? By the time she got to the beach, she probably wouldn’t have time to put on her swimsuit. She snorted to herself. If her swimsuit even arrived.
Someone from the airline’s baggage department left a message on her cell phone while she was being detained. Said her bag ended up in Anchorage somehow, but they were rerouting it to Miami. With any luck it would get to Miami before she did, and she could swing by and pick it up at the airport before they dropped off the rental car.
She swiped her finger across the top of one of the half-eaten cupcakes Zach had sampled and popped the glob of cream cheese frosting in her mouth.
Mmm. Why would she deprive herself of Sweet Sal’s red velvet masterpiece? Thighs be damned. Cellulite was in her genes. No amount of starvation or cupcake deprivation would prevent it anyway. She peeled back the wrapper and lifted the bite to her lips.
As she did, her gaze caught on a man shuffling toward her. He had a trash bag slung over one shoulder and several days’ worth of scruff covering his chin.
“Spare some change?” He stopped in front of her and held out a jar with a few coins rattling around inside.
“I’m sorry, I just lost my wallet so I don’t have anything I can give you.”
“Appreciate it. Good luck to you.” He took a few steps.
A wave of guilt washed over her. Nothing like eating a huge cupcake in front of what appeared to be a homeless man looking for his next meal. “Wait.”
He paused and turned around.
“I know it sounds really odd, but I happen to have some cupcakes here if you’d like one.”
The man’s lifted his brows. “Didn’t your mama tell you to never take food from a stranger?”
“Yes, she did.” Reagan held the lid up. “But these are from Sweet Sal’s, a bakery in Chicago. It’s not like I made them or anything.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” Reagan turned the box to face him. “Take your pick.”
With a gleam in his eye, the man reached in and fisted a chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting.
“That’s a great choice.” Assuaged of her guilt for eating in front of someone who probably hadn’t eaten in longer than she had, Reagan took a bite of her own cupcake.
As she did, a flash of red caught her eye. A cherry red Mustang convertible screeched to a stop at the curb next to her. She shoved the rest of the cupcake into her mouth and slammed down the lid of the box. Chew, swallow, hurry!
Zach lowered the automatic window. “Finally decided to have breakfast?”
Gulping down the moist, perfect balance of chocolate and tangy cream cheese, Reagan gave him a close-lipped smile then tried to speak without opening her mouth wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He exited the car, eyeing the stranger next to her on the bench who was working on his own cupcake, and popped the trunk. “You want me to put that in the trunk?” he asked, pointing to the box.
“No. I’ll set them in the back seat. How did you end up with a car like this?” So much for flying under the radar and staying inconspicuous.
He settled his luggage in the back. “I figured we should splurge a little. Live it up.”
“On my dime?” She scoffed. “You know I’m paying you back for everything. As soon as I get my wallet back.”
“Uh huh.”
“I still can’t understand why you volunteered to help me. Especially after you got dragged into the back room. Why didn’t you run away from me when you had the chance?”
“The car’s my treat.” He walked around and held open the passenger door for her. “As for helping you, what was I supposed to do? Leave you stranded at an airport you’re not allowed to enter w
ith no ID, no cash, and no credit cards? Besides, by the time that guard was done with his gloved inspection, I missed the damn flight.”
She slid into the low bucket seat. “I’m sorry. I bet you regret running into me at the airport yesterday.”
He leaned in, invading her personal space. Her heart stalled for a beat then raced into overdrive. She focused on his approaching finger as it came closer and closer to her lips. Instinctively, she backed away, pressing against the black leather seat. He touched the corner of her mouth. Her eyes closed for a brief second, letting the feel of his touch sink in.
Then her diaphragm spasmed. Her hand went to her mouth to suppress the involuntary, impending reaction. No luck.
She hiccupped.
Not a dainty, tiny, cute bubble of a hiccup, but a bold, brazen barking sound, as if a seal were being strangled deep inside her chest.
“Nerves getting to you? You sure you didn’t scarf down some breakfast?” he asked.
She opened her eyes as he slid his finger into his mouth.
“Tastes like cream cheese frosting to me.”
A wave of heat flushed over her neck and rose onto her cheeks. She twisted in her seat and yanked the seatbelt over her middle, clipping it in place. He grinned, a teasing, all-knowing, sexy-as-hell smile then shut her door and walked around the car to get in the driver’s seat.
“You still get the hiccups when you get nervous?” he asked.
She fisted her hands in her lap. “They’re not hiccups. I’m not”—hiccup—“nervous!”
“It’s all right, Reagan. We all have our little, um”—he glanced her way and her chest spasmed again—“idiosyncrasies.”
Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing. Nervous hiccups hadn’t surfaced in years. She thought she’d mastered her annoying reaction and put them behind her. Hiccup. Dammit.
Something cold pressed against her hand. As she opened her eyes Zach set an ice-cold bottle of water in her lap.
“Thought you might be thirsty, so I picked up a couple of waters from the vending machine. Maybe that’ll help with your non-hiccups, huh?”
