by Orla Bailey
“Do you know what I’ll need?”
She glances at me as if I’m an idiot. “Clothes for weekend.”
“Did he tell you, too, where we’re going?” I hope the addition of that little three-letter word will fool her into thinking I’m already in the picture, so she will easily spill the beans.
I underestimate the woman. She raises her eyebrow and tells me off with her eyes. “On secret weekend.”
I roll my eyes and make her laugh. “So you’re not to tell me where I’m going, is that it?”
“You want I disobey Mr Keogh’s orders?” She throws me a look of mock horror.
I sigh theatrically. “No. It can wait.” I can’t. I really can’t. I’m like a spoilt child who isn’t allowed to open her birthday present before the big day, even though it’s sitting, gift-wrapped, right in front of her.
“You have no choice. Wait. Don’t wait. My lips are stuck.”
“Sealed.” I hug her. She looks surprised but pleased. I hug her for keeping Jack’s secret. I hug her for believing me about Amanda. I hug her because she thinks Jack and I belong together. I hug her for the great coffee she makes. And because I adore her.
I also take a quick peek in the suitcase to see if I can get a clue as to where I might be going.
She sees through me in an instant and slaps me lightly, flipping shut the lid of the bag. “Go away, bad girl. I don’t know how Mr Keogh puts up with you.”
“I don’t know how I put up with him either.” I watch her guarding the suitcase like a Rottweiler, laugh delightedly at her loyalty and skip off to finish getting ready.
“Mr Blackstock picks you up from work at six.”
“I remember. Thank you for packing for me, Lenuta. Have a lovely weekend yourself and I’ll see you next week.” Now I don’t doubt it.
Blackstock similarly reminds me to be ready for collection promptly at six when he drops me off at CaidCo. Jack leaves no stone unturned, it seems, in making sure I’ll be where I’m supposed to be, when I’m supposed to be there. Only the devil in me wonders if it might be fun to see what happens if I turn up late. I kill the fiend quickly. Nothing is going to bedevil this new warmth and closeness between Jack and me. It’s been too long awaited and too hard earned. And I suspect Jack will have a contingency plan should I fail, anyway.
Libby enters my office mid-morning. “You are never going to believe this.”
“What?” I glance up from my computer to see the biggest bouquet I’ve ever seen in my life surrounded by her arms. I stand and help her to place them on my desk, clearing things aside to accommodate all the room they require.
Dozens of beautiful David Austen, traditional, cottage-garden pink roses – with heads as big as side-plates – mingle with as many huge frothy heads of white hydrangea. They are encased in pure white silk with a wide lime-green ribbon tying them all together. The effect is stunning. Even when Jack and I fought last night he still intended me to have them. He forgave me before we even worked things out between us.
“That man really loves you. I mean really loves you,” Libby tells me. She looks dreamily at the floral spectacle.
The scent is overwhelming and I have tears in my eyes. “He does.”
She rushes over and envelopes me in a huge embrace. “Silly girl. You deserve to be loved by a good man like Jack.” She pulls the card from amongst the blooms and hands it to me.
At that moment Zoe puts her head through the door. “Another bunch, Tabitha?”
“Not now, Zoe,” Libby tells her, halting her in her tracks.
“Sorry. Shall I make coffee then?”
“No coffee.”
She appears to have run out of excuses to come in. We both stare at her.
“I’ll just shut the door then, shall I?”
“That would be great. Thanks,” I say. She shuts it behind her.
Libby raises her eyebrows towards me and follows her to the door. “I’ll find her something to keep her occupied.”
I sit down to open the little envelope, feeling slightly overcome. What I see on the ivory card inside completely overwhelms me.
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you
Trust me when I tell you,
I love you
Jack x
I count every single one of them. He has hand-written, exactly twenty-two times – the number of years I’ve been alive – in a beautiful hand, the most important three words I will ever hear. And he has gifted them all to me. I do a whole lot of crying. Good tears. I’m the luckiest woman alive.
I place the stems of the bouquet in a sink full of water. Wherever I’m going for the weekend, these beauties are coming with me. I decide to wait and thank Jack personally for them. In fact I sit and hatch twenty-two great plans to thank him for them, every one of which is going to thrill him. No text will be able to express my sentiments better than that.
I can’t wait to hold him again.
The team spends the afternoon progressing the bid for Zee-Com’s advertising account. It takes me a while to realise every suggestion I make is more about Jack personally than about his company so I shut up before I totally embarrass myself. I’m in no fit state to do justice to the account at the moment and leave the bid team to get on with it.
My thoughts turn to Phil. I’m used to him disappearing for weeks at a time but I’m worried about his state of mind the last time I saw him and after the events of that evening. I phone the local homeless shelters and the hospital who all tell me the same thing. They haven’t seen him since patching him up. They agree to make enquiries and let me know. I leave myself a reminder that if I don’t get news on my return, on Monday, I’ll start more formal investigations into his whereabouts.
I wind up the rest of the week’s business and organise the schedule for the week ahead. I want to be able to walk away without anything work-related niggling at the back of my mind.
Blackstock arrives well before six so I leave Libby and him to have coffee and plan their own weekend of freedom together while I finish off.
On the dot, we are on the road and before seven the Bentley glides to a halt at the steps of the executive jet Jack and I took from Brittany when we returned from Lassec. I have a flight ahead of me.
“Delighted to have you on board again, Miss Caid,” the cabin steward greets me. “Shall I take your flowers?”
I hand over the amazing bouquet, Blackstock produces my passport with a knowing grin and the steward takes them away. It seems everyone is in on this secret but me. The steward leads me to my seat ready for take-off while Blackstock secures my luggage on board.
He returns to see if I require anything final before he departs.
“I don’t suppose there’s any point asking you where I’m going, is there, Mr Blackstock?”
“None whatsoever, Miss Caid.” He manages to smirk and look at me sternly at the same time, which is a pretty neat trick. “Have a pleasant flight and an amazing weekend.”
“You too, Mr Blackstock.” He turns towards the aircraft exit. “Tell Libby she has to send you back in one piece.” I laugh silently as he stops in his tracks for a moment, his back towards me, then disappears through the doorway without response, before it’s closed and sealed behind him.
The pilot and co-pilot step through from the flight deck. They are the same ones who flew the plane last time.
“Welcome on board, Miss Caid.”
“Thank you. Can you advise me of our destination?” I figure the pilot should know where we’re going, if anyone does.
He looks a little abashed. “I’m afraid I have formal instructions not to reveal it. My apologies.” He’s no doubt uncomfortable this could border on abduction if I decided to kick up a fuss.
I press my lips together. I almost believe Jack could get the Pope to keep Heaven a secret, if he cho
se to.
But I let the pilot off the hook. “That’s fine. It’s meant to be a surprise, after all.”
He nods gratefully. “We’ll be taking off in about twenty minutes.”
“Are you permitted to tell me the flight time?”
“I have no specific instructions to the contrary, madam.” The look he presents, suggests his admiration at my ingenuity for attempting to determine a rough destination. “We’ll be airborne for approximately three hours.”
What he doesn’t know is that although he might be able to match flight times to a specific range of locations, I’m as much in the dark as ever. Somewhere in Europe is the closest I can get.
The pilots return to the flight deck to conclude pre-flight checks while I am handed a glass of Champagne. I toast to a happy weekend that may well start alone and with secrets but will end with Jack and me together in deeper understanding. I swear it. A thrill of excitement shivers through me as we take off. I feel almost like a woman being kidnapped by her desperate lover. But willingly. Each minute taking me closer to the wickedly delicious male that has captured my heart.
Once we are airborne, the steward returns. “I’ve put your bags into the master suite. Everything is there if you’d like to get showered and changed.”
I release my seatbelt. “Wow. I’ve never showered in flight before.”
He laughs. “Not too many people have,” he confides. “Me neither.” He shows me into the amazing executive bedroom suite. “Just pick up the phone if you need anything. I’ll lay out some cold meats and salad in the cabin so you can eat when you want to.”
“Thank you.” I grin. Life with Jack is a complete blast.
The first thing I do, of course, is stretch out full-length on the bed and bounce. I mean, who wouldn’t? All that’s missing is Jack beside me. I check out the shower and as soon as I’m convinced I can operate it without burning or freezing, I rip off my suit and jump into the steamy jets of water.
I can’t wipe the smile off my face. There is no experience on earth to compare to showering in flight. It’s something akin to holding onto a leaping dolphin. The Acqua di Parma shower gels are of luxury quality and knowing Jack’s love of all things Italian, I suspect they’ve been stocked exclusively for his taste. I stay under water far longer than I need to.
An hour’s cat nap to boost my flagging energy levels and make up for last night’s lost sleep, then I watch BBC world news as I dry my hair and dress. As it will be pretty late by the time we land, I opt for hip-hugging pale blue skinny jeans, a pretty white blouse and a short Chanel navy jacket. I slip my bare feet into navy heels for a touch of class but my eternal knot pendant is all the jewellery I need. The soft loose curls I’ve teased my long hair into, fall prettily over my shoulders. A subtle touch of cosmetics and I feel I have my look just about right for wherever we land.
I return to the cabin and strap myself in with a plate of salad for the final half hour of the journey. The steward clears up and I decline another glass of Champagne. I don’t want to be tipsy when I see Jack for the first time.
By ten-thirty I feel the change as we slowly lose altitude for our final approach. I’ve had butterflies in my stomach practically all the way but now my excitement levels ramp up to fever-pitch. Where are we? Where is Jack? I can’t wait to see him; touch him. I can’t wait for him to touch me.
We have a flawless landing and I wait impatiently to be given the all clear to take off my safety belt and prepare to leave.
The steward waits for the steps to be placed and opens the door so I can step outside. It’s dark and the air is cool. I’m straining every sense to work out where I might be, but it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is the Sirocco I feel and the man I see standing below me, waiting for me, beside a black Mercedes. He looks up.
Even from this distance, in the artificial lighting of an airport runway, his Arctic blue eyes floor me.
“Jack!” I yell, as if he hasn’t seen me. He’s seen me. He doesn’t take his eyes from me.
I silently curse the very high heels I’ve chosen as it means I have to walk like a lady rather than hurl myself down the steps towards him. But I don’t want to end up in the casualty department of the nearest hospital. I have very different plans for my next few hours.
Seeing Jack’s lips quirk, I know he understands the impatience of my refined glide towards him. He runs up to meet me halfway, hugging me so tightly to him he crushes the breath from my body. He draws back and drinks me in as if he hasn’t seen me in months rather than days. I know how he feels.
“God, Tabby, I’ve missed you. I don’t ever want to miss you again.” His mouth takes mine possessively. He doesn’t appear to care who is watching.
My knees weaken, my body instantly alert to every tense muscle in his. He takes my hand to lead me the rest of the way down the steps but feeling the hesitation of my speed turns and lifts me to the bottom as I squeal.
The pilots and steward descend behind us and approach. The steward is carrying my bouquet. He returns my passport and supervises the loading of my belongings into the Mercedes.
“Thank you for taking good care of my special lady,” Jack tells them. His eyes remain on mine like he thinks I might disappear again if he so much as blinks. Gradually he trusts it won’t happen, long enough to turn and shake hands with each of them.
The chief pilot speaks for the entire group. “It was our pleasure, sir. Miss Caid was very patient with our little deception.”
I shake my head, my lips pursing in disagreement. “I wasn’t patient at all,” I correct him. “I tried every ruse I know to find out where you were taking me.” Everyone laughs.
Jack tuts fondly. “Did anyone come close to breaking?” he asks, eyebrow raised, highly amused by my frustrated efforts to thwart his plans.
“Not one. It seems you have half the world in your pocket. I didn’t stand a chance.” I pout at him.
Everyone laughs again, including me. The flight crew wish us both well and take their leave, a thick envelope, for sharing out later, tucked into the chief pilot’s pocket.
Jack turns to me again. “It’s the other half of my world that I’m more interested in.” His voice reduces to a whisper and his eyes travel all over my face again. “You’re beautiful.”
“Stop changing the subject. Where are we? I’ve waited long enough to know.”
Jack laughs as I look around for clues but find none. We could be standing on any private airfield anywhere, three hours flight from London. Then I remember the Mercedes I’m standing right next to. I struggle out of his embrace and go round back to read the number plate as he grins at my cleverness and enthusiasm.
“Ireland?” My voice reveals amazement.
“My home country. My home town. Dublin to be precise.”
For the first time I acknowledge his Southern Irish accent to be markedly more pronounced.
I stare in amazement. “Dublin? But we flew for three whole hours.” Even I know that London to Dublin would take half that time or less.
He acts dumb and chuckles until I have no choice but to slap him, which only serves to make him laugh harder. I put my hands on my hips and toss his habitual question, back at him. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
He yanks me into his arms and taps me on the head. “I know how this bright, inquisitive little mind of yours works. It wouldn’t have taken you long to work out your destination if you knew the time and distance.” He grins like a Cheshire cat. “So I asked the pilot to take you on the scenic route.”
He remembers the little joke I made when he flew me back to London from Brittany. Jack remembers everything.
“You flew me round for three hours for nothing?”
“Not for nothing. To bring you to me.” He says it like it is a cosmic inevitability and I find myself touching the eternal knot pendant hanging around my neck.
“All that extra flight time must have cost a fortune.”
“Hideously expensive. And yo
u’ll repay every single penny of the outlay.” He pauses for dramatic effect and lowers his voice seductively. “One way or another.”
I clamp my lips together trying not to totally reveal how exciting I find that prospect, but I fail dismally.
“Besides, I wanted to make sure I arrived from Singapore before you landed. I wanted to be here to meet you.” He presses the flat of his hand against the slope of my back until my hips are settled snug against his. He doesn’t even need to rock his body for me to feel the nature of his interest.
“I’m so happy you’re here to meet me.” I stretch up onto my toes easily in my heels to kiss the corner of his lips gently. “Thank you for my beautiful flowers.”
“I love you, kitten.”
“I know.” I really, really do.
He releases me with a contented sigh. “Have you eaten?”
I nod. “On board.”
“Good. It’s late. I should get you home.”
“Home? Why are we in Dublin, Jack?”
I note the sincerity shining from his eyes. “You’ve seen – what do you call me? – the Boss. You’ve known the ambitious young man I used to be, focused on building his empire. You’ve known me as your lover –”
“– I like him best of all,” I interrupt.
“He likes you too.” He kisses me. Releases me reluctantly. But I want you to know all of me. Everything I am.”
Clarity follows. “And that begins..?”
“Right here, where I was born. Dublin.”
My heart thumps. “Will I get to meet your family?” Before now I’ve only imagined the amazing family that produced the man I love.
“Meet them? I’ve got bad news for you, kitten. You’ll be living with them.” He gives me an almost apologetic smile. “We’re staying in the family home with the whole darn lot and their husbands, wives and partners.”
“Oh God,” I breathe. Thinking about them is one thing. Imagining what they are like has fascinated me over the years, especially as I grew up with one rather distracted uncle, Harry. But meeting his family; staying with them is something else entirely. “What if they don’t like me?”
