Private Pilot

by Karen Deen

  Gray just rolls his eyes at him. “Sounds like a good day.”

  “You think it’s annoying to you,” Tate starts in, “imagine what it feels like waiting when you’re the person who’s charged with the crime. For your client, it’s the difference between jail or freedom. Pretty sure it’s just a tad more stressful for them.” Lex picks up his glass of beer and chugs it down. I’m not sure he’s happy with that comment from Tate. All our jobs carry their own type of stress. We’ve all noticed that it seems to be weighing Lex down lately.

  “Tate, you can be such a prick sometimes,” I say. “If it wasn’t for Lex, the client wouldn’t even have a chance. Let’s get off work. No one wants to be thinking about that on a Friday night. Well, except lover boy here who’s off to spend the night with some woman who isn’t his fiancée. Who would have thought Doctor Dreamy would cheat on his Tilly?” That earns me a whack around the back of the head from Gray but breaks the moment and moves the conversation to the game that’s on the television. It’s a replay of a game from last year’s NFL season. A game we all lost money on at the time. It starts the debate up again about the shit referee decisions that cost us the game.

  Ribs are eaten and everyone’s comfortable with our third beer for the night. Gray left as soon as he ate and told me to call him tomorrow about our discussion last week. I was grateful he didn’t blurt it out in front of the boys. I’m not in the mood for the crap that’ll get started if they find out I’m interested in my boss. I don’t even know why I keep referring to her as that. It’s not like it’s an issue, and maybe I’m the only one that’s worried about it.

  Finishing my beer, I know it’s time to call it quits for me. I want to be sober enough to call Paige when I get back to my apartment. I don’t want it to be too late either. She might be asleep, and I’ll feel terrible if I disturb her.

  Pulling my wallet out to pay my tab, my phone starts ringing on the bar. Paige’s name lights up. Tate goes to open his mouth, and I immediately hold my hand up in front of his face to make it clear I don’t want to hear a word from him.

  “Hey, Paige, how are you?” My heart beats a little faster. She’s reached out to me this time. I’m getting somewhere. Unless she’s calling to tell me we need to fly tomorrow. The word boss springs back into my head.

  “Mason, I’m scared.” She slurs her words and I know she’s very drunk. Immediately my body’s on alert and I’m already heading for the door. Waving over my shoulder to let the boys know I’m out.

  “Paige, where are you? I need you to tell me where you are, and I’m on my way.” My arm is up flagging down a cab while I’m trying to get her to answer.

  “I’m at home.” It’s a little softer, and I’m worried she’s about to pass out.

  “Okay, are you safe?” I climb in the cab and give the driver a signal to wait. She doesn’t answer. “Paige, honey, I need you to tell me where you live.”

  Then she giggles. “Shhhhh, it’s a secret. I live in a building.” Oh, fuck this.

  “That’s nice, Paige, I promise I’ll keep your secret. What’s the building called?”

  “It’s the nice one, you know, near the park.” Now I’m getting mad.

  “Paige. What’s your address? Tell me right now!” My army voice is yelling down the phone. One I hate to use now.

  She rattles it off perfectly like she’s replying to a policeman.

  “Good girl, now I’m on my way so make sure you stay awake to let me in. I’m not far away.”

  “You’re bossy. Oh, wait, I’m the boss.” Her giggle starts again, and I know I’m not getting any more sense out of her. I need to keep her conscious, so I do the one thing I know most drunk people are good at. I get her singing.

  “What’s your favorite song, Paige, can you sing it to me?” I know I’ll regret this so pull my phone away from my ear a little.

  “That’s easy. Eye of the Tiger. I’m the besterest singer. Ready?”

  No, but I’ll suffer anyway.

  “Sure, baby, let me hear it, nice and loud. Show me your tiger.”

  As my eardrums are crying in pain and my head is spinning, I wonder what the hell’s going on. She might’ve pushed me away today but tonight, she has no choice. She’ll be telling me, one way or another.

  5

  Mason

  THANK GOD I’VE ARRIVED at her building and I don’t have to listen to this singing anymore. Man, I thought my voice was bad.

  I think this is the one thing that Paige is not even close to perfect at!

  “Paige, honey. I need you to stop singing for a minute and buzz me into your building. Can you hear the door chimes in the background from me pushing the button?” I’m trying to get her attention.

  “It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight,” she keeps singing off-key.

  “Paige!” I yell in to the phone.

  “Ow, that hurt my ear. You’re too noisy.” Still slurring. “What, Mr. Bossypants?”

  I’m groaning and trying to keep my cool.

  “The button that opens the front door, push it.” I’m constantly pushing the buzzer in and out, and I can hear it going off in her apartment.

  “It’s noisy too. Can you make it stop? It’s hurting my head.”

  “It’ll stop when you push the button to open the door,” I grumble like I’m talking to a two-year-old.

  “Okay, okay, stop yelling at me.” She has no idea what it’s like if I yell. This volume’s nothing. Finally, the door release activates. Pulling it open, I storm to the elevator.

  “What floor are you, Paige?”

  “The top one, silly. With the big bath and lots of bubbles. I like bubbles. Bubbles are fun. Phew, fly little bubadubles.” Her little giggle kills me, but not as much of the vision I now have that she’s naked in a bubble bath.

  She’s walked around in the apartment wet, no clothes on, just to buzz me in. This vision is one I hope to repeat with me in the room very soon.

  “Are you drunk in the bath, Paige?” Pushing the penthouse button, I curse because I need a security number or pass.

  “You’re drunk, Mr. Hotty. The bubbles are drunk, they don’t fly straight. Not like my private pilot, he always flies me straight. He keeps me safe.” Fuck. What’s going on?

  “Yes, he does. Now tell me the elevator code. What are the numbers?” There’s a silent pause.

  “I can’t ‘member how to count. Can you count, Captain Yummy?” Jesus, I’m getting nowhere fast. Except hot and horny if she keeps pulling out her pet names for me. Are they what she uses when she’s getting herself off at night?

  Fuck. Concentrate, idiot, otherwise you’ll lose her.

  “Paige. What’s your dad’s date of birth?” A stab in the dark but let’s see if it works

  “Twelve, twelve, thirty-nine. He’s old, my dad. Very old.” She keeps rambling while I push the numbers in and strike a winner. Now moving upwards towards the penthouse, I try to work out how I’ll handle drunk, wet, and naked Paige.

  It’s like a dream come true. Her naked and in a bubble bath. But seeing her for the first time away from work, naked and drunk is not how I imagined our first date.

  The elevator slowly stops then opens straight into the apartment.

  Holy fucking hell.

  I know she’s wealthy, but this is past my expectations. I don’t have time to take it all in while I’m trying to work out where her voice is coming from. Two sets of stairs lead up to the second level. Jogging up one set, I’m wandering along the hallway with several doors. Pushing a few open, they’re bedrooms, so hopefully I’m on the right side of the apartment. I get to the end, but nothing.

  I’m not even listening to what she’s saying, but she’s still talking which is all I need. Now heading up the opposite flight of stairs, there are only two doors. Pushing open one it looks like a television room. I’m now faintly hearing her voice. Slowly opening the next door, it leads into her bedroom, I’m guessing.

  The bed’s huge and everything in
here is very feminine. Lots of those damn throw pillows on the bed. I can’t understand why women insist on that many. They’re a pain in the ass to take off and put back on every morning. There’s a door to my left that I hear her voice coming from. The wet footprints in the carpet also give it away.

  “Paige, I am outside your bathroom door. I’m going to open it so don’t get scared, okay?”

  “No, you’re not. No boys come to my house to visit me. My dad said no boys allowed. No kissing, no fucking. No touching boys. It sucks.” Damn my cock’s already straining hard in my jeans.

  “That’s okay because I’m a man, no boys here. I’m opening the door now, so you’ll see I’m not lying. Remember, Paige, I said friends don’t lie to each other.” Slowly I turn the knob.

  In a whisper she replies, “I don’t have any friends. Friends are pains.”

  Well, if that doesn’t stop me in my tracks for a moment. That’s not the first time she’s said that. How can such a wealthy, high-powered woman not have any friends? I think it’s just drunken self-pity, because it’s hard to believe it’s true.

  I push the door open, and there she is. Lying back in a bath big enough to be a pool. Bubbles overflow onto the floor. I’m relieved that they’re so thick they’re covering her body. All I can see is her bare shoulders and head, with her hand holding her phone to her ear. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, which reveals her long slender neck. She’s staring at me like she’s not sure if I’m really here.

  “A wet dream?” Paige mumbles, and I couldn’t agree more.

  “Hi there.” Still she doesn’t move, her eyes are just fixed on me. “I told you I wasn’t lying. I was behind the door, just like I said.” She just nods her head a little.

  “Looks like you’ve been having a little party for one in here tonight.” Sitting on the side of the bath is an empty bottle of wine, plus a half-empty bottle of scotch. I hope like hell she didn’t open that tonight. Otherwise we’ll be on the way to the hospital when this all hits her system.

  “Nope, no party,” she mumbles. I shake my head at her.

  “Okay, hun, I beg to differ. Now let’s get you out of the bath and somewhere safe. Probably not the best idea to be drinking in here. Put your phone down first. We don’t want that going for a swim.” She slowly puts the phone down where her empty glass and the bottles sit. Looking around for a towel to wrap her up in, I find exactly what I expect. Thick and fluffy, soft, white towels.

  “I’m going to keep my back turned while you stand up and wrap this around you. I don’t want you to try to step out until I help you. Okay?” I’m guessing my arrival is sobering her up a little because the reply has the first little hint of snark in it.

  “I’m not a child, you know.” Well, that’s debatable tonight.

  “Mhmm, so you say.” I hear the water moving and hold out the towel behind me, until it’s snatched from my hand.

  “See…” I turn as soon as I hear her voice start to rise and become a squeal. I catch her in my arms. This is bad. Very, very bad. I need to show the restraint of a gentleman here.

  Looking down at her face. So soft and supple, looking scared and sad. I wonder if she’s ever had anyone to lean on before. Why did she call me when she hardly knows me? Right this moment she looks so exposed, and that’s not just because she’s standing in front of me naked. There’s a real sense of despair about her tonight.

  I want to take her face in my hands and kiss those sad lips until she smiles again. That’s stepping over the line I need to maintain, though.

  “What did I say? You don’t listen very well, do you? Now let’s get you into bed so you can sleep off the massive hangover that’s coming in the morning.” There’s no point even trying to find out tonight what’s going on. No sense has been spoken since she called me. Except how sexy she thinks my ass is.

  Still silent like she doesn’t know what to say, Paige lets me lead her into her bedroom. I pull back her covers and sit her down, then lower her head on the pillow. Lifting her long legs up and onto the mattress, I place the covers over her.

  “Now take the towel out for me, and I’ll hang it up.” Her eyes are getting heavy as soon as her head is placed on the pillow. She manages to get the towel off, but it isn’t graceful. Using the bed covers, I shield her and myself. My cock can’t take much more.

  “I want you to sleep and we can talk in the morning. Okay?” I smooth her loose hair off her face as she snuggles down into the pillow.

  “I’m scared. Don’t know why they…” Her voice drifts off as her drunken sleep claims her.

  As much as I’m worried, I know tonight she’s okay. Tomorrow we tackle this together.

  “You’re safe with me. I’ll protect you always.” Taking the last glimpse at her, looking so gorgeous while she’s unraveled and free, I walk out the door. I need to call the guys and explain why I rushed out and then find some coffee in the kitchen. It’s going to be a long night. Sleep will be light and short. I know now that my body is already on high alert.

  Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.

  Paige

  “Shit.” I can’t even lift my head off the pillow without it hurting like hell.

  What truck hit me?

  Slowly opening my eyes to small slits and noticing familiar surroundings, I’m a little relieved. I have no idea what’s going on. Trying to remember last night, I come up completely blank. The more I try, the worse the pain in my head gets.

  Oops, here we go. I jump up and run to the bathroom to throw up.

  Ugh. I sit here for a moment, emptying my stomach of every bit that’s in there. My head’s spinning, and my mouth feels like it’s been eating sandpaper and rotten meat. I need to get up off the floor and try to clean myself up and squeeze a whole tube of toothpaste into my mouth to get rid of that taste.

  Slowly standing, I see the wine and scotch bottle on side of the bath, with the water still in the tub. Oh god, I must have had a good time in the tub last night. No wonder I’m feeling like shit, seeing how much I drank. I stagger into the shower and turn it on the massage setting. I let the hot water drain over my body and my back feel the pressure of the jets. A faint memory is hovering in my head of wanting a glass of wine and a bath to try to relax after what had been a really fucked-up day.

  Mason being a dick, the meeting totally blindsiding me, and then my dad worsening again after the recent improvement. No wonder I drank hard. Needing to pull myself together, I take deep breaths. I need to get over to my father’s and check on him. Thank god I have a driver. I’m not sure I’d be safe behind the wheel today. Just walking will be hard enough.

  After washing my hair, myself, and brushing my teeth three times, I’m dressed in jeans and a tank top heading downstairs. I need to make an extra-strong black coffee to take some heavy-duty painkillers. Padding barefoot along the hallway, soft carpet between my toes, I can hear noise and someone in the apartment. Freezing, my heart is almost stopped. I feel for my phone that I normally have in my pocket, but I haven’t even noticed it anywhere this morning.

  Fuck. Who the fuck is in my house? No one gets up here without the code or a security card.

  Okay, breathe, it has to be someone I know. Maybe the cleaners came on a different day for a change. It can’t be my father because he’s in bed.

  Then I hear a terrible rendition of Old Town Road by a male voice that sounds familiar. I can’t work it out. I tiptoe to the top of the stairs, peek over the edge. The singing gets louder as I get closer. It’s coming from the kitchen. Plus, the smell of food and oh god, strong coffee. I see the corner of a shoulder and arm. A maroon shirt, sleeves rolled up, and a strong arm reaching for a plate from the cupboard. Then it happens.

  He steps into my view. With his back to me. A slight turn.

  Holy shit!

  Mason.

  What the hell is my private pilot doing in my kitchen? I’m rubbing my temples, trying to push my memory. How did he get in here? What did I do la
st night?

  Oh god! I was naked in my bed?

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Surely, I would know if I slept with him. Wouldn’t I? Oh man, I can’t remember a thing after arriving home and getting into the tub.

  Trying to lean farther over to look down the stairs to see him, I end up overbalancing. I’m stumbling down the staircase. I land awkwardly at the bottom before I know it. Not the gracious entrance I would have liked. Standing, trying to straighten myself out, Mason just looks across at me and starts laughing.

  “Nice trip? Did you send me a postcard and buy me the shirt?” He’s smiling as he’s trying to stop laughing hard at me.

  Embarrassed, my words come out, not as calm as they should, “What the hell are you doing in my house?” Hands on my hips, I glare at him waiting for an answer.

  “Sounds like someone woke up grumpy this morning. A bit of a hangover headache, have we?”

  Ugh, he’s so annoying. “Can you answer my question? How did you get in here?” He starts walking towards me, and I back away a little.

  “You let me in. Don’t you remember?” His eyes are fixed on me like he’s trying to read me. “Oh, this is hilarious, you have no idea what happened last night, do you?” Turning back to the kitchen, his laugh is loud and deep as he opens the oven and takes out some muffins that have been baking.

  “Mason, don’t be a jerk. Tell me why you’re in my kitchen cooking, and I have no idea how you got here. Just humor me and fill in the blanks.” I’m trying to ask calmly, but on the inside, I’m freaking the hell out.

  “Sit, here’s your coffee and a muffin to line your stomach, which I’m imagining’s not the best this morning. Then we can talk.”

  My patience is short this morning. “Mason!” I scold. “I’m freaking out here.” He points to the stool at the kitchen island. “Alright, I’m sitting, you better start talking.” He places coffee and food in front of me along with some pain meds. Man, this guy’s too good.