Shattered Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 1)

by Heather Guimond

  I was putting my shoes back on at the end of the conveyor when Vance joined me.

  “I really think someone should buy me dinner after that man-handling.” He said as we both reached for our bags.

  “Did you ask her to marry you, too? She might have gone a bit easier on you if you had. You know, maybe skipped the whole cavity search in public,” I said with a sweet smile.

  He gasped. “Mimi! I am saving myself for you. You are the only one for me. Although…,” he put a finger to his lips in thought. “Bertha back there might be able to show me the merits of having over-developed grip strength. That could prove interesting for some private time in a secluded parking space.”

  I'm sure I looked at him like his hair was on fire.

  With the smuggest smirk I have ever seen, he put a finger to my chin and slowly pushed my mouth closed. “I think I may have done the impossible and rendered you speechless. Tell me, was it what I said that shocked you, or the image it put in your brain?”

  I groaned and pressed my fingertips to my eyelids as we turned and walked from the security checkpoint.

  “Did you really have to say that? I wasn’t picturing it, thank you very much, but now I have the lovely image of “Bertha” with her manly hand, scraggly, half-bitten fingernails and all, wrapped around your… ”

  “Enough! No more! No more! You win. I hadn’t pictured it either, but now I am as traumatized as you,” he said as he shook his head in distress. “My own humor turned against me like a weapon. Why are you a paralegal? You should be a lawyer. You would be lethal in a courtroom.” He looked at me with a sideways grin and bumped my shoulder with his, as we walked along the concourse.

  I grinned up at him, enjoying how easy things had become between us, how my nervousness had vanished. Vance may have been a pretty face, but he sure didn't act like it. Too bad our time was coming to an end. I checked my watch. Sure enough, my flight was scheduled to leave in twenty short minutes.

  “I’m flying out of here on American. How about you?” I asked, crossing my fingers behind my back. Given that we were at the airport at the same time, with the same destination and walking in the same direction through the airport, the odds were better than average that we were on the same flight. While it was highly unlikely we’d be seated together, we would at least have the next twenty minutes.

  “Yes, Flight 330. Same as you?”

  I nodded, beaming brightly at him.

  “Score!” He exclaimed, pumping his fist exaggeratedly.

  I rolled my eyes. “You really are a dork, you know that?”

  “Now that hurt, Mimi. I’m just a man who happens to show enthusiasm when things go his way. I am happy that I get to continue with the pleasure of your company.” He dropped his voice to a sinful growl. “Would you deny me my pleasure?” he asked arching that brow at me again.

  I shoved him away from me by the shoulder playfully. “Pervert and a dork.”

  He grabbed my hand as we reached our gate and pulled me to a couple empty seats. We fell into them and looked at each other for a moment. Slowly, he lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the backs of my fingers and whispered, “Yeah, but I’m thinking that’s just your type.”

  I was stunned. Sure we had been having a very fun and friendly conversation to this point, perhaps even mildly flirtatious, what with the whole faux marriage proposal and all, but this? This was a thunderbolt. No, a starburst. Fuck that, a freaking rocket ship to Mars. I opened my mouth to say something, not that I would have been able to come up with anything at the moment, clever or otherwise, but the attendant called for pre-boarding for our flight. Puffing out a sigh, Vance stood and shouldered his carry-on, while giving me a slightly embarrassed look.

  “I’m in first class,” he said with a grimace. So much for those twenty minutes.

  An inexplicable tightening in my chest made it hard to speak, but I managed a surprisingly bright tone of voice. “Well, it’s been quite an experience meeting you, Mr. Ashcroft. Don't let the slave drivers work you too hard over the next two weeks.”

  He looked at me like he wanted to say something, but simply put out his hand. I took it as he said, “It was an absolute honor, Miss Bishop.” Then I watched quietly as he turned and walked toward the gate. Resting my chin in my hand, I kept watching as he disappeared through the doorway to the gangway, and continued staring after he was long gone, until they called my seating section.

  As I embarked, I scanned the first class area hoping to catch another glimpse of him, even if it was just to see another one of his smiles. I didn’t see him sitting in any of the seats, though. It seemed curious, but I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it as the stream of people behind me propelled me forward.

  I made my way to my seat, near the back of the plane. After cramming my carry-on in the already stuffed overhead compartment, I stumbled over the rotund, gentleman with the six-hair comb-over sitting in the aisle seat to reach mine next to the window. Evidently, common courtesy had deserted this fellow in the face of his fear of flying. At least, I assumed that was the cause of his shaking hands and profuse sweating. I tried to shrink against the window as he mopped his face with a handkerchief that had seen better days, making myself as small a target as possible, just in case any stray bullets of sweat came flying my way. I pulled the flight safety card out of the pocket of the seatback in front of me and studied it closely it for lack of anything better to do.

  “Excuse me, sir,” a familiar voice carried over to my seat. “How would you like to sit in first class for this flight?”

  I looked up to see Vance looking expectantly at my seat mate, who appeared somewhat startled and confused.

  “I’m offering to switch seats with you, sir. My seat is 3B, up in the first class section.” Vance spoke slowly, as if the man were learning impaired. “I would like to change seats with you and sit here, with the lovely lady next to you, while you enjoy the fine service and leg room first class has to offer.” He pressed his hands together in front of him, bowing slightly. I just refrained from rolling my eyes.

  The nervous flyer struggled out of his seat, his shirt buttons straining mightily at his waist, and popped open the overhead compartment without a word. He grabbed a gray laptop bag out of it and hustled down the aisle, presumably before Vance could change his mind.

  Vance stowed his gear and closed the compartment before flopping in the seat beside me. He leaned his head back against the seat and turned toward me with a wide grin.

  I smiled back innocently and asked, “Are you sure you want to sit there? It might be a little… moist.”

  The horrified look on his face was priceless and my resulting laugh was loud and wild, provoking many dirty looks in my direction. Vance lifted his hands from the armrests, pretending to shake them dry. He looked around questioningly before calling out, “Does anyone happen to have any hand sanitizer?”

  I was reduced to another laughing fit as the elderly woman across the aisle produced a small, travel size bottle from her handbag and offered it to him with a warm, grandmotherly smile. Vance squirted a small amount into his palm and handed the bottle back with a wink and what I was coming to realize was his signature charming grin.

  As he rubbed his hands together, he turned to me and gave me a wicked smile of my very own. “That was not very nice, Mimi.”

  “Yes, it was. I was trying to warn you of the hazards of occupying the same seat as Captain Von Sweatyballs.”

  Vance groaned painfully and squirmed uncomfortably in the seat. “Now, how do you know that his balls were, in fact, sweaty?”

  “Well, not having actually inspected them personally, I can’t say with a one hundred percent degree of certainty, but I think it is fair to say that in all likelihood, they were indeed sweaty.”

  His face lit up with barely concealed hope. “Aha! You concede that you could not possibly be, without a doubt, certain. It is possible they could have been as dry as the Sahara.”

  “Let me a
sk you this, since you have balls, I presume.” He nodded, and motioned with his hand for me to continue.

  “Have you ever, at any time, had your entire body be covered in a sheen of perspiration, yet had your balls remain as dry as the Sahara?”

  He leaned back in the seat, his fingers threaded over his abdomen, and a thoughtful look on his face, as if contemplating numerous sweaty occasions, and the condition of his private parts. “You know, Mimi, a bit of antiperspirant works wonders under such conditions.”

  Once again, my mouth dropped open. “Do you put antiperspirant on your balls, Vance?”

  “Now, that's a very personal question, Mimi. We've only just met. You can hardly expect me to tell you something like that.”

  I sputtered, “You're the one who brought it up! You can't back out now!”

  “Actually, I think you're the one who instigated this whole gonadal conversation.”

  “Quit dodging the question. I’m going to assume you must, or you wouldn't have suggested it.”

  “Even men like to have that 'fresh' feeling every now and then.” He stopped and looked in the direction the unfortunate sweaty man had lumbered off toward. “Well, most men.”

  We quieted down as the airline attendant began his safety speech. Shortly thereafter we were in the air and sipping flat soda from little plastic cups. We managed to get our silliness under control and spent the entire six hours lost in conversation, covering a wide variety of subjects. It turned out we had a great deal in common. We both enjoyed the outdoors, preferring to spend a day hiking and biking than even an hour in the gym. We liked to read, though our tastes in literature were very different. He was a fan of the classics, while I favored contemporary works. We learned we were both liberal in our politics, with strong feelings about social issues since we each grew up under less than ideal economic circumstances, he with his single mother and never knowing his dad. My own father died when I was very small, so I knew the hardships of living in a single income household, and had felt the absence of a father figure too. Neither of us had siblings. The more we talked, the longer the list grew. Big things, little things, we ticked so many of the same boxes it was eerie.

  As we talked, I found that I genuinely liked Vance. He was incredibly handsome, but beneath all that physical perfection was a rather naughty silliness, underscored further by an intelligent and thoughtful person who was completely unaware of his own attractiveness.

  As our flight circled John F. Kennedy International Airport, Vance turned to me with a serious expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first, giving his face something of the appearance of a gasping fish. He took my hand and for the first time since I met him, he looked slightly unsure of himself.

  “Mimi, this was probably the best time I've had in a long time, and it was only a plane ride. I can't even imagine what a date with you would be like, but I'd really like to find out. I know this is a vacation for you, and you probably have your itinerary all planned out, but do you think we could get together one night this week? I really want to see you again, and I am positive it will kill me if I have to wait the two weeks before I am back in Los Angeles.”

  The most incredible sense of relief washed through me. In the back of my mind I had been dreading our landing, the uncertainty of any future time spent with Vance looming on the edges of my consciousness. It didn't matter what plans my friend, Laurel, had in store for me while I visited. I would carve out time for this man on any day he wanted to see me. She would just have to understand.

  “I'd really like that too. I'll give you my information, and as soon as you know your schedule, give me a call and we'll figure something out this week,” I said, still trying to play it cool, when all I really wanted to do was throw myself into his lap and squeal like an over excited fangirl.

  Once the plane landed, we gathered our belongings and disembarked hand in hand. We continued to tease each other playfully as we made our way to baggage claim, but I was aware of a new vibe humming between us, just below the surface. I wondered if he felt it too, or if my imagination was running away with me.

  The carousel was already turning as we approached and searched for our bags. Vance found his quickly, a silver wheeled case, and a simple black garment bag with shoulder strap that had frankly seen better days. His luggage was a study in opposites, from each side of the economic spectrum and I was puzzled by the dichotomy. Before I could make a comment, I heard a feminine voice calling my name.

  “Mimi, girl! Over here!” I looked over my shoulder to see Laurel hopping up and down and waving her arms as if she were trying to take flight. Her auburn hair was swirling about her head, getting caught in her mouth and her chic but nerdy glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose as she made a spectacle of herself. Standing all of five feet tall, she had huge green eyes, a pert little nose and a lithe figure. She was wearing a conservative navy suit with a high collared white blouse, a short skirt and five inch spike heels. She looked something between a sexy librarian and a wood sprite on meth.

  I waved back at her letting her know I saw her, before she fell and broke an ankle or something. She smiled and gave me the best jazz hands she could, considering she was holding her smart phone in one of them. Assured she'd been clocked and identified, she shoved the phone in front of her face and began furiously texting someone.

  I turned to Vance and laughed. “That’s Laurel.” I said, hitching a thumb over my left shoulder. “She’s a little… ”

  “Enthusiastic?” He offered.

  “Yes, that’s one way to describe her. Out of her ever-loving mind would be another.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her. You’re planning to introduce me, right?” he asked.

  I saw my suitcase come around on the carousel and attempted to heave it off, nearly knocking the passenger next to me down to the ground. Vance stepped in, grabbing the handle and fluidly lifting it over the lip, and lowering it to the ground beside me. He raised the telescopic handle and waved his hand toward it with a flourish. I just rolled my eyes.

  “I totally had that, you know,” I huffed. I wheeled the case around and headed towards Laurel with Vance and his stuff right behind me. Laurel didn't look up until I stood right in front of her, tapping my foot. When she looked over my shoulder and saw Vance, her eyes immediately darted back to me. She leaned in and whispered loudly, “You know you have a slice of mancake stuck to your backside, right?”

  Nodding, I deadpanned, “When they asked me if I wanted nuts on the flight, I said yes. This is what I got.”

  Laurel checked Vance out shamelessly for a moment, then turned to me. “Well, let’s go. We’ve got stuff to do.” She strutted off and I heard her mumbling to herself, “Man, I really gotta start flying American.”

  We followed her out of baggage claim and onto the sidewalk. Cars were moving aggressively down the street before us, cutting each other off and honking like crazy. Insults and hand gestures were tossed out the windows at dizzying speeds and I wondered why anyone willingly chose to drive in this city. Especially cab drivers.

  Vance and I pulled up alongside Laurel as we headed toward the taxi stand. I nudged her in the arm to get her attention and pointed to Vance. “This guy is actually a friend of mine. While we established on the plane that he does have nuts, he also has a name. This is Vance Ashcroft. Vance, this is Laurel O'Malley, my old childhood friend.” They quickly shook hands as I explained, “Vance and I are going to have dinner sometime this week, and no, you are not invited. Hopefully it won't interfere with any plans you have lined up for us.”

  Laurel gave Vance another long look, as we queued up for the taxi. She shrugged and said, “Fine with me. Any day but Wednesday. We’ve got tickets to see Wicked that day. Any other day we can move our plans around, but under no circumstances can we move Wednesday and you will not be bailing out on me that day. Capisce?”

  “I got it, Dona O'Malley. You got a ring I need to kiss now?”

  “No, just had a littl
e Al Pacino marathon with Stevie the other day. Don’t mind me. Things get a little sideways sometimes, Vance. Don’t worry though, you’ll catch on quick staying quiet like you do.”

  Vance just chuckled. “Between the two of you, I don’t see where there’s much of an opportunity to do anything else.”

  Laurel leaned in and patted him on his chest a few times. By the look in her eye, we were about two and a half seconds from her copping a feel. I growled softly enough that only she could hear, so she backed off, but not before purring “I do so love a man who catches on quickly,” then cackled unattractively as she approached the taxi that pulled up in front of us.

  I turned to Vance while shaking my head. “Please do not judge me by my friends. I have kind of an eclectic group of people in my life. You know how some people collect odd things? Well I kind of do that with people. Laurel is one of my prize oddities.”

  “So, if I’m hearing you correctly… Laurel is your pig fetus in a jar?”

  “Ew... no. Well, maybe.”

  “Fair enough. So where are you headed? Do you want to share a cab?” he asked hopefully.

  “I think we’re heading to the East Village. How about you?”

  “Ah, well I’m headed to the Upper West Side. I’ll catch the next cab. I’ll give you a call once I’ve gotten everything nailed down and we’ll plan our dinner. I'm really looking forward to it, Mimi.” He leaned in and placed a soft kiss to my cheek just as Laurel started banging on the roof of the cab.

  “We ain’t got all night you two. Let’s go, Mimi. The party awaits!” She shouted.

  I wrapped my arms around Vance’s neck and pulled him in for a quick but tight hug. I couldn't resist a little more contact than that polite cheek kiss. He hugged me back, placing his hands at my waist and resting his cheek on top of my head. He whispered to me, “Soon, little Mimi. Very soon.”