The Choice

by Alice Ward

  And it was exactly what I needed.

  The next few minutes of the ride to the airport was ridiculous, with me telling all the fish jokes I could remember hearing from Jaz.

  “Do you like fishing?” I asked, and the good humor seeped away from his expression. Not completely, but it dimmed.

  “I did as a boy, very much. My father and I spent many weekends on the lake.”

  “When you weren’t flipping and restoring houses?”

  The finger began to trace again. “Yes.”

  “It sounds fun,” I ventured, unsure of what territory I was stepping into.

  Grant lifted his hand away from my skin and traced the scar on his lip. It was a self-soothing gesture, I realized. Anytime he remembered his past, he immediately went there.

  “It was. I had a very good childhood.” He turned the hand holding mine until our fingers linked. “I’m sorry you didn’t.”

  I sandwiched his hand between mine. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to cause the good memories to become filled with pain.”

  He stared straight ahead. “How do we seem to always venture into dangerous territory?”

  I studied his profile, trying to read him. Wanting to read him. When he finally looked at me again, I squeezed his hand. “I don’t know. Maybe both our hearts are cracked in the same place.”

  He said nothing, just lifted my hand until it was pressed against his lips.

  We sat that way for a long time, and I watched the cars go by, then noticed the planes taking off in the distance. As the airport got closer, my excitement grew. As well as a little trepidation.

  “Is flying fun?”

  He grinned. “I suppose so. Yes. You’ll have to tell me if you agree when we land in Philly.”

  When we bypassed the exit that led to the departure terminals, I frowned. “Where are we going?”

  “The private landing fields.”

  My eyes popped wide before I remembered. “Oh, yeah. You told Jaz that you have a plane?”

  He looked boyish as his chipped tooth made an appearance. “Yes. I travel often, and enjoy the freedom having my own transportation provides.”

  “Are you a pilot?”

  “Yes, actually, but I won’t be flying us today.”

  He was so accomplished. His Wiki page claimed that he was thirty-four, but it was amazing that he’d done so much within those few decades.

  I got distracted when Wayne turned into an area with huge domed buildings. From shows I’d watched, I knew they were hangars, but I’d never seen one up close. When we pulled up to one, I eyed the sleek looking jet sitting in front of it. “Is that yours?”

  “Yes.”

  As we got to where I could see the side of it, I read Sommerfield Investments on the side. I turned to him, amazed. “This really is yours.”

  He looked pleased. “No, actually. I stole one and graffitied it up last night.”

  I laughed, watched his eyes brighten as the chip in his tooth revealed itself again. There was light to his dark. It didn’t come out often, I expected, but it was there. And it was a beautiful thing to witness.

  Wayne opened my door, and I grinned up at him as I stepped from the car. “Are you coming with us?” I asked.

  “No, Miss Journey. I have other things to attend to. And if I may, I’ll take the key to your bike and have it removed.”

  I immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry that I’m giving you extra work.”

  He gave me the tiniest of eye rolls. “It’s no bother.”

  Slowly, I pulled off the little clip that held both Jasmine’s bike key and mine and handed them over. He tipped an imaginary hat. He was wearing black khakis and a polo shirt today, and tattoos peeked out from under his sleeves. Yet another man of many contradictions. “Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  Yeah. Contradictions. He spoke like a British butler without the accent but was big and burley and tattooed up.

  “Ready?”

  Grant was at my side, holding his hand out. I gave Wayne another smile and took it.

  “Can I keep him?” I said as we headed toward the plane.

  Grant raised a brow. “Wayne?”

  “Yeah.”

  He gave me a little you have to be kidding me scoff. “No. You may borrow him, but I’d rather lose my left ba… um, foot than him.”

  Balls. This polished, professional man had been about to say balls.

  I laughed and walked up the metal stairs, excitement filling me as we neared the top.

  Stepping inside was like stepping into a luxury hotel. The kind I’d seen in magazines, not in person.

  “Wow.”

  “Welcome aboard.”

  It was the pilot and co-pilot greeting me, a flight attendant smiling next to them. It was more than a little intimidating. “Thank you.”

  Grant greeted the three men and spoke for a few moments while I wandered back into the space. The leather of the seats was buttery soft, and I guessed it sat as many as sixteen with the long couches stretching down the sides.

  “Let me show you around.”

  His hand was on my back, and he guided me through a small kitchen area. A complicated looking coffee station took up quite a bit of the space. There was also a bottle of wine or champagne on ice.

  Seeing it brought immediate guilt. I’d gotten tipsy last night. With Nash. I’d let him touch me, taste me. I’d agreed to spend an entire weekend with him soon.

  “Here’s a bathroom.”

  I pulled my thoughts away from last night and looked into the room he indicated. My jaw fell open. There was even a shower. “What? No bathtub,” I said sarcastically, giving him a dramatic eye roll.

  He fake frowned. “Turbulence. Water everywhere. You might drown.”

  I sighed. “Well, in that case, I suppose this will do.”

  His hand stroked my back, and I went past the bathroom and into an… actual, full-size bedroom that rivaled the size of my entire apartment.

  “That’s a bed,” I said like an idiot. And what a bed it was. Lavishly decked out in what looked to be silk everything.

  He pressed his lips together and nodded solemnly. “Yes. It is.”

  I was incredulous. “A king-sized bed.”

  He nodded again. “Yes.” His eyes fell to my lips. “Want to bounce on it?”

  Mmm… I did.

  I licked my lips and he growled. His hand moved up my arm until it was on the bare skin of my shoulder. “Tell me I have big lips.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  He backed me up until I was against the door, and a flashback from last night came to me. But that was then. This was now. A new day. A new man.

  “Tell me that I have big lips,” he repeated.

  Then I understood. My toes curled as his other hand moved to cup my face in his warm palm. “My, what big lips you have.”

  His nostrils flared. “The better to kiss you with, my dear.”

  When our mouths connected, the universe toppled over onto its side.

  “Excuse me, sir,” a voice said from nearby, and I jerked my head back so fast, it slammed into the wood behind me. “We’re cleared for takeoff.”

  I groaned, and Grant’s hands moved to my head, strong fingers massaging my scalp. “We’ll be right there,” he told the attendant in a voice more gruff than I’d ever heard it. He kissed my forehead. “Are you okay?”

  I reached up to stroke his cheek, his beard tickling my palm. “Yes. Can I tell you that you have big lips again later?”

  His nostrils flared. “Yes. You can tell me anything you want.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Grant

  I watched her face as the plane taxied to the runaway.

  She looked so young and innocent as she stared out of the window, her hands gripping the armrests until her knuckles turned white.

  I loved giving her this new experience. Loved seeing a fresh world filled with light and possibilities, even though my rose-colored glasses ha
d long since tarnished.

  The plane turned to face the long runway, and the engine began to roar, the sound growing and growing as Journey looked around with wide eyes. “Is that normal?”

  I held out my hand and smiled when she linked her fingers through mine. “Completely.” We began to roll. “Here we go.”

  Her hand tightened on mine as we sank back into our seats. “Wow.” She clung to me even as her nose was practically pressed to the window, the landscape beginning to blur past us. “It doesn’t seem possible that something this size could just…” We lifted off. “Oh…”

  The pilot had warned me that he’d be pulling us into a steep ascent, getting us above and away from a coming storm quickly. The g-force was incredible, even for an experienced traveler like me. I could only imagine how it felt for her.

  “Wow.”

  She looked at me. She looked out the window again. She was like a child trying to see everything at once.

  A beautiful child.

  A sexy child.

  No. She was very much a woman.

  She’d nearly taken my breath away when I’d first seen her on the sidewalk. The broken bike had taken the moment away, stealing my attention, but I could openly watch her now.

  “Clouds.”

  I smiled as the wisps of white flew past the window. Smiled as her thumb started to automatically caress my hand.

  “It’s like a patchwork quilt.”

  I smiled, remembering thinking the same thing when I first was on a plane so many years ago.

  After another minute or so, the captain let us know that we’d gained cruising altitude and we could wander around the cabin at will.

  Steve, the attendant, appeared at my side. “Champagne?”

  Journey’s eyes grew wide and she seemed to consider the bottle in front of us. Was it not to her taste? I hadn’t seen her drink anything stronger than water since I’d known her but had thought a light Cristal wouldn’t be too much.

  “Care for a glass?” I prompted, and she blushed before nodding.

  What an odd response.

  Steve stepped away to fill glasses, and I lifted her hand to my lips. “What’s wrong?”

  She blushed even more. “I… it’s…” She exhaled a long breath. “I don’t normally drink, and I had champagne last night, and…” She practically shriveled into her seat.

  Ah.

  Her date last night.

  I experienced a sharp jab of jealousy and ignored it completely. It was best if it was clear that we weren’t exclusive. It balanced the expectations we might have of each other.

  “Did you enjoy your date?”

  She blinked at me and straightened in her seat, pushing her hair behind her shoulder while her thumb rubbed the back of my hand harder. “Is it terrible of me to say yes?”

  So honest. It was refreshing.

  “No. It’s not terrible in the least. But it leads me to ask…” If she was being so honest, I would be as well, “are you regretting being here with me today? Do you wish I were him?”

  The words weren’t completely out before she practically shouted, “No.” Hair fell into her face from where she’d shaken her head hard with the word, and I found that I could breathe again. “It’s complicated.”

  I examined her eyes, her nose, the little mole above her lip. “It always is.”

  The blue eyes practically shone from her face. “It is? I’ve not dated very much because I’ve always been so focused on school and taking care of Jaz and Mee-maw. I’m afraid I’m a bit socially illiterate.”

  I smiled. “I’m very familiar with that club.”

  Steve reappeared with two flutes, and I took them from him, dismissing him with a look. I didn’t hand the drink over though. “If this isn’t something you’d enjoy right now, tell me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  “I’d actually love a taste, but just no more than one glass. I’m afraid I’m quite the lightweight.”

  Did she get drunk?

  Did that man allow her to get drunk?

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Her eyes flew to mine. “No.”

  Did he make love to you?

  The question came very close to seeing the light of day, but I was able to hold it back. It was none of my business who she slept with. As long as she was careful on her own, and we were careful together, her experiences were exactly that… hers.

  I handed over the glass and held mine up in a toast. “To new experiences.”

  She clinked hers against mine, smiled when it rang out. “I like that. New experiences.”

  I watched her sip, her nose wrinkling as the bubbles tickled it. Watched the smile appear with the taste.

  It was time.

  “Journey.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like to talk to you about the possibilities of new experiences.”

  She took another sip, swallowed. “All right.”

  “I want you in my bed.”

  Well, it was a bit more blunt than I’d intended, but there it was. She coughed. Cleared her throat. “You do?”

  “Yes. And if I haven’t already made that apparent, I’ll clearly need to try harder. Because I want you very much. I have since I first met you. The question is this… do you feel the same?”

  Her voice didn’t waver. “Yes. I do feel the same way.” She frowned, those blue eyes clouding. “Why does this feel less like a seduction than it does a business transaction?”

  “Because, Journey… because of who I am, I’ve learned that I must treat relationships with an element of…” I searched for the right word, “delicacy.”

  “Why?”

  I fought not to become frustrated, remembering I was used to having this discussion with women who better understood business arrangements. I thought back to Michelle. Or maybe not. Women and their shifting emotions and needs were complicated.

  “I’ve had women claim that I raped or harassed them. I’ve had one claim that I fathered her child.”

  She raised a brow. “And you didn’t?”

  I appreciated her bravery at asking the question. “No. I wouldn’t.”

  She snorted. “You need to choose better women.”

  I laughed and lifted her hand to my lips again. “I’m trying, Journey. I’m trying.”

  She took another sip of champagne. “So, what are you suggesting? That I sign some consent form and a… oh, what do you call it, a nondisclosure agreement?”

  Her eyebrow was raised as if she was issuing a joke. It fell when I answered, “Exactly.”

  She pulled her hand away and took another sip of the bubbling wine. “That’s not very romantic.”

  I itched to touch her. “Journey, I’m not a romantic type of man.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you underestimate yourself.”

  I stared at her. I didn’t think anyone had ever said that to me, not as an adult anyway. Maybe it was because I’d found such incredible success at such a young age that very few people had the guts to be honest with me.

  Unless they were pissed… then honesty flowed like a river.

  But Journey didn’t look pissed. She looked more confused than anything. And hurt.

  Damn. I didn’t want to hurt her.

  That was the entire purpose of the contract. To have this discussion up front so that expectations were established at the beginning.

  “What else does this contract say? Do you beat women with a cane?”

  I laughed. God, she was precious.

  “No, I’m not like that book, Journey. This is simply an agreement that you agree to enter in a sexual relationship with me of your own consent, and that you haven’t been coerced in any way. I won’t pay you to be with me. There will be no exchange of money, although I reserve the right to buy you gifts, just as any romantic partner would.”

  Her lips quirked for a second. “You said ‘romantic.’”

  I laughed again. “That was a slip. No ro
mance for you.”

  Her lips quirked again, then she pressed them tightly together. When she turned to look back out of the window, I finished off my glass, giving her space to make her decision.

  I heard her exhale and she turned back to me. “As I told you, I’m seeing someone else. Is that a problem?”

  That damn jealous spike I hated pierced me, and I stomped it down.

  “What you choose to do outside of being with me is your decision. I don’t own you or control you. We enjoy each other’s company for as long as it’s mutually beneficial.”

  Journey reached out a finger and poked my arm, then placed her palm on my forehead. “Hmm… they make robots very realistic now days.” She turned more fully in her seat and tossed back the rest of her glass. “Tell me, do you bleed when you’re cut?”

  Memories of blood and pain flashed into my mind, and I mentally shut that shit down. I traced the scar. “I do indeed bleed, Journey. It’s agreements like this that allow me to stem the flow.”

  She tried to move, then made a frustrated face and unbuckled her seatbelt, turning more fully. Not happy with that, she rose to her feet and faced me, then surprised the total hell out of me by climbing onto my lap.

  Facing me completely, her knees on either side of my hips, I leaned my head back onto the seat to meet her gaze. Her blue eyes were soft when she cupped my face with her hands, her thumb tracing the scar at my mouth.

  “What are you afraid of, Grant?”

  She asked me so softly, the words were nearly lost in the space between us.

  My gut began to burn, and I mentally made a list of the things that made me lose sleep at night. But I didn’t want to talk about them. Didn’t want to remember.

  So, I changed the subject instead.

  “My, what big lips you have, Journey.”

  Her thumb traced the scar again, those clear blue eyes seeming to see into everything I was unable to say.

  Then she smiled. She understood. Of course she understood. I thought she might possibly understand the world.

  “The better to kiss you with, my dear.”

  My heart was pounding when she lowered her mouth to mine. My fingers sought out her skin, moving under her top to smooth across her back.

  I let her lead, willing to follow her, happy to allow her to take me wherever she needed me to go.