She stopped them before they found the elevators.
“Hello?”
The woman was probably in her fifties, not more than five feet three inches tall. The man looked to be in his early forties and had to spend five hours a day in the gym working out. They turned at her voice and smiled.
“You must be Rachel Price.”
“I am. It’s nice to hear a familiar language.”
“Mr. Fairchild told us you’d be here. I’m Louis, and this is Isa. We’re part of the crisis team. Are there any changes?”
“No. Not really. We have a crisis team? I didn’t think we had a need.”
“It’s new. Part of the relief effort sector.”
Isa offered a soft smile. “I’m a clinical psychologist and fluent in four languages.”
Rachel was impressed.
“And I’m big and scary and double as a bodyguard.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.” And she didn’t.
He grinned. “I’m here for Isa. But Mr. Fairchild wanted me to see you to the car so you could go back to the hotel and rest.”
“I was just about to take that trip alone. The last thing I want to do is fall asleep in the lobby.”
They said their good-byes, and Rachel left the noise and smell of the hospital.
Once on the road, Rachel was grateful that San José, Costa Rica, had private drivers in relatively normal cars. But as the city passed by, she noticed people driving around in cars that would have been found in abandoned alleys without a license plate back in the States. She had felt safer driving into the city with Jason by her side than she did now, alone in a strange car.
Still, it didn’t take long for the driver to pull into a hotel turnaround and open the door for her.
It was a Morrison, which after the previous evening didn’t surprise her. At the desk, she gave them her name, and they handed her a key.
An attendant swiped her key inside the elevator and escorted her to the top floor.
There were only three doors in the short hall. She found the one with her number and quietly opened it.
She didn’t need to act like a mouse.
It was a penthouse suite with everything one would expect in the US.
She heard snoring coming from one of the rooms and poked her head inside. Nathan lay on his back, his mouth slack with sleep.
After a little more investigation she found Owen curled up on his side in another bedroom, the curtains open and the lights from the city drifting in.
The master bedroom held a king-size bed that called her name. The suitcase she’d packed, along with the one Jason had tossed together, sat in the corner of the room.
Instead of jumping right in bed, she made use of the minifridge and snack basket.
Before sliding under the covers, she sent Jason one more text, telling him she’d made it to the hotel.
Attempting to stay awake for Jason proved impossible, and she gave in to the night.
Sometime, very early in the morning, Rachel felt Jason’s arm around her waist.
For a brief moment, she wondered if he’d just gotten in . . . but then she realized he was already sound asleep, his deep, even breath brushing against her neck in quiet comfort.
She smiled at the thought of him beside her. She was acutely aware of how comfortable she felt. In a foreign country, sleeping in a bed with her boss . . . these things should put an itch under her skin. They didn’t.
Closing her eyes, she allowed sleep to find her again. Only this time, Rachel found a dream worth remembering when she woke the next day. The two of them were in his jet, she wore white, and he was in a tux. The taste of champagne sat on her tongue and warmth filled her heart. She lifted her heavy hand, noticed a shimmer on her left ring finger, and then the jet began to plunge from the sky.
Rachel woke with a start, her heart pulsing against her chest.
Costa Rica.
Jason in bed beside her.
Noise from the other side of the bedroom door.
Owen’s laughter.
She closed her eyes and forced her heartbeat to slow. But the memories of her dream lingered long into her day.
It took two days for Jason and his team to gather the truth behind the events leading up to the crash, and another two for the preliminary report from the International Civil Aviation Organization.
Rachel stood beside Jason as he spoke to the press. After thanking the media for coming and for displaying patience while they determined the exact reason Fairchild Charters flight 262 went down, Jason delivered all the information he could.
“First, we want to extended our deepest sympathy to the Lambert family. Wendy and Ron have been close friends for many years, and Wendy will be missed by everyone. Ron has already flown home, and we hope the press will grant him and his children their privacy as they work through the loss of a wife and mother.”
Rachel kept her face void of emotion, never letting the media see the thoughts she had inside.
“Toxicology reports have removed the chance of any drug or alcohol use as a reason for this unfortunate accident.” Jason lifted his chin slightly. “A combination of pilot error and passenger interference with the flight crew has been recorded as the cause of this accident. Fairchild Charters will increase our training safety procedures upon landing and takeoff as a result of this accident.”
Three men holding recording devices started to speak at once, all of them asking about the passenger interference part of Jason’s statement.
Jason held up a hand. “Every passenger on every flight, whether it’s with a private company or on a jet with five hundred other people, has a certain code of propriety that must be maintained for their own safety and the safety of others.”
“What safety procedure did the Lamberts ignore?” one overly large and loud reporter asked.
The others reached forward with their recording devices to wait for the answer.
Rachel saw Jason’s struggle with his reply. She knew he wanted to blurt out the facts but had to hold them in.
“It will all be in the written ICAO report.”
“Is it true that Wendy Lambert stormed the cockpit door?”
Jason spoke into the microphone one last time. “Thank you.”
Rachel scurried beside Jason as they were escorted away from the media. Another part of Jason’s team stepped up to the microphone to answer some, but not all, of the questions the media sought.
“Well done.” Glen patted Jason’s back once they were away from the crowd.
“I said a whole lot and a bunch of nothing.” Jason rolled his tired eyes.
“You told them what they needed to hear. The rest is in the report. Taking the heat off Fairchild Charters and displaying sympathy for the family was all we needed to do,” Glen said.
“I still can’t believe Wendy went off the way they said she did.”
“Telling your wife that you’re sleeping with the nanny while a plane is taking off wasn’t the wisest choice on Ron’s part.”
“Sleeping with the nanny trumps telling the wife,” Rachel said.
“Let’s hope for all involved that some of the facts never get revealed. Wendy going postal inside the jet is one thing, the copilot opening the door to determine what the threat was is on us.” From there, Wendy physically fought the man and then stormed the cockpit. According to the flight attendant, everything happened fast at that point. The plane lost altitude, and because they weren’t even at ten thousand feet, they dropped quickly.
“Any word on Albin’s condition?”
“No news from the neurosurgeon in Dallas,” Rachel told Glen. “And Roger is flying home tomorrow.”
“Then we’re just about done here,” Glen said. “If you want to go home now, I’ll stay and mop up the rest of this.”
Jason smiled at her. “I think it would be better if we stayed and cleaned up and if you went back to the office to determine what we’re returning to. I’d like any heat deflected off Rachel before we come back.”<
br />
Glen eyed them both. “You sure you just don’t want to soak up the warmth for a couple more days?”
Rachel wanted to deny Glen’s allegation, but Jason beat her to it. “A couple days of sunshine and rest sounds like a better start to the new year than we’ve had.”
Glen patted Jason on the back. “I have ya covered, brother.” He hugged Rachel. “We’ll see you back in New York.”
“Fly safe,” she told him.
Jason watched his brother leave before turning her way. “I hope you don’t mind me kidnapping you for a few more days.”
“As long as we can sleep in tomorrow, I won’t complain.” They’d been running since the moment they arrived in San José, while Nathan tutored Owen on the finer points of picking up women.
“No more room service. No more hospitals.”
She put her arm through his as they walked out the door. “Do you think Ron is going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. He’s going to have to live with Wendy’s death, knowing it was him who put her over the edge.”
“How old is the nanny?” Rachel asked as they got into the rental car.
“Not old enough,” Jason moaned. “Legal, but . . . no.”
“She’s out of a job now.” Rachel realized for the first time that the nanny was sleeping with her boss, and look how that worked out.
“Stop that,” Jason said from the driver’s seat.
“Stop what?”
“Where your mind went just now. I don’t care if you sleep with the nanny, you’ll never be without a job.”
Rachel couldn’t help but smirk. “I have no desire to sleep with Nathan.”
Jason huffed out a short laugh. “That’s quite an image.”
Halfway back to the hotel, she brought up the office. “You know they’re all talking about us.”
“I imagine they are.”
“It probably isn’t good.”
He glanced over briefly, then watched the road. “If I made a habit of sleeping with my secretarial assistants, perhaps you’d have a point. Not only have I never done that, I’ve never introduced a woman as a girlfriend. I will accept some noise over the situation, but I expect a certain degree of respect. Neither of us deserves any less.”
She blinked.
“You lost me at ‘girlfriend.’”
He didn’t bother looking her way. “Well . . . catch up.”
Smiling, she watched the rest of the miles melt away as they turned to the fun part of their working vacation.
Jason took them to the coast. He rented a house on the sand that came with a chef and a housekeeper. Before they arrived, he’d forced Rachel to pick out a few things to wear on the beach, telling her he owed her a dress after the splattered paint incident. Now they were even.
For the next three days he laughed, ate, soaked up the sunshine he knew would be absent when they returned to New York . . . and he fell even harder. It wasn’t going to be easy letting her return to her own bed now that he’d had her in his. Returning to work was going to prove difficult, which was a big reason as to why he opted to stay in Costa Rica a little longer.
Glen had sent him a message letting him know the office gossip was running wild, and that it probably wouldn’t die until they returned to squelch it.
“Someone looks comfortable.” He heard Rachel’s voice above him.
He opened his eyes in the hammock he’d managed to get into without dumping his butt on the ground. “I need to get one of these.”
“The hammock or the house in Central America?” she teased.
“Both.”
Her smile dropped.
He winked.
“I never know when to take you seriously about those things.”
“Gotta keep it a little mysterious, or you’ll start sleeping with the nanny.”
“Nah, the accent does nothing for me.”
“The accent does something for everyone in a skirt,” he told her.
She looked down at her bikini. “I’m not wearing one.”
His eyes traveled down her frame as he remembered the tiny mole she had on her left hip, which was barely covered by the material she wore. “I see that.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just undressed me in your mind.”
His eyes stopped at a particularly warm spot between her thighs. “Guilty.”
She shuffled from one foot to the other.
Jason patted his side. “Come here.”
“In the hammock.”
“Yeah.” He scooted over a tiny bit.
“You’re nuts. We’ll both dump on the sand.”
“I have great balance.”
Rachel approached gently and set her butt on the net.
“Now just lie back.”
The second she leaned back, the net twisted. Jason tried to right them but ended up on the ground, on his back, with Rachel on top of him.
“You okay?” she asked, laughing.
“It hurts.” He scowled.
“Aww, poor baby.”
He grabbed her butt with both hands and squeezed.
She laughed before leaning over to kiss his lips.
He was hard instantly, the pain in his back from the stick that he landed on forgotten.
Rachel wedged her knee between his thighs and took full advantage of her position. Jason liked her like this, raw and real. The care of work and responsibility had left them the moment they’d left the city of San José, and the woman on top of him had turned into a playful minx he wanted to enjoy all day and night.
Sand stuck to their bodies as their kiss turned more heated and determined.
“Where is Owen?” he asked, having zero desire to have the kid walk up on them.
“Back at the house.” She moved her lips to his ear, bit the lobe. “Nathan said they were having a poker tournament.”
“Sounds like it will take a while,” he said against her ear as his hand slid to the knot tying her swimsuit.
Her hand slid into his shorts, the sand she brought with her grating against the soft skin of his cock. He imagined she would be just as raw if they finished this where they were.
“Sand.”
She shifted her hips. “I don’t like it either.”
He looked at the turquoise water and private beach. “I have a better idea.”
Lifting her off him, he stood to his feet and swept her off hers.
The water was bathtub warm, the gentle waves nothing more than a lap pool without a current. He waited until he was waist high before letting her stand. Salt water replaced sand, but felt much better against his skin when she touched him.
“Is this gonna work?” she asked, hopping up and wrapping her legs around his waist.
His cock pushed against their clothing. “We won’t know until we try.” And boy, did he want to try. Their weightlessness in the water made it easier for him to reach between them and pet the folds of her sex.
She whimpered and kissed him, riding his hand until he couldn’t take it anymore.
With her hands wrapped around his neck, he adjusted their clothing while she kissed him. He teased her with his cock and then pushed deep inside her with a gasp.
Or was that her?
Rachel dropped her forehead onto his shoulder. “I like this.”
So did he.
She used her hips, and he guided her with the palms of his hands.
And they made out like teenage kids on summer break. Their bodies became one in the water, the feeling prolonged by the unique and unfamiliar position. But as they always did, they found a rhythm that worked for both of them.
Rachel clawed at his back as she found her release, and he buried his head in her chest when he found his.
“You’re habit-forming,” she told him.
“Like chocolate?” he laughed.
“Without the calories.”
She looked at him, her eyes warm and sated.
When he slipped out of her, she pouted.
“W
e aren’t leaving until the morning.”
She grinned again. “And we can sleep on the plane.”
The look in her eyes told him they wouldn’t be sleeping that night.
“I don’t want to leave at all,” she said. “I could homeschool Owen.”
“You’re proficient in chemistry?”
She dropped her head onto his shoulder again. “That won’t work.”
“We’ll come back,” he promised.
Rachel kissed him again, and Jason wondered if the owners of the house would be interested in selling. A weekend a month on this beach would be worth whatever price they wanted.
Chapter Nineteen
Returning to the cold was like a slap in the face. To make it harder, there were three inches of snow on the ground.
“You sure I can’t stay the night?” Jason asked one last time as he said good-bye at her door.
“We agreed to weekends,” she told him again.
“You suggested weekends . . . I said every day that ends in y.”
“I will see you every day that ends in y and sleep over on the weekends.”
It was a compromise Rachel knew he didn’t want but agreed to anyway.
Besides, what he was suggesting sounded a whole lot like moving in together. And that was moving at warp speed and not something she’d ever done in her life. There was Owen to consider first. And the two of them hadn’t had a private conversation since before the new year.
“Am I picking you up in the morning?” he asked.
“Are you taking the train?”
“I’m thinking I’ll fly in.”
She shook her head. “I’ll take the train.”
“Why? Everyone knows you and I were together in Central America.”
“Fine, but I’m not ready to rub it in.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you always going to be this stubborn?”
“Probably.”
He turned to leave. “I’ve been warned.”
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“No kiss good-bye?”
He hooked an arm around her waist, pulled her in. “Stubborn and demanding.”
“Get used to it.”
He kissed her, hard, and then slapped her butt with his free hand. “See you tomorrow.”
When he walked out the door, she leaned against it and wrapped her arms around her waist with a grin. She glanced at the pile of mail that could wait until morning, and walked upstairs to chat with Owen.
Not Quite Crazy (Not Quite Series Book 6) Page 21
