A Mile High Romance

by Cassidy Coal

  He, on the other hand, had tried everything he could to draw her to him. Or so he said. Somehow she hadn't noticed all his efforts until that fateful flight to Paris.

  "So, how'd you two finally get together then?" the woman asked.

  "A magical Christmas trip to Paris." Tyler smiled down at Sarah and it was like the rest of the world disappeared as she lost herself in him. "That's when we finally realized how much we had in common."

  The woman's friend choked on her glass of white wine. "In common? Really? Like what?"

  Tyler's hand gripped Sarah's elbow, warning her not to respond. He should know her better by now. Filtering her words was not something Sarah was good at nor was it a skill she cared to acquire especially not in situations like this.

  Once more Tyler stepped in before she could speak her mind. "We share a love of knowledge and business and travel and…"

  Sex.

  She didn't say it, but she could see from the look on Tyler's face that he knew what she was thinking.

  He placed his hand on Sarah's back and nodded graciously to the group of women. "Ladies, it was so good to see you again, but I'm afraid we have to move on. I really want Sarah to meet John Clarke and he just arrived. If we don't catch him now, who knows when we'll get another chance at him."

  The women smiled and swooned as Tyler guided Sarah away.

  "Can we leave, please?" She wrapped her arms around his waist and he kissed the top of her head.

  "Soon. I promise. Just a few more people to greet. And I do want you to meet John Clarke. He could be incredibly useful with your new business venture."

  She sighed. She loved that Tyler was so supportive, but she'd wanted to succeed on her own.

  She'd started a business with her best friends and her family because she wanted to work together with them to make it a success, but she was quickly learning that when your fiancé was one of the wealthiest men in the country there was no such thing as doing something on your own. Tyler knew too many people and too many people wanted to impress him. Orders had increased ten-fold in the first week after their engagement was announced and were on track to increase another ten-fold by the end of the month.

  Pretty soon they were going to have to hire extra help just to keep up with demand. They'd even doubled their prices and sales were still through the roof.

  A stout older man made his way towards them with a smile and a wave. Oh no. Not the stamp collector. Sarah had spent twenty minutes last week listening to him talk about some incredibly rare stamp he'd just bought that had taken him six months of diligent effort to find.

  Imagine. Wasting six months of your life to find a used piece of paper with some glue on the back of it. And then wasting twenty minutes of her life telling her about it.

  "I need to go to the ladies' room." Sarah ducked away before the man reached them.

  She glanced back to see Tyler staring at her, his hand still hanging in the air, a confused expression on his face as the stamp collector closed on him.

  She loved him, but she didn't love him that much.

  Sarah sank onto the settee in the anteroom of the bathroom and kicked off her shoes. The little space with its makeup bench, full-length mirrors, and bright lights was bigger than her childhood bedroom. And it was just the entryway to the bathrooms which were all large, individually enclosed spaces.

  She shook her head.

  She loved Tyler—he was amazing and gorgeous and better than any guy she'd ever known—but…

  His world was not her world.

  And she didn't want it to be.

  Tyler had grown up with these people. Those old matronly women and overfed men had known him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. And the overly nipped and tucked women and men were his peers. Many were friends from boarding school or college. He sat on boards, gave to the same charities, and attended the same country club as them.

  Sarah? Not so much. The only club her family might rightfully join was the book club at the local library. And her idea of giving to charity was donating old clothes to the Goodwill.

  No. This was definitely not her world.

  Oh, sure, she could pretend and everyone else would go along with it for Tyler's sake. But they all knew she didn't belong and never would.

  A very attractive older woman walked into the room as if she owned it. She glanced at Sarah, weighing her and judging her in the space of the ten seconds it took her to walk to the full-length mirror. From her expression, she clearly didn't like what she saw.

  The woman was tall, almost statuesque. She had hair dyed that perfect shade of blonde that women of a certain social class and attitude seemed to prefer.

  She wore a long blue dress that hugged her slender figure. It had a high slit in one side—not so high that it was scandalous for her age, but high enough to show that she still had "it" even at her age. Same with the neckline of her dress; it plunged enough to show that her skin was well cared for, but not enough to show too much.

  The woman carefully reapplied her lipstick and smoothed her hands down her sides before turning to Sarah.

  "So. You're the trailer park trash my son is going to marry."

  Sarah flinched.

  Henrietta Corrigan. She should've known. The woman had the same eyes as her son, but where Tyler's eyes were mesmerizing, drawing people to him, Henrietta's were like a weapon, cutting with a glance.

  Sarah stood, scooping her heels up in her hand. Tyler's mom was a good three inches taller than her. Sarah silently wished she hadn't taken off her shoes, but she'd be damned if she was going to stoop down and struggle to pull them back on in front of this woman.

  She faked a smile. "Yes, I guess I am. And you must be the self-absorbed mother who never even bothered to give your son one Christmas present."

  Tyler's mother laughed—a loud, throaty laugh without a trace of warmth to it. "Is that what he told you? Poor little rich boy who always had everything he wanted when he wanted it, and he managed to capture your heart with stories of his lonely Christmas mornings? Did he mention that those tragic, awful holidays were spent in some of the most gorgeous places in the world? That while everyone else was home opening gaudy trinkets they didn't even want that he was skiing fresh powder in the Swiss Alps? Or sipping cocoa in a mansion in Vail?"

  Sarah met the woman's eyes. "He did. But see, what this little trailer park queen knows and you don't seem to, is that quality time spent with the ones you love is worth more than any fancy vacations. But that's okay. Because Tyler has me now and I'm more than happy to give him all the love you never did."

  Before Sarah could move, Henrietta blocked her path and glared down at her, her voice silky and soft. "Is that what you call what you do for him? In his jet? Or the back of the limo? Is that love where you come from?" She stepped back slightly. "Me, I just call it being a low-class whore."

  Sarah wanted to slap her, and, in other circumstances she would've, but this was Tyler's mom.

  She settled for glaring at the woman with the most hateful stare she could.

  Henrietta continued. "Too bad he was foolish enough to announce your engagement to the whole world. I have no doubt he'll grow tired of you soon enough and move on to someone more appropriate."

  Sarah tried not to show how the words struck at all her secret fears. "You're wrong. Tyler loves me and I love him. And that matters more than anything else."

  It took all her self-control not to add, "So shove it, bitch."

  Henrietta Corrigan shook her head. "Hardly."

  Sarah raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and walked out of the bathroom as slowly as she could manage. She would not give that woman the satisfaction of seeing how much she'd hurt her.

  She tried not to shake as she wove her way through the crowd to Tyler's side.

  He was talking to a dapper older man with silver hair dressed in an impeccable gray suit—the only man not in a tuxedo in the whole room and yet somehow he made everyone else look underdressed and out of place. />
  She gave Tyler a quick kiss on the cheek before leaning on his shoulder to put her shoes back on. "I am so ready to leave this place."

  Tyler forced a smile as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Sarah. I was starting to worry about you."

  He didn't seem entirely happy to see her.

  She glanced at the older man before answering. "Well. I was detained. I met your mother in the bathroom. Charming woman."

  Tyler darted a glance at the man in front of him before looking past Sarah's shoulder to scan the crowd.

  The man spoke. "Well, if you've already met my wife, then it's only fair that you meet me as well. Henderson Corrigan." He extended his hand to Sarah and she shook it firmly.

  "Sarah Baxter."

  Henderson openly looked her up and down as he held onto her hand for a fraction too long and then dismissed her as if she wasn't even there.

  "Well, Son, I understand the appeal. I just wish you'd given a little more thought to the Corrigan name before you told the whole world about it. A fling is fine. That's just a little fun before you settle down. But marriage is business."

  He held Tyler's eyes for a long moment before clapping him on the shoulder and sauntering away.

  Tyler watched him go, his face that of a child who's just been told that his favorite dog died.

  Sarah leaned against him and whispered, "Well, they seem well-suited to one another. Your mother was equally…forthright…in the bathroom."

  Tyler stroked her back, still distracted. "I'm sorry you had to experience that."

  "So you knew they don't expect us to get married? That they both just see me as some unfortunate sowing of your oats before you wise up and marry a proper girl?"

  He shrugged. "What they think doesn't matter."

  But he was still staring around the room, watching his father mingle perhaps or looking in vain for his mother.

  Sarah sighed. "Can we get out of here? Please? You've put in your appearance and I suspect I'm not going to be much use for the rest of the night."

  "Yeah. Yeah, maybe that would be best." He glanced around the room one last time, before taking her hand. "Come on. Your feet have to be killing you."

  "They are. And I'm starving. Three bite-sized meatballs are not enough food for anyone, let alone your plus-sized fiancée. Do you think we can get the limo to go through the McDonald's drive-thru?"

  Tyler laughed, a genuine laugh full of relief and love. He kissed her forehead. "I'll do you one better. We'll call in a pizza order to Luigi's on the way home."

  "Oh, I'd love that. Chicken and pine nuts and sundried tomatoes? What do ya think?"

  He nodded as he guided her through the crowd.

  Sarah tried to forget what Tyler's parents had said to her, but she couldn't. Because what they'd said struck right to the heart of her secret fears and doubts.

  Tyler had grown up in a world of privilege, and some day he was bound to wake up and realize that she was nothing more than a trashy low-class woman. (A brilliant, beautiful, accomplished one, no doubt, but still.)

  And when he did?

  He'd run. As far and as fast as he could.

  She didn't want to lose him. Not again.

  But how could she keep him when the very nature of who he was and who she was were what would destroy them in the end?

  When they were finally alone in the limo, she practically attacked him. She grasped his hair in her fist and kissed him, hard and desperate, pressing her body against his, demanding that he focus all his attention on her.

  She wanted to drown her fears in the feel of his body against hers, to stop thinking about all of it for just a little while.

  He responded with the same level of ferocity, his fingers tearing at the zipper of her dress, jerking it downward as he stripped her dress away and took her breasts in his mouth, devouring each one with his mouth.

  Her fingers dug into his skin, wanting, demanding more.

  He flipped her underneath him, covering her body with his as she tore at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against hers. They were frenzied, mad, clawing and grasping at one another like animals, using teeth as much as mouths to explore one another's flesh, their fingers leaving bruises as they tried to merge their bodies together.

  Tyler buried himself inside her and she clung to him as he thrust over and over again, pounding away, obliterating all thought, all doubt. Driving away everything except the sensation of their bodies tangled together on the soft leather seats.

  She cried out as the fire of their passion burned through her body.

  For just one moment, she forgot. Forgot everything and everyone else except him. And for just that moment, life was perfect.

  And then she remembered again.

  The next morning, Sarah slowly came awake, her body stretched against Tyler's, soft cotton sheets wrapped around their bodies like a cocoon. She hurt everywhere and was starving.

  They'd never managed to get that pizza. Instead they'd spent the night trying to show their love to one another over and over again until they'd both collapsed, too exhausted to continue.

  But no matter how much passion they felt for one another, it didn't change what they both knew.

  His parents hated her.

  And the distance between her world and his was like a huge, gaping maw threatening to consume them both.

  She moved gently, trying not to wince as she extricated herself from Tyler's arms. Some moves that had seemed like a good idea at the time most definitely were not in the harsh light of day.

  "You too?" Tyler asked, trailing his fingers down her back.

  She nodded. "That was a little…intense…last night."

  "I know." His brow furrowed, but he didn't say more.

  Sarah sighed and stood up.

  "Wait, come back to bed."

  She shook her head. "No. I think we figured out last night that that doesn't solve anything. Oh sure, it let me forget for a few hours, but now we have to face the truth. Your parents hate me, Tyler. And they don't want us to get married."

  He stood and came towards her, flashing that sexy half-grin she loved so much. "Good thing they're not the ones marrying you then, isn't it?"

  He reached for her but she stepped away.

  "Tyler. I'm serious. How can I marry you knowing that your parents hate me that much?"

  He frowned. "Where's my fierce, take-no-shit, girl? Since when do you care what two rich, entitled people think of you?"

  "Since they're your parents." She crossed her arms but then uncrossed them again when his eyes drifted downward to admire her cleavage.

  "Sarah." He took her hands in his and stared deep into her eyes. "I will never be the son they want me to be. I will never marry the kind of woman they think I should. Never."

  She felt herself melting under his gaze, but she held firm and pulled away. She chewed on her nail. "I don't know, Tyler. Maybe we should hold off or…"

  "No." He pulled her close and brushed her hair away from her face. "Sarah. Listen to me. I. Love. You. What they think doesn't matter. Not at all. If they don't see what I do, that's their loss, but I won't let them keep us apart. I won't."

  "But Tyler. What if they take away your inheritance? What if they kick you out of the family business?"

  He smiled, his chin dimpling. "Then you'll just have to support me with that multi-national fashion empire you're building."

  She slapped his chest lightly. "I'm serious."

  "I have a trust my grandpa left me. It isn't much, but it's enough."

  Which probably meant a million or two in his world.

  She frowned at him.

  "We'll be fine, Sarah. Trust me."

  "Tyler, you can't just write off your parents and feel nothing about it. Can you?"

  The thought horrified her. She could never do something like that.

  He turned away from her. "No, I can't. It won't be easy." He turned back. "But if it comes down to a choice between them and you, I choose you."

&nb
sp; They stared at each other for a long moment and then Tyler said, "I need a shower."

  He kissed her on the forehead and turned away.

  Sarah watched him walk to the bathroom, wondering when he'd realize that he was sacrificing too much to be with her. First the travel, now his family, and maybe even his company?

  It was too much.

  He leaned out the bathroom door. "Care to join me?"

  "Absolutely."

  She walked towards him, trying to focus on the fact that he loved her and she loved him and that was all that should matter.

  But she knew better.

  She knew that if she let him go through with this he'd come to resent her.

  She had to do something.

  But what?

  Leave him?

  Change his parents' minds?

  She didn't know.

  And that scared the hell out of her.

  A Mile High Wedding

  Sarah took a bite of the chocolate croissant and closed her eyes in pleasure, savoring the way the buttery layers dissolved in her mouth to mingle with the bitter chocolate hidden inside. She opened her eyes to see Tyler watching her from across the table with that sexy half-smile she loved so much.

  She still forgot to breathe sometimes when she looked at him. He was so beautiful, with his jet-black hair and intense green eyes and that damned dimple in his chin. And so perfectly built—not too muscular, but not skinny either.

  She knew now, after a couple months of living with him, what it took to maintain that physique, and she was glad he didn't care whether she shared those particular activities. Two hours a day in the gym and meals that normally consisted of fruit, vegetables, lean meats, and protein shakes.

  She shuddered at the thought of giving up her croissants, cheeseburgers, and coffee loaded with creamer.

  "Want a bite?" She offered him the croissant.

  "No." He patted his stomach. "Lunch today at the club with my parents. I need to save room."

  Sarah looked away so he wouldn't see the fear in her eyes. His parents hated her with a vitriolic passion that most people reserved for serial killers and pedophiles. How dare a little piece of trailer park trash steal their perfect upper class boy's heart?