Without Apology (Without Series Book 1)

by Aubrey Bondurant

  He squeezed my hand. “You said you attempted once as an adult to get on a plane?”

  I was amazed he remembered my outburst of information. “I attempted to fly to the ‘happiest place on earth.’ Didn’t get past airport security before I bolted. Not even my nieces and mouse ears could help me overcome the fear.”

  His eyes held sympathy when I met them. “You ever been to New York?”

  I was wistful in my response. Although I’d resigned myself to never flying, it didn’t mean I hadn’t wanted to experience the world. “No. Always wanted to go. One of my bucket list items includes seeing a Broadway show. Maybe I’ll catch a traveling one to Dallas someday. I also would love to experience Times Square, although not at New Year’s as that always looks way too cold.”

  He chuckled. “It is. Those people are insane. Most aren’t from New York.”

  Because I wanted to get to know him better, I posed the question, “Would you call New York home?”

  A frown flitted over his face. “I own a condo there. So if that’s your definition, I suppose it is.”

  “How long have you lived there?”

  “Since university, but I bounced back and forth between there and London. I own a flat there, too.” Again, he wore strange expression on his face.

  “Real estate doesn’t have to define home. I suppose it’s the one place you can’t wait to get back to after a long trip.”

  He swallowed hard. “Then I suppose you could say I don’t have a place I call home.”

  Now it was my turn to squeeze his hand. Though I knew he claimed to have wanderlust, I couldn’t imagine being without a place you couldn’t wait to get home, somewhere you could kick off your shoes and climb into your familiar bed with your loving dog, knowing you had a stash in the kitchen of Frosted Flakes.

  I stifled a yawn as I watched the driver pull out. Time for seatbelts. After buckling up, Simon reached over to grab my pillow. After settling it in his lap, he took the blanket in his hands. “Lie down. Get some sleep.”

  If I wasn’t so tired, I might’ve felt more sexually curious about having my face in his lap, but as it was, I simply lay down, content when he put the blanket over me and settled his arm to rest on my shoulder. First, though, he caressed my hair off my face. The gesture was both intimate and gentle. I didn’t know what this time with him would mean, but as I closed my eyes, I felt the most at peace as I had in a long time.

  When I woke, we were in the full light of day. It took a moment for me to orient myself so I could sit up. Simon was looking at me as I smoothed down my hair, and I hoped I hadn’t been snoring. “What time is it?”

  “We’re four hours in. You need a pit stop?”

  I hesitated, but I did need to pee. The coffee from this morning had consequences. “Sorry. I know we’re trying to make good time.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Ralph, the lady needs to stop. If you can find a place which has both petrol and food, that would be brilliant.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Granger.”

  We pulled off the freeway ten minutes later. It felt divine to stretch my legs once I was out of the car. We were at one of those large gas stations with fast food attached. My stomach rumbled, serving notice it was time for something other than coffee.

  After making it to the ladies’ room just in time, I stepped out of the stall and took a peek at myself in the mirror. Good Lord. My hair was a hot mess, and I looked as if I could use another eight hours of sleep. I finger combed my tresses back and corralled them with an elastic band before splashing my face with water. Next, I rinsed my mouth, thinking I should’ve brought in my toothbrush.

  Feeling moderately better once I walked out of the restroom, I noticed Simon standing by the cash register. He appeared as if he was about to step into a meeting, not back into a car for twenty hours. It really was unfair he always looked so good. I snagged some gum, a soda, and a candy bar, bringing them up front. He quirked a brow at my choices but smiled at the barely legal cashier, who appeared a bit dumbstruck over him. No Laverne here.

  “Add these to my purchase, please.”

  She rung us up, and he insisted on paying, selecting a bottle of water for himself.

  “Oh, what about Ralph?”

  “He already grabbed a coffee. Shall we?”

  We walked back out to the car when the smell of fast food hit me. Specifically hash browns. “Do you mind if we go through the drive-thru?”

  There was that smirk again. I bet the man didn’t eat anything fried, let alone use a drive-thru. If this was a game of get-to-know you, this drive was the speed round. There was no way to spend the next twenty-four hours with one another without getting real. And right now, I really wanted hash browns.

  “Not at all.”

  Five minutes later, I was settled in for the ride with my egg sandwich and hash browns. Even Ralph had ordered a sandwich, but not Simon.

  “You’re not hungry?” I popped one of the round, more tater tot than actual hash brown, things into my mouth.

  “No. I ate this morning.”

  “What did you have?” It was clear he stayed fit, but how strict was his diet?

  “A protein shake and some fruit.”

  “No Frosted Flakes?”

  “I reserve those for special occasions.”

  “Do you want to try a hash brown?” I wondered if I could tempt him. Perhaps it was a metaphor for something bigger when it came to the two of us.

  I thought he’d decline, but instead, he leaned in and captured the hash brown with his teeth where I’d been holding it between my index finger and thumb. I felt his lips ghost my skin, and I was on fire.

  He seemed unaffected by the action. “Is this what you typically have for breakfast?”

  “No. I eat healthy, too. Most of the time. Or more like fifty-fifty if I’m being honest.” I certainly tried most days. Weekends, however were a free pass. If one was in one’s pajamas, then what was the point of being healthy?

  “I wasn’t criticizing. Just noticing the look of bliss that came over your face when you took your first bite.”

  “Probably because I haven’t had it in a while. What are you planning to eat?”

  “I have a cooler of items in the back. Fruit. Cheese. Protein bars. I packed plenty. Feel free to help yourself.”

  “No junk food?”

  He leaned over, stealing another hash brown. “Nope. But we can stop for lunch anywhere you choose.”

  Four hours later, at the designated place for the driver swap, I chose Panera for lunch. Although I did love me some fast food, breakfast had been enough. Now I needed real food in the form of a half sandwich and salad. Simon chose soup and a sandwich. We climbed back into the car and settled in for lunch. After that, he pulled out a laptop.

  I frowned, thinking I should probably check email as well. The action of working clicked off another two hours before I became restless. We weren’t even halfway there.

  As if sensing my mood, he glanced over. “You all right?”

  “Yep.” Nope. I was bored. I’d never been cooped up in a vehicle this long. It couldn’t be pleasant for him, either. Suddenly I had a burning question on my mind that couldn’t wait another second. “Why are you doing this for me?”

  He shut his laptop, giving me his full attention. “Because I think you’re the most qualified—”

  I cut him off. “No. Why are you driving with me? You could’ve flown and avoided this.”

  “Maybe I needed to ensure you didn’t turn around at the ten-hour mark.”

  I blew out a breath, stretching my legs out in front of me. “It is tempting. I’m not used to being in a car this long.”

  “What shall we do to distract you?”

  His teasing tone and sexy smirk inspired a few very naughty ideas.

  He must’ve read them on my face. “Keep looking at me that way.” Now it was his turn to blow out a breath.

  Could I help it if I wanted to press the boundaries, see if he was as affected by me as
I was with his presence? “What way is that?”

  “Like you want to kiss me.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  His expression darkened before he snagged my legs up to his lap and slipped off my shoes.

  “What are you doing?” This was the moment I sincerely hoped my feet didn’t smell. Not cool.

  I worried up until the point his hands went to work on the arch of my foot, and I practically moaned.

  He paused, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes.

  “Sorry. The massage feels really good.” Talk about mixed signals. Then again, as he rubbed my feet, I wasn’t sure I cared. The man was going to reduce me to a pile of mush.

  “Don’t apologize.”

  Given how easily I offered them and the fact he couldn’t, I wondered if I’d offended him.

  “I like that sound of pleasure coming from you,” he explained.

  He hit a sensitive part of my foot, which had me biting my lip. Suddenly, I wondered if he had an intention of inspiring that sound later.

  ***

  At the twenty-four-hour, thirty-six-minute mark we finally pulled up in front of a high rise in Manhattan. I felt as if I’d been hit by a truck. I might’ve been awestruck by the modern structure, marble-and-glass lobby, or decadent décor if I hadn’t been deliriously exhausted. I’d tried to sleep again. Simon had offered his lap, then his shoulder. But to no avail. All I’d managed was an hour or two here or there.

  He, on the other hand, didn’t look any the worse for wear. He took my bag and led me into the elevator. At that point, it dawned on me I hadn’t seen a sign for the hotel. “What is the name of this place?” Not that I cared a lot, but I found it strange the lobby didn’t resemble a hotel, either.

  “Park Tower Two.”

  Although I might not travel, I’d heard of some brands but not this one. “What hotel is that?”

  “It’s not. It’s a residence building.”

  “Whose?”

  “Mine.”

  Okay. Now we’d gone from mixed signals to a full-on neon sign telling me this had just become very personal. The elevator dinged at floor thirty. I had no choice but to follow him off and down the hall. He took out a key and opened the third door to the left.

  “This is your place?”

  “Yes. Come on. You’re knackered and need to get some proper sleep. You want some water? There should be some in the fridge.”

  I stepped inside the spacious condo, noting the tasteful living area of a couch and loveseat facing a picturesque window with a view of the city. It was an open floor plan, including a kitchen sporting modern appliances and a sit-in island with two stools. While he was busy checking the thermostat and walking back to where I assumed the bedroom was, I opened the fridge. It was fully stocked.

  As I grabbed a water bottle, I felt completely confused about having been taken to Simon’s place. The burning question was why?

  “Let me show you to your room.” He came back and tugged on my hand to lead me down the hall. “There is an en-suite bathroom.”

  We walked into a huge master bedroom that also had a window view of the city beneath. “But this is your bedroom.” Why wasn’t he getting this was weird?

  “It’s okay. I’ll be up for a while, and if I want to nap, I’ll take the guest room.”

  His hand remained in mine while he watched me carefully. Unable to restrain the words burning in my mind, I had to ask. “Why here and not a hotel room?”

  He frowned before pulling away and grabbing some towels out of the hall closet. “Here are some fresh towels. There are toiletries in there, too. Help yourself. I’ll order lunch for around one pm in case you get hungry.”

  “Simon, why here?”

  He turned, the expression on his face telling me he was having a tough time finding the words. “How about we discuss it after your interview? Unless you’re uncomfortable. In which case, I can have you in a hotel down the block in the next fifteen minutes.”

  Vulnerability. It lingered in his eyes. I had a choice: either see this how this played out or leave never knowing. “I’ll stay.”

  I had no clue if he needed more time to come up with a reason, or if he simply didn’t want to let things get too complicated before I had my interview for the CFO position. Either way, I was a too exhausted to ask him any more questions on a subject he himself didn’t seem ready to address. “Okay. I’m going to take a shower and sleep till noon.” That would give me a few hours.

  He stepped closer, laying a hand on the side of my face. “Sleep well.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Peyton

  After a hot shower under a decadent array of streaming water in the divine master shower, I slipped into bed. I must’ve slept like the dead because the sound of the alarm on my phone was the next thing I knew. As I stretched in the luxurious sheets in the middle of Simon’s massive, king-sized bed, I looked up to see him at the door. Standing there, staring.

  That’s when I realized I was in nothing but my thong and T-shirt, having kicked off the sheets entirely.

  “I just, uh—” His voice was thick and strained. “I was coming to ensure you were up. I’ll give you some privacy.” He turned and headed back out into the apartment.

  I peeked down at myself. For not trying to be sexy, the image wasn’t half bad. But unfortunately, I had an interview to get to.

  Thirty minutes later I was done with my makeup, dressed in sweats, and with half my hair up and a curling iron wrapped around the last couple of strands of hair when he knocked on the bedroom door.

  “Come in.”

  The bathroom door was open. I caught his eyes in the vanity mirror as he walked in and leaned against the frame. He was dressed in jeans, for the first time I’d ever seen, with a soft gray T-shirt stretching over his chest. “Lunch is here.”

  I tried not to drool over him. Or overthink all of the things he’d done to get me here. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a few.”

  “You get enough sleep?”

  “I did. Your bed is very comfortable.” And suddenly I had a vision. One of him on top of me, skin to skin, pressing me into his mattress. I could feel my face heating at the dirty thoughts only to see his expression darken.

  “I’ll be out in the kitchen.”

  He was gone in a flash, leaving me once again in a state of confusion. The thing was, I’d had sex with men. I’d been attracted to guys. But not like I was attracted to him. That I was here in his condo when he could’ve easily dropped me at a hotel seemed to highlight the fact I might not be the only one struggling with these emotions.

  Lunch consisted of turkey wraps, roast beef sandwiches, fruit, and chips on a catering tray for two.

  “I wasn’t sure what you might be hungry for.”

  “This all looks delicious. Thank you. Not just for lunch but also for making this happen.”

  “You’re welcome. You nervous?”

  “Not really.” Although I didn’t want to let anyone down, such as Megan or Simon, I certainly didn’t stress about trying to impress the board. Frankly, I could only be myself and answer questions as honestly as possible.

  “That’s good then.”

  “Are you coming with?”

  “No. Would give the wrong impression, I think, if they suspected I’d traveled with you.”

  Made sense. It also felt like there’d be less pressure without him there, especially if I were to tank the interview completely.

  Once we finished up lunch, I dressed in my black dress with white piping. It was professional, classy, and somewhat comfortable. Plus, I had killer black shoes to match. Checking my reflection, I dabbed on some gloss and then was ready to go.

  Simon was waiting in the living room. He had his hands in his pockets, and he looked: nervous. “You all set?”

  “For the most part. Is everything okay with you?” Funny how it was me going to the interview, but him looking anxious.

  He gave me a small smile. “Yes. Of course. The driver will pi
ck you up in front and then drive you to the office and wait. He’ll give you a card with his number so you can text him once you’re done.”

  “Thank you.” Simon had gone to a lot of trouble. Now, leaving him in his apartment while I went on the interview felt strange. Almost like I didn’t want to go without him. Shit. I wasn’t this girl. I’d never needed a man to boost me up, yet here we were about to separate for a couple of hours, and I was suddenly nervous, too.

  Uh-oh. He must’ve seen it on my face.

  “You’ll do fine.”

  “Let’s hope so. Do I look okay?” I smoothed down my dress and watched his gaze sweep over me.

  “Yeah. You look fine.”

  Huh. That was two fines. Okay. Maybe we were back to professional boundaries only? The blurring lines were making my head spin.

  “All right. I guess I’ll see you later. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck.”

  ***

  The building was located five blocks away. I could’ve walked it although, in these heels it probably wouldn’t have been a good idea. The sidewalks were bustling with both tourists and business people. A lot of the latter were probably taking off early for the weekend.

  Fred, the driver of the car, gave me his card with his number after he got my door and helped me out. I stepped into the impressive lobby and to the front desk of the very modern and very tall office building. Since they were expecting me, I was given a visitor’s badge and shown to the elevator bank for the forty-third floor. Although I wasn’t nervous about the interview itself, New York made me a bit anxious. The popping of my ears as the elevator zoomed upward didn’t help.

  When I stepped off into a lovely lobby area, a receptionist greeted me. “You must be Ms. Waters.”

  I smiled warmly. “I am.”

  “Great. Follow me. Can I get you a beverage, or do you need to use the ladies’ room?”

  “No thank you. I’m good.”

  I was taken to a small conference room with windows overlooking Times Square. I wondered how anyone got work done here considering all of the distractions outside. I soaked in all of the billboards and lights flashing.