“I’m fine.” She gave him a tentative smile. “Thanks for getting me out of there…and talking me off the ledge. I think I’ve got it from here. I can call a cab.”
Zach’s frown deepened. He looked at her as if he was trying to solve some sort of complex riddle. It was intense. He’d be intimidating in the boardroom. But the bedroom…yeah. Total alpha fantasyland.
The door opened into the penthouse apartment, and Jenna stepped out, glad to have some space between her and Zach and her inappropriately dirty thoughts. Although how any woman could look at Zach and not think of wet panties and wrinkled sheets was really beyond her. Too bad she didn’t have any single friends that were even a decade within his age to fix him up with.
“I’ll drive you to the airport.” His tone brooked no arguments. And she really didn’t have time to argue.
“All right. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s not.”
Jenna left Zach in the living room and rushed to the bedroom to grab her things. Her suitcase was by the door, along with her purse. She checked to make sure her wallet, phone, and paperwork for the resort were still in her purse. Anything else? Oh, right. Maybe a change of wardrobe. Something she could actually breathe in, maybe.
Jenna went into the huge walk-in closet and pulled a pair of jeans out of the dresser drawer then grabbed a sleeveless top, bra, and sandals. She reached around to undo the dress before she remembered that the stylist had actually sewn her into her custom gown this morning. The plan had been for Niki to extract her with the help of a seam-ripper after the reception, when she’d change into a going-away dress. But now…
She tugged, hoping the stitches were not that tight, but no, they were steel fibers or something, and she had a limited range of motion, since the Python still had her in its grip. She tried pulling it off over her head, but no matter how much she shimmied and twisted, it would not go up over her shoulders or down her hips. She could try ripping it, but the thought of the waste wouldn’t allow her to trash the thing. And time was ticking.
“Need help with your bags or anything?” Zach called from the hallway.
Jenna sighed from inside the dress’s folds. “Yes, actually I do need some help.”
She heard the bedroom door open. “In here,” she said, shoving the skirt back down so it covered her ass. She tugged it into place just as Zach entered the closet.
“I need you to rip this off me.”
“Pardon?” He looked like she’d just asked him to play strip poker.
“I’m sewn into the dress,” she explained. “I need you to pull the back seam apart.” She turned her back so he could get at it.
“You’re sewn into the dress?”
“It’s a designer thing. Apparently.” This would be her first—and last—experience wearing a designer gown. If she ever did actually meet a man and make it through the whole wedding ceremony, it would be on a beach somewhere. No pinchy shoes, no fussy hair and makeup, no designer gown, and no Python. Just a flowy comfortable dress, her bare feet, and the ocean waves. And a groom, of course. One focused on her and not making things appear perfect for a magazine spread.
“If you say so.” He sounded uncertain, and really, she couldn’t blame him. Even though he probably had women taking off their clothes in front of him all the time, they probably didn’t often ask him to rip them out of a wedding gown. At least not on the first date.
Jenna jumped when his hand brushed her bare shoulder. His heat was like a volcano at her back, and the clean, soapy smell of him made her want to inhale deeply.
“Sorry,” he murmured, though she wasn’t sure what he had to be sorry about. “Just…rip it?”
“At the seam. It should pull apart.”
He tugged at the fabric tentatively.
It didn’t give way like she thought it would. “Harder,” she said, trying to speed things up. His nearness was disconcerting, and a little space would be a good thing.
“I’m going to rip it.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Just get me out of this thing. Please.”
Zach popped the top stitch, and it all separated at once, from her nape to her ass.
She clutched the front of the dress to her breasts.
“What the hell is that?” he asked, and it took Jenna a minute to figure out what he meant.
“The Python,” Jenna said, turning around. “Haute Couture isn’t made for women with curves in mind. Elliot and the designer thought this would make the dress flow better.”
“Wow,” he muttered, staring. Then he shook his head. “Please tell me you’re not sewn into that thing, too.”
“There’s a side fastening.”
He nodded once but stayed where he was, just looking at her with that dark, intense gaze.
Jenna suddenly started to feel very self-conscious. She was alone with a hot stranger, more than half naked, and he was looking at her like she wasn’t just his friend’s almost-wife. It should have been creepy. But it wasn’t, at all. It was the opposite of creepy. Like the beginning of a super-hot sex with a stranger kind of fantasy. “Thanks,” she said. “I think I can handle it from here.”
That seemed to break the spell Zach was under—probably trauma from the Python.
“Elliot is completely clueless,” he grumbled then turned and walked out of the closet. She heard the bedroom door close behind him, and only then did she relax a little.
Had to be pent-up adrenaline, right? Didn’t people in high-stress situations sometimes experience a weird spike in libido? Her situation could definitely be categorized as high stress.
Jenna stepped out of the gown and hung it up, not at all sorry to see the last of it. Then she divested herself of the Python and kicked it under the lower clothing rack. She had definitely seen the last of that. Taking her first deep breath in hours was glorious, but they had to hurry, so she pulled on her jeans, bra, and shirt then slid her aching feet into a comfortable pair of sandals to wear on the flight. Jenna wished she had time to take off all the makeup and brush all the hairspray out of her hair, but it was more important to get to the airport before Elliot showed up.
Zach had already grabbed the luggage from the bedroom and was standing in the middle of the living room, taking in the surroundings. Jenna knew what he saw—“a clean, modern pallet” was what Elliot’s designer called it. In other words, metal, glass, and acres of white, interrupted only by occasional bursts of gray. Not exactly Jenna’s taste, but then Elliot hasn’t asked her input when he’d had it redone a few months ago.
Zach went to the sofa table and picked up a small silver frame, the one piece of Jenna that had made the decor cut. He studied it as intensely as he did everything else.
“My parents,” Jenna said, startling him a little as she approached.
Zach turned, still holding the frame, and studied her face for a moment. “You look a lot like your mother. Same eyes and lips.”
“And hair,” she said, touching the rock-hard updo. “I got her curly hair.”
His gaze went to her head, as if to gauge, and that feeling of self-consciousness washed over her and made the moment feel more intimate than it should have.
“Industrial strength hairspray,” she said. “I’ll have to wash it out once I get to my room.”
“Good luck with that,” he said dubiously and gave her a small grin. “Ready?”
Jenna nodded, noting Zach still held the photo. Without a word, he handed it to her, and she tucked it into her purse. “I’m ready.”
Chapter Four
“Marcy says there aren’t any flights tonight,” Jenna said, reading her text to Zach from the shotgun position in the car. “She says the earliest is tomorrow morning.”
Well, crap. Now that Jenna had made the decision, she really, really just wanted to get out of town. Zach was right. Elliot would put on the schmooz
e face and try to talk her into going through with the wedding. Either that or berate her for ruining his special day and make her feel bad for wasting everyone’s time and money. Which was pretty much true…and Jenna wasn’t feeling all that great about it.
Jenna would have to talk to him eventually. She’d have to explain and apologize for the way she’d left things. He deserved that, at the very least. But it would be a lot easier to think through what to say and how to say it once she was several hours away from the schmooze face. Tomorrow. She’d think about Elliot tomorrow.
“Since there aren’t any flights tonight, I guess I can stay at a hotel tonight and use my original tickets tomorrow.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Zach said, taking his phone back.
Zach exited the interstate and headed in a different direction.
“Where are we going? Are you kidnapping me again?”
“You’re the one who carjacked me,” he reminded her. “And we’re still going to the airport. Just a different airport.”
“Uh, there’s only one airport in this city.”
“Only one public airport.” He pushed a button on his phone. “Call Billy,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Dialing,” the phone replied.
The phone only rang a couple of times before someone picked up.
“Billy. It’s Zach. Can you be ready to fly in thirty minutes?”
“I can be ready in twenty. Destination?”
“Florida. I’ll fill you in on the details when we get there.”
There was a pause on the line. “We?”
“See you at the hangar.” Zach disconnected the call without explanation.
“We’ll take my plane to the resort,” Zach said. “I should have thought of that to begin with.”
Jenna wasn’t sure whether to address the “my plane” comment or the “we” first.
“Uh, we?”
“Well, it is my plane.”
“Yeah, but…I’m sure you have better things to do. And lending out your plane is a pretty big gesture for someone you hardly know.”
“I know Elliot.”
“About that,” Jenna said, turning toward him. “If you’re such friends, why wouldn’t you be calling him, telling him where I am, instead of helping me get out of town? Isn’t he going to be ticked at you?”
“Probably.”
All she could see of Zach’s expression in the darkened car was shadowed profile and a slight upturn of his lips.
“Let’s just say that Elliot gets what he wants way too much of the time,” Zach said finally. “I’m more concerned about what you want.”
There was something in his voice Jenna hadn’t heard up to now. A harsher note. He’d said he and Elliot had drifted apart since college, so maybe that was it. She wasn’t in the mood to play Lady Sherlock at the moment. She just wanted to get to the resort, check in, and then have a glass or three of wine and check out for the night. Whatever the deal between Zach and Elliot, it had nothing to do with her. She certainly didn’t need to borrow any trouble.
“Well, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” she said.
“No problem. I’ll just jet down there with you, make sure you’re settled, then head back tonight. No big deal.”
He probably did this all the time—fly to exotic locales on a whim with a woman he’d just met. Paris for fresh morning-after croissants. Venice for a romantic lunch on the canal and a nooner. Dinner in Stockholm followed by a long hump-session under the northern lights. Florida was nothing.
Jenna pulled out her phone and made the mistake of peeking at all the missed calls and text messages. Most of them were from Elliot, of course, and she just couldn’t deal with that miasma at the moment. Still, she didn’t want him to worry, so she texted Niki instead.
Jenna: How is he?
Niki: Pissed, but telling everyone you came down with a sudden illness. People sympathetic. He’s eating it up and went ahead with the reception. Where are you?
Jenna: On my way to the airport. Heading to the resort.
Niki: Want company?
Jenna: Thanks, but I’m fine. Just need to be alone for a few days.
It was weird that she even asked—it wasn’t like they were close. Cousins, sure, but she lived across the country, and Jenna only saw her once or twice a year growing up plus a summer when she’d stayed with Jenna when Niki’s parents were going through a nasty divorce. Jenna had only asked her to be in the wedding because Niki was the only blood family she had that could fill the role and because she knew Elliot, too, from the summer she’d visited. Jenna had wanted Aggie, but Elliot had quickly pointed out, rightly, that she might not be up for all the responsibilities required of a maid of honor.
Niki: I’m not sure you should be alone right now.
Jenna: I’m not alone.
Dots blinked for close to a minute before a new message appeared.
Niki: Who’s with you?
Jenna: A friend of Elliot’s.
Niki: Who?
Jenna paused before answering, not sure if she should out Zach just yet. But she didn’t want Niki to worry that she’d truly lost her mind and had skipped town with some strange dude she’d met at the bus stop.
Jenna: Zach Ruiz.
Niki: That was fast.
Jenna: Nothing is going on. He’s just giving me a ride.
Niki: To the airport?
Jenna: To Florida. On his plane.
Niki: …
Jenna: There weren’t any commercial flights out tonight.
Niki: Is he single?
She texted the exasperated emoji face.
Niki: Had to ask. Hot, helpful, and rich? Yes, please. He is hot, right?
The tongue out, yum, emoji appeared on Jenna’s phone screen, making Jenna smile.
Jenna: Almost to the airfield. Can you please let Elliot know I’m fine and I’ll call him tomorrow?
Niki: Sure thing. Call me if you need me to jet down. I can be there first thing in the morning.
Jenna sighed. Somehow, she didn’t think Niki would hop a commercial flight for her, but rather hoping to cozy up to Zach. She was totally not going to introduce Zach to Niki. She was…not the girl for him. Although, to be fair, she really didn’t know Zach, so maybe Niki was exactly the girl for him.
“You’re not changing your mind, are you?” Zach’s mouth was tight. He obviously thought the text exchange was with Elliot.
“I was just letting my cousin Niki know I’m okay.”
Zach relaxed a fraction.
“I’ll have to talk to him, though. Explain. He didn’t deserve to be left at the altar.”
“I don’t know. Karma has a way of making things right.”
There was a hard tone to Zach’s voice that hadn’t been there before. “Did you guys have a falling out?”
“Sort of.”
“Then why did Elliot invite you to the wedding?”
“You’d have to ask him.” Zach pulled up to the gate, keyed in a code, and waited as the gate slid open. “There’s Billy,” he said as he headed toward one of about six hangars.
He was just rolling the big doors open, revealing several small planes.
Jenna’s stomach lurched. The only thing she hated more than big planes were little planes. “I’ve never flown on a private plane before. Well, I did once but was too young to remember.”
“You’ll love it.”
“I doubt that.” She inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to calm her anxiety.
“Not a good flyer?”
“Terrible.” Why hadn’t she taken that Valium Niki had offered back at the church?
“Billy’s a great pilot and the weather is clear.”
“Sure.”
Zach and Jenna got out of the car as the plane
pulled slowly out of the hangar then stopped. The side door opened, and stairs appeared. Zach grabbed her bag from the trunk.
“Let’s go,” Zach said, starting toward the plane.
“You fly a lot?” she asked, trying to distract herself from actually climbing aboard. Maybe if he told her about all the jet-setting, she’d be able to focus on that and not the imminent flight.
Zach turned back to look at her. “Not a lot. When I have to for business.”
“Never vacations?”
“No.”
Well, there went her visions of Zach flitting around the globe to impress women.
Jenna forced herself to put one foot after the other until she reached the stairway. Billy took the bags from Zach. “Should be wheels up in a few. Finishing the last bit of pre-check.” He disappeared inside the plane.
“After you,” Zach said.
“Sure,” Jenna said. “I’m right behind you. I’m just…visualizing.”
“Visualizing?”
“Fine. Stalling.”
“Airplane travel is statistically the safest way to travel,” Zach said.
“Commercial planes, sure, but small planes—you hear about them crashing all the time.”
“It’s less than one death per 100,000 flight hours.”
“And you just know that off the top of your head?”
He shrugged. “I like data.” He held out his hand toward her. “Come on. It’ll be fine. I promise.”
And something in his words or the way he looked at her with such intense confidence made Jenna take his hand and start up the stairs.
Once they were both inside, Billy closed the hatch, and they made their way to some seats mid-plane, where an attendant was waiting for them.
“Good evening, Mr. Ruiz,” she said. “What can I get for you?”
“Want something to drink?” Zach asked, indicating a place for Jenna to sit.
She sat down, fastened her seat belt, and gripped the armrests as the plane started to move. “We’re going to crash.”
“Nothing right now, thanks,” Zach said to the attendant. He removed his tux jacket, undid the tie, and settled into the leather seat facing Jenna.
What was it about a man in formal wear who did that? That “I know how to wear a tux, I’m but all about getting undressed as soon as possible” thing. Cologne ads knew it and used it all the time. It was crack for a certain kind of woman. Okay, Jenna was that certain kind of woman. It was she. Give him a glass of world-class bourbon in a cut crystal highball glass paired with the intense way he could look at a woman, and she’d buy whatever he was selling.
The Anti-Honeymoon Page 3
