The Sunday Arrangement (6 page)

I
smiled. “Henry wouldn’t like the strip?”

“No,
but his dad sure would,” Toby joked. Margret playfully punched him in the arm.

“Well,
Las Vegas has some amazing restaurants we can check out, and maybe we can even see
a magic show. I know how you much you love those. I suppose if I have to be in
hell, it’ll be nice to have family burning right there with me.”

I
watched my father as he adjusted the dinner fork next to his plate. “Let’s talk
about something else, shall we? Business talk isn’t for the dinner table.”

Toby
gave me an annoyed glance. I could practically read his thoughts:
That
wasn’t your philosophy whenever the phone rang during our family dinners
growing up.

“So Margret,
how’s Henry? Is our little man asleep?” Mom quickly asked. Thank God for little
Henry. He was the perfect conversation buffer. Everyone always wanted to know
about the baby.

I
listened only half-heartedly to my sister-in-law talk about my nephew who turned
one the previous week. We had all been there for the giraffe-themed party. Henry
had made his big birthday debut by grabbing a chunk of his cousin’s chocolate
cake off her plate and promptly falling asleep twenty minutes into his first
party. Another baby was on the way. Another chance to hear about my brother’s
successful family life.

I
took a generous gulp of my wine, suddenly ready for this evening to end. Kat
still needed to come over and consult with me about the “male friendly”
purchases I had made earlier that afternoon, though I still wasn’t willing to
admit what had prompted me to splurge on them.

“Lauren,
are you taking the jet tomorrow?” Mom asked after the tales of Henry had
stretched for as long as they possibly could.

“I’d
love to join you in the sky, Ms. Hart,” a voice from behind me suddenly said.

I hurriedly
spun around. The one person I didn’t want to see until tomorrow in Vegas was standing
behind me with an incredibly thin woman wearing an elegant, low-cut dress. She
was practically draped on his arm. My father quickly stood up like he was a
much younger man. “Ah, Mr. Maverick! What a coincidence seeing you here. This
is my daughter’s favorite restaurant.”

Maverick’s
icy blue eyes locked with mine. “Your daughter and I have very similar tastes.”

I gave
the eye candy he seemed to be rubbing in my face the once-over.
Oh, I doubt
that. Eat a cheeseburger
, I wanted to tell her. Any wind that evening, and
the sensationally dressed woman would likely blow away.
On second thought,
maybe she should forget the burger.

“Of
course you can take the jet with my daughter,” my father continued, suddenly
full of energy and conversation. “I apologize for not thinking of it sooner. It
will be good if you two learn how to work with one another.”

“What
time is it taking off?” he asked. His gaze never left mine.

I felt
my face heat up as I imagined sharing a private space with him. My mind drifted
to a shirtless, muscle-bound man ready and willing to create a little
turbulence of our own. “In the morning, seven thirty sharp. Don’t be late, or
we’ll take off without you.”

“I
can’t wait. Good to see you all.” He put his hand on the small of his date’s
back and guided her away from the table. She looked back at me before she
turned and whispered something in his ear. He shook his head, and the two of
them continued walking.

Goosebumps
bubbled on the surface of my skin as I imagined the next few months. I took
another generous mouthful of wine. This man would be the end of me, or the very
beginning.

I stood
outside the jet at my father’s private hangar. Pierce was already ten minutes
late, not that I was surprised. If I hadn’t been so nervous, I would have been
royally pissed at the inconvenience. I wasn’t used to dealing with incompetent
employees. As it was, I could barely pretend to focus on the onslaught of e-mails
on my iPhone. Instead I concentrated on the next three months, the next few
hours even, over and over in my head. Never had my focus been so shaken, my
confidence thrown so off-kilter. Typically, I was as serious as the
straightjacket my father forced me to wear around the office. Pleasure and
business had never before been a temptation for me, and I didn’t want them to
be now . . . no matter how much my imagination enjoyed the sensation of Pierce’s
tongue down my throat.

“Ms.
Hart!” I turned my head. The pilot, dressed in navy blue pants and a pale blue
collared shirt, was walking toward me. His round jaw was firmly set as he briskly
made his way toward the front of the plane.

“Yes?”
I asked.

“We
are ready to leave now if you are.” I could tell from his eyes that he was restraining
an annoyed tone. Not that I could blame him. Flying all the way to Las Vegas on
a Sunday morning wasn’t exactly protocol for my father’s hired men.

“A
few more minutes, please. Unfortunately, I need to wait for my business
partner. My father won’t be happy if I leave without him.”

The pudgy
pilot clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “Of course, Ms. Hart. We’ll wait
for your signal.” The pilot abruptly turned on his heel and left me, and I
continued to stand there.
Maybe I should enjoy these last moments of silence
before he shows up.
It would probably be the last alone time I would have
for months, though the idea was slowly growing on me. I almost looked forward
to the next few weeks, though I’d never admit it out loud.
You’re supposed
to hate this guy, remember?

Finally,
a sleek white limo pulled up on the stretch. Pierce got out of the car and
gracefully walked toward me. As he strolled over to me, he adjusted his pastel
green tie, which complemented his khaki linen suit beautifully.

I
glanced down at my skinny jeans and casual leather jacket and immediately felt uncomfortable.
Who
dresses up to spend five hours in an airplane?
Apparently,
this rich kid did, and I’d be damned if he didn’t look better than a topless
Brad Pitt. I could practically feel my mouth begin to water. Trying to recall
all the things of which I wasn’t particularly fond about him, my mind was an
empty slate—my only thought was discovering what was underneath his fancy
three-piece suit.

Pierce
grinned when his eyes locked with mine. He was about to say something to me
when a little girl crawled out of the limo. “Pier, Pier!” she yelled, running toward
him. “Wait, Pier, I forgot to give this to you!”

He
reached down and picked her up. “What’s up, Nats? What’d you forget?”

Surely
that’s not his . . .
I shook my head. Pierce was too young to
have a little girl her age. She had to be a least six, maybe seven.

“The
lucky bracelet I made you in school. It’ll keep you safe when you go up in the
sky.” She pulled a simple beaded bracelet out of the pocket of her yellow dress.
She clasped the bracelet over his hand and smiled. “See? It’s purple because
that’s my favorite color.”

“Well
thank you, Nats,” he said as though she had just given him a million dollars.
He kissed the top of her little head. “I’m so glad you remembered. We
definitely want to be safe when we’re flying!”

“There,
now you and the lady won’t get hurt while you’re high in the sky.”

He
turned to me. “Ms. Hart, this is my little sister, Natalie. Natalie, this is
Ms. Hart.”

“Hello,”
she said. “You’re pretty. Pier said you were pretty.”

I smiled
and forced myself not blush.
Did he really think I was pretty?
“Hello
there, Natalie. That’s awfully nice of you to think of your brother’s safety and
—”

“Natalie,
come here,” a woman’s voice from the limo hollered. “Your brother needs to
leave.” A young, elegant woman slowly got out of the limo. She looked to be the
same age as me, perhaps a little older. Her blonde hair was pinned in a chic bun,
and her white fur coat was bunched up around her face. The clicking of her
heels on the asphalt resonated throughout the hangar.

Immediately,
my skin began to crawl. The elation Natalie’s sweet confession had just created
within me quickly faded like the warm glow of the setting sun.
This
woman reminded me of Cruella De Vil. Her regal face and superior air seemed
familiar, but I couldn’t place it. She wasn’t the blonde woman Pierce had at
the restaurant the other night. This woman was even more stunning, much to my
annoyance.
What’s with all the blondes in his life?

She
dramatically took the cat-eye sunglasses off her face and sighed in an annoyed,
dramatic way. “Put her down, Pierce. She can stand on her own.”

Pierce
carefully put his sister on the ground. “Ms. Hart, this is my stepmother,
Sophie.”

I held
out my hand to her. “It is nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Maverick.”

She
looked down her tiny nose at my hand as though deciding if I was worthy to
shake the hand of her royal highness. Eventually she took it briefly with the
tips of her cold fingers. I had an urge to sneer at her but pushed it down.
So
there is someone who annoys me more than Pierce, after all.

She
turned to Pierce and put her hand lightly on his shoulder. Her fresh French
manicure shined under the hangar’s florescent lights. “Have a safe trip,
darling. Do call when you arrive so that your father and I can know that you’ve
arrived safely.” The same hand moved to cup his cheek for a moment before she finally
let go. Her dark brown eyes narrowed in on me as if to say “Sorry, he’s mine,”
before she walked back to the limo, her daughter’s hand in hers.

I
forced myself not to shudder. There wasn’t anything remotely motherly in her
lingering touch. Her desire for Pierce was as obvious as the cleavage gaping
from under her silk, low-cut dress. Apparently, she and little Natalie weren’t
on their way to church.

“Bye,
Pier!” Natalie shouted when she arrived at the limo door. “Have fun in Nay-gas!”

Pierce
waved to Natalie. “For some reason,
Vegas
is a difficult word for her to
say,” he whispered to me. He blew her a kiss and turned toward me. “Are you
ready to go?”

A
short nod was all I could manage. A vortex of nerves suddenly bubbled within my
stomach like I was about to go on stage. He was beyond good-looking and he
cared about kids? Maybe he wasn’t such a prick, after all.
For Christ’s
sake, Lauren, calm down. It’s not like you’re going to fuck this guy in Vegas.

We
boarded the jet. He sat down at the small table in the back and gestured for me
to sit across from him. His long, spidery fingers reached into his briefcase
and shuffled around some papers.

My iPhone
suddenly lit up. It was a text from Kat, essentially the only person I
communicated with besides dear ol’ protective Mom.

Thinking
of you today, love. Hope your flight goes well. Don’t let Mr. Hoity Toity get
in your way, okay? Kick ass and take names while you’re in Vegas like you
always do. I’ll see you in a week!

I
smiled. If only she were a man, she’d be the perfect lover. She always knew
what to say, and I happened to know from one drunken night in London that she
was a sensational kisser—warm, tender, and the perfect amount of tongue. Feeling
a little guilty that I hadn’t revealed my real feelings about Pierce (lust,
party of one) to her, I turned off my phone and silently swore to myself that
there was nothing to tell.

“You’re
smiling,” Pierce said.

I
folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in the gray, plush seat. “Is
that against the Mavericks’ rules or something?” I asked teasingly.

He
chuckled. “Not that I’m aware of. I just haven’t seen you grin very much since
I met you. You have a beautiful smile.”

I
stared out the window, feeling as uncomfortable as if this were a first date.
“Well, thanks.”

“So
who was it?” he prompted.

I
raised my eyebrow. “Who . . . was what?”

“On
your phone that made you smile like that,” he pointed at my face as if I had
already forgotten. “Boyfriend, I suppose?”

Were
we already getting personal?
“Men typically don’t elicit
that kind of response from me,” I murmured. As soon as the words left my lips,
I wished I could snatch them from the air. Why in the world had I said that? It
was hardly a topic I liked to discuss with anyone, let alone a perfect stranger
whom I was trying terribly hard not to picture naked. He didn’t deserve or want
to hear my sob fest.

Pierce
cocked his head. His beautiful golden curls fell playfully to the side. “Well,
I’m very sorry to hear that, Ms. Hart.”

I
could tell he wasn’t sure what else to say. And could I blame him?
Damn it.
The
last thing I wanted was to look weak, but now, Pierce felt sorry for me. Even
worse.
I ran my hand through my thick ponytail and pretended like
nothing had happened. “Well, you know how all you men can be . . .”

As
if on cue, a frumpy attendant approached our small table with a tray in hand
before Pierce had the chance to respond. “Would you like something to drink
before we take off?” she asked politely.