Everything's Better With You, page 11
I eased myself in a chair next to my husband who was tucking into a lobster frittata. He'd thoughtfully loaded my plate with Nutella Flapjacks and bacon. I thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his thigh. He turned to look at me.
“I bagel you so much, Dimple.” I grinned at him.
“Right back at you, Arby.”
Author’s Note
Everything’s Better With You was inspired by two songs; Falling in Love in a Coffee Shop by Landon Pigg and I Like Me Better by Lauv (hence the title).
I like to put two random souls together and ask them to tell me their stories. Thank you, Nate & Abby. What emerged was the exploration of the idea that even though our environments and upbringings shape the people we are, we always have the power at any moment to make the choice to be better.
The locations are based loosely on real places in NYC except NORMA’S which is a real live restaurant located in The Parker Meriden Hotel in NYC. It’s the home of the famous $1000 lobster frittata (Nate’s favorite, he can afford it), but they also have delicious Nutella pancakes that are a little more budget friendly.
I wanted to say a special thank you to my amazing beta readers for taking the time to give me their very honest critiques and helping me look at my stories in a new way.
Thank you to my ARC team for giving their time and energy to read my work and help spread the word.
Thank you so much, dear reader, for reading Everything’s Better With You!
I hope you liked it. If you don’t mind please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads or wherever you share your good news!
XOXO,
July, 2018
Kimberly
one
Okay, Kimberly, breathe. You got this. It’s only an airplane. Airplanes fly hundreds of times a day all day long. It’s the safest way to travel.
I tried to keep calm and focus on the pep talk my brother, Cole gave me when he dropped me off at the airport.
“You got this, Stringbean. You’ve flown dozens of times. Only this time you’ll be alone, which means you won’t have to fight me for the armrest or sit in RJ’s lethal gas clouds.” RJ was our younger brother. I managed a small smile but it did little to calm my mounting terror.
“Ma’am?” I jumped a mile when the flight attendant tapped me on the shoulder. “Are you all right?”
No, I am not all right. I’m terrified. I can’t breathe, my heart is going to explode and I’m pretty sure we are all going to die in this metal box being hurled into the air by science that I don’t understand.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I gave her a tight smile that felt more like a grimace. “Thank you for asking.” She didn’t seem convinced. “It’s just that I don’t fly very often and I’m a little nervous,” I stammered, and I could feel tears stinging my eyes.
Damn it. She’s going to think I’m a lunatic and throw me off the plane.
She gave me a pitying smile that I tried to return but it felt another grimace. I should stop trying to smile.
“I think I might be able to help you. Follow me.” She moved toward the front of the cabin and I was sure she going to lead me off the plane. I started to mentally calculate the best way to get to Barbados without flying.
I could drive to the tip of Florida and what? Would I charter a boat or swim?
Those ideas were crazy. Then I started thinking about how I would explain to my boss that I got kicked off of a plane on my way to work on my first international project, an assignment which I practically begged for. I struggled to keep my breath even when the flight attendant stopped and turned to face me.
“Here you are!” she called brightly. “We had an extra first class seat. It’s a little more comfortable and spacious. It also comes with unlimited champagne. I’ll bring you a glass.”
“Thank you,” I managed to eke out in a grateful whisper and sat down. I took a deep breath, then another and felt my heart rate slowly return to a normal pace.
“Nervous flyer?” a deep voice asked from the seat next to me.
“Yeah,” I mumbled while fumbling with my seat belt. Once the seat belt was secure, I looked up and my breath caught in my throat.
Sitting in the other seat in my row was an impossibly gorgeous man.
He was broad shouldered and muscular with blonde hair and hazel eyes. Even though he was seated I could tell he was tall. The warm smile he gave me revealed two rows of perfect teeth. I was momentarily hypnotized. He chuckled at my expression. This man was probably used to having women react that way to his perfectly formed face with just the right amount of facial hair. I imagined myself running my fingers through the scruff on his cheek and chin before pressing my lips to —
“Your champagne, ma’am,” the flight attendant interrupted my thoughts curtly and I wondered if she was annoyed because she was waiting for me to collect my drink or because I was staring at my seat mate. It was probably both.
“Thank you.” I gave her my sweetest smile, took the glass from her hands and placed it on my tray table. Rolling my eyes, I dropped the smile as soon as her back was turned and sank back into my seat continuing to try to regulate my breath.
“Aren’t you going drink that?” the handsome man next to me inquired.
“It doesn’t always help,” I said quietly. “Sometimes, it makes it worse.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that out loud. I didn’t owe him an explanation but he seemed so genuinely concerned.
“How long have you been having panic attacks?” he asked matching my quiet tone.
Shocked, I turned to look at him. How did he know?
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I used to see them all the time at school. I studied architecture at Pratt and it was pretty intense. One of my friends used to—”
Wait. Did he say he studied architecture at Pratt? He’s also drop dead gorgeous and on the same flight to Barbados? What were the odds?
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but are you Adam Price?” It was his turn to be shocked and he smiled again.
“I am. How did you know that?”
The Man-Whore. I was sitting next to the Man-Whore.
“Just a guess.” I shrugged.
“Well, I assume from your sudden change of expression, my reputation precedes me.”
My poker face needed some serious work. I tried to plaster on a professional smile. “You studied architecture at The Pratt Institute for both undergrad and grad school. You’ve worked on an impressive number of international projects before becoming the youngest senior architect at Will and Peking Design. Now, you’re on your way to Barbados to pitch WP for a hospitality project for Wolfe Industries.”
“That’s pretty impressive and spot on.” He nodded appreciatively. “Who are you?”
“Thanks,” I said with a nod, feeling like I’d dodged a very uncomfortable bullet. “I’m Kimberly Simmons. I work for Wolfe. I’ll be working with you on the pitch.”
I extended my hand to shake and he accepted, engulfing my dark slender hand in his huge pale one. It briefly reminded me of a Gap ad. My heart started to race again, but in a good way. This conversation had succeeded in drawing my attention elsewhere and I started to feel like myself again. I tried to withdraw my hand from his grasp and noticed he hadn’t relinquished his grip, not that I minded. I’d make sure not to let him know that.
“And that’s all you’ve heard about me?” His voice became a low, sexy growl.
I sighed and steeled myself. I was prepared for this, though I didn’t think I was his type. Maybe Man-Whores didn’t have a type.
“No.” I smiled innocently, pulled my hand back and placed it in my lap. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Hmm.” He smirked, but seemed thoroughly unconvinced.
We sat in awkward silence through the inflight announcements. I organized my laptop, headphones and tablet; all the things I brought to help me get through the flight. I closed my hand around the little plastic prescription bottle— that I hoped I wouldn’t need— in the inner pocket of my tote, just in case. I glanced over at Adam and he was sketching on a large tablet with a stylus. It was a large rustic house with wood and stone exteriors. It was an odd combination of a log cabin, a ski chalet and a mansion, but it worked together beautifully. He caught me looking and smiled.
“You know,” he said, “most people would consider it rude to read over someone’s shoulder.” I looked away, immediately embarrassed for having gotten caught snooping.
“It’s my dream house. I plan on building it myself in Upstate, New York.” He held the large tablet out for me to see. I shot him a wary glance before looking down. It was breathtaking. He scrolled through the plans, explaining all the details and he sounded like a kid describing his favorite new toy.
“—an open floor plan, of course. These large kitchen windows would face east so when I’m having breakfast in the morning I can watch the sunrise and the windows in the dining area,” he scrolled to the next rendering, “would face the west for sunsets—” I’ve never heard someone so excited about natural sunlight. It was very endearing.
No, Kimberly. You will not find the Man-Whore endearing.
“It’s very nice.” I said, giving him a small smile. Then I tried to focus on something else, anything else but his forearm on my armrest, the way his eyes lit up when he described the atrium he was planning for the center of his house or the small playground in the backyard. I put in my earbuds and Sade began singing to me about a quiet storm. I closed my eyes and drew in deep calming breaths. Then the plane started to taxi down the runway.
I forced my breaths to become longer and slower as I tried to recreate the breathing exercises Dr. Marquez recommended, but it did nothing to slow my heart rate. My heart was throwing itself against my chest as if it were trying to break through my ribcage. My body pressed into the seat back as the plane ascended, but instead of just feeling an incline I felt like I was tumbling head over heels like Alice down the rabbit hole. I wanted to scream and I must have made some sound of distress because my hand was suddenly encased in warmth.
“Hey!” It was Adam’s voice.
I didn’t feel him remove my earbuds. Sade wasn’t singing anymore and it sounded like he was calling to me from the end of a tunnel. The more he said my name, the louder and more clear his voice became.
“Hey, Kimberly. Look at me. Look. At. Me.”
I forced my eyes open and turned to face him. His handsome face was calm but his eyes were full of concern.
“You’re going to be fine.”
That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t dying.
“Just breathe.”
I was trying to breathe.
“In through your nose.”
I focused on his words and drew in a deep breath through my nostrils and held it.
“Out through your mouth.” I did as he said.
“Again,” he ordered, and breathed with me.
After five breaths, I started to feel a little better, but I was still spinning. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flight attendant approaching, her face full of concern. My heart started pounding again. Adam held up his hand and she backed away.
“Look at me. Stay with me.”
He clasped my hand with both of his. I hoped he would never let go. I felt like his hands were the only things keeping me tethered to reality. If he let go, I would float away.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“What?” I managed to say but it sounded like a croak.
“Tell me what you see. Name five things that you see right now.”
“I don’t underst—”
“Just do it.”
“I see, um, I see…a headrest.” I forced myself to look at him again. He smiled and nodded to encourage me.
“That’s one.”
“Your tablet.”
“That’s two.”
“Your eyes.” Damn it. Did I actually say that?
“That’s three.” Then he grinned. “Are you flirting with me in the middle of a panic attack?”
“No, I’m not, I…” I stammered.
“Hey, I’m into it.”
His golden brown eyes glittered with mirth. I laughed with him, more out of relief than anything else. I was starting to feel okay again. Every breath felt like a gift. I was no longer spinning. I took a few sips of water. I sat in silence for a long time embracing the calm.
Adam held my right hand with his left, pulled out his tablet and read a book, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t fuss over me. He didn’t ask me if I was okay a million times. He didn’t embarrass me. He just knew that I was all right and let me be, but still held my hand. It was the kindest thing anyone —who wasn’t a relative— had ever done for me and I was feeling guilty for judging him so harshly.
He will charm the panties right off of you. Be careful.
Was I being charmed? Was Adam Price taking advantage of a vulnerable woman? I was so grateful for him in that moment and I didn’t want to believe that a person who could be so sweet and attentive to a total stranger could be so manipulative. I also didn’t believe he would behave the same way if I were a man who’d just had a panic attack.
Adam Price wouldn’t be the first to try to get into my pants; if that what he was trying to do. I had to think about my career and I’d received very clear warnings about him. If I ignored them and ruined this opportunity, I’d only have myself to blame.
But it wouldn’t hurt to hold his hand for a little while longer.
A little longer turned out to be the entire flight with breaks for eating, a trip to the bathroom —one for him, one for me—and a couple of crossword puzzles. I also managed to nap for a couple of hours. He was holding my hand when I fell asleep and was still holding it when I woke up.
I felt a little guilty allowing myself to enjoy this hand holding for so long— a little less guilty when I got some major side eye from the flight attendant— but he had such a calming effect on me. Still, I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.
The landing was far less traumatic than the take off and I couldn’t be sure but I think Adam was purposely trying to keep my focus on him.
“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who clap when the plane lands,” he said with the corners of his mouth curling. He caressed the back of my hand with his thumb. It was sending waves of heat throughout my body. I felt my cheeks flush, my chest tighten and a tingling between my thighs.
“What’s the problem with giving the pilot a little appreciation for not killing us?” I tried to push every unprofessional thought about Adam Price out of my head.
The plane bumped to a relatively smooth landing. My hand tightened around Adam’s as the plane taxied around the runway and came to a stop at the terminal. A burst of applause and cheers erupted from the rear of the plane. We turned to each other and cracked up. Our laughter died down and our gazes lingered for a moment too long.
Damn it.
“Thank you for coaching me through that panic attack,” I said, then disembarked as quickly and politely as possible. I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast in my life. My carry-on suitcase bumped and bounced behind me as I made my way down the air-stairs and hustled across the tarmac, trying to put as much distance as I could between myself and Adam Price until I had to see him again at the meeting.
There were only three people ahead of me in the customs line and I couldn’t be more grateful. The customs officer was incredibly efficient and within minutes I was making a beeline for the taxi stand.
I approached the curb and looked around for a taxi realizing I wasn’t quite sure how car services worked in Barbados.
“Do you need a ride?” Adam’s voice called from behind me and I swear, I could hear him smiling.
How the hell did he get through customs so fast?
“No, thank you.” I replied without turning around. “I can manage.”
“If I didn’t know any better,” He put his hand on my shoulder. His touch made me shiver in eighty-degree weather, “I would think you were trying to avoid me.” I turned to face him. He was smirking at me again, an expression I was beginning to find incredibly sexy.
No, Kimberly. You must not find the Man-Whore sexy.
“I’m not trying to avoid you.” I dropped my bags and put my hands on my hips. “I just think it would be in our best interests if we kept things professional from now on.”
His smile widened, threatening to give me another glimpse of his perfect white teeth. “Do you mind if I wait to make sure you get into a car?” He put his hands up in a defenseless posture. “…strictly as a professional courtesy.”
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary, Mr. Price.”
Adam clutched his heart and staggered backwards causing my resolve to crack and eliciting a chuckle. His spot on fake heart attack made me wonder if he’d also grown up watching Sanford and Son reruns. “Mr. Price? Seriously?” he cried in feigned indignation. “Ugh. I thought I meant more to you than that.”
“Could you stop that?” I hissed through clenched teeth while fighting the beginning of a smile. A few heads turned in our direction. “You’re making a scene.”
“Let me give you a ride to your hotel,” Adam asked again, dropping his voice to a normal volume.
I shook my head and dug my fists into my hips. “I already told you, I’ll be fine.”
“After all we’ve been through! How could —” He threw his head back and flung his arms wide, clearly winding up for another histrionic display.
“Okay, okay!” I grabbed his arms and pulled them down. His biceps were firm against my palms. “You can drop me off at my hotel. Will you stop now?”
“If you insist, but please try to keep your hands to yourself. We are professionals after all.” His eyes flicked downward to where my hands still gripped his biceps then back to mine. I pulled my hands away quickly, feeling my cheeks flush again.
Adam grabbed my rolling carry-on and walked toward a black SUV with tinted windows. He opened the door and held out his hand for me to use to climb inside. After a moment, he climbed in beside me. I half expected him to reach for my hand. I couldn’t tell if I was more relieved or disappointed when he didn’t.
“I bagel you so much, Dimple.” I grinned at him.
“Right back at you, Arby.”
Author’s Note
Everything’s Better With You was inspired by two songs; Falling in Love in a Coffee Shop by Landon Pigg and I Like Me Better by Lauv (hence the title).
I like to put two random souls together and ask them to tell me their stories. Thank you, Nate & Abby. What emerged was the exploration of the idea that even though our environments and upbringings shape the people we are, we always have the power at any moment to make the choice to be better.
The locations are based loosely on real places in NYC except NORMA’S which is a real live restaurant located in The Parker Meriden Hotel in NYC. It’s the home of the famous $1000 lobster frittata (Nate’s favorite, he can afford it), but they also have delicious Nutella pancakes that are a little more budget friendly.
I wanted to say a special thank you to my amazing beta readers for taking the time to give me their very honest critiques and helping me look at my stories in a new way.
Thank you to my ARC team for giving their time and energy to read my work and help spread the word.
Thank you so much, dear reader, for reading Everything’s Better With You!
I hope you liked it. If you don’t mind please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads or wherever you share your good news!
XOXO,
July, 2018
Kimberly
one
Okay, Kimberly, breathe. You got this. It’s only an airplane. Airplanes fly hundreds of times a day all day long. It’s the safest way to travel.
I tried to keep calm and focus on the pep talk my brother, Cole gave me when he dropped me off at the airport.
“You got this, Stringbean. You’ve flown dozens of times. Only this time you’ll be alone, which means you won’t have to fight me for the armrest or sit in RJ’s lethal gas clouds.” RJ was our younger brother. I managed a small smile but it did little to calm my mounting terror.
“Ma’am?” I jumped a mile when the flight attendant tapped me on the shoulder. “Are you all right?”
No, I am not all right. I’m terrified. I can’t breathe, my heart is going to explode and I’m pretty sure we are all going to die in this metal box being hurled into the air by science that I don’t understand.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I gave her a tight smile that felt more like a grimace. “Thank you for asking.” She didn’t seem convinced. “It’s just that I don’t fly very often and I’m a little nervous,” I stammered, and I could feel tears stinging my eyes.
Damn it. She’s going to think I’m a lunatic and throw me off the plane.
She gave me a pitying smile that I tried to return but it felt another grimace. I should stop trying to smile.
“I think I might be able to help you. Follow me.” She moved toward the front of the cabin and I was sure she going to lead me off the plane. I started to mentally calculate the best way to get to Barbados without flying.
I could drive to the tip of Florida and what? Would I charter a boat or swim?
Those ideas were crazy. Then I started thinking about how I would explain to my boss that I got kicked off of a plane on my way to work on my first international project, an assignment which I practically begged for. I struggled to keep my breath even when the flight attendant stopped and turned to face me.
“Here you are!” she called brightly. “We had an extra first class seat. It’s a little more comfortable and spacious. It also comes with unlimited champagne. I’ll bring you a glass.”
“Thank you,” I managed to eke out in a grateful whisper and sat down. I took a deep breath, then another and felt my heart rate slowly return to a normal pace.
“Nervous flyer?” a deep voice asked from the seat next to me.
“Yeah,” I mumbled while fumbling with my seat belt. Once the seat belt was secure, I looked up and my breath caught in my throat.
Sitting in the other seat in my row was an impossibly gorgeous man.
He was broad shouldered and muscular with blonde hair and hazel eyes. Even though he was seated I could tell he was tall. The warm smile he gave me revealed two rows of perfect teeth. I was momentarily hypnotized. He chuckled at my expression. This man was probably used to having women react that way to his perfectly formed face with just the right amount of facial hair. I imagined myself running my fingers through the scruff on his cheek and chin before pressing my lips to —
“Your champagne, ma’am,” the flight attendant interrupted my thoughts curtly and I wondered if she was annoyed because she was waiting for me to collect my drink or because I was staring at my seat mate. It was probably both.
“Thank you.” I gave her my sweetest smile, took the glass from her hands and placed it on my tray table. Rolling my eyes, I dropped the smile as soon as her back was turned and sank back into my seat continuing to try to regulate my breath.
“Aren’t you going drink that?” the handsome man next to me inquired.
“It doesn’t always help,” I said quietly. “Sometimes, it makes it worse.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that out loud. I didn’t owe him an explanation but he seemed so genuinely concerned.
“How long have you been having panic attacks?” he asked matching my quiet tone.
Shocked, I turned to look at him. How did he know?
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I used to see them all the time at school. I studied architecture at Pratt and it was pretty intense. One of my friends used to—”
Wait. Did he say he studied architecture at Pratt? He’s also drop dead gorgeous and on the same flight to Barbados? What were the odds?
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but are you Adam Price?” It was his turn to be shocked and he smiled again.
“I am. How did you know that?”
The Man-Whore. I was sitting next to the Man-Whore.
“Just a guess.” I shrugged.
“Well, I assume from your sudden change of expression, my reputation precedes me.”
My poker face needed some serious work. I tried to plaster on a professional smile. “You studied architecture at The Pratt Institute for both undergrad and grad school. You’ve worked on an impressive number of international projects before becoming the youngest senior architect at Will and Peking Design. Now, you’re on your way to Barbados to pitch WP for a hospitality project for Wolfe Industries.”
“That’s pretty impressive and spot on.” He nodded appreciatively. “Who are you?”
“Thanks,” I said with a nod, feeling like I’d dodged a very uncomfortable bullet. “I’m Kimberly Simmons. I work for Wolfe. I’ll be working with you on the pitch.”
I extended my hand to shake and he accepted, engulfing my dark slender hand in his huge pale one. It briefly reminded me of a Gap ad. My heart started to race again, but in a good way. This conversation had succeeded in drawing my attention elsewhere and I started to feel like myself again. I tried to withdraw my hand from his grasp and noticed he hadn’t relinquished his grip, not that I minded. I’d make sure not to let him know that.
“And that’s all you’ve heard about me?” His voice became a low, sexy growl.
I sighed and steeled myself. I was prepared for this, though I didn’t think I was his type. Maybe Man-Whores didn’t have a type.
“No.” I smiled innocently, pulled my hand back and placed it in my lap. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Hmm.” He smirked, but seemed thoroughly unconvinced.
We sat in awkward silence through the inflight announcements. I organized my laptop, headphones and tablet; all the things I brought to help me get through the flight. I closed my hand around the little plastic prescription bottle— that I hoped I wouldn’t need— in the inner pocket of my tote, just in case. I glanced over at Adam and he was sketching on a large tablet with a stylus. It was a large rustic house with wood and stone exteriors. It was an odd combination of a log cabin, a ski chalet and a mansion, but it worked together beautifully. He caught me looking and smiled.
“You know,” he said, “most people would consider it rude to read over someone’s shoulder.” I looked away, immediately embarrassed for having gotten caught snooping.
“It’s my dream house. I plan on building it myself in Upstate, New York.” He held the large tablet out for me to see. I shot him a wary glance before looking down. It was breathtaking. He scrolled through the plans, explaining all the details and he sounded like a kid describing his favorite new toy.
“—an open floor plan, of course. These large kitchen windows would face east so when I’m having breakfast in the morning I can watch the sunrise and the windows in the dining area,” he scrolled to the next rendering, “would face the west for sunsets—” I’ve never heard someone so excited about natural sunlight. It was very endearing.
No, Kimberly. You will not find the Man-Whore endearing.
“It’s very nice.” I said, giving him a small smile. Then I tried to focus on something else, anything else but his forearm on my armrest, the way his eyes lit up when he described the atrium he was planning for the center of his house or the small playground in the backyard. I put in my earbuds and Sade began singing to me about a quiet storm. I closed my eyes and drew in deep calming breaths. Then the plane started to taxi down the runway.
I forced my breaths to become longer and slower as I tried to recreate the breathing exercises Dr. Marquez recommended, but it did nothing to slow my heart rate. My heart was throwing itself against my chest as if it were trying to break through my ribcage. My body pressed into the seat back as the plane ascended, but instead of just feeling an incline I felt like I was tumbling head over heels like Alice down the rabbit hole. I wanted to scream and I must have made some sound of distress because my hand was suddenly encased in warmth.
“Hey!” It was Adam’s voice.
I didn’t feel him remove my earbuds. Sade wasn’t singing anymore and it sounded like he was calling to me from the end of a tunnel. The more he said my name, the louder and more clear his voice became.
“Hey, Kimberly. Look at me. Look. At. Me.”
I forced my eyes open and turned to face him. His handsome face was calm but his eyes were full of concern.
“You’re going to be fine.”
That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t dying.
“Just breathe.”
I was trying to breathe.
“In through your nose.”
I focused on his words and drew in a deep breath through my nostrils and held it.
“Out through your mouth.” I did as he said.
“Again,” he ordered, and breathed with me.
After five breaths, I started to feel a little better, but I was still spinning. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flight attendant approaching, her face full of concern. My heart started pounding again. Adam held up his hand and she backed away.
“Look at me. Stay with me.”
He clasped my hand with both of his. I hoped he would never let go. I felt like his hands were the only things keeping me tethered to reality. If he let go, I would float away.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“What?” I managed to say but it sounded like a croak.
“Tell me what you see. Name five things that you see right now.”
“I don’t underst—”
“Just do it.”
“I see, um, I see…a headrest.” I forced myself to look at him again. He smiled and nodded to encourage me.
“That’s one.”
“Your tablet.”
“That’s two.”
“Your eyes.” Damn it. Did I actually say that?
“That’s three.” Then he grinned. “Are you flirting with me in the middle of a panic attack?”
“No, I’m not, I…” I stammered.
“Hey, I’m into it.”
His golden brown eyes glittered with mirth. I laughed with him, more out of relief than anything else. I was starting to feel okay again. Every breath felt like a gift. I was no longer spinning. I took a few sips of water. I sat in silence for a long time embracing the calm.
Adam held my right hand with his left, pulled out his tablet and read a book, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t fuss over me. He didn’t ask me if I was okay a million times. He didn’t embarrass me. He just knew that I was all right and let me be, but still held my hand. It was the kindest thing anyone —who wasn’t a relative— had ever done for me and I was feeling guilty for judging him so harshly.
He will charm the panties right off of you. Be careful.
Was I being charmed? Was Adam Price taking advantage of a vulnerable woman? I was so grateful for him in that moment and I didn’t want to believe that a person who could be so sweet and attentive to a total stranger could be so manipulative. I also didn’t believe he would behave the same way if I were a man who’d just had a panic attack.
Adam Price wouldn’t be the first to try to get into my pants; if that what he was trying to do. I had to think about my career and I’d received very clear warnings about him. If I ignored them and ruined this opportunity, I’d only have myself to blame.
But it wouldn’t hurt to hold his hand for a little while longer.
A little longer turned out to be the entire flight with breaks for eating, a trip to the bathroom —one for him, one for me—and a couple of crossword puzzles. I also managed to nap for a couple of hours. He was holding my hand when I fell asleep and was still holding it when I woke up.
I felt a little guilty allowing myself to enjoy this hand holding for so long— a little less guilty when I got some major side eye from the flight attendant— but he had such a calming effect on me. Still, I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.
The landing was far less traumatic than the take off and I couldn’t be sure but I think Adam was purposely trying to keep my focus on him.
“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who clap when the plane lands,” he said with the corners of his mouth curling. He caressed the back of my hand with his thumb. It was sending waves of heat throughout my body. I felt my cheeks flush, my chest tighten and a tingling between my thighs.
“What’s the problem with giving the pilot a little appreciation for not killing us?” I tried to push every unprofessional thought about Adam Price out of my head.
The plane bumped to a relatively smooth landing. My hand tightened around Adam’s as the plane taxied around the runway and came to a stop at the terminal. A burst of applause and cheers erupted from the rear of the plane. We turned to each other and cracked up. Our laughter died down and our gazes lingered for a moment too long.
Damn it.
“Thank you for coaching me through that panic attack,” I said, then disembarked as quickly and politely as possible. I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast in my life. My carry-on suitcase bumped and bounced behind me as I made my way down the air-stairs and hustled across the tarmac, trying to put as much distance as I could between myself and Adam Price until I had to see him again at the meeting.
There were only three people ahead of me in the customs line and I couldn’t be more grateful. The customs officer was incredibly efficient and within minutes I was making a beeline for the taxi stand.
I approached the curb and looked around for a taxi realizing I wasn’t quite sure how car services worked in Barbados.
“Do you need a ride?” Adam’s voice called from behind me and I swear, I could hear him smiling.
How the hell did he get through customs so fast?
“No, thank you.” I replied without turning around. “I can manage.”
“If I didn’t know any better,” He put his hand on my shoulder. His touch made me shiver in eighty-degree weather, “I would think you were trying to avoid me.” I turned to face him. He was smirking at me again, an expression I was beginning to find incredibly sexy.
No, Kimberly. You must not find the Man-Whore sexy.
“I’m not trying to avoid you.” I dropped my bags and put my hands on my hips. “I just think it would be in our best interests if we kept things professional from now on.”
His smile widened, threatening to give me another glimpse of his perfect white teeth. “Do you mind if I wait to make sure you get into a car?” He put his hands up in a defenseless posture. “…strictly as a professional courtesy.”
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary, Mr. Price.”
Adam clutched his heart and staggered backwards causing my resolve to crack and eliciting a chuckle. His spot on fake heart attack made me wonder if he’d also grown up watching Sanford and Son reruns. “Mr. Price? Seriously?” he cried in feigned indignation. “Ugh. I thought I meant more to you than that.”
“Could you stop that?” I hissed through clenched teeth while fighting the beginning of a smile. A few heads turned in our direction. “You’re making a scene.”
“Let me give you a ride to your hotel,” Adam asked again, dropping his voice to a normal volume.
I shook my head and dug my fists into my hips. “I already told you, I’ll be fine.”
“After all we’ve been through! How could —” He threw his head back and flung his arms wide, clearly winding up for another histrionic display.
“Okay, okay!” I grabbed his arms and pulled them down. His biceps were firm against my palms. “You can drop me off at my hotel. Will you stop now?”
“If you insist, but please try to keep your hands to yourself. We are professionals after all.” His eyes flicked downward to where my hands still gripped his biceps then back to mine. I pulled my hands away quickly, feeling my cheeks flush again.
Adam grabbed my rolling carry-on and walked toward a black SUV with tinted windows. He opened the door and held out his hand for me to use to climb inside. After a moment, he climbed in beside me. I half expected him to reach for my hand. I couldn’t tell if I was more relieved or disappointed when he didn’t.
