"Nope," I say. "I didn't win the date. Liam and I are old friends. We've known each other for years."
"Ohhhhh," says the brunette, as if a light bulb went off. "That makes more sense. I mean, yeah. You and him?" She laughs, and the redhead joins her. "As if, right?"
The redhead finally finishes up with her wad of tissue paper and hands me my bags. "Well, if you ever see him again, tell him he's always welcome to shop here. We'll give him a special discount."
I wonder if slapping a smug store clerk would get me another entry on Liam's naughty list. If he'd witnessed this little exchange, I'm sure he'd cheer me on. I push down a flash of anger and fix them both with my fiercest glare. Within a second, their smiles drop.
"Actually," I say. "I'm going on a four-week vacation with Liam tomorrow." I hold up my left hand and waggle my massive diamond ring. "And this chunk of ice is what he gave me the day he asked me to marry him. Pretty freaking awesome, right?"
The brunette blinks for a few seconds before stuttering, "No. No way."
The redhead doesn't even bother trying to speak. She just gapes.
"Yes way, Chastity." I give her a smile. "So, Merry Christmas to me." I stride toward the door, but just before I reach it, I turn back to them. "Oh, and to answer your question, yes, he's an amazing kisser. Better still, he fucks like a god." They both gasp. "Goodnight, ladies, and thanks for your help. Enjoy that commission, won’t you?"
With that, I pull the door open and step out into the freezing weather. Unfortunately, my triumphant exit is marred when I slip on a patch of ice on the sidewalk and fall heavily onto my ass.
Dammit.
Like a true badass, I climb to my feet and proceed to strut down the sidewalk like I'm a six-foot-tall supermodel with three percent body fat, rather than a five-foot-three stage manager with a cheese addiction.
Looks like I was wrong about pretty underwear. It can make you feel powerful after all.
FOUR
I'm Telling You Why
December 1st
The Apartment of Liam Quinn
New York City, New York
"Lissa, would you stop pacing? You're giving me motion sickness, which is ironic since I'm not the one going on a trip."
I flop down on the couch next to Josh and sigh. "I'm sorry. I've never taken a trip where I haven't planned out every detail. I'm nervous. "
"You're hiding it well. I couldn't tell by the way you circled the apartment fifteen times while you rearranged your luggage, or by the twenty times you checked your passport." He pushes his glasses up his nose. "I know it's not midday yet, but maybe you should have some wine. Or a Valium." Josh taps something into his tablet and squints at the screen. "Goddamn sonuvabitch."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Sure, you always swear at technology and glare like you want to murder it. Spill, please."
He leans back and tilts the screen so I can see. It shows an entertainment website featuring a dozen photos of Angel in Australia, apparently sharing an intimate night out with her leading man. They're laughing and hugging, and in one, it looks like they're about to kiss. The headline reads, "Hollywood's Sweetheart Finds Love Down Under with New Prince Charming."
"Josh—"
"I know you're going to tell me it's not what it seems, and they're just working together, but fuck, Lissa. I can't stand seeing her with him. I really can't." He slams the tablet onto the coffee table and strides into the kitchen.
"Why so jealous? You weren't like this when she was pretending to be in love with Liam."
"That was different." He opens the fridge and grabs a beer. "Back then, I didn't think I had a chance with her, so I had nothing to lose. Now, I have everything to lose, and it freaking terrifies me." He rips the cap off the beer and takes a long swig. "Watching her lust after that guy on set every day ... seeing her kiss him and have sex with him—"
"Pretend to lust. Pretend to have sex. She's just doing her job, honey. You know that."
"Lissa, you don't understand. This guy, Julian ..." he takes another swig of beer. "I've never wanted to beat up someone so much in my life."
"Why? Is he an asshole?"
He laughs. "Not at all. And that's the problem. He's seems like a nice guy. Funny. Friendly. Has a killer collection of comic books. He even agrees that Captain Kirk would destroy every other Starfleet captain in the Star Trek universe."
"And, that's bad because ...?"
He walks over and sits beside me. "Don't you see? He's me. He's the tall, handsome, hot-bodied version."
"Josh, you're six-feet tall. That’s not exactly short. And you’re handsome."
"Yeah, but I'm normal-person handsome. He's movie star handsome. Why would Angel stay with me when he has everything I have and more? He's a hot geek in the body of Greek god."
"That's ridiculous. Angel was with Liam for years and didn't lust after him once, and yet from the day she met you, she wanted to jump your bones. Have you considered that she doesn't go for the Greek god type? Maybe she likes her hot geeks ... well ... geeky."
He takes a breath and lets it out. "I suppose."
"If your main concern is that this other guy is ripped, then fight fire with fire. Hit the gym. You have a great body. It wouldn't take much to create definition."
He narrows his gaze. "Did you just suggest I work out? Because if so, who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?"
"Hey, just trying to help. Liam's private gym is right down the hall. You wouldn't even have to leave the apartment."
Before he can hit me with a smartass response, there's a knock at the door that's so loud, I jump.
Josh puts down his beer and gives me a grin. "Sounds like your ride's here."
He opens the door to reveal a large black man wearing a charcoal suit. "Good afternoon, sir. My name is JT, and I'm here to collect Miss Holt."
"Hey, JT," Josh says, offering him a high five. "Loved your last album, man. Very cool."
The man looks at Josh without a hint of a smile. "Sir, I believe you're confusing me with Mr. Justin Timberlake. It's a common mistake. However, he's a funky white boy, while I'm a professional driver. We're different people."
Josh nods. "Ahh, I see. Sorry for the confusion."
"No problem. Happens all the time." He looks past Josh to me. "Good afternoon, Miss Holt. Are you ready to go?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." JT collects my bags as I go to hug Josh. "Bye, bestie. I'll try to call from wherever I end up to let you know I've arrived safely."
He squeezes me. "Have fun. When you get back, I expect to hear all about it, with the sex stuff edited out, of course."
"Wow, expect a short story, then."
He makes a disgusted noise then steps back, and I wave as JT escorts me out of the apartment and down to a stretch limo.
When I climb inside, I gasp. The entire car is filled with hundreds of fresh roses.
I'm not usually one for girly stereotypes, but this?
Well played, Mr. Quinn. Well played.
I open the card on the seat and read the message.
Darling Liss,
I'm not sure if you got the memo, but I intend to pamper the hell out of you on this trip. Too often, you neglect yourself to take care of others, me included. Well, now it's my turn to take care of you. Please don't fight it. You deserve this.
There's champagne to your left, and caviar to your right, and when you get to the airport, there'll be a surprise waiting for you.
Be prepared to get naked.
I'll see you soon.
All my love,
Liam x
A naked surprise at the airport, huh? Oh, please let it be him. Traveling together would be so much better than being stuck on a plane by myself.
I take two big mouthfuls of champagne before leaning back into the plush leather seat.
Well, I guess this is it. Let the adventure begin.
···
A moan vibrates in my throat, and I'm ashamed I'm una
ble to stop it.
"God," I say, my voice hoarse with pleasure. "So good."
"You're so tight," a husky voice says from above. "Let me know if I hurt you."
I exhale and try to relax. "It hurts, but it feels good. Don't stop. Please."
"As you wish, ma'am."
The large female masseuse digs her thumbs into the base of my spine, and I moan again. I've never had a massage before. Well, not by a professional, anyway. Liam massages me all the time, but he never gets far before he feels the need to massage places he can't reach with his hands.
When we reached the airport, JT handed me another note directing me to go to the first class lounge. I fully expected to find Liam here, gorgeous and smug. Instead, I found Jane. Right now, I'm not sure who I love more. Jane and her magical hands are the bomb. She goes to town on my shoulders and neck, and I'm so blissed out I nearly lose consciousness.
Over the next two hours, she works on my entire body, even my hands and feet. When she's done, another woman enters the dimly lit treatment room to give me a manicure and pedicure, while a third lady carries out a facial. Then, just when I think I can't get any more relaxed, I'm rudely brought back to reality by a small Chinese woman who gives me a full leg wax and a very thorough Brazilian.
Despite the pain, I'm glad everything is neat and tidy for my time with Liam. There's nothing like being completely hairless to make a girl feel like rubbing herself all over her man.
When my flight is called, I'm so high on endorphins, I feel drunk. Maybe that's why I walk out of the lounge straight into the path of a poor, unsuspecting man striding past the doorway. I squeal as we collide, and even though he drops his backpack in an effort to keep us upright, when it becomes clear gravity intends to make us her bitch, he gallantly twists, so he takes the brunt of the impact.
He grunts as his back hits the floor, and half a second later I fall heavily onto his abdomen and somehow manage to jerk my knee into his groin.
"Fuck me!" He turns onto his side and cups his man parts. "Oh, fuuuuck meeeee."
"I'm sorry!" I scramble off him and pat his shoulder in sympathy. "I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry."
He pushes out a tight breath between his teeth. "S'okay. I'm fine." He grunts again and rolls to the other side. "I didn't want to have children anyway. I hear they're overrated. Messy. Loud. Very expensive."
He curls up into a sitting position, and once he catches his breath, he holds out his hand. "I'm Scott, by the way. And I assume you're a hurricane in human form."
I shake his hand and laugh. "That's me. But you can call me Elissa."
"Painful to meet you, Elissa."
He squeezes my hand, and I'm little uncomfortable with how openly he's flirting. Doesn't he know I'm with the world's most amazing man and therefore have no need to flirt ever again?
Oblivious to my indifference, he keeps a hold of my hand as he stands and helps me up. After I get my purse and he grabs his backpack, we turn back to each other.
"So, where are you jetting off to, Hurricane Elissa? Some unsuspecting island nation that won't recover for months?"
"Uh, good question. I'm not exactly sure. I'm flying to Brazil, but after that, I have no clue. My travel plans are a better guarded secret than Area 51."
"So, either you really trust your travel agent, or someone made the travel arrangements for you."
"That second thing. My fiancée, actually."
He grips his chest. "Oh. Ouch. And here I was thinking I had a really cool story to tell our future children about how I met their mother."
I give him a sympathetic smile. "Sorry."
"It's okay," he says with a shrug. "I'm used to all the cool women who knock me over in airport being unavailable. Story of my life." He drops his head and smiles. "I'm also headed to Brazil. I'd say I'll see you on the plane, but ..." he points to the first class lounge, "seems like your fiancée has you with the cool kids at the front of the bus. I'll be slumming it at the back." He gives me a wry smile. "Anyway, I'd better go. I have some cheap alcohol to stock up on before we leave. Maybe I'll see you on the other side."
"Yeah. Maybe."
"Goodbye, Hurricane Elissa. Happy travels to you." He holds out his hand again, and I shake it.
"Bye, Scott. It was nice meeting you."
With a wave, he strides off in the direction of the duty-free stores, and I saunter toward the departure gate.
FIVE
He Sees You When You're Sleeping
It's a truth universally acknowledged that once you fly first class, you're forever ruined for any other type of travel. This was my first experience sitting at the front of the plane, and I couldn't believe that during my ten-hour flight I feasted on gourmet food, slept in a bed complete with designer sheets, and even had a shower. All while soaring thousands of feet above the earth.
Incredible.
When I book flights for myself, I always travel economy, because I can't justify the outrageous expense of business or first class. Of course, Liam has no such qualms. No wonder he always looks happy and refreshed after he travels.
When I get off the plane, I briefly see Scott in the immigration line looking exhausted and more than a little miserable. Ah, the curse of economy. He gives me a solemn wave as I pass, and I wave back. Then I lose sight of him.
After collecting my luggage and heading through customs, I find a good-looking silver-haired man in a collared shirt and slacks holding a sign that reads, "Miss Elissa Holt."
"Hello?"
His face lights up. "Miss Holt! Hello. You're even more beautiful than the picture Mr. Quinn sent. My name is Luis. Please, let me take your suitcase."
He takes control of my luggage and leads me outside to where a slick town car is waiting.
"Luis, how long until we get to our destination?"
"Oh, not long, if the wind is kind to us."
"Wind?"
He nods sagely.
"Don't suppose you can tell me anything about where we're going?"
"I'm afraid not. Mr. Quinn was specific about it being a surprise."
I sigh and close my eyes. "I hate surprises."
···
Okay, so, I have to admit, this surprise is pretty awesome.
For the first time in my life, I'm in a helicopter, and it's amazing! Luis turns out to be a pilot, and he gives me a running commentary on the region and its people as he flies us along the Brazilian coast.
After a while, we head out to sea, and he points to an island in the distance. "That's where we're going."
"The island?"
He nods.
The green shape gets bigger as we approach, and when we're right over it, I press my head against the window to get a better look.
Either I'm crazy, or that island vaguely resembles a love heart.
In the center, there seems to be a large lake, and around the edges are pristine, white beaches.
"It's beautiful."
Luis nods. "Mr. Quinn thought you would like it."
"Is there a resort down there? I can't see it." I can just imagine sitting out by a pool while a bronzed Brazilian waitress brings me a drink with an umbrella and half a pineapple poking out of the top.
"No," Luis says. "Apart from my wife and I who take care of Mr. Quinn's house, the island is completely uninhabited."
I turn to Luis. "Liam owns a house there?"
"Well, yes, but only because it came with the island."
I stop breathing as his words sink in. "Luis ... are you telling me that Liam—" God, this is too bizarre to even say. "Liam bought an island?"
Yep, sounds just as ridiculous as I thought it would.
Apparently Luis doesn't think so, because he gives me a warm smile. "He bought it a couple of months ago. For you. He calls it Bliss."
My lungs tighten. "Let me get this straight. Liam bought an island."
"Yes."
"For me."
"Yes."
"And he called it Bliss?"
"Yes."
/>
A shrill giggle bubbles out of me.
Sweet Holy Mother. Most girls are lucky if they get dinner and a show. My man bought me a baby continent.
I giggle again and realize there's a strong possibility I'm losing my grip on reality.
"He must love you very much," Luis says as he banks the helicopter down toward the island.
My island.
Feeling like my insides are going to explode, I say, "Yeah."
Luis takes us down over a wide grassy area before expertly landing on a bright yellow helipad.
I know I should be asking more questions about Brazil, but I'm still caught up in the whole, 'My fiancée's idea of a grand romantic gesture is purchasing an entire land mass.'
Despite his protests, I help Luis load my luggage into a waiting SUV, and then we're hurtling through the underbrush of a tropical rainforest.
After a while, we come to a clearing where a neat white cottage sits. "This is where Alma and I stay," Louis says. "If you need anything at all, you call us. We're available twenty-four hours a day."
"Okay." Sure. My island. My staff. Makes perfect sense.
A few hundred yards down the road, the jungle gives way to reveal one of the beaches I saw from the air. Above it sits a stunning contemporary mansion, seemingly built out of glass and stainless steel. It's so beautiful, it takes my breath away.
"It used to belong to a Sultan," Luis says. "He spared no expense in the construction."
"Why did he sell?"
A shadow crosses Luis's face. "He was a superstitious man. Claimed the house was cursed."
"Cursed?"
Luis shrugs. "Every time he stayed there, something bad happened. Personally, I think the man was a little crazy, but at least he sold it to Mr. Quinn for a bargain price."
"Did Liam know about the whole cursed issue?"
"Yes. But I'm sure you know that Mr. Quinn isn't afraid of such things."
True. Liam isn't afraid of much at all. Except clowns, which is totally justified. Clowns are the work of the devil.
"Ready to see your new home for the next few weeks?" Luis asks with a smile as we pull up near the giant front door.