“I’m not going on a double date,” Evan said as I tucked the napkin into my pocket. “You want me to fly them out? Not a problem. Schedule it with Jackson. But that’s the extent of my professional responsibilities. And, since I’m off the clock right now, I’d also like to mention that I think whatever play you’re planning to run on that woman is fucked up.”
My head snapped to his. “I’m sorry. Play?” I asked with more attitude than I had originally planned.
“Yes. Play,” he sneered.
I stirred my drink. “Let me get this straight. I’m offering to fly her out in a private jet, feed her dinner at one of the best restaurants in the city, and put her front row at a concert that has been sold out for over a year. That doesn’t seem like a play to me. It sounds like I’m trying to do something nice for a woman I was rude to earlier.” I casually leaned back in my seat. “My conscience doesn’t ‘play’ when it comes to apologies.”
“Right. Well, maybe you should have a chat with your conscience, because she looks like she just won the date of a lifetime. Meanwhile, you don’t even like women.” He stalled, no doubt looking for just the right word to express his disgust without sounding like a bigot. Judging by his gentleness when we’d taken off, he wasn’t the type of guy to go for the fag bomb.
I watched him intently, excited to see how he was going to handle this.
“You’re gay.”
I frowned at his lack of creativity. “Not that it’s any of your damn business. But I’ll have you know I love women.”
It wasn’t a lie. I adored women. Especially Levee and Robin.
I just didn’t like pussy. Meh. Semantics.
He gaped. “You’re bi?”
“And I’ll repeat: None of your damn business. But yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”
Again, it wasn’t necessarily a lie.
Was I bisexual? Fuck no. My cock was in no way an equal opportunity employer.
I was somewhat bilingual though. I knew how to ask for a blow job in English and Spanish. I pretended that was what he meant.
Chupame la verga.
He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I, uh…didn’t know.”
“It’s cool.”
He blew out a loud sigh. “I don’t like seeing people getting fucked around with. That’s all.”
“No fucking around.” Unless it’s with you. I lifted my fingers and swore, “Scout’s honor.”
He blinked rapidly as his face contorted in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake, that’s a Vulcan V.”
I shrugged and glanced at my hand. “Hm. Okay, well then… Live long and prosper.”
He sat stoically for several beats before a huge grin split his handsome face.
My eyes dropped to his plump lips, but it was the sound of his deep, carefree laugh that really transfixed me.
He cleared his throat, dragging my attention up from his mouth. His eyes danced with humor, and for a split second, I could have sworn there was some other indefinable emotion mixed in there as well.
And that was when the alarm bells started blaring in my head.
They weren’t in warning.
No. These were the sounds of a casino slot machine screaming after a jackpot.
The landing went much like the takeoff. The moment our pilot announced our descent, I doubled over struggling to breathe. Evan folded over beside me, uttering nearly apologetic explanations for every bump. He finished with a countdown that ended when our wheels safely hit the pavement. He didn’t even bat an eye when I once again anchored my hand to his thigh—only removing it when we came to a complete stop.
I would have liked to have left it there longer. I could’ve made it a sexual joke about wanting him.
But I was too preoccupied lying to myself that I wasn’t actually interested in this guy to even get that far.
Carter, along with Macy, met us in first class and escorted us off the plane and then through the airport. Numerous travelers stopped us to ask for an autograph or a picture. And, for the most part, I obliged. Evan was happy to volunteer as cell phone photographer.
I actually loved that part of my job. It never got old. But that wasn’t why I smiled for each of those pictures. It had more to do with the fact that, since we were back on solid ground, my senses had fully returned and they were all currently honed in on a broad-chested, blue-eyed pilot with dark-brown hair and a cock-hardening grin.
Once outside, Carter ushered me through a sea of paparazzi and into the back of an awaiting limo. Macy slid in beside me, quickly followed by Carter, and then before I knew it, we were pulling away.
“Wait. Where’s Evan?” I moved to the window and searched through the crowd of dispersing photographers. “We can’t leave him here!”
Carter quirked an eyebrow. “His boss sent a car to get him.”
“Why? We could have given him a ride home?”
Carter let out a knowing groan. “For fuck’s sake. The pilot, Henry?”
“What? He’s gorgeous,” I stated as my answer.
“He really was,” Macy cooed, finger combing her hot-pink hair. “Please tell me he prefers women.”
I smirked and shot her a challenging expression. “Yes, but only for a little while longer.”
She laughed.
Carter cursed under his breath. “So I guess he’s not an infant anymore?”