CHAPTER 12
Caine took it easy on me for the next few days. He didn’t have me running around doing crappy personal errands. It was his way of extending his hand in a truce and I offered him my hand in return by curbing my smart-ass responses to his requests.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t battling a kaleidoscope of butterflies swarming in my belly on Thursday morning. I’d barely slept and I was stumbling around my apartment trying to make sure I had everything I needed in my overnight bag.
I was just chugging a huge mug of coffee when I saw the black street car pull up outside my building. My mug clattered to the counter as I watched the driver open the back passenger door. Caine stepped out and stared up at the building with a pensive mien. I eyed him hungrily.
He hadn’t shaved in a few days and it looked good on him.
As did the four-thousand-dollar Savile Row suit he’d had commissioned along with a number of others while he was in London. It was a slim fit. It was stylish. It was pure class. And the man wearing it looked like pure class too. Sometimes, when he wasn’t being a jackass, he even was pure class.
I wrenched my gaze from his as he started making his way up the front stoop. My overnight bag was on the couch spilling open.
Toiletries. I needed my toiletries.
My doorbell rang and for one confused moment I stood there wondering how on earth Caine had gotten into the building. I hurried to the door and threw it open with the question on my face.
“Your neighbor let me in,” he explained immediately.
I frowned at my neighbor’s lack of thought to security. “You could be a serial killer.”
He shrugged and stepped forward, forcing me to move back to allow him inside. “I guess I don’t look like one.”
“It was Evelyn who let you in, right?” She was a single career woman much like myself except she was man-crazy and had a different one sneaking out of her apartment every weekend.
“Young, blond?”
I nodded in consternation. “She’s going to get me murdered in my sleep one of these days.”
Caine just nodded absentmindedly and strode into the center of the open living area. He gazed around, taking absolutely everything in.
“I’ll, uh … just be a moment.” I disappeared into the bathroom, grabbing my toiletries bag and my cell phone charger from the side of my bed. When I returned to the living room, Caine was standing in front of one of my windows. I stuffed my things into my overnight bag and zipped it up.
While I did this, Caine turned around, his eyes traveling up to the ceiling and down and then into the kitchen.
Bemused by his curiosity, I said, “What is it?”
He looked back at me. “This is where you live.”
I couldn’t work out his tone or what he meant by the statement, so I just sighed and grabbed my bag. “I’m ready to go.”
Caine strode toward me and reached for the bag.
“What are you doing?” I pulled it back from him. “I can carry my own bag.”
“You have to at least allow me the pretense of being a gentleman.” His large hand wrapped around the strap and he gently tugged it out of my grip.
Following him out, I grumbled, “I hope you’re not going to pretend the entire trip.”
“And why not?”
“Well, I’ve built up a resistance to your ungentlemanliness. My immune system can’t handle politeness from you. I might go into shock and die.” It wasn’t entirely true. In public he was every inch the gentleman. In private not so much. I locked up my apartment and found Caine smirking behind me.
I paused, surprised by the humor in his eyes.
“Ungentlemanliness?” he teased. “I dare you to say that five times fast.”
I eyed him warily. “I mean it. Quit it.”
His reply was to shrug and lead me out to the car in silence. And it seemed he was set to grant me my request. The car ride to the airport was awkward and quiet and I really just wanted to be able to put more than a couple of feet between us.
Upon arrival at the airport, I said to Caine, “I’ll meet you on the other side.”
His eyebrows drew together. “What are you talking about?”
I handed him the boarding pass I’d printed off. “You’re flying first class. That means you go through first-class security and get to wait in the first-class lounge.”
“And what are you?” he asked, snatching my boarding pass from my hand. “Economy? Are you kidding?” he huffed impatiently, and grabbed my bag. Before I could say a word he strode off.
“What are you doing?” I hurried to catch up with him in my stupid heels as he marched to the fast-lane check-in and right up to the check-in clerk.
“We need to upgrade my employee’s ticket to first class. Is that possible?” He slid my boarding pass across the desk to her.
“What are you doing?” I repeated. “I don’t need a first-class seat. I never sat in first class with Benito.”
“That’s because your former boss is a tightfisted bastard. My employees don’t sit in the cheap seats.” He threw me a glare that said, Now, shut up.
Once my ticket was upgraded, Caine tersely ushered me toward the first-class lounge. He dropped our bags at the bar. “I need a drink. Do you need a drink?”
I definitely needed a drink. “A mimosa, please.” I slipped onto a stool beside him and we waited in uncomfortable silence as the bartender poured my drink and got a draft beer for Caine.
A beer.
That was not what I was expecting at all.
For some crazy reason the fact that Caine was drinking a beer in his fancy-ass suit in the first-class lounge made me smile.
Feeling my stare, he glanced at me. “What?”
I looked away and lifted my glass to my lips. “Nothing,” I muttered.
“Lexie?” I jerked in surprise at hearing my name called from behind me and spun around on my stool. My eyes moved up the tall, fit, stylishly attired body standing inches from me until they stopped on the familiar handsome face of Antoine Faucheux.