“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.
“Oh my gosh, Antoine.” I hopped off the stool to hug him and felt his strong arms wrap around me.
He gave me a squeeze and kissed me once on both cheeks. His dark brown eyes glittered happily into mine.
Antoine was the men’s fashion buyer at Le Bon Marche in Paris. We’d known each other for four years because of my work with Benito. Mostly we met up while I was in Paris with Benito, but the last time I’d seen him was in New York when he came over for fashion week. He’d even propositioned me the first time we hung out, but I was in a relationship at the time, and the next time we met he was in a relationship, and so on and so forth. It was a shame. Definitely a missed opportunity.
He shot a look over my shoulder and I tensed, remembering we had an audience. I glanced back at Caine, whose hard appearance didn’t exactly compel a person to be friendly, but my mother had raised me to be well mannered. “Antoine, this is my boss, Caine Carraway. Mr. Carraway, this is a friend of mine, Antoine Faucheux.”
Antoine held out a hand with a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said in his gorgeous accent.
Caine stared at his hand and for a moment I worried he wasn’t going to shake it. I breathed a sigh of relief when he did.
Antoine immediately focused on me. “It’s so good to see you. I’m over here visiting a friend and I met up with Benito. I was shocked when he told me he fired you. What an idiot.” He tilted his head and gave me his sexy low-lidded stare I liked so much. “I’ve never seen anyone anticipate someone’s needs the way you did Benito’s. You know he’s having a terrible time without you.”
I grinned, feeling smug. “Good.”
Antoine laughed and then shot another glance behind me at Caine. “It looks like you’re doing fine.”
It did look like that, and I had no intention of telling Antoine the truth. Instead I gave him a noncommittal smile and a shrug.
“Well”—he pouted a little and it would have looked ridiculous on any man but him—“I have to catch my flight to Paris. It was a short trip this time, but next time I’m in Boston, or New York even, we should catch up.” He lowered his voice and gave me a knowing look. “Noelle and I broke up and I heard you’re not seeing anyone, yes?”
Oh, balls.
Heat radiated from behind me and I knew Caine had heard and interpreted Antoine’s comment. It wasn’t like it was hard to understand.
I never thought I’d want to run my way out of the hot boy sandwich I was in the middle of, but if the floor had opened up in front of me I’d have dived right into the gaping hole to escape the utterly awful awkwardness.
“True,” I murmured.
“And of course if you’re ever in Paris …” He leaned down and kissed me on my cheeks again, this time more slowly. His hand rested on my waist. “The new job suits you. You look beautiful.”
And if we’d had this encounter a few weeks ago, I’d be putty in his sexy-as-sin French hands.
Unfortunately my mind was muddled enough by the brooding businessman whose stare was burning holes into my skull. “Thank you,” I replied. “I’ll hopefully see you soon.”
Antoine smiled and then gave Caine a nod of acknowledgment before he left.
I gathered myself before sliding back onto the stool beside Caine and his foreboding expression.
I sucked in my breath and waited.
Just as I was beginning to think he wasn’t going to comment and I could relax, he finished his beer and scowled at me. “I presume you realize he wants to fuck you.”
I wrinkled my nose in distaste at his crudeness. “You really took my word for it on the whole not-pretending-to-be-a-gentleman thing, huh?”
He ignored me. “The question is, do you want to fuck him?”
Oh no. He did not get to be angry or jealous. And yes, okay, maybe I felt a little thrill course through me at the idea that he was jealous of Antoine, but at the same time it was unfair and confusing! Caine had already made it clear that what he got from me on Saturday night was all he was willing to take. He was not messing with my head now.
My answer to him was to slide off the stool with my drink. I sauntered casually across the room, as far as I could get from him, and settled in a seat with my mimosa and magazine.
I was glad we had an aisle between us in first class, because I was more likely to punch Caine than speak to him. Six hours later when the plane landed in Seattle, I was much calmer and actually managed to be civil to him as we made our way out of the airport to find our chauffeur waiting for us.
We were staying at the Fairmont Olympic and I tried not to gape as we wandered inside. I’d stayed at nice hotels before, but Benito favored extremely modern hotels. The Fairmont was old-school beautiful with its high ceiling and grand twin staircase at the end of the reception hall. Plush, expensive traditional chairs and sofas furnished the hall, and giant crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting light over all the gleaming chestnut wood.