Charlie slowly pushed his way from the office and leaned against the wall outside. He had to find Christine, knowing he couldn't waste another day. He walked to the staircase and paused a moment to scan the lines of people. This would be difficult but not impossible with time. He walked down, searching for her dark blonde head. He pushed through people several minutes before he took a moment to get his bearings. Where would she have gone? What would she do first? Think, Charlie, think. He moved along the two lines, ignoring the stares and murmurs of people who sat or stood behind each counter. She must have already gone through. Had she gotten a flight?
The animated boards showed no flights leaving for the next three hours. Okay, she probably hadn't gone to a small waiting area already. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Charlie yanked it out and heard her sweet, sexy voice. Damnit, where could she be? He snapped his fingers. She had a serious addiction to coffee and books. He spun and headed toward one coffee stand after another. And there sitting on a bench across from a book shop, coffee in hand, sat Christine. Her eyes were closed as she leaned back and sipped her drink. Her hair and clothing were disheveled, a bit mussed but none the worse for wear. Never had a sight been more welcome. Charlie walked toward her, already planning the rest of the afternoon and coming night.
Chapter Three
Christine settled on a bench, mocha espresso in one hand, laptop case in the other. Around the bench, people laughed, joked, and one couple argued. She heard native voices and smiled at the music of their tones. The warm air, scented with cinnabuns and coffee, also held an underlying fragrance of citrus and flowers. She took a sip of mocha. Ah, heaven in a cup. Things could be a lot worse, Christine thought, running a hand through her hair for the umpteenth time. She must look a mess after hours on the plane and sitting on the terminal floor.
Christine sipped again. Charlie would be at work this time of day. He might not call at all. She should get something to eat or maybe browse the book shops for a treat after the plane scare. The books in the store across the hall seemed to be calling. Then she heard it again.
"Christine!"
The sound of her name being shouted made her glance around. She searched and found Charlie a few feet away, near the opening of the book store, dark eyes twinkling, relaxed and so very sexy. Great. He looked amazing in tight jeans and polo, and she looked a mess with her stained jeans and shirt, her hair tousled.
Charlie walked toward the bench. Christine went warm all over, her stomach in knots as other regions called to him. I'm in a dream. I must be. I'm on the plane, asleep, and dreaming this whole thing. She never wanted to wake up. He stopped so she had to lean back to hold his gaze. He brushed her palm with warm lips. "Hello, Christine. Welcome to Paradise."
She leapt from the bench coffee and laptop forgotten as she wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight. He snuggled her in, safe, warm, and secure. His heart thundered under her ear. She pressed to him, chest to toes, and lifted her head to speak when his lips crashed on hers, smothering in a blast of heat. Christine stood on tip toe, reaching for his hair, and yanked his mouth down harder. Her lips opened under his, her tongue stroking the roof of his mouth as she sampled. He moaned and trembled; she kissed him harder. She gave, he took. He gifted, she accepted. Only a desperate need for air broke them apart. They stood panting, still entwined as cheers and applause broke out around them. He lifted a hand, waved at the people around them after she took one dazed look, and buried her face in his chest. His voice rumbled.
"Now that's what I call an aloha to remember."
Christine had to swallow twice before she could give a strangled gasp. "Hello." Could he feel the trembling? Good lord, he packed one heck of a sexual punch. How could she have failed to notice it before? His warm lips would be even warmer on her skin, her breasts, her thighs. Her face flushed hot as dampness not from the air pooled between her legs.
He took her hands from around his neck, grasped them tight, and whispered, his voice filled with secrets and promise. "Come with me. Begin this journey for real."
One glance into his face and Christine nodded. "Lead the way."
It took minutes, long ones, as they traveled to the hotel. They didn't speak; his hand never released hers. Christine tried to talk sense in her head a dozen times. We work together. We're supposed to be friends. We live thousands of miles from each other. I have to lose ten pounds before he sees me naked. I have coffee breath. Then she recalled crash position terror, the screams, sirens, and murmurs of prayers. Never had anything felt as right as being with Charlie. A multi-storied building towered before them; the Sands Hotel sign blazed in pink lights across its front porch. They had arrived.