Page 26

I frown at the edge in her voice, turning to see Cherry’s cheeks heat. Since our chat in Miami, we’ve been careful when out in public and my publicist has had nothing to complain about. And yet, I’m sensing an undercurrent between the two women that is giving me pause.

“Hi,” Cherry waves, pulling her sleeves over her hands and sinking further down into her seat.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper, giving what I hope is a reassuring smile.

I stand to greet Paul and Jack and when I get to Frieda, I throw her a questioning stare. “What’s going on there?” I tilt in the direction of the woman now rummaging through her oversized handbag.

“Nothing,” she replies.

“Are you sure? I’m sensing tension.”

She pats my arm. “You’re just overprotective of your… friend. That’s all.”

We’re interrupted before I can put her back in her place and I make a note to get this under control. Frieda works for me; she doesn’t get to hurt or intimidate Cherry.

“Please buckle your seatbelt now. We’re about to take off,” Justine calls out with a smile and I do as she says.

I’m forced to sit at the round table where my engineer has already set up to work with me over the flight.

Instead of next to Cherry where I can hold her hand and distract her from the anxiety I can see rolling off her.

“Cherry. Are you good?”

Her eyes lock with mine and I watch her shoulders deflate as the tension seems to drain out of her.

“I’m good.” She nods.

I keep my eye on her for a moment longer and then turn back, spying Frieda watching this interlude with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

She puts her hands up in surrender. “Nothing.”

Exhaling roughly, I look back. Cherry is now pulling her Kindle from her bag, snuggling down into her seat with a blanket on her lap. I watch her for several more minutes before getting to work— happy knowing that she’s safe, and healthy, and with me.

· · · · ·

“Cherie?” I repeat her name for the third time, having gotten no response from her after the first two .

She holds a finger up to shush me. In every other area of my life, I get attention the second I ask for it. And yet, here I am, playing second fiddle to a book.

“Yes?” she says, slowly lifting her head from her Kindle.

“You need to sleep.”

She glances out of the window, her mouth twisting. “But I’m not tired.”

I check my wristwatch. “When we land, it will be morning in Montreal. If you don’t get some sleep now, you’ll be dead on your feet by lunchtime.”

She looks around. “I’m not so great sleeping in a seat like this.”

Ah, now comes the best part of flying private.

“Come with me.”

I walk towards the back of the plane, feeling her a few steps behind me. When I get to the back of the plane, I open a door, revealing a full-sized bedroom with a king bed and an adjoining ensuite.

“Wow.”

I love that I’ve impressed her. I probably love it a little too much. “You can sleep in here for the rest of the flight.”

She searches my face, taking her time to really look at me. I wonder if I look as exhausted as I feel?

“You take the bed.”

I guess I do.

“Absolutely not,” I snort.

She turns on heel and walks out straight out of the bedroom, returning to her seat. I follow, like she knew I would.

“Cherry—” I start.

She cuts me off. “No. You need the sleep more than me. You’ve got a whole race weekend ahead of you.”

Gosh, she’s stubborn. And so damn considerate.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t need to sleep.”

Her arms fold in front of her chest and she leans all the way back in her chair, wiggling her butt like she’s getting ready to hibernate for the winter right where she sits.

“Then neither do I.”

I grind my back molars and she sets her jaw. We’re in a stand-off.

“Cherry, come on,” I soften my voice and try to appeal to her sense of reason. Though I’m not sure she has one of those. “You’ve been sick; I can’t stand the thought of you getting worse.”

She softens at the concern she must see on my face, and I think I may have won.

“Why don’t we share?”

Or maybe she’s just out to kill me.

“What?” I splutter.

She points to the open bedroom door. “That’s a king-sized bed. We can both fit in there.”

Oh, the images her words are conjuring up in my mind.

“Absolutely not.”

I see the moment her metaphorical heels dig in. “Then I’m staying right here.”

James snorts from his seat next to us, and I whip around to glare at him. Whose side is he on, anyway?

Clearly not mine.

“Cherry, please.” I’m not above begging, it seems.

“No.”

We sit in silence and I watch her determined face, working my jaw back and forth as I battle with the devil and the angel in my mind.

If I don’t agree, she won’t get any sleep and risks getting sick again. If I do agree, we’ll be sharing a bed.

“Fine.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. Clearly, my need for her to get some rest has trumped all the millions of other concerns I have about us lying in the same bed.

The. Same. Bed.

“Great.”

The very picture of casualness, she strolls down the aisle to the bedroom, while I drag my feet, following her. I stop at the open door and watch as she builds a wall of pillows down the middle of the bed. “In case you’re worried I’ll get too handsy in my sleep,” she announces with a wink.

She is trying to kill me.

“Really, Nicky. This isn’t a big deal,” she says as I remain frozen in place, my eyes stuck on the bed in front of me.

“I mean, we almost slept in the same bed in Imola when I was sick. This is basically the same thing.”

It’s really not. That night in Italy, I’d laid beside her listening to her breathe, panicked at how sick she was. This here right now, this is…not that.

I swallow hard and nod to ease the frown lines around her eyes, and her shoulders relax. She gives me a small smile, a mere uptick of her lips, and escapes into the bathroom.

The minute she’s out of the room, I sink onto the edge of the bed and drop my head into my hands.

This is not good. I can barely keep my hands to myself when I’m conscious and have all my wits about me.

Who knows what unconscious Nicky may do?

I’m pretty sure my arms will be wrapped around her the minute I enter dreamland.

Because that is the very thing that happens between me and Cherry in my dreamland. And that is so not something I should be thinking about right now.

“The bathroom is free.”

My head jerks up at the sound of her sweet voice and I take in an audible gulp. Because standing in front of me is Cherry wearing a Vortex Motors t-shirt with my name and number on it, long socks—and nothing else.

The world is out to get me.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” I mutter, getting up to pace again. It’s good to keep moving. To keep moving away from her.

She scoffs, flicking back the covers before lying down and making herself comfortable. “Don’t be silly, it’s just a few hours. It’ll be fine.”

Nothing about this is fine.

I watch as she scoots down further under the duvet and closes her eyes. It’s like the idea of sharing a bed with me has her unfazed, while I’m here on a knife-edge, close to losing my sanity at the mere thought of her body next to mine.

She peels one eyelid open and gives me a long look, before staring pointedly at the blank space next to her.

“Fine,” I mutter. I toe off my shoes and sink onto the very edge of the bed. After several long moments of quiet, with just the sounds of my heart thumping in my ears, I give in and switch off the lights.

“Nicky, please try to get some sleep.” She rolls onto her side, her blue eyes pleading up at me.

My answering sigh sounds pained, even to my own ears, and I clench my fists to stop from reaching for her. She’s so close and the scent of coconut is so overwhelming; I just need to remain still and awake until she falls asleep. Then I’m out of here.

I listen as her breathing evens out and as a soft sigh escapes her lips, signalling she’s finally asleep, I bolt upright and almost run out of the room like the devil is chasing me.

Though in this, my nightmare, my devil is a red-haired beauty who’s currently dressed in a shirt with my name on it and nothing else.

An absolute nightmare, indeed.