Rainwater Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story (8 page)

"I'll try it. But you're going
to have to have some serious alcohol on the flight."

Owen's face lit up the room, and he
pulled me into the bed with him. As he kissed me, I knew I could do this. As
much as I hated flying and traveling, I would give it a chance for Owen. For
this.

Rain hit the window harder as Owen
kissed me. I could do this. I could do anything if I was with Owen. He wrapped
his arms around me, the heat of his skin comforting as we nestled back into the
sheets. He was back asleep in minutes, his breathing deep and even. Thunder
rattled the windows, but he didn't stir as the rain pounded against the glass
outside. It was as if the rain was washing away my worries, bringing change and
something new.

I
took a deep breath and closed my
eyes. I could do this.

Owen squeezed my hand reassuringly,
and I gave him a nervous smile. The plane moved forward and my hand clamped
down on his. I could do this.

When Emma had told me that her
wedding would be in the Caribbean, I almost didn't go. But she was my sister,
so I had dutifully started working on overcoming my fear of flying. I bought
books, listened to 'get over your fear' programs on tape, I even met with a
hypnotherapist. In the end, the only thing that had gotten me through that flight
was a bottle of whiskey.

The plane began to speed up, the
small private jet starting its sprint down the runway. I could feel the plane
star to vibrate, the hum of the engines drowning out all other noise. I wanted
to scream for it to stop, but I was determined to do this. I held Owen's hand
in a death grip. I was pretty sure when we got off the plane that he was going
to need X-rays and a cast. That was, of course, if he even managed to have a
hand left, on account of the way I was squeezing. He just smiled at me and let
me keep tightening my grip.

In deep, out slow. In deep, out
slow.
I was resolute not to use the little pills in my pocket. I could do
this.
Just don't concentrate on the plane
. It seemed as though the plane
was getting smaller, and I could feel the miles of empty space increasing
beneath me. It was such a long, long way down.

"Just think of it like being
in a car," Owen said, leaning over to kiss my cheek. He leaned back in his
leather seat, looking far too at ease for being suspended in a tin can a mile
above the ground.

"Right. A car. Just a really
weird car," I said through gritted teeth. My jaw was going to hurt
tomorrow. This was just a quick flight to New York. We were leaving a little
early so I could spend some time with Emma in the city before we took the long
flight to Dubai. I had no idea how I was going to survive.

"Something to drink?" a
stewardess asked, her blue uniform crisp and perfect. I wondered if she liked
her job. I wouldn't have.

"Vodka, please. A big shot of
vodka," Owen told her. "And an iced tea for me, please."

The stewardess smiled warmly and
placed a hand on Owen's shoulder as she walked past. I didn't even care. If she
brought me the vodka and we didn't die on this plane, she could kiss him. She
returned in a moment, a tall glass of tea for Owen and a nice tumbler of clear
liquid for me. She even brought a little bottle of cranberry juice.

"Here you go. Let me know if
you need anything else," she said, handing me the drinks. I took a big
gulp, feeling it burn down my esophagus. I could do this, and a little liquid
courage would help.

"You're doing great,"
Owen said as he sipped on his iced tea. I envied how he could look so relaxed
on this flying death trap. "We'll be there in two and a half hours."

"Right. Because that's
practically no time at all."

"Have another drink." He
kissed my cheek and turned on the TV across from us. A castle and music I
recognized instantly filled the screen. "And something to keep you
entertained."

I couldn't help but grin as the
animated movie from my childhood started. I sipped on my drink, feeling
slightly more relaxed as I hummed along with the opening credits. A bright side
occurred to me about flying. I could sing along with the movie, and the noise
of the engines would drown out my lack of vocal abilities.

I could do this.

***

I
peeked open an eye, the light
sending a sliver of pain directly into my head. I knew I shouldn't have had
that second drink. My stomach rolled, promising me that if I moved, whatever
was left in it would come up. As if there were anything even left in it after
we landed.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," a
soft female voice called to me. I pouted, wanting to throw a pillow at the
voice, but I knew the motion would just make everything hurt again. "Here
have some of this."

I felt a glass press up against my
lips and I unhappily opened my mouth, letting a dribble of lemon flavored drink
in. If I could keep that down, I knew I would be a happier camper. Keyword
being "if."

"Where am I?" I croaked.
My throat felt like fire. I was never drinking again.

"Owen's hotel room. You have
got to remember to eat before you drink next time," Emma answered.
"Here, have another sip."

I sat up slowly and took the glass
from her. She looked far too perky and pleasant. I gave her a dirty look as I
took a bigger gulp of the drink. It was at least making me feel more awake.

"What time is it?" I
asked, glancing around the room. I sat in the middle of a king-sized bed
surrounded by puffy pillows. The drapes were thankfully pulled shut, but I
could imagine giant glass windows or a balcony behind them. I would have liked
it if my stomach didn't feel like a tiny alien might pop out of it at any
second.

"A little after ten in the
morning. Though, that's Eastern Time, so it'll feel earlier for you."

"Why did you wake me up?"
I growled. I just wanted to dive back under my sheets and never move again.
Maybe I would bring some of this magic drink with me, though.

"Because, we have stuff to do
today. Remember, we made plans?"

I groaned. Emma wanted to show me
the city, and we were supposed to go out shopping in true New York style with
Rachel. I silently cursed the flight attendant and her crisp uniform for
bringing me the second tumbler of vodka.

"Get up. You aren't that
hung-over," Emma said, nudging me gently.

"Yes, I am," I fired
back. She laughed and stood up from the bed.

"Drink that up. I'll start a
shower for you and get some breakfast up here. We are going to have fun
today."

I groaned again and slumped back
down into the pillows. It was going to be a long day.

***

W
hatever drink Emma had given me
had worked miracles. The shower definitely helped, and the toast she forced
down my throat probably did something too. By the time we were in the lobby, I
only had a slight headache and thought my stomach should stay put for the rest
of the day. As we exited the elevator, a well-dressed woman in her mid-forties
hurried over to meet us.

"Hi, Rachel, sorry we're late.
Rough flight last night," Emma greeted her.

"No problem at all,"
Rachel said with a smile. "It's nice to see you again, Kaylee. If we're
ready, Dean has the car just outside."

The three of us exited the hotel
room, the sky heavy with an impending rainstorm. Waiting by the curb was a
sleek SUV with tinted windows. Rachel slid into the front seat, and Emma and I
took the back. There was an unspoken tension between Rachel and Dean, but I
couldn't figure out if they were fighting love or just plain fighting.

"Kaylee, you remember
Dean?" Emma asked, gesturing toward the driver. An athletic-looking man
sat in the front seat, his dark hair peppered with gray. He turned around and
grinned, reaching a hand back to shake mine.

"I'm glad to see Emma finally
got you out of bed. We have some shopping for you ladies to do," he said
with a grin. Dean merged the car effortlessly out into the heavy New York
traffic. A thunderstorm warning for later in the day came across the radio, but
Dean turned it down and flipped on some light music. I kept my nose pressed to
the glass, trying to absorb the whole city from the car window. Before, I had
been a little too wasted to notice just how big everything was on my way in.

The city buildings rose up,
reaching past where I could see, monsters of gray stone and cement.
Well-dressed people hurried back and forth on the busy streets, everyone doing
their best to ignore everyone else. It was so different from home. I was glad I
didn't have to drive, as cars ducked and weaved around us, Dean managing to
slide into spaces I never would have tried for. I think there were more cars on
this one street than there were in the whole city of Des Moines.

"How do you live here,
Emma?" I asked as we stopped for traffic. The street looked like sales lot
for used cars than a means of travel.

"What? The traffic?" She
shrugged. "I guess I've gotten used to it. The city seemed so big and
strange at first, but now, I kind of like it."

"I don't think I could ever
get used to this." The city was just too big and too busy for me. Give me
my quiet Midwestern city over this any day. Not that it wasn't impressive, it
just wasn't something I wanted to live in.

Dean navigated the SUV down another
street, merging through a sea of bright yellow taxi cabs to pull up in front of
a stylish brick building. A big glass window held mannequins in graceful poses,
their clothes perfect and beautiful to the point where I thought they might
come alive and coax us to buy their wares. Rachel led Emma and me inside while
Dean waited with the car.

The store was quiet except for soft
music playing overhead. I wondered where all the customers were as Rachel
headed deeper into the shop. She and Emma both seemed to know where they were
going so I followed, glancing at the beautiful items for sale.

A dark red purse caught my eye, and
I stopped to pick it up. It was a beautiful little creation, the leather a deep
wine red. I even recognized the designer label. I looked at the price tag,
knowing I had a little money saved up and could splurge on a purse, especially
if I could say I got it in New York City. $2,290.00. I didn't have that much to
splurge. I set it carefully back down and hurried to catch up with Rachel and
Emma.

I found them in a private area,
Rachel deep in conversation with a saleswoman. As I walked up, Rachel turned
and grinned.

"I went ahead and picked some
things out for you to try. They're in that dressing room there." Rachel
pointed to one of the large changing rooms. I smiled weakly. If the clothes
were half as expensive as the purse, there was no way I could even afford to be
in the same room as the clearance rack.

Emma must have read my mind, as she
quickly added, "Don't look at the price, Kaylee. This is my treat for you.
I never thought I would get you out to New York, so I'm excited to spoil you a
little."

I almost told her no. I almost said
that she shouldn't spend that kind of money. Then I remembered who she was
married to, and the words died before they made it out of my mouth. Jack made
enough money to buy that purse before he got out of bed in the morning.

I walked confidently into the
changing room and slid on the first pair of pants. They were a soft tan color
and made of a light linen material. I was shocked at how well they fit. Rachel
was a great judge of size. I turned in the mirror and was pleased with what I
saw.

"Told you those would look
good on her," Emma said to Rachel as I stepped out. Rachel nodded.

"You are getting better. Soon,
you'll be dressing me!" Rachel said. The two of them laughed before Rachel
stood to get a closer look at the pants. "Those will be great for you in
Dubai," Rachel said. She came up and had me spin. "Lightweight, but
full length. Mr. Parker suggested we pick some things up for you to wear on
your trip."

I blushed a little. I had no idea
what to pack for two weeks in the Middle East. I almost brought only shorts and
tank-tops for the desert heat before remembering that the local populace
probably would prefer that I wore something a little less revealing. My
suitcase was sadly light as the majority of my clothes were scrubs from work.

"Go in and try on the purple
shirt with those slacks," Emma said. She was practically bouncing in her
seat. I gave her a strange look.

"Since when did
you
get
interested in clothes?" I asked her. When we were living in the same
house, I never worried about her stealing my clothes because she just wore the
same jeans and T-shirt every day. She gave me a proud smile.

"Rachel's been training me.
She's actually managed to show me the error of my ways and teach me something
that resembles a fashion sense."

Rachel blushed. "You picked it
up pretty quickly. I'll have you designing your own clothes any day now."

This time Emma flushed. "No
way."

"I'm going to have to agree
with her, Rachel. You should have seen the scarf she tried to knit. And the
teddy bear she made in home economics. Well, I'm not sure you could even
properly call it a bear."

Emma blushed almost purple.
"It wasn't pretty. Nightmarish things happen when I try to sew."

"Hmm, I guess that's job
security for me," Rachel said with a chuckle. I ducked into the changing
room and threw on the purple shirt. It was just a silk button-up blouse, but I
could imagine it doing well in the desert heat. I stepped out and did a little
catwalk.

"I like it, but not with those
pants," Rachel said with a laugh as I struck a model pose. Emma nodded.

"Maybe with a khaki
skirt?" Emma's face became thoughtful.

"Or the black slacks,"
Rachel mused aloud. I grinned. It was fun letting them play dress-up with me.
The clothes were all so beautiful that I was having fun just trying them on.
Knowing that they would make sure I was dressed perfectly made it easy to try
on things that I would never pick out myself.

We went through mountains of
clothes, loading the salesperson who came to check on us with piles of rejects.
She didn't mind, though, as the piles of things we were purchasing continued to
grow. I had clothes for my trip, and even a new dress to wear out while with
Owen that night.

When we finally walked out of the
store, I didn't even want to look at the bill. I had seen price tags of over
two grand on some of the dresses that Emma wanted to buy me, and the idea of
seeing the final number higher than my yearly salary was just too intimidating.
I knew if I saw that, I would never wear them for fear of ruining them.