Unwrapped (3 page)

“Oh, sure.” I get up, standing aside in the
aisle to let her through.

“Thanks.” She brushes past me, her whole body
sliding against mine as she maneuvers out of the seat.

I inhale in a rush, my body tightening. She
heads down the cabin towards the bathrooms, and I can’t help
watching her go: the smooth sway of her hips in those jeans,
fitting tighter than they have any right to be.

What I wouldn’t give to get her out of them
…

I startle at the thought, sitting back down in
my seat with a jolt.

No.

No way.

Lacey is trouble—even if she wasn’t friends with
Juliet, she’s practically the opposite of what I need in my life
right now: someone sweet, stable, reliable. Lacey is none of those
things. Hell, she couldn’t be further from it if she tried. And I
know she thinks I’m some boring, by-the-book kind of guy, she only
tolerated for Juliet’s sake.

I reassure myself listing all the reasons why
lusting after Lacey Andrews is a bad, bad idea, until I feel
another tap on my shoulder, and there she is, standing by me,
waiting patiently to get back to her seat.

I bolt up. “Sorry,” I say quickly, stepping into
the aisle.

Suddenly, the plane lurches wildly. Lacey yelps,
stumbling against me. I grab her, gripping onto the seat back for
stability as the plane dips again, a stomach-dropping jolt that
sends Lacey even harder into my arms. The lights flicker, and there
are cries of panic in the cabin as the overhead compartment flies
open, raining bags down into the aisle. I draw Lacey close to
shield her, and she buries her face against my chest, wrapping her
arms tight around me as we lurch again. Time stands still, my heart
in my throat, until finally the turbulence is over, and the flight
evens out.

I catch my breath, smelling a light drift of
coconut and fruit from Lacey’s shampoo. I feel light-headed, and
although I tell myself it’s from the near-death experience we just
had here, I know that’s a lie.

It’s her. All her. The body pressed up against
me, every curve driving me crazy, making me wish I could touch her,
everywhere. Right now.

The overhead announcement clicks on. “Apologies
for the bumpy ride, we’ve hit a little weather.”

“You don’t say,” Lacey says, pale-faced. She’s
still holding me tight, breathing heavily. I glance down, catching
sight of the rise and fall of her chest, swelling against her
T-shirt, and is that …? Yup. A hint of red lace underneath.

I grip the seat-back harder, dizzy.

“We’re looking at snow-storms out of Atlanta, so
we’ve been advised to divert for a landing. Looks like you’ll be
grounded a while. Nothing’s getting through this blizzard.”

The pilot clicks off, and there’s a babble of
voices in the cabin: frustration and anger as people realize they
might not make it home in time for Christmas. I’m still holding
Lacey, so I slowly release her, surprised to feel a pull of
disappointment as she steps back, out of my arms.

“I can’t believe this,” Lacey cries.

I snap back to reality. “It’s just a storm,
it’ll pass.”

“No!” She blinks at me, wide-eyed. “I did this!
I said I’d make it snow for her, and now there’s a freaking
blizzard! I’ll never make it to Beachwood Bay in time. Juliet is
going to kill me.” She sinks back into her seat with a sigh.

I should be angry too. After all, I’m going to
be grounded. I won’t get back to see my folks for the tree
lighting, and the carol services on Christmas Eve; I’ll be stuck in
the middle of nowhere, bedding down in an airport hotel. But
instead of being annoyed, all I can think is,
now
I get a few more hours with her.

A few more hours with this whirlwind of a girl
who somehow, sets every nerve in my body on fire, and makes me
imagine things I have no business imagining.

God help me, but as we set for our descent, I’m
feeling more cheerful than I have in weeks.

***

“Come on, come on …” I tap my foot
impatiently, an anxious eye on the line ahead of me at the last car
rental desk in the terminal. I’ve already tried the other two
companies here, and they’re both already sold out. This is my last
hope, and even though the fee will push my overdraft way past
breaking point, it’s my only option if I’m going to make it to
Beachwood Bay in time for the wedding tomorrow. “Take the keys, say
‘thank you’, then move along, honey.”

“What’s that?” Daniel asks. He insisted on
keeping me company in line, so now I have two things to worry
about: my snow-bound travel plans, and the fact I can’t even look
at him without remembering the way his arms felt wrapped around me.
Strong. Secure. And sexy as hell.

“Nothing,” I quickly catch my breath, hoping my
cheeks aren’t flushed at the memory. “You think it’ll take me long
to drive?”

Daniel whips out his phone and taps to check.
“Four, five hours,” he replies with a frown. “But you really
shouldn’t be driving, not in this blizzard.” He glances outside the
airport, to where a flurry of white flakes are falling fast,
coating the sidewalk in a dusting of snow. It’s late afternoon, and
getting dark already, the clouds overhead showing no sign of a
break.

“I can’t wait,” I insist, inching forward as the
line moves along. Or maybe that’s just my wishful thinking.
“Tonight is the bachelorette party, and then they need me to set
everything up tomorrow. Oh God, Juliet’s going to kill me.” I
whimper.

Daniel smiles. “No she won’t. Juliet’s not the
maiming kind.”

“Exactly!” I exclaim, morose. “She’ll kill me
with sad understanding. I’ll die from the guilt.”

“It’ll be fine,” Daniel reassures me, reaching
over to rub my shoulder sympathetically. “You’ll make it in time,
don’t worry.”

I catch my breath at his touch, feeling it
shiver through me, everywhere. I must have flinched, because Daniel
suddenly drops his hand and steps back, looking bashful.

Damn, there you go, making this awkward
again.

I stifle a sigh. Since the moment I ran headlong
into Daniel in LAX, I’ve done nothing but screw up. First, the
constant reminder that the love of his life is marrying someone
else, then my awkward clumsiness and babbling. Hell, when we hit
turbulence, I practically cut off his circulation clinging on for
dear life. And although he was too much of a gentleman to say, I
can tell I made him way too uncomfortable getting so close.

Admit it, girl. You liked holding on.

Fine. I did. I loved every terrifying second of
it: safe in his arms, his muscles hard against my body. It made me
wonder just what kind of physique the man’s been hiding under those
preppy Oxford shirts and neat suits all these years …

Not that you’ll ever find out.

The thought is like a cold shower: dousing my
lustful thoughts with a freezing doze of reality. Daniel couldn’t
be less interested in me if he tried: that dream girl list he
spelled out on the plane made it crystal clear. A good wife, a
mother … I’d sunk lower in the tiny seat as he went on and on about
his ideal match, and all the while, it felt like every word was a
personal insult:

You’re not right for him. You never will
be.

“You really don’t have to stay,” I tell him,
hugging my arms around myself. My T-shirt and thin jacket are no
match for the freezing temperatures inside the tiny terminal. Our
bags are still all checked, and my carryon was too full of bridal
stuff to fit an extra sweater. “I can figure it out.”

Daniel doesn’t move. “I’ve got time,” he gives
me a wry smile. “It’s not like I’ve got anyplace else to be.”

“I know, but …” I trail off, trying to think of
an excuse to have him leave that doesn’t involve the fact he’s too
damn gorgeous standing there beside me. Luckily, I’m interrupted by
a commotion in the line ahead.

I look up, and realize from the scowls and
scattering crowd that there’s nothing lucky about it.

“What’s going on?” I ask, with a sinking heart,
but people are heading away from the booth. I push my way forwards
to the front, where a bored-looking guy is putting out a sign.

‘No rentals available.’

No freaking way.

“Hi!” I paste on my brightest smile and try and
hide the note of despair in my voice. “I need a car.”

He doesn’t reply, just points at the sign.

“Yes, I know it says there’s nothing, but surely
you can help me?” I bat my eyelashes at him. “Like, a beat-up old
car with no AC and stick-shift. Anything, I swear I’m not
picky.”

“All our vehicles are out.” He sighs. “Try us
again in the morning.”

“Tomorrow is too late!” I protest.

“I’m sorry,” he sounds anything but. “Can’t help
you.”

“But …” My protest dies on my lips as I realize
just how screwed I am. It’s already late, and flights won’t go out
until the morning— at the earliest. If there are no cars, I can’t
get to Beachwood Bay. Never mind the bachelorette, if I don’t get
there by tomorrow, there’ll be nobody to set up, organize the
decorations, deal with the food, keep Juliet from losing her mind
…

“Oh god,” I whimper, turning to Daniel in
horror. “I’ve ruined the wedding. All that planning, everything.
It’s going to suck, and it’s all my fault!”

“Shh, it’ll be OK,” Daniel strides forwards to
the counter. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”

The guy rolls his eyes. “I can’t magic a car out
of nowhere,” he snaps, sarcastic, and I feel Daniel tense. But he
takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is warm
and friendly.

“Hey man, I get it. Not your fault.” Daniel
leans in, conspiratorial. “But the problem is, we’re kind of in a
bind here. Say, what would you do, if you were in our
situation?”

The guy pauses, then gives a reluctant shrug. “I
don’t know. Get a room at the hotel, I guess. You can leave your
number with me, and I’ll have someone call if anything gets
returned. Maybe someone will drop a car back early, tonight.”

“Yes!” I cry, leaping forwards, “Thank you,
thank you!” I quickly scribble my details down, and push it across
the counter to him. “Call the minute something comes in,” I beg,
“And I’ll love you forever.”

Daniel pulls me back. “What she means is, we
appreciate it.”

He steers me away from the counter before I can
do anything else embarrassing, like rip off my clothes and offer to
trade my body for four wheels and a full gas tank.

“See, that’s half the battle,” he says
encouragingly. “Now we just have to sit tight, and wait for the
storm to break.”

“Sitting tight is not part of my skill-set,” I
grumble, following him outside. “Holy shit!” I gasp as the cold
hits me, snow hitting my body in a wet rush. Daniel quickly strips
off his coat and wraps it around my shoulders, quelling my protest
with a look.

“Come on!” He grabs my case, and quickly leads
the way across the street to the airport hotel. It’s nothing fancy,
but as we hurtle through the front entrance and leave the freezing
snow outside, the muzak in the lobby sounds like a choir of
heavenly angels. I stamp my soaking sneakers on the worn beige
carpet and let out a sigh of relief. Warm. Dry. I couldn’t be
happier if it was the Ritz.

“Wow, this place is packed.” Daniel looks
around. The lobby is teeming with people, and not just
grouchy-looking travelers from our flight: there are groups of
middle-aged men everywhere, wearing khakis and suit jackets,
clutching glasses of wine like they’re stuck in the most awkward
social mixer ever.

“Weird.” I cut through the crowd towards the
front desk. This time, the woman on reception is as perky as her
perm: she taps away at her computer for just a moment before
checking me in and sliding over a keycard.

“You’re lucky,” she chirps. “You guys got the
last room.”

What?

I look at Daniel, who’s staring back at me in
horror. “But we’re not … He’s not … I mean, he needs a room too!” I
squark. “A different room!”

The woman’s face falls. “I thought … I’m so
sorry, that was the last one. We’re packed this weekend.
Orthodontic convention.”

“You’re kidding me,” I blink.

The woman shakes her head. “We never joke about
oral hygiene.”

I slowly turn back to Daniel. “So what do we
do?” I ask, trying not to blush. It shouldn’t be a big deal to
split a room with him, given how much time we’ve spent together
over the past couple of years, but for some reason, there’s a huge
difference.
Then
, we were in college,
safely connected to other people.
Now
he’s
a single man, and I know just how good it feels in his arms.

Daniel clears his throat. There’s an
uncomfortable pause. “I guess it’s fine with me. I mean, if it’s
the last room. It’s not like we’d be sharing a bed,” he adds
quickly, as if the thought couldn’t be more horrifying.