You're All I Need (24 page)

Will Chris be there?
Tia wondered, staring out the window of the plane. White cloud formations and blue sky surrounded the jet. She shifted in the small, uncomfortable seat, feeling too keyed up and nervous to appreciate the beauty around her. Chris occupied all of her thoughts. Would he be at the airport when she arrived?

After Tia had packed at super speed, Mrs. Edwards drove her to Metro Airport. Riding along I-94, Tia tried to reach Chris, first on his cell phone and then at the France office. Neither attempt was successful. She left messages at both locations before trying his home number. Again, the only thing she got was voice mail. She left a message there, too. Would he come to the airport? Would Chris be happy to see her?

Throughout her flight, she waited, hoping he would get in touch with her. Her cell phone sat in her lap. Maybe he sent her a text. She reached for the phone and switched to text messaging. Nothing. Sighing deeply, disappointment overwhelmed her. Frustrated, she felt like tossing the thing in the trash.
Please be there, Chris.

A chime rang throughout the airplane cabin followed by the captain's voice. He made an announcement, first in French and then in English, that they were nearing their destination and to prepare for landing. Once the announcement concluded, the passengers began returning items to the carry-on bins and snapping their seat belts into place. Tia stared out the window and saw the outline of the airport and runways below. The plane shifted while the flight attendants hurried down the aisles, removing trash and telling passengers to buckle up. Tia shoved the magazine that was in her lap into the pocket in front of her, stuffed her cell phone in her purse, and placed it under her seat.

Once the plane landed and the passengers disembarked, forty-five minutes had passed. All the while, Tia's tension grew. Chris's silence made her feel as if things were unsettled. Unsure what the flight attendants were saying and where she should go, Tia trailed a family off the plane, through the airport, and to the baggage claim area. Arms folded across her chest, she stood near them.

Expecting to find Chris waiting for her, Tia studied the surrounding faces. Some were anxious and some were happy as they waited for loved ones. She scanned the unfamiliar hordes for Chris's handsome and reassuring presence. Again, disappointment filled her. She fought down a layer of hysteria. What was she going to do? Biting down on her bottom lip, she decided to try Chris one more time. Maybe he hadn't received any of her previous messages. For the fourth time, she dialed his home number with the same results. His answering machine picked up.

Arms wrapped around her middle, Tia studied her surroundings. Everything, the people and environment, were so foreign. She felt as if she'd stepped onto a movie set. Was this how Chris felt when he had moved to Michigan—out of place and conspicuous? She gained new understanding and respect for the situation he had faced, leaving his home and settling in a foreign country.

What if he didn't come to meet her? What if none of her messages had reached him? She would have to come up with plan B. There were plenty of hotels. There had to be a Hilton, Hyatt, or Sheraton near the airport. She could stay a night and visit the Gautier home office tomorrow. Chris would be there, and maybe they could spend a little time sorting out their future—that is, if they still had a future.

Tia looked on one of the information boards to search for a list of hotels. She needed to be logical. She couldn't hang out at the airport all night.

Her heart wanted to believe that he would come. She half expected to turn around and find him standing right behind her. But the logical side of her brain knew she had to fend for herself and make provisions, no matter what happened with Chris.
No. Don't think like that,
she warned silently.
Chris will be here. He won't let me down.
She took another quick peek around her, but no one came forth.

Finally, a light flashed and a buzzer blared to announce the arrival of the passengers' luggage, which spilled from a small opening at the top of the carousel. She moved closer, studying the items as she waited for her bag to appear. All the while, Tia stole quick glances around her, hoping to see a familiar, welcoming face that would make her feel less like a foreigner and more like everything would soon be perfect.

As Tia waited, she switched between calling Chris's home and cell phone. Her efforts resulted in his answering machine and voice mail. Suddenly, her black bag came into view. She slipped the phone back into her purse and moved forward. She tugged at the handle of her bag, but it disappeared around the bend of the carousel before she could lift it. She waited for it to come around a second time. When it reached her again, Tia grunted and used all of her strength to pull the heavy luggage off the carousel. It barely budged. Without warning, the bag was lifted off the metal machine and placed on the floor.

Tia smiled, certain that Chris had arrived without her noticing and had helped her when she needed him. She turned, expecting to gaze into his beautiful pale blue eyes. Instead, green eyes the color of peas glanced back at her. Swallowing her disappointment, she said,
“Merci.”

“No problem,” he answered with a salute of his hand. He turned to his family and strolled away.

Nibbling on the corner of her bottom lip, Tia realized that she was out of time. She had to decide what to do. With a nod of her head, she made an executive decision. Chris hadn't shown up, and she needed to find someplace to stay for the night. She noticed a man exiting the building through a sliding door down the hall. A taxi stand stood beyond the exit. Pulling her bag by the handle, Tia headed for the exit, praying that the cabbie spoke English.

She intended to be settled before nightfall. The doors slid open, and she moved through them and stood curbside. She stepped up to the taxi just as he pulled off.
Dang!
she thought.
I'll have to wait for the next one.

A black sedan pulled smoothly into the cabbie spot and stopped in front of her. Mindful of crime against tourists, Tia took a step back, remembering all the horror stories about tourists being robbed and left for dead. The door opened and a blond man got out. “Tia!”

Her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure. She grinned like a fool, but she didn't care. “Chris.” She dropped the handle of her bag and ran toward the love of her life.

Arms open, Chris waited for her. She flung herself at him. “I thought you didn't want to see me.”

“Never!” he proclaimed, raining kisses on her face. “I missed you so.”

Tia reached up and stroked his cheek. “I missed you, too.” She ached for his lips on hers. Tia didn't have to wait. Chris leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. She wrapped her hands around the strong column of his neck. She inhaled, reveling in Chris's unique scent. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she was certain she'd never experience these sensations again.

Lips pressed against hers, he whispered, “Tia, I love you.”

Tears sprang to her eyes and she answered, “I love you, too, Chris.”

He nibbled on her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it. He deepened the kiss as his tongue slid across her lips, getting his first taste of her. Eager for the taste of him, Tia moaned, rubbing herself against him. Chris cupped her cheek, gently stroking her skin. The gentle touch of his fingertips caressing her throat made her tingle all over.

Angry French words that Tia didn't understand were punctuated by tapping on the hood of the car. Groaning, they broke apart, ending their private reunion. “Give me a minute, man,” Chris said in French.

Tia grinned up at him. “Maybe we should go.”

Nodding, Chris backed away from her and waved at the cop. He hurried around the car, grabbed her bag, and placed it in the trunk. The cop closed his ticket book and returned his pen to his shirt pocket.

Chris saluted the cop.
“Merci.”
He offered Tia his hand and said, “Let's go home.”

She nodded as she took his hand. Always the gentleman, he helped her into the car before taking the driver's seat.

“I left you a ton of messages. Why didn't you answer?” Tia asked.

Chris took one hand off the steering wheel and laid it on top of hers, squeezing it as he answered, “I was at one of our factories, but I forgot my cell phone. I didn't call the office until I was ready to go home. That's when I got your messages. I hurried right over here and prayed that I would catch you before you left the airport.”

Chris pulled away from the curb.

Tia studied the passing scenery and then turned to Chris. “Where are we going?”

Grinning, he looked at her and placed a hand over hers. “You and I are going to my mother's. Everyone is there and they expect to meet you.”

Her heart galloped. Meet his family? She didn't feel she was ready for that.

“Don't worry,” Chris said, driving them toward their future. “They're going to love you as much as I do.”

Want more romance in your life? Don't miss
What Love Tastes Like

 

Available now wherever books are sold.

 

Here's an excerpt from
What Love Tastes Like
…

Could anybody possibly be that fine? That's what Tiffany Matthews asked herself as she fastened her seat belt, took a deep breath, and clutched a teddy bear that looked as frazzled as she felt. The bear had an excuse—it was almost twenty-five years old. And so did Tiffany—she was exhausted. Graduating from culinary school and preparing for a month-long overseas internship had taken its toll.

There was yet another draining aspect to consider: Tiffany was terrified of flying. But after taking the anxiety pill her best friend had given her, she brazenly endured the curious stares of fellow passengers as they watched the naturally attractive, obviously adult woman sit in the airport, enter the Jetway, and then board a plane with a raggedy stuffed animal clasped to her chest.

Tiffany didn't care. During a childhood in which her mother worked long hours and her grandmother loved but didn't entertain, Tuffy the teddy bear had been her constant and sometimes only friend. No matter what happened, Tuffy was there to lend a cushy ear, an eternal smile, and wide, button-eyed support. This stuffed animal was also the first present she remembered her father giving her, when she was five years old. Unfortunately, his gift stayed around longer than Daddy did, a fact that after years of not seeing him still brought Tiffany pain. They were estranged, and while Tiffany would never admit it, having her father's first gift close by always felt like having him near. Tuffy brought comfort—during her childhood of loneliness, her teenaged years of puppy love and superficial heartbreak, her college years of first love and true pain, and now, while pursuing a dream her parents felt was beneath her. As the plane began its ascent into the magnificently blue May sky, Tiffany squeezed her eyes shut, praying the pill would stave off an attack. She knew she'd take any help she could get to make it through this flight, even that of a furry friend.

It wasn't until the plane leveled off and her heartbeat slowed that she thought of him again—the stranger in first class. Their eyes had met when she passed by him on the way to her seat in coach. Tiffany had assessed him in an instant: fine, classy, rich.
And probably married,
she concluded as she finally loosened the death grip she had on Tuffy and laid him on the middle seat next to her.
Clearly out of my league
…Still, she couldn't help but remember how her breath had caught when she entered the plane and saw him sitting there, looking like a
GQ
ad, in the second-row, aisle seat. His close-cropped black hair looked soft and touchable, his cushiony lips framed nicely by just the hint of a mustache. But it was his eyes that had caused Tiffany's breath to catch: the deepest brown she'd ever seen, especially set against flawless skin that not only looked the color of maple syrup, but she imagined also tasted as sweet. This information was absorbed and processed in the seconds it took the man two people in front of her to put his carry-on in the overhead bin and step aside so the people behind him could continue. The stranger had glanced up at her. Their eyes had held for a moment. Had she imagined him giving her a quick once-over before he resumed reading his magazine?

Tiffany tilted back her seat and placed Tuffy on her lap. Perhaps it was the medication or the lack of sleep the prior night, but Tiffany welcomed what she hoped would be a long slumber that would take her over the Atlantic, all the way up to the landing in Rome. If she was lucky, she thought, she'd wake up with just enough time to pull her seat forward and place her tray table back in its upright and locked position. And if she was sleeping, she wouldn't be thinking about how much she hated flying, and she especially would not be thinking about Mr. First Class. She knew she was kidding herself to think she made any kind of impression as she passed by the sexy stranger. How could she, dressed in jeans, a Baby Phat T-shirt, and clutching a tattered teddy bear?
No need to sit here fantasizing. If I'm going to dream, might as well do it in my sleep!

 

Dominique Rollins, or Nick as he was known to friends, put down the magazine and picked up his drink. After staring at the same page for over five minutes, he realized he wasn't reading it anyway. For some inexplicable reason, his mind kept wandering to the woman back in coach, the sexy siren who'd passed him clutching a teddy bear as if she were five instead of the twentysomething she looked. His guess was that she was afraid of flying and the toy was some type of childhood relic, like a security blanket. But to carry it openly, in public, holding it as if it were a lifeline?
Too bad, because that chick is as fine as chilled wine in the summertime.
Nick appreciated the stranger's natural beauty, but he liked his women successful and secure. Not that he was looking for women on this trip, he reminded himself. He wanted a carefree few days without any complications. Nick knew all too well that when it came to the words
woman
and
complication
, one rarely appeared without the other.

Her eyes
…Nick tilted his seat back and sipped his Manhattan. That's what intrigued him about her. In them was a curious blend of trepidation and intelligence, of anxiety mixed with steely resolve. The combination brought out his chivalrous side. A part of him wanted to walk back to where she was, sit her on his lap, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. His rational side quickly shot down that idea. One, she was a stranger; two, she'd hardly appreciate being treated like a child—clutched teddy bear notwithstanding; and three, Nick wasn't in the market for a woman—friend or otherwise—he reminded himself for the second time in as many minutes. He was grateful for his work and the newest acquisition that had helped to take his mind off Angelica, the woman who'd dashed his dream of them getting married and having a family together…and who had broken his heart.

Nick signaled the flight attendant for another drink and reached for his iPod. He didn't want to think about Angelica on this trip. He wanted to enjoy this mini-vacation in Rome, one of his favorite cities, and dine at Anticapesa, one of his favorite restaurants and the inspiration behind the upscale eatery in his newly acquired boutique hotel.

Thinking about the quaint, thirty-four-room property he and his partners had purchased in Malibu, California, and were transforming into a twenty-first-century masterpiece brought a smile to Nick's face. Following the global economic collapse, the men had outwitted their corporate competition and had gotten an incredible deal on the 1930s Spanish-style building. The group, four successful men with diverse and various corporate and entrepreneurial backgrounds, all agreed that it was the good looks and sexy swagger of Nick and another partner, Bastion Price, that sealed the deal with the sixty-something, hard-as-nails Realtor who'd handled negotiations. This trip was the calm before the storm of Le Sol's grand opening, less than one month away.

Nick pressed the button that reclined his seat to an almost horizontal position. He tried to relax. But every time his eyes closed, he saw the short-haired, chocolate brown, doe-eyed beauty who'd passed him hours before, with those hip-hugging jeans and bountiful breasts pressed up against a tight, pale yellow T-shirt.
You're flying to Rome for pasta, not pussy,
he mentally chastised himself. Even so, his appetite had been awakened, and the dish he wanted to taste wasn't from anybody's kitchen.