Chapter 17
17
JARED
I stood on the tarmac in the shade of the jet and chatted with the pilot.
We were waiting for Amelia to arrive.
I was trying—and failing—not to feel excited about spending this kind of time with her.
Alone. Away from work.
I told myself it was purely professional, that the conference had to do with her research area anyway.
But deep down, I knew that wasn’t the whole truth.
The pilot, a grizzled older man named Hank, had been flying me around the country for years.
“So, Hank,” I said, adjusting my sunglasses against the glare.
“I’ve been thinking about heading to the Bahamas sometime in the next few months. Maybe take a long weekend.”
Hank’s weathered face broke into a grin.
“Now you’re talking, Doc. I was wondering when you’d finally take a real vacation. Been flying you to conferences and consultations but never anywhere just for fun.”
I chuckled.
“Well, I figured it’s about time. Maybe Nassau or Eleuthera. Somewhere quiet.”
“Eleuthera’s beautiful this time of year.” Hank nodded enthusiastically.
“My wife and I stayed at that resort you put us up in last time you sent us there. Pink sand beaches, crystal clear water—it’s paradise.”
That was our arrangement.
Whenever I traveled, Hank’s accommodations were top notch, and occasionally I’d send him and his wife on trips when I didn’t need the jet.
It was a small price to pay for having a pilot I trusted completely.
He very literally had my life in his hands.
“Just say the word,” Hank continued, checking his watch.
“I can have the flight plan filed faster than you can pack a swimsuit.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, scanning the tarmac for any sign of Amelia.
“Though I might not be going alone this time.”
Hank raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on his face.
“Ah, a lady friend?”
I winked.
“Maybe.”
Our conversation stopped when I spotted Amelia walking across the tarmac.
She looked off. Her shoulders were tense, her expression distant, and she was clutching her bag like it was a lifeline.
I frowned, wondering what was going on in that brilliant mind of hers.
“Dr. Pritchard,” I called out, waving her over.
“Right on time.”
She approached cautiously, her eyes darting between me and the sleek Gulfstream behind us.
Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, wayward strands already escaping in the humid air.
There was something about her expression—a tightness around her eyes, a strain in her smile—that made me wonder if she’d gotten any rest over the weekend.
“This is Hank,” I said, gesturing to my pilot.
“He’s been flying me around for years. Best damn pilot in Florida.”
Hank extended his hand with a warm smile.
“Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Pritchard.”
“Nice to meet you, Hank. And please, call me Amelia.”
“Well, Amelia,” Hank said, tipping his cap, “I’ll take good care of you both. Weather looks clear. Should be a short, smooth flight.”
“Thank you.” She climbed the steps to the plane with me right behind her.
“Nice ride. Do you always fly private?”
“Not always, but most of the time,” I said.
“Make yourself comfortable. We don’t have a flight attendant for this one, so if you need something, I can get it for you.”
“Thanks. I’m fine.”
It wasn’t long before Hank had us in the air.
“So, this conference,” she said.
“What’s on the agenda?”
I leaned back in my seat, crossing my legs.
“It’s a big one. Two days of panels, presentations, and networking. The first night is a dinner party with entertainment, the works. You’ll love it. You’ll be able to talk to a lot of people. It’s all about picking brains and making connections.”
She nodded, her expression thoughtful.
“And my research? Will there be anything specific to TBI?”
“Absolutely,” I said, pulling out the schedule I’d printed earlier.
“There’s a panel on advancements in traumatic brain injury treatments. You’ll be right at home.”
She took the schedule, her eyes scanning the page.
“This looks intense. And exciting.”
I chuckled, shaking my head.
“It’s not so bad. Just a bunch of nerds talking shop. You’ll love it.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“From me, it is.” I pulled my tablet from my bag and planned to get some work done on the short flight.
Amelia was staring out the window.
I could tell there was something on her mind, but I wasn’t sure if I should ask.
I had a feeling it probably had a little to do with me and what happened between us.
Was she considering quitting?
Suing me? Was she thinking I was the worst human on the planet?
Or maybe she was thinking she’d like more.
I sure as hell was. I couldn’t think of anything else.
We were in a weird situation.
If we both wanted it, why couldn’t we have it?
We were adults. Yes, she worked for me, but it wasn’t like she worked directly under me.
I rarely saw her in the course of a workday.
That’s when I realized I was trying to come up with a good reason to take her to my bed.
“Jared?”
I blinked and looked across the aisle to where she sat.
Did she know what I was thinking?
Did it show?
“Yes?” My voice was strained.
Does she know?
“Do you think I could slip away for a bit before the dinner tonight? I need to get a few outfits for the conference, maybe get my hair done. It’ll only take a few hours.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request. “You don’t have anything to wear?”
She shook her head, her cheeks flushing.
“I didn’t exactly pack for a black-tie event. I packed light for my move here. My clothing is mostly business casual for the lab. I want to make a good impression if we’re going to be around our colleagues.”
I nodded, understanding.
“Fair enough. I have to consult on a surgery at the hospital anyway, so you’ll have some time to yourself before dinner. Not a problem at all.”
She looked relieved, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Thanks. I’ll make it quick. I just want to represent the lab properly. And myself.”
I reached into my pocket, pulling out my black card and holding it out to her.
“Here. Use this.”
She stared at the card, her expression wary.
“I don’t need your money, Jared.”
I smirked, leaning forward and pressing the card into her hand.
“Just buy something on me. What else am I supposed to spend it on?”
Her eyes seemed to darken, and for a moment, I wondered if maybe there was more here than I thought.
The attraction between us was obvious, at least to me.
The kiss was on my mind all the time, and I was hungry for more.
“Do you have any recommendations for places to shop?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, leaning back in my seat again.
“Miami’s got a little bit of everything. What are you looking for? High-end? Boutique? Something more casual?”
Amelia hesitated, tapping her fingers against the armrest. “Something elegant but not… over the top. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”
I grinned.
“Got it. You want to look like you belong without screaming ‘look at me.’”
She chuckled softly, and it was the first real sound of amusement I’d heard from her all day.
“Exactly.”
“Alright,” I said, scrolling through my mental Rolodex of Miami hotspots.
“I would say head to the Design District. You’ll find everything you need.”
“Perfect, thank you. What about hair? I need somewhere that can handle my mess.” She gestured to her wavy hair, which was already starting to rebel against its ponytail.
I smirked. “I know a salon in Brickell. I’ll call and tell them you’re coming.”
She frowned.
“Is this going to be one of those exclusive places that charges a thousand dollars for a simple shampoo?”
I flashed her a grin.
“I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to those things. I know what I like. I have a stylist I trust.”
She laughed again.
“So simple.”
I shrugged.
“I don’t have a lot of time to mess with stuff.”
Her head tilted to the side.
She was looking at me like she might be thinking about the moment in her office when we gave into the tension.
Her hazel eyes were dark, guarded, but there was a flicker of something else in them—something that made my cock jump.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this.
Not here, not now. But I couldn’t stop.
Her lips. That’s what does it.
The memory of them pressed against mine, soft and hesitant at first, then firmer, hungrier.
I was treading into dangerous territory.
Sitting across from her in this plane with the faint scent of her perfume in the air, it was all I could think about.
What would happen if I leaned over the aisle right now and kissed her?
Would she push me away?
Or would she kiss me back the way she did before?
Her gaze dropped to my mouth for a split second, and my heart skipped.
Did she feel it too?
This stupid, impossible tension between us?
I wanted to ask her—no, I wanted to show her.
To pull her into my arms and remind her how good it felt, how right it felt.
But just as I was starting to lean in, the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom.
“We’re approaching Miami. Time to buckle up.”
I leaned back, my heart pounding as I fastened my seatbelt.
Amelia did the same, her eyes avoiding mine.
The moment was gone, but the tension between us remained, thick and unspoken.
That had been close.
I was certain she was feeling the chemistry.
She wanted the kiss.
That gave me hope while also unsettling me.
It meant there was a chance.
Obviously, I wanted it, but it was dicey.
This could end in trouble.
Heartbreak. Tears. That was the most likely outcome.
She would burn me if I got too close and I would burn her right back.
She didn’t seem open to something casual, and I didn’t do serious relationships.
There was no bigger distraction in life.
Anything we started would be doomed to fail.
Unless we could agree to something purely physical.
Hank’s landing was perfect as always.
We walked down the stairs, the Miami heat slapping against us.
My car was waiting, but I had a change of plans.
“Take her anywhere she wants,” I told Roger, my regular driver, handing him a generous tip.
“She wants to do some shopping. I suggested the Design District. Anywhere she wants to go.”
“Got it,” Roger said, taking her suitcase.
“You don’t have to do this, Jared. I can get a cab.”
I shook my head.
“Nonsense. You’re here on my dime, remember? Just enjoy yourself.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“For everything. Can I please give you your card back?”
“Nope. Take it. Use it. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded, climbing into the car.
I stepped back, watching as it drove away.
It wasn’t the plan I had when I invited her to come with me.
I’d been looking forward to taking her with me to the hospital, having her watch me work, seeing the look on her face when I dug around in someone’s brain.
I wanted to impress her.
But why did I care what she thought of me?
This was supposed to be about sex and nothing else.
I didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about me.
Usually.
But Amelia was different.
Another car pulled up.
I climbed in, giving the driver the address of the hospital.
As we drove, I tried to push thoughts of Amelia out of my mind.
But it was no use. I was thinking about seeing her tonight.
And what she might wear.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the hospital.
I stepped out and grabbed my bag.
The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh.
I didn’t even have to check in at the desk—the moment I walked through those doors, heads turned.
Nurses paused mid-stride, their eyes widening as they recognized me.
A young intern nearly dropped his clipboard as he scrambled to get out of my way.
“Dr. Welch,” a nurse greeted me, her voice tinged with awe.
“Where’s Dr. Patel?”
“She’s in surgery,” the nurse replied quickly, falling into step beside me as I strode toward the elevators.
“But she said if you arrived early, you’re welcome to scrub in.”
“Good,” I said, pressing the button for the surgical floor.
The doors closed, and for a moment, I was alone with my thoughts.
Amelia.
Always, Amelia.