Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Whitney
Good Will
“It really wasn’t that bad,” I tell Ebony, who’s been on pins and needles since yesterday morning, now hanging on to my every word for an update.
“Whit, you could’ve died.” She half laughs.
It’s a fact I’m well aware of.
Let’s just say the mortality missiles are firing in all directions. Lab results, the flight attendant flirt-off, faulty landing gear, a storm that could roll in at any minute. They’ve all been trying to kill me. Yet I’ve never felt more alive.
It’s the strangest thing to try to explain.
My head is clear, and I know exactly what to do today.
So, from the comfort of Warner’s haute-cultured, Caribbean-themed guest quarters sprinkled with timeless antiques, crisp linens, and palm frond art, I finally peel back the covers from my clean, rested, pajama-clad body.
I’ve been staring at the fluid lines of the ceiling, talking to my girl, and patiently waiting for Warner to do what all men eventually do: the right thing.
I give it thirty more minutes.
“No, I mean, the ‘making me jealous’ and ‘terrifying emergency landing’ parts sucked, right?” I concede her point. Then toe the line on mine. “But the kiss to make us forget… it was nice.”
Ebony sighs.
“Girl, I know, right?”
“Sis, I’m so happy for you.” Ebony’s soft swoons dissolves into a small laugh. “And honestly, relieved that all you’ve done is kiss that poor guy.”
“Hey, he kissed me,” I admit, feeling slightly self-righteous that she thought I couldn’t hold out. Regardless of the wager, it’s been one full day, and while I’m still reeling from that kiss, the last thing I need is to revert to my old ways and jump into PTSD sex, screwing up everything.
Friend, have some faith in me.
“Proud of you.” She giggles. “But I still can’t believe you don’t have the least bit of sympathy for him. He thought he was dying and you were his last wish.”
“He was the most adorable, terrified man…”
My heart thumps wildly in my chest.
“So, everything’s fine, then?” Ebony says. “Your room, the staff, the food, the art. When are you seeing him again?”
“It will be fine.” I pull my knees up to my chest. “Warner introduced me to his estate manager, and had her show me to my room, which is… breathtaking, vibrant, five-star resort-tier elegance. Designed with inventive uses of color and pattern. She’s kept me abreast of the storm alerts, made sure I ate, just warm and welcoming as anything.
But I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
“Wait, he’s avoiding you?” Disbelief laces Ebony’s tone. “What kind of—”
“Exactly. How do you kiss a woman until her body aches for more, then pretend it didn’t happen just because we lived? Insane behavior.”
“Girl, if it’s not one thing, it’s another.”
We both laugh.
“Right. Hello? What do you mean we’re just about to sit here avoiding each other and not even working like I’m pressed?”
“Y’all evaded death together. He should be falling faster,” she says.
“Exactly.” I let out a long sigh. “Sir, I felt that kiss down to my toes. A month ago, I would’ve knocked on every door, found him, and asked to see the collection, so I could take the first thing flying or ferrying out here.
I would’ve found myself a Bahamian paradise hotel.
Shoot, don’t threaten me with a good time… ”
Ebony pauses briefly. I’m guessing she’s as struck as I am by the past tense.
“And now?” she prompts me.
The truth is, I chose to call Ebony specifically.
Not because my other divas don’t need updates or kissing that fine-ass man is some classified secret.
I don’t actually even need advice. Technically, that kiss…
the way it left me disoriented, lingered, settled under my skin, refusing to let go…
In a way, it forced us to be vulnerable faster.
It was communication on every biological, physiological, and cellular level that words couldn’t have ever conveyed as well in the moment.
The kiss was intense, and my brain knows exactly why that’s dangerous.
My body doesn’t need advice about what to do after a kiss like that.
My instincts, on the other hand, aren’t being helpful at all. They’re the problem.
Most of them, anyway, aside from staying alive.
And this is where Ebony comes in. What I’m hoping for is a sounding board with a side of hard-earned wisdom, and of my divas, she’s the only one who’s got it.
She and Linc worked together too. Last year, she planned a wedding at Ellswood’s Madison Manor, a luxury venue he was contracted to restore to its former glory.
They were in that building hours daily for months.
What I want to know is how they managed to get anything done once the sexual tension was there.
How do you tiptoe around that kind of undeniable attraction long enough to stay focused and get the job done?
Because right now, art, collections, even my own gallery are nowhere near my radar, knowing he’s upstairs.
“I’m testing him,” I say, more certain than ever.
“From the comfort of your swanky beach-and-beyond room?”
A small laugh sputters out of me. I’m still in these damn pajamas.
My bag’s contents are strewn on the bed because halfway through unpacking, I realized I’d packed for sun and sand.
I’m about as prepared for a tropical storm as I was for a panty-dropping lip-lock that left me nothing but a pulsing mess of bones and nerve endings aching for more.
“Oh yeah, I’m not moving an inch,” I say.
Ebony’s voice squeaks through the line. “I’ve got a good feeling about you and this guy. But do I even want to know how you’re going to swing that?”
“What’s the coup de grace?”
She gasps. “You’re baiting him!”
“Bingo.” I stand, grabbing my makeup back off the bed and making my way to the en suite bathroom.
“A man loves a woman who lets him lead, right? If I stay in this room until he comes to get me, it’s on his terms. Suddenly, I’m not the one making a big deal about the plane or the kiss.
No arguing or nagging. I’m simply agreeable. ”
“Whit, that’s deep.”
“Thinking out the box.” I glide on a fresh coat of my lip gloss. “I’m just going to stay my happy self here until he comes to rescue me. Trust me, it won’t be more than another hour or two until he—”
A faint rap on the door echoes off the walls, stealing our breaths.
“It’s him!” Ebony yelps.
I’ve never felt more vindicated in my life. “See, nothing to worry about. Things are progressing according to plan.”
After I let Ebony go with a promise of a full update, I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror, smoothing my hands over my pajamas.
“Who is it?” I call out.
“Whitney, it’s me.” Warner’s bass-filled voice vibrates under the wooden door’s clearing, and it might as well be his hands on me, wandering, getting lost on my skin. “Can I talk to you?”
Let him lead.
I swing the door open, and immediately, I know I’m viscerally unprepared.
Warner’s in my door. Easy lean, charming smile, towering appetizingly over me. And worse, he’s swapped his jeans for heather-gray sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, contouring in all the right places.
Lord have mercy.
“Hi.” It comes out breathy, nervous.
This man’s mouth curves into an adorably sexy smile that instantly weakens my knees and my resolve.
“Hey,” he says gruffly. “I noticed you’ve been in your room since we arrived, and I’m hopeful that’s not due to my recent decisions.
Or your accommodations. Usually, we’d offer the guest villa for a little more privacy from the main residence, but given the storm…
” He cracks a small, shaky smile. “However, I’m here for two reasons. ”
My heart taps out a wild xylophone solo on my ribcage.
“Oh?”
Warner lowers his chin to his chest, licking his lips.
“Yes, I’ve had lots of time to think about this.
First, I want to apologize. Officially. For the plane, the weather…
” His gaze lifts to mine. “Kissing you when you were vulnerable and afraid.” He swallows hard.
“I shouldn’t have taken that liberty without your consent. ”
Oh damn.
I don’t interrupt to tell him that kiss definitely wasn’t one-sided.
Or that I’m not sure what possessed him to do it, but I would’ve died happy if he’d kept going.
Curved his hands to my face and devoured my willing mouth.
That would, no doubt, have changed the trajectory of this conversation. Of this entire trip.
And I’m supposed to be letting him lead.
Instead, I ask, “And second?”
I hate the disappointment that flickers across his beautiful face. The way his rich brown skin blanches for a split second before he straightens, nodding.
“Right.” He half laughs, like he expected this to go differently and he’s now course-correcting.
“Yes, and the second reason I’m here is to invite you to accompany me on a kitchen adventure”—a huge smile breaks on his face—“where I’ll prepare you a culinary masterpiece for breakfast over great conversation for us to get to know one another.
After which, we’ll make a run for it to check on the paintings. Ensure there’s no water intrusion and—”
I can’t suppress my smile.
“What?” he asks, cutely.
“You’re going to cook for me?”
“Well, Nacheline let my chef go home, so…” he explains, chuckling. “Wait, after everything I just said, that’s all you heard?”
“Yes.”
We’re both bent over with laughter, gasping for air, and it’s the most wholesome, sweet moment. How can we be more intimate and open with each other? Really, my heart can’t take another second.
And then he reaches out of my line of sight, just on the side of the doorframe, and snaps upright holding a small stack of folded clothes, and I just stare at him, confused.
“Listen, I hope this isn’t too presumptuous,” he says as he pinches the collar of a sweatshirt and lets it unravel. “I realized you probably weren’t packed for rainy weather—”
“Are those…?”
Warner flashes me a lopsided smile.
Whitney, do not climb this man like he’s a jungle gym.