“Okay. Details.”
“It’s in the Bahamas in a few weeks, at my family’s property there. And I would completely understand if you can’t go or don’t want to.”
“I’d love to.”
She hadn’t expected that response, and so quickly. She completely figured him the type to take days and mull over things.
“Really?”
“Sure. Why not? I have plenty of vacation time. And I’ve never been to the Bahamas.”
“Well, okay. I’ll buy you a ticket, and—”
“Whoa! I can buy my own ticket.”
“Okay.” She didn’t mean to insinuate that he couldn’t. “And you’ll need a passport.”
“I have one, though I haven’t had much of an opportunity to use it,” he said. “Will I need a suit?”
“Yes. Will that be a problem?”
“No.” He was a bit hesitant. “I have a suit.”
He didn’t strike her as the suit type, but he said he had a suit. She had no reason to doubt it. She just hoped it was an appropriate one. She didn’t need any surprises. The imperious part of her wanted proof of this suit. A photograph. A description.
“Send me a pic.”
“Of the suit? Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“No, sweetheart. You’ll have to trust me on this one.”
Trust? It was something that didn’t come easy for Whitney when it pertained to men. She often ended anything that resembled a relationship before it had time to blossom. It was easier that way. And here Lane was asking her to trust him—but only with a suit, not her heart. That she could handle.
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