Fuelled by angry frustration and nervous energy at the disappearing time, Cara did what she did best—she retreated from the situation and merged with the noise and bustle of those around her as she hobbled towards the terminal exit with as much dignity as she could muster, thankful that she would never have to see that man’s arrogant face again.
The airport was teeming with people and outside it was raining so hard she was sure it was a monsoon. How was it possible to be raining in LA and Vegas? Wasn’t California supposed to be always sunny? And Sin City was in the middle of the desert. It should be hot, she thought as she stepped through the automatic glass doors and into an icy cold wind that sawed the breath from her lungs. Holy moly, but tonight could freeze the ice off a penguin.
Rubbing her hands over her arms and trying to stop her knees from knocking together with cold she quickly scanned the long line of bedraggled commuters—also underdressed to withstand the arctic blast, and the non-existent taxis that should have been lining the kerb. Why was it that taxi cabs seemed to disappear in every country unused to inclement weather? She’d do anything for the reliability of the black cabs back home right now because she couldn’t be late. She just couldn’t.
Quelling another bout of panic she gritted her teeth and marched back inside, searching for the hire-car desks.
She stopped when she saw them. It seemed a couple of hundred other commuters had already had the same idea. Frustrated she headed back outside and saw the line surge forward as three taxis pulled alongside the kerb and just as swiftly departed with relieved customers inside.
A shiny silver limousine purred up to the sidewalk, water drops clinging to its polished windows and paintwork like tiny pearls and the crowd gazed at it longingly. Oh, what she’d give to have thought ahead and organised one of those. She watched the young driver alight from the car and scan the crowd. Glancing around, she waited to see who had won the lottery and then back at the chauffeur when no one came forward. He had a sign and Cara shifted a little to the right so she could read it.
Mr Kelly, it read in bold print.
‘Mr Kelly? Oh, Mr Kellllly?’ The stewardess’s high-pitched voice filled Cara’s head and she narrowed her gaze. Surely not. Could Mr Kelly be the cretin jerk from inside? And why did his name sound so familiar?
Not that she was truly interested. He was probably just an overinflated film star and the outrageous idea of taking off in his plush Mercedes jumped from outer space and straight into her mind. His warm, plush Mercedes.
Of course she wouldn’t do it, but boy, she’d like to. It would serve him right for his scathing put-down of her before.
Cara looked back through the terminal, half expecting him to swagger towards her with the ‘me Jane you Tarzan’ stewardess. Really, he didn’t deserve that car. Another gust of wind whipped an ice cap off the Arctic Circle and settled it over Vegas.
Even her bones shivered this time.
A nearby child sneezed and started whimpering.
‘It’s not supposed to rain in Vegas,’ a middle-aged woman with two young children huddled under her arms groused good-naturedly.
‘It’s not supposed to be cold, either,’ Cara said.
‘Oh, my, you’re Cara Chatsfield, aren’t you?’
‘Guilty.’ Cara smiled, expecting that the woman would either turn away now in disgust, or bubble over with excitement at having met her.
‘Oh, you poor thing,’ she gushed. ‘I’m sorry to say I read about that awful scandal last year and I just want you to know that you were right to sack that manager of yours.’
It had been her agent that she’d sacked but Cara was so shocked by the woman’s passionate support she was almost stupefied. ‘Well, thank you.’
‘I think it’s awful how people take advantage of others. And you copping all the flak for that video because you’re a woman. I noticed that man in it with you wasn’t mentioned and he wasn’t wearing much more than you.’
‘No.’
‘Sorry, I’m ranting.’ The woman blushed and fussed over one of the children’s hair.
‘No, please.’ Cara smiled. ‘Rant away.’
The woman grinned back. ‘I wish that limousine was waiting for me. Who do you suppose it’s here for? A prince?’
Cara arched a brow. ‘Hardly.’
She looked around. Maybe the cretin jerk really had visited that broom cupboard.
She smiled at the woman as the idea of stealing Mr Kellllly’s limo returned. ‘Maybe it is waiting for us.’
‘I wish,’ the woman said with a sigh.
When one of the younger of the children started sneezing Cara straightened her spine and strolled towards the young limousine driver. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ she said airily. ‘I spotted an old friend.’
‘Ma’am?’
‘You are waiting for me, aren’t you?’
‘Ah, no, ma’am. I’m waiting for a Mr Kelly.’
Cara tilted her head and gave him a smile she’d been told made grown men forget their own names. ‘It was supposed to be Ms Kelly, but never mind. No harm done.’
‘And you’re … Ms Kelly?’
‘No, I’m not.’ Cara smiled patiently. ‘I’m travelling incognito. I have to do that after, well, you know … the video clip last year.’
The young driver blushed as Cara had expected he would and looked flustered. ‘Oh, I don’t—’
She waved her hand dismissively. ‘Please, I’d rather not talk about it. Now, I hope you don’t mind but I promised to give my friends a lift. It’s too cold for them to wait for a taxi.’
‘No, no.’ He scampered to open the passenger door for her. ‘Not at all, Miss Chats—I mean, Ms Kelly.’
Feeling just the teensiest bit guilty and determined to ignore it, Cara beckoned to the woman and her children. ‘It seems the limo was waiting for me after all. Would you like a lift?’
‘Oh, wow. Really?’
‘Of course, but … we should hurry.’
The guilty feeling persisted for quite a way to the hotel and probably if she could relive that moment she might act differently, but it was too late now and her awed passengers had been so relieved and grateful it had been worth it.
Thankfully she’d never have to see Mr Kelly again, but maybe she’d try and find out where he was staying and send him an anonymous bottle of champagne to thank him for the ride.
She stifled an impish grin at the thought. He was really going to be livid when he realised that his car had been commandeered by someone else. In a way, she almost wished she was able to see his face.
She hoped it turned purple.
AIDAN SAW A flash of pink hair and one long slim leg before the limousine pulled away from the kerb, its tail-lights blinking in the gloomy night.
Amazing. The woman he had thought a cheap tourist at best could afford a limousine. Or perhaps she’d had a rich lover waiting outside.
With legs like hers it was probably the more likely scenario. Long and golden brown. He had no doubt they’d be smooth to the touch and his hand would have no trouble sliding all the way up to those tiny shorts. He imagined her breathless little gasp as he slid one finger inside the leg of those shorts and teased— What the …?
He