There was only one way to find out.
He reached for the phone and dialed.
* * *
“Final call for Flight DJ 512 to the Gold Coast. Would all passengers for Flight DJ 512 please make their way to gate twenty-seven as your plane is now ready for takeoff.”
AJ rushed off the moving walkway, readjusted the satchel strap across her shoulders, then broke into a jog, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Her sneakers squeaked on the polished floor as the Sydney terminal windows flashed by. Twenty-four, twenty-five...
Twenty-seven. She ground to a halt, shoving back a loose curl from her ponytail. The line was still a dozen people deep.
With a relieved sigh, she dug in her bag and grabbed the boarding pass. The cheap ticket was nonrefundable and she wasn’t about to impose on her brother-in-law’s generosity and squat another night in his newly built Potts Point apartment, not when he had potential buyers waiting in the wings.
Just then her phone rang, and after three rings she finally found it at the bottom of her bag.
It was Matthew. She shuffled forward in the line. “Yes?”
“Where are you?”
She frowned, eyeing the moving queue. “Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“Please remember all phones must be turned off,” the flight attendant politely announced, her gaze lingering on AJ as she reached out for her boarding pass. AJ shook her head and stepped out of line, allowing a man in a business suit to grumble past.
She fiddled with her bag strap. “Look, I’m just about to get on a plane. If you want to yell at me again—”
“I just want to talk about your...proposal.”
“Ma’am? Are you boarding?” The flight attendant’s respectful smile flickered with impatience.
“AJ?” Matt said in her ear.
AJ wavered as she eyed the cavernous departure tunnel that would take her back to her life. A vaguely unsatisfying life, one that lacked true purpose and follow-through after she’d finally decided what she wanted.
“What do you want to say?” she finally asked.
She heard him sigh. “Can we not do this over the phone?”
“My flight is boarding, Matt. Unless you have a spare ticket to compensate me for my fare—”
“Done. I’ll pick you up downstairs in twenty minutes.”
“But—”
“You wanted to talk. So we’ll talk.”
She sighed. That didn’t mean he’d say anything she wanted to hear. She wasn’t about to get her hopes up to have him crush them all over again: she’d done that once and look where that had gotten her.
“You still there?”
“Yes.” She rubbed at the spot behind her ear, tugging on the lobe.
“AJ, you’re asking for my help. I need to know details before I commit either way.”
“Miss,” the flight attendant said, her smile tight. “I’ll need to have your boarding pass.”
That’s when AJ finally made a choice. “Okay,” she said into the phone, numbly shaking her head at the attendant and turning away. “Twenty minutes.”
AJ waited in the pickup bay, hesitant anticipation congealing in her stomach. The longer she stood there, the tighter her nerves got. Did this mean he’d changed his mind about her proposal? Surely it did. He wouldn’t make her miss her flight just to tell her what a dumb idea it was, right?
Still, it didn’t stop her from nervously humming The Wizard of Oz theme song under her breath. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”—a familiar soothing song she used to sing to Emily when they were kids, drowning out their parents on a drunken bender, partying loudly at two in the morning. While strangers passed out in the bathroom or stormed up and down the hall, Emily had crawled into AJ’s bed and they’d held each other in the scary dark. And AJ had waveringly sung that song about hopes and dreams and following them to find a better place.
Don’t think about them. Think about yourself, about what’s happening right here, right now.
By the time she spotted the sleek ash-gray Jaguar purring up to the parking bay, she’d worked herself into a state. Yet she still noticed a dozen pairs of eyes swivel to take in the sporty car, their gaze running over the smooth lines with a mix of envy, joy and blatant lust.
Then Matt eased from the driver’s seat and she could swear she heard the appreciative murmurs, even over the general chaos of Sydney airport.
He was dressed for serious business—dark gray suit, white shirt, green tie, mirrored sunglasses. He wore the clothes on his lean frame with such casual elegance, a commanding uniform that befitted the CEO of a national corporation. Then he pushed up his glasses and rounded the car in a few strides, leaning down to grab her carry-on. But when his hand went to her shoulder, she instinctively stepped back.
He frowned. “Can I take your bag?”
Embarrassment made her flush. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”
He gently eased the strap down, his knuckles grazing her arm, and she barely had time to get flustered before he was hoisting it over his shoulder, then turning to open the passenger door.
She took the opportunity to note the way his jacket tightened across his back when he leaned in to deposit her bags in the tiny backseat. The touchable skin where collar met neck. And the firm way those long-fingered hands grasped the door as he motioned for her to get in.
AJ took a breath and did just that.
It wasn’t often she got to revel in the luxury of a sleek European car. Zac guarded his Porsche like the thing was made of eighteen-carat gold, and her bomby Getz was hardly in the same league. But this...this was heaven: soft suede seats cupping her bottom, the distinct smell of money, new car and leather permeating the air. She sat low, way too low, and the sensation was an odd mix of indulgence and discomfort.
“Since when do you have a Jag?” she asked as he buckled up.
“I got it last year.” She barely heard the engine kick in before he glanced over his shoulder, turned the steering wheel and merged into traffic while the radio played softly through the speakers. “The Sultan of El-Jahir was very generous.”
She blinked. “El-Jahir? Where’s that?”
“Tiny independent island off the coast of Africa. The palace guards staged a coup and GEM treated the Sultan’s third wife after a hostage drama.”
“And he gave you a Jag.”
“He originally offered one of his daughters.”
AJ snorted out a laugh. “And you turned him down?”
“I’m not the arranged-marriage type.”
Their moment of levity lapsed into elongated silence as they made their way out onto Qantas Drive.
“So you said you wanted to talk,” she finally said.
His eyes remained on the road. “Out of all the men you know, why me?”
Her mouth thinned. “All the men I know? How many do you think I know, Matt?”
His startled gaze met hers. “I didn’t mean it that way. I...” He returned his attention to the road and frowned. “You were a free spirit—impulsive, crazy. Up for anything. And,”