“Good. You’ll be paid time and a half for your entire trip,” Spencer said.
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
She felt Smith’s eyes on her, demanding something from her, but she had no idea what that might be. Spencer leaned back in his seat and grinned.
“All right, that’s all. You’d both better head home and start packing.”
“Thank you,” she said again, getting up and following Smith out.
They made it to the elevators before he rounded on her, lecturing her in a whisper.
“Do us both a favor. Email my father right now, and tell him you’re sorry but you can’t take the assignment.”
“What? Why?” she whispered back.
His eyes flashed with anger.
“Because you can’t handle international travel,” he said, stepping into the elevator. “It’s going to be a lot of long hours and close quarters.”
She arched a brow, crossing her arms. “And?”
He reached out and pressed the STOP button on the elevator panel, and they lurched to a halt.
“And I, for one, want this trip to be entirely professional.”
“Are you saying that I am not professional?”
“It’s all well and good for you to run around here in your stockings,” he said, pinning her with his gaze. “Yes, I did fucking notice them, so well done on that account. But my father just put me in charge of Europe, which he’s never even talked about before. I’m not going to let him down by staring at you rather than working.”
“All I’m hearing is how you are going to be adversely affected by us working together,” Cameron said, narrowing her eyes. “It was one night! Just one night. Surely you can forget it.”
Smith stepped closer, caging her in a corner. “Of course I can. I’m worried that you can’t.”
She lifted her chin, determined not to lose her position now. She raised a finger, ready to chastise him.
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself,” she said, poking him in the chest.
He grabbed her hand, and the contact ran through her like an electric shock. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that made her body react, but every time they touched it was like being connected with a live wire.
For a second, they stood like that. Smith holding her hand, Cam looking indignant. Both of them so close together, mere inches separated them.
Cam saw him break first, his gaze slipping down to her lips. She licked them nervously, and wondered if he’d lean in, maybe kiss her.
Then he stepped back, dropping her hand, and shook his head.
“Fine,” he said, pressing the STOP button again. “Don’t come crying to me when this doesn’t play out like you want it to, though.”
“How exactly do you think I want this to play out?” she hissed.
He frowned, and she didn’t say anything else. When the elevator doors opened, she got off, but he didn’t.
“See you tomorrow,” she said.
He merely cocked a brow and pressed the down button. The doors closed in her face.
Cam exhaled. That was who she would have to put up with for the duration of her trip to Paris, apparently.
Straightening her back, she went to go get her things. She had a trip to prepare for.
5
Smith sat in his seat to the rear of the Calloway private jet, looking out at the clouds and brooding. He refused to look at Cameron, who was sitting in a rear-facing seat closer to the front, reading a Parisian guidebook and pointedly ignoring him.
He’d arrived on the tarmac hoping that she might rethink her argument, that she might not show up at all. Yet as soon as he had climbed the stairs of the private jet, he’d seen her putting her personal things in the overhead bin.
She was wearing the same kind of outfit that would fit in at the office, a modest light blue dress with little triangles printed all over it. And of course she was wearing stockings with garters, which he saw when she checked the overhead bin for a blanket.
He’d trudged on the plane without a word. He could feel her eyes on him. He imagined she was probably disgruntled about the fact that she was all dressed up while he wore jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. Nobody said that she needed to dress up, though.
Now that they were airborne, he was staring out the window and wondering what to do with her. It wasn’t as if he was a creep who always fantasized about his secretaries. No, it was her specifically.
The problem, essentially, was that every time she opened her mouth, he kept thinking of how her skin tasted, of how she'd cried out as he'd fucked her. She might be asking him if he wanted some coffee, but his brain was flashing images of her underneath his body, of the way her fantastic ass jiggled a little as he’d fucked her from behind.
Or had he even done that? He leaned his face against the window and closed his eyes. He was fairly certain that image was just a projection of what he wanted to do to her.
And of course she was right yesterday when she said that he wanted her gone because the close quarters would make him uncomfortable. Well, not exactly uncomfortable, but he’d spend every waking moment reliving the precise manner in which she’d made him cum.
She was right about the fact that he wasn’t being fair, at least.
The flight attendant came by, asking if he wanted something to drink. He smiled and asked for a bourbon, neat. She flushed when she took his order, biting her lip.
Apparently the pretty blonde flight attendant found him attractive. His attractiveness usually wasn’t something he cared about, but she was pretty obvious about swinging her hips as she walked away.
He looked her up and down as she headed to ask Cameron the same thing, thinking. He couldn’t in good conscience fire Cameron, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t drive her away.
And what better way than to chat up the stewardess? Even though he wasn’t genuinely interested in her, it might make Cameron angry. If it worked, he’d just act the same way with every woman he came into contact with until Cameron threw up her hands and quit.
It wasn’t the classiest thing he could do, but it wasn’t the sleaziest either.
The stewardess came back by with his bourbon, hips swiveling as she walked. Smith turned on the charm, grinning as she handed it to him.
“Thank you, love,” he said. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Andrea,” she said, turning red.
“Andrea,” he said. “You’re very fit. Has anyone ever told you that?”
She went even redder. “No, sir.”
“Please, call me Smith. Do you mind sitting with me for a minute?” he said, giving her puppy dog eyes. No woman could resist those.
“Well…” she said, looking up toward the closed cockpit door. “Just for a minute.”
Cameron noticed when she sat down. She put her book down and frowned. Good.
“Tell me, Andrea. Do you like being a flight attendant?”
“Oh, it’s great!” the blonde told him. “I get to go all over the place.”
“Is that right?” he said, moving closer. “So Paris is no big deal to you.”
Andrea