Fortune's Secret Heir Page 8
Her palm was sweaty against the phone and she switched hands. “Of course not.”
“He doesn’t care if you go off to Boston with a man?”
Her stomach swooped. “I’m not going off to Boston with a man. I’m accompanying my boss on a business trip. And even if there was a boyfriend, that’s not something I’d have to ask permission to do! If you must know, I was letting my mother know because she works nights. Which means my sixteen-year-old brother will be left alone tomorrow night. And that’s not something we usually do. Satisfied?” She felt breathless.
“Quite.” He waited a beat. “You can let your mother know you’ll be at the Boston Harbor Hotel. I’ll send a car to pick you up in the morning. Can you be ready by seven?”
“Yes. I assume this means you want to check out Randy Phillips in person?”
“I spoke with him already.”
Shock had her sitting again on the arm of the couch. As paranoid as he’d been about keeping his hunt on the down-low, she couldn’t believe Ben would have told Randy his suspicion that they were half brothers. “I guess you found his personal contact information,” she said faintly.
“I told him he’d come to the attention of Robinson Tech and we’d like to talk to him about a job. He thought I was a recruiter. You’ll take the meeting with him.”
Horror accosted her. “Me!”
“At the risk of sounding conceited, he’d probably recognize me. You’re quick on your feet. You can act the part of an HR rep. It’ll be easier than pretending to be a bartender.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“I’ll see you at the airport, then. G’night, Ella.”
“Good night.” But once again, she found herself speaking to a dial tone.
She replaced the receiver.
Her dull textbook was lying open on the dining room table, her highlighting pen uncapped beside it, drying out.
Rory’s video game was still blaring from behind his bedroom door.
Everything was normal around her.
But inside, she felt anything but normal.
She was going to Boston.
With Ben.
Chapter Six
He’d neglected to warn her that he wasn’t just sending any old car to pick her up.
It was a limousine.
Long.
Black.
And noticeable to everyone in the neighborhood who was up and about when it pulled to a stop in front of the small Thomas home the next morning at 6:58 a.m.
Bernie even left his front porch to walk to the shrubs that separated their yards to get a closer look. “Going somewhere, Ella?”
She handed over the satchel she was using as a suitcase to the black-suited young man who’d come to the door for her and waved at Bernie. “Boston,” she said. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Mom’s still on nights, so keep an ear out for Rory, will you?”
The old man nodded with a wave. “Maybe I’ll let ’im beat me at chess.”
Ella smiled, holding back her laughter, because everyone on their block knew about Rory’s chess prowess. “I’m sure he’d like that,” she called back.
The driver had placed her canvas bag in the trunk of the car and was waiting by the opened rear door.
She nervously tugged on the end of her ponytail. “I’ll just be another second,” she told him, and darted back inside.
Rory was still sitting at the table eating his breakfast cereal. She gave him a kiss on his cheek that he made a face over. “I’m not a baby,” he grumbled. “Just go on, wouldja?”
“Don’t be late for your bus,” she instructed one last time before she grabbed the peacoat she’d unearthed from the hall closet and hurried out the door again, closing it behind her.
Aware of the driver watching her impassively, she modified her instinctive dash down the cracked driveway to a more dignified walk, tugging at the hem of her navy blue blazer as she went. The driver took the coat from her arm before she climbed in the backseat, then handed it back to her before closing her, literally, in the lap of luxury.
She sank back into the buttery leather seat, staring at the plush interior. There was a small television screen built in to the center console between the two thickly padded fold-down seats directly opposite the seat she occupied. It was switched on to a news network, though the sound was off. The console between her enveloping seat and the one next to her provided not only the expected armrest, but also a panel of buttons that presumably operated the television and who knew what else. A drawer below that offered gleaming crystal glasses and two full-sized bottles of wine.
Bemused, she pushed the drawer closed and stared out the window beside her. The ride was so smooth it was undetectable, and with the interior as soundproof as it was, she had to look out the window to be certain they were even moving. And it took her a moment longer before she realized they weren’t heading to the airport.
There was no way for her to see the driver from where she sat. The area that might have held a partition looked instead like thickly padded leather upholstery behind the fold-down seats. She studied the panel of buttons next to her and pushed a control marked with a faint IC that she hoped stood for intercom. “Hello?”
A disembodied voice responded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Success. “Are we picking up Mr. Robinson after all?”
“No, ma’am.”
She studied the freeway. “Aren’t we supposed to meet him at the airport?”
“An executive field, ma’am, where your charter is waiting. Not Austin-Bergstrom. We’re only five minutes out now.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
She released the button. She’d only flown a few times in her life and always on a commercial jet. Now, she had images of tiny little planes hovering in her brain and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that at all.
The five minutes passed all too quickly and the car smoothly stopped beneath a high, arching canopy in front of a long, modern-looking structure of glass and steel. The driver walked around the vehicle and retrieved her satchel from the trunk, then opened the door for her. “Mr. Robinson will meet you in the lobby through there.” He gestured at the building where it curved in a half circle of windows that overlooked the stretch of manicured grass following the road.
She draped her coat over her arm and took the satchel from him. “Thank you.” If she hesitated, the butterflies inside her would turn into raging dragons, so she walked quickly through the doorway that slid open at her approach.
There was nothing about the interior of the building that reminded her of an airport. No ticket counters. No security gates. Just a few dozen leather chairs arranged in clusters, either directed to look out the windows, at the seriously ginormous television screen affixed high on a pale stone wall or at what was obviously a cocktail bar.
She’d no more taken a few steps, though, when Ben strode into view, his head down as he studied the phone in his long-fingered hand.
Before he noticed her, she inhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around the handle of her tote. He was wearing a pale gray suit with a perfectly knotted silver tie. His hair looked damp, slicked back from his face, only enhancing his sharply defined features.
He was...perfect.
And no amount of calling him “Ben Robinson” in her head seemed capable of stopping her heart from jumping in her chest when he glanced up from his phone and his piercing blue gaze pinned her in place.
Her mouth was dry and she swallowed, managing to find a smile from somewhere when he gave her an absent-looking one, before stopping a few feet away. He slid his phone into his lapel pocket and reached out his hand.
Fortunately, she realized he was merely reaching for her satchel before she did something really stupid, like place her sweaty palm into his.
She nodded. “How could it not be?”
His lips twitched and he gestured toward the bar. “We still have a few minutes if you want something.”
Dutch courage before seven-thirty in the morning? She gave the bar a skeptical look. “Do they have coffee?”
“Sure.” He waited for her to precede him to the bar. As soon as they approached, a smiling girl appeared through a door, greeting him by name.
“Couple coffees to go, Marie.”
“Sure thing.” The attendant gave Ella a noticeably curious once-over as she worked. “Where are you headed to today?”
“Boston.”
Marie gave an exaggerated shiver. “Cold.” She set two tall cups on the gleaming granite bar and looked at Ella again. “Cream or sugar?”
“Neither, thank you.”
Marie popped two covers on the cups and passed them to Ben. “Stay warm.”
“No worries on that score.” Ben handed one of the cups to Ella.
Marie’s eyes went meaningfully from Ben to Ella. “I bet,” she said with a knowing laugh, and turned to go back through the door again.
Ella couldn’t help but wonder how many times Ben had flown off somewhere exotic from this airport with a woman on his arm with whom he would be sharing a hotel room.
“What about paying for the coffee?”
“Marie’ll add it to my account.” He seemed amused that she’d asked. “The gate’s this way,” he said, leading the way around the bar, down a gleaming tiled hallway to another area similar to the one in the front. Only here, the windows overlooked the airstrip and a half-dozen parked airplanes.
They didn’t exactly look like the two-seater propeller jobs she’d envisioned, either. Instead they were all sleek-looking jets. The smallest one had eight porthole windows marching down the side.
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” she murmured.
Ben’s smile crooked. He tucked his free hand around her elbow and she swallowed hard as he guided her toward a doorway that led out to the planes.
“No security lines to get through, I guess,” she observed as they walked toward a white plane with no logos or lettering on it except for the series of numbers near the tail and the black stripe that ran the length of the body below the ten windows.
“Not yet.”
The chilly breeze tugged at his tie the same way it did her ponytail. She looked away from the close fit of his white shirt against his abdomen before starting up the steps into the plane. She didn’t have to duck to go through the doorway, though she noticed Ben—with a good ten or more inches on her own five-four—dipped his head a little.
Despite the number of windows on the plane, there were only four seats inside the spacious interior. Four large, incredibly comfortable-looking seats upholstered in cream-colored leather. Like the seats in the limousine, these also faced each other.
“Sit where you want.”
She immediately took one facing the front of the plane and the doorway. She fit her coffee into one of the molded holders built into the side of the plane next to the seat.
“Don’t want to fly facing backward?”
“Probably silly, but no. I don’t.”
He chuckled and opened an elaborate wood cabinet that was built into one side of the plane. He stored their bags inside, then their coats, before taking the seat across the “aisle” next to her, storing his coffee cup the same way she had. “Truth be told, I feel weird when I sit in those rear-facing seats, too. Like there’s less control because I’m looking toward the tail of the plane. Crazy, because unless I’m in the cockpit, I don’t have any control over the plane, anyway.”
“Do you know how to fly a plane?”
“I got my private pilot’s license years ago. Don’t have time to do it very often anymore. Not with my responsibilities at Robinson Tech.”
The cockpit door ahead of them looked like it was made out of the same shining wood as the cabinet. It opened to reveal a uniformed man with salt-and-pepper hair, who told them they would be getting underway in only a few minutes.
“Thanks, Michael.” Ben waited for the door to close again before looking at Ella. “He’s the captain. If you saw through the door, you probably noticed Veronica, too. She’s the copilot.”
“Do they work for Robinson Tech?”
He shook his head, pulling his seat belt across his lean hips. “No, but I use them a lot. You got your belt fastened okay?”
She pushed the buckle together and they both heard the click. “I’m good.”
“We should be there by noon. Phillips is meeting us—” he shot her a quick look “—you, at one o’clock for lunch at one of the hotel restaurants. But if you’re hungry before then—” he gestured at the large cabinet holding their luggage “—there is plenty of food and such here on the plane. You can’t see them, but there’s a fridge and a microwave inside there, too.”
She grinned because she never would have imagined Ben Robinson playing flight attendant. “No espresso machine?”
One corner of his lips lifted. “Oh, yeah. There’s one of those, too.” He lifted his coffee cup out of the holder and held it up. “So if you’re caffeine-addicted like me, you’ll be in good shape.”
It was too easy becoming sidetracked by the half smile on his face instead of thinking like she should about the reason she was on this plane with him in the first place. “I hope I don’t blow things for you when I meet with Randy. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for me to pretend to be someone actually from Robinson Tech. I’m not much of an actress.”
“You’ll be fine. Ask him about his education. His career goals.”
“How does that get you any closer to knowing if he’s your half brother?”
He gave her a sidelong look. “Trust me. Most guys are ready and willing to talk to a pretty girl like you about just about anything.”
Warmth rose through her and she was glad the engines suddenly revved and the plane began moving smoothly away from the building and the other planes.
“And then what?” she asked above the engines. “Do you know what you’re going to do if you decide he is your half brother? Are you just going to tell him what you suspect? Do you want a blood test or anything to prove—”
“Blood tests aren’t definitive,” he said abruptly. He took a drink from his coffee cup before replacing it in the holder. “Not unless they’re ruling out paternity.”
“Then a DNA test,” she ventured. “Will you want one of those?”
He didn’t look her way, but she still saw the way his lips twisted. “It’d be the smart thing to do.”
“You don’t seem very happy about that,” she offered tentatively. “Are you sure you want to proceed with this interview charade at all?”
He exhaled. When he looked at her again, his expression was smooth once more. “I’m sure.”
The plane had reached the runway and it stopped moving while the engines ran even faster. Ella reflexively cupped her fingers more tightly around the armrests.
“Are you a nervous flyer?”
She shot him a glance. “Considering my wealth of experience from the two times I’ve ever flown? Who can say?”
“You’ve only flown twice before?”
“School trips when I was in high school. Seattle my junior year and San Francisco when I was a senior.”
“So you’ve never been to Boston.”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Well, then.” His eyes crinkled slightly. “It would be unpatriotic of me if we
didn’t fit in a little sightseeing.”
“Unpatriotic?”
“Location of the Boston Tea Party? Walking the Freedom Trail?”
“Sure. With a foot of snow on the ground.”
“Tourism doesn’t stop just from a little snow. Any self-respecting Bostonian would probably tell you that.”
“How am I going to have time to sightsee? We’re coming back home tomorrow.”
He gave her a dry look. “The point of a charter, Ella, is that it flies according to my convenience.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of her. “Do you have any idea how spoiled you sound?”
His lips twitched. “Not spoiled. Simply accustomed to getting what I pay for.”
She didn’t even realize the plane had begun speeding down the runway until the momentum pressed her back in her seat when the wheels left the ground. “And I’m here to tell you, Mr. Robinson, that most people don’t go around chartering planes! At least not in my experience.”
He smiled widely enough to reveal the flash of an entirely unexpected dimple. “All twenty-three years of it, hmm?”
She huffed and crossed her arms, looking away. But she knew the effect was ruined because she couldn’t seem to get the stupid smile off her face. The man wasn’t making it any easier for her to put her silly crush on him to bed once and for all when he was being so, well, so likable. “As if you’re so ancient,” she drawled. “Thirty-three? Please.”
“Who told you how old I am?”
“The magazine article I told you about,” she said as if the answer was obvious. When in fact she had no idea whatsoever if the article had included any such personal details. No, she had the internet to thank for that particular fact, but she didn’t particularly want to advertise her cybersnooping. It was too embarrassing. Too...revealing. As if he’d interpret her interest as more than professional. And it was, but still. “I suppose you’ve traveled all over.”
His eyes were laughing. “A few places.”
She named the most exotic place that popped into her head. “Istanbul?”
He nodded once. “Yes, I’ve been to Turkey. Israel. Egypt, Kenya, Madagascar. South Africa. Pretty much all of northern Europe.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “Not Finland. Don’t remember being in Finland.”