The Billionaire's Nanny. Melissa McCloneЧитать онлайн книгу.
checked the seat and floor anyway. “Libby was right.”
“She usually is.” He glanced toward the front of the plane. “Make sure Emma is okay.”
“Of course.”
The cat screeched.
Camille shook her head. “Not your typical uneventful flight.”
“No.”
Things might not be uneventful until AJ was back home in Seattle. Five days. Five days until his visit would be over. Five days until he would say goodbye to Haley’s Bay for another decade. He couldn’t wait.
* * *
Emma couldn’t wait to get off this airplane. Hitting rock bottom less than fifteen minutes after meeting a new boss had to be a record. But at least things couldn’t get worse.
Unless the plane crashed.
She returned her toothbrush to her toiletry bag. Given her luck so far this morning, that was a distinct possibility. But the odds against crashing after throwing up had to be astronomical, right?
Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she tucked stray strands back into her braid. Her Goth-white complexion had disappeared. Good. She would rather look human than like a vampire wannabe.
She pinched her cheeks to give them more color. Reapplying the makeup she’d wiped off was beyond her. But she looked better, passable, no longer green.
She straightened her glasses, wanting to present a confident, unflappable air. Mr. Cole never needed to know she was dying of embarrassment. Neither did Camille, who kept knocking every minute and a half to see if Emma needed help. She opened the lavatory door.
Blossom’s ear-hurting screeches could wake the dead, officially starting the zombie apocalypse.
Emma followed the racket.
The cat faced forward, screaming her lungs out as if doing her best T. rex impersonation.
Emma knelt in front of the cat carrier. “Shhhh. I know you don’t like this, but we’re almost there.”
Blossom barked, sounding more like an ankle-biting dog than a pissed-off feline.
“Your cat doesn’t sound happy.”
Emma felt AJ’s presence—a potent mix of heat, strength and confidence—behind her. “Blossom doesn’t like to fly, either.”
“You look good as new.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze at crotch level. Lingering on his zipper. Her cheeks burned. No need for pinching cheeks or makeup now. She looked up at him. “I am. Flying doesn’t really get to me. Taking off is the culprit. The weightlessness.”
“Your stomach can’t handle the feeling.”
“Nope.” And the flashbacks nearly did her in each time, but nobody needed to know about those. “The landing will be a breeze. But I’m guessing Blossom won’t quiet down until she’s out of her carrier.”
AJ kneeled. The left side of his body brushed hers, sending sparks shooting across her skin. The scent of his aftershave, something musky with a touch of spice, enveloped her.
She sucked in a breath. Oh, boy. He smelled so good, fresh, like the first spring day after months of dreary winter rain.
He peered into the carrier. “What’s its name again?”
“Blossom. Her name is Blossom.”
He tapped on the carrier. “Be quiet, Blossom.”
“Cat’s don’t respond to—”
The cat stopped meowing. Blossom rubbed her head against the carrier door.
He stuck his finger through the grating and touched the cat. “Don’t respond to what?”
“Logic.”
Blossom, however, didn’t make another noise. She soaked up the attention. Purred. Unbelievable. The cat hadn’t purred at the shelter or at Emma’s apartment. At least not that any of the volunteers had noticed. Yet this guy, a non-cat-lover guy, had the feline purring like a generator. “Blossom likes you.”
“She likes the attention.”
“Attention from you. This is the first time I’ve heard her purr.”
AJ yanked his hand away, plastered his arm against his side. “I’m not a fan of cats. She wouldn’t like me.”
Tell that to Blossom. The cat pressed against the crate door, fur squishing through the grating. She stared up at AJ as if he were her sun, stars and moon.
Thanks to AJ Cole, Blossom had transformed from she devil to sweetheart. Emma grinned, something she never expected to do after getting sick in front of her new boss. “She does like you.”
AJ’s gaze bounced from the cat to Emma. “The cat needed someone to tell her what was expected.”
“Cats do what they want.”
“Perhaps the cat needed to have a higher bar set for its behavior.”
He didn’t use Blossom’s name, but the feline didn’t seem to mind. She was trying to get out of the cage and closer to AJ. “Perhaps. But this gives me hope.”
“Hope?”
“That Blossom will find her forever home. There’s been concern she might be unadoptable. She doesn’t seem to like many people.”
He looked at Blossom, but he didn’t touch her. Much to the cat’s dismay. “I don’t know anything about cats, but she seems fine to me. Not so annoying now that she’s quiet.”
Camille approached. She handed AJ a glass with a straw sticking out. “Your protein shake.”
“Thanks.” His fingers circled the glass.
The flight attendant handed a small juice-sized glass to Emma. “A little ginger ale for you.”
“Thank you,” Emma said.
“We’ll be landing soon.” Camille motioned to the back of the plane. “Please return to your seats.”
Emma did and buckled her seat belt. The engines whirred. She waited for Blossom to meow, but the cat remained quiet.
AJ sat across from her. Sipped from the straw. “You okay?”
She nodded.
“If you feel bad again, Camille restocked the side pocket.”
Two more airsickness bags were inside. “Thanks, but I’ve never had trouble during landings.” At least not the one Emma remembered.
“We’re beginning our descent into Haley’s Bay,” the pilot announced. “Please remain seated.”
She gripped the armrests, a combination of anticipation of wanting to be on the ground and apprehension over what the rest of the week would hold.
AJ stared at her over the rim of his glass, his eyes full of concern. “The pilot’s very good.”
“You don’t have to reassure me.”
His gaze narrowed, darkened. “Why not?”
“It’s not your job.”
“I get to write my job description. One benefit of being the boss.”
“Do you like being the boss?”
He stiffened. Stared into his drink. Toyed with the straw.
“No one’s asked me that. People assume...” He shifted in his seat. “But yes, of course. What’s not to love?”
He was bluffing, hiding something, like a child who said swim lessons were fun when dunking his head under water terrified