Test Drive (The Bachelor #1) (15 page)

When she emerged from the bathroom, she looked lovely in a gray and white striped cotton dress. Her hair hung in loose curls, still wet from the shower.

I let her pick the restaurant the first night. She asked if I wanted to eat at the hotel, which triggered a flash memory of Claire sending out those delectable courses. I told her that we should try somewhere we had never eaten at before. She picked a restaurant that specialized in sushi. I was stoked to try out something new. I’d had sushi many times, but the flavors varied place to place.

Dinner was full of conversation, and we somehow managed not to talk about work. She talked about growing up in a smaller town. She was into a lot of competitive sports and gymnastics. I told her I used to play soccer in grade school, but by the time I made it to college, the only thing I played was beer pong. We laughed at stories about my dad’s flying and how he was probably sitting on a beach somewhere checking the weather patterns.

"Your mom is a very classy lady. I think I will have to come over for dinner more often on Sundays," she said as I shoved another piece of tuna sashimi in my mouth.

I swallowed the mushy fish quickly and responded saying, "I’d like that a lot." I had gotten wrapped up in talking to her, and it wasn’t until she looked at me with a sideways smile that I realized I needed to back track or expose my feelings for her. "My mother, I mean. She would like that a lot and I like it when she likes things . . .”
Epic failure.
I couldn’t help it. I was sitting there with this beautiful woman hating myself for not being able to control my words.

We ended up back at the hotel around eleven. Neither of us could stay awake another second. The convention center was opening at nine the next morning. I said goodnight and headed to my bedroom. I wasn’t sure whether to shut the door, and I teetered on the feeling that I should somehow tuck her in.

Maybe another time. Hopefully soon.

BETH AND I HAD BEEN
on our feet meeting and greeting and repeating the same lines over and over again for the last six hours. We had even had lunch delivered to our booth because so many people lined up to speak with us. My father would call that a success, but I called it the recipe for exhaustion.

We still had over an hour left of touring the plane, and then we had to haul ass back to the hotel to change for the catered dinner that evening at the convention center.

Graciously pointing out the oversized restroom with the warming toilet seats to the umpteenth person, Beth shot me a look that said '
shoot me now.'
I put my finger to my temple pulled the trigger, letting her know I felt her pain.

"Mr. Sloane!" I turned quickly to find an elderly couple waiting expectantly behind me. "See, Alfred, I told you that was his son. You are Wyatt’s son, right? I have been telling my husband all day that you looked like him." I could barely squeeze in a nod before the couple started bickering between themselves.

"Well Margaret, I never said the boy didn’t look like his father. I said I couldn’t believe that Wyatt would miss the conference. He hasn’t missed one in the last decade." The old man’s dentures rocked when he talked, and you could tell by the way he was yelling that his hearing wasn’t the best.

"I had that same thought myself," I jolted in. "It shocked me very much when my father asked me to come in his place, but I am happy to be here and I hope you will consider doing business with us in the future." I shook both of their hands.

"Why yes, son! We have used your company many times in the last few years. I must say this plane is a beauty. I might just rent this to fly around sometime."

"We can certainly accommodate you. I must get back to the others, but it was a pleasure meeting you."

I joined Beth in the sitting area. She was slumped down in the recliner, and I fell into the one next to her. "I think that was the last of them."

Beth held up on limp hand and said, "High five, we did it." Our hands slapped together with our exhausted fingers entwining and resting together on the armrest. I had every intention of letting her hand go after our awkward handshake, high five thing, but this felt comfortable. "If I have to say the word
luxury
one more time I might die." She giggled.

"I feel ya," I said, huffing through the exhaustion. "Okay, pretty lady, we have to get back and get dressed before the ball this evening. Want me to help you up?" I felt for her. The sky-high heels had to be hurting her feet by now, and the form-fitting suit couldn’t be much better.

"Yes, sir," she said. I climbed out of the chair and extended my arm. She grabbed on tightly, and I pulled her up. Teetering on her feet, she rested her hand on my shoulder for support.

"Are you okay?" I said when she didn’t immediately step away.

"Yeah, I am good right here for a minute." I could smell the perfume scent rising up from her hair, and the soft skin around her wrist felt smooth under my fingers. She jiggled her foot around and laughed that her toes were asleep. She bent to take off the heels she had been in all day and proclaimed, "I think I’ll make the trip barefoot."

"Not a chance," I protested. "That runway is full of debris and rocks that might cut your feet . . . I’ll carry you." I hoisted her up into my arms to carry her outside.

"You don’t have to do this!"

"Yeah, but I want to. Do you have all your stuff?" I asked. She pointed to the counter where her small black handbag was laying. Her body molded so perfectly to mine that I could have carried her for miles just to avoid putting her down. But there was the ball and the hundreds of hands we had to shake. The ride back to the hotel was slow with afternoon traffic backed up for miles. Beth rested her head on my shoulder as I navigated the narrow streets leading to the hotel.

When we arrived, I made sure she was okay to walk inside. She wasn’t very happy about trading one set of heels for another, so I suggested that maybe a shower and a foot massage were in order. She headed into her room, and I retreated to mine. I got ready in record time. My tuxedo was perfect, and I had my shoes shined before I left. I slicked back my hair and sprayed on my favorite cologne before heading into the sitting area. I could see the steam pouring out of Beth’s bathroom, and I was worried that she wouldn’t make it out in time to leave.

I turned on the TV looking for some kind of distraction and about twenty minutes later, Beth appeared out of her room wearing the sexiest dress I had ever seen. It was an ivory colored dress with a black lace overlay. It had a low cut V-neck and a slit that left me wanting to rip it off her. She had a large set of dangly earrings and a chunky black necklace. Her shoes made her almost as tall as I was, and her blonde hair was wavy with thick curls. I vowed that she must want me as much as I wanted her to be wearing dresses like that.

"You look . . .” I tried to think of the best word to follow that up with like freaking sexy, hot, amazing, like a goddess. My mind rolled through all the descriptive words rolling around in my head. "You look exquisite, Beth."

She smiled and said, "So do you."

We had a limo pick us up to drive to the event that evening. Beth and I were starving by the time we sat for dinner. At our table were three sets of representatives, the Minshaws from Wisconsin, the managers from Carter Transport in Florida, and the Waylons from North Carolina. The Waylons were the first to introduce themselves as longtime clients of our company, as well as, personal friends of my parents.’ I was thankful that Beth knew them because I had no idea who they were. She managed to keep the conversation away from me by explaining why my parents weren’t able to make it. They asked me a few questions about my "position" in the company and if I was ready to take over when he retired.

"I don’t think my father will ever retire, he is practically immortal." The whole table erupted in laughter, and I checked that off as a dodged bullet. I hated the feeling that I may never live up to my dad’s expectations, and I didn’t know if I wanted to tie myself down to a field I didn’t love for the rest of my life.

Beth must have sensed my mood change because she reached under the table and squeezed my hand lightly. I held onto it for a moment too long and the Carter Transport representative caught on. "Oh, so are you a couple?" I had no doubt he wanted to know if Beth was available. I didn’t want to answer with anything other than "Yes, we are!" I wanted to stake my claim to this beautiful woman, but the truth was that she wasn’t mine and might not ever want to be. So I waited with my eyebrows raised looking at the guy like he had three heads.

Beth removed her hand from mine and said "No. But Drew and I are a force to be reckoned with, and we are here to promote Sloane Enterprises." Good answer, but not good enough to keep the wolves at bay.

"We can see that," the man responded. He and his partner who appeared to be his brother smiled with cat-like grins as if they had just acquired their next target. Thankfully, the Minshaws joined in to talk about the change in weather from their state to ours. They hated the super-hot weather and preferred to spend their time in the mountains or in Canada.

Dinner was served moments later. The
transportation
theme was very predictable. The first course of three was a tray of things you might find if you traveled by boat. There was an array of bite sized seafood dishes and a bubbling cup of seafood chowder. Beth and I dug into the food like we hadn’t eaten in days. I was grateful to be able to avert my attention to the food, instead of focusing on how badly I wanted to punch the other guy in the face for ogling that my, err . . .
partner
.

A speaker walked up and gave a very short, but sweet breakdown of the night’s events. They thanked everyone for coming and blah blah blah. Another four speakers came up and gave their personal accounts of traveling and how important it was to find a company you like and to stick with them.

Sloane Enterprises was named in the top ten list of private providers, and we both stood to be recognized when our company’s name was called. I could see the eyes popping out of the Carter boy’s face, and when I looked to see what had him so captivated, I could see that the slit in Beth’s skirt was flashing quite a bit of the tan flesh peeking out from the sequined material.

I shot him a disapproving glance and hoped that he would keep his eyes to himself. Seemingly completely oblivious to the attention, Beth sat back down and started in on her main course. The rather larger addition focused on what you might find if you traveled by car. They provided a thinly pounded skirt steak stuffed with sautéed vegetables and goat cheese rolled into a tight pinwheel. The sides included steamed vegetables and a stuffed baked potato.

The convention center had commissioned a string quartet to play during dinner. The soft rhythm was calming to my already confused inner dialogue. I had always enjoyed the violin and other classical music instruments. A few others were getting up to dance, and I could see the Carter boy adjusting his collar and smoothing his pants. I didn’t want to risk him asking her first and her being too nice to say no.

"Would you join me for a dance?" I spit out the words so quickly I think she almost choked on the food in her mouth. "When you are done, I mean," I recovered, hoping she wouldn’t find me rude for interrupting her meal.

"No," she said, wiping her mouth. "I’m finished, if you would like to dance?"

The abrasive Carter boy tossed his napkin on his plate and excused himself.
Yeah, punk, move along. You won’t lay a hand on her if I can help it.

I led her to the dance floor, and we began spinning and gliding around the wooden stage in unison. At one point, a slower song came on and Beth laid her head on my shoulder. The inner struggle I was fighting was becoming unbearable. I no longer knew how to respond or what to say. I wanted to tell her how crazy she was making me, but I couldn’t let go of my father’s warning not to mess things up.

"I could stay like this for a long time," she said into my chest.

"Me too." It was a simple response, but the look she gave me was a look of yearning and passion. I forced my head to stay in place, not to kiss her or make any moves that we both might regret. Our feet continued to move in circles, but neither of us could break the stare. I wanted her permission. I needed it. "You are the prettiest woman here." I meant every word. All the charm and the easygoing comebacks had drifted away the moment she shared that blueberry bagel the day before, leaving only a passionate and consuming urge. I wanted to make her mine.

"Kiss me, Drew."

"Are you sure?" I only questioned her to make sure that she had actually said the words and it wasn’t just my imagination playing tricks on me.

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, but didn’t answer. Dropping her hands and rushing off the dance floor, she fled from the banquet hall into the corridor. Following her from the room, I didn’t know what to think. The corridor was not lit up, and although I could still hear the chatter from inside, the hallway was void of any people.