Easy This Time - JH Croix Page 0,8

curled my hand more tightly around my suitcase handle and hoped I could fake my way through this. Because the truth was, I was not well, not one bit. Unbeknownst to me until yesterday morning, Brett had also run up all my credit cards to the limit. Gabby Boudreaux had been gracious enough to insist that I needn’t worry about the bill. Whether it was because she could tell I was on the verge of tears or not, I fully intended to find a way to take care of it as soon as I could.

I was mortified and utterly horrified at the situation in which I found myself. In fact, I was so embarrassed that I’d considered calling my brother and his wife, Harlow, for help. But alas, they were out of the country traveling this week. Max, of course, would help with anything I needed, but I didn’t want to stoop to that. I would get myself out of this situation on my own one way or another.

With my polite smile stuck on my face, I lied through my teeth in reply. “I’m well, and yourself?”

Nash began to say something, but in the bustle of people on the sidewalk outside the airport, someone bumped into me and sent me colliding into him. I looked up to find his eyes on me. His body was all hard planes. He had one arm wrapped around my waist, steadying me as my hand fell against his chest.

My heartbeat went wild, thudding furiously inside the cage of my ribs. My breath became short as heat spun like fire through my veins.

“I’m just fine,” he said, not missing a beat in the conversation.

This was the point when I should’ve moved away. But I found myself frozen, savoring the feel of his strength and wanting to surrender to it and stop trying so hard to do this all on my own.

“Where are you headed?” Nash asked as he stepped back.

It said something about the state of my body that I experienced a flash of yearning at the loss of his warm strength pressed against me even if it was only by accident. I met his gaze, ignoring the hum of my racing pulse rippling outward through my body. “I’m flying back to San Francisco,” I said.

Nash looked at me quietly for several long beats before nodding. “Okay then. You know where to reach me if you decide you want some help chasing down Brett.”

“I do. I appreciate your offer. I’ll think about it.”

“Please do.” Just two words, but the way he said them in that slow drawl that slid over me like sweet molasses sent my belly spinning and made my breath catch in my throat.

“Thank you again for lunch the other day,” I rasped.

Dear God. This man was literally taking my breath away.

“You’re most welcome, Mari. Give your brother my best.”

I managed a tight smile. I forced my feet to move because I couldn’t let myself get caught in the quicksand of Nash’s melting hot eyes. They made my body go a little crazy.

Without another word, I hurried past him, ignoring the rhythmic thump of the broken wheel on my suitcase. Nash couldn’t know it, but the sound of that wheel only added to the layers of embarrassment I was experiencing. I felt flustered inside and out and was beyond mortified at my circumstances. I was just praying that Brett hadn’t discovered the one credit card I’d never touched and kept as a backup.

At least I had a return ticket home. The sooner this stupid “getaway” ended, the better.

“Excuse me?” I asked, trying to quell the sinking feeling in my stomach.

The contrast of the humid Louisiana heat to the cold air conditioning inside the airport only served to amp up how unsettled I felt. My encounter with Nash had gotten me hot and bothered. I’d already been hot and sticky, and then I came in here to the blast of icy air, and my sweat dried on my skin almost instantly.

Now, my hands were shaking, and my fingertips were tingling from the cold. The woman clicked a key on her keyboard before looking up at me. “Your return ticket was refunded to the purchaser,” she said.

I opened my mouth to reply but snapped it shut. I was afraid I might scream. I fumbled for my purse and yanked out my wallet. Looking up, I passed over my credit card. “I just need a ticket back to San Francisco. I’m hoping I can make my

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