The Stopover (The Miles High Club Book 1)

He stares at me, lost for words.

Alan drops his head as his chuckle breaks through.

Jameson stares at me . . . horrified.

I laugh out loud at the look on his face. I put the pickup into park and jump out and start throwing our bags into the back.

“You can’t be serious,” Jameson stammers.

“Deadly.”

His eyes scan the beat-up old truck. “This car isn’t even roadworthy.”

“It’s not a car—it’s a truck.” I smile as I slam the back shut. “Her name is Bessie.”

Jameson puts his hands on his hips. His eyes glance to Alan, who is laughing out loud.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Alan,” he snaps. “I don’t camp, Emily. Surely you would know this. What on God’s earth would make you think of this cockamamie idea? This is not relaxing me in the slightest. I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing by the second.”

Alan drops his head and really begins to laugh. “Forgive me, boss man, but this is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Can I take a photo for Tris?” he asks.

“Absolutely not,” Jameson huffs. “Shut up, or I’ll make you come with us.”

Alan bites his bottom lip to stop the giggles.

“Why would we need to take this . . .” He pauses as he finds the right word. “Hunk of junk?”

“Because we’re going off the grid.”

“Emily Foster, this isn’t off the grid. This is a recipe for instantaneous death.”

I slump in the seat and pull a whiny face. “You promised. It’s three days, Jameson, and then I’ll come back and move in.”

He puts his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes, and he knows I’ve got him. He did promise.

I toot the horn, and he comes around to the driver’s side and opens the door.

“What are you doing?” I frown.

“Driving.”

“Do you know how to drive a column shift?”

“A what?” He frowns.

I point to the gear stick on the steering wheel.

His face screws up. “Is this even legal to have on the road?”

I laugh. “Yes.”

“Then get out. I’m driving.” He pulls me from the car, and I jump around to the passenger side and climb in.

He gets in and goes through the gears with a look of sheer concentration on his face.

Alan and I giggle at each other as we wait for him to work it out.

“Okay, I’ve got this,” replies Jameson Miles, the control freak.

“Let’s go,” I sing. “Toot the horn for Alan.”

Jameson looks over at me deadpan, and I do a “toot the horn” signal that I used to do to passing trucks when I was a child.

“Emily, I don’t know what that means, but it’s a surefire way to get thrown in the trunk.”

Alan bursts out laughing again, and I bounce in the seat in excitement. “Bye, Alan,” I call. He waves.

Jameson stops and calls to Alan through the open window. “Have your phone on. We’re going to need you to pick us up from the side of the road in approximately seventeen miles when we break down.”

Alan and I laugh again, and as Alan waves, Jameson bunny hops the pickup out of the parking lot.

We get to the security gates, and he’s too high and can’t swipe his card. “Fuck this piece of junk,” he mutters under his breath as he puts the car in park and gets out to open the gates. He swipes his card, and the gates slowly open. He jumps back in and revs the truck, and it bunny hops up the driveway to the sound of gears crunching.

“Fuck.” He winces. “Who owns this piece of shit, anyway?” he asks as we pull out into the New York traffic.

“Michael, Molly’s husband.”

His eyes flick to me. “Isn’t that the fucking idiot who OD’d on Viagra, and you had to take him to the emergency room?”

“That’s him.” I smile.

“Figures,” he mutters as he drives. “Okay, where are we going?”

I pull up my maps on my phone. “Okay . . . we need to get on the interstate.”

He looks at me in question.

“We’re going to High Point State Park, New Jersey.”

“What?” He frowns. “What in the hell is there?”

“Me.” I smile as I lean over and kiss the side of his face. “Nothing but me.”

He smiles as he keeps his eyes on the road and slides his hand over to my thigh and gives it a squeeze. “Lucky you’re my favorite thing, then, isn’t it?”

A huge beaming smile is plastered across my face. He’s actually doing this.

“It sure is.” I lean over and begin to kiss him all over his cheek.

He scrunches his face up. “Stop. It’s hard enough to drive Bitchy as it is.”

“Her name is Bessie, not Bitchy.”

He smirks. “We’ll see if she gets us home in one piece, shall we?”

Two hours later, we see the sign into High Point State Park. There’s a dirt road, and Jameson looks over at me in question. “Is this it?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling a little nervous. “Uh-huh.” I look around. “I think so.”

I really need this weekend to work out; I want us to have fun and relax. Deep down I know that if Jay doesn’t get a handle on his stress from work, I may lose him anyway. His temper is not something I could live with long term.

We turn off the main road and drive down the track. We both fall silent as we follow the trail. I study the map on my phone. “It says here to go right to the end of this road and then turn right.”

“Okay,” he replies as the truck bounces around on the rough road. His eyes glance over to me. “Are you sure it’s down here?”

I shrug. “That’s what it says here.”

The trees are tall and are blocking out the last of the sun.

“I saw a documentary made here once,” Jameson says as he concentrates on the road.

“What was that?”

“The Blair Witch Project,” he mutters dryly.

I get the giggles as we go farther and farther into the forest. What the hell was I thinking? This is freaking even me out.

We pass a campsite on the left as we go down the hill. There’s a small tent, and two teenage boys are sitting at an open campfire. I watch them as we pass. “They look like they’re having fun.” I smile.

“They’re about to go into the tent and take turns fucking each other,” he mutters. “Only logical explanation as to why they would come out here.”

I smirk. “Will you stop being so pessimistic? It’s three nights, and we get to be alone without anyone around.”

He nods and then frowns as he thinks of something. “Where are the bathrooms?” His eyes flick to me. “We have our own bathroom, right?”

“Well . . .” I pause.

“Well, what?” he snaps. “I am not fucking staying anywhere without a bathroom, Emily.”

“There are bathrooms.” I turn the phone map around as I try to locate where they are from our tent. “Ah yes, here they are. Just a short trek.”

“A trek?” His eyes flick anxiously to me. “Define trek.”

Oh man, it’s a long trek, but I won’t tell him that just yet. He’s likely to turn around. “It’s close—don’t worry,” I lie.

We get to the bottom of the hill, and the road goes into a fork. A lake is straight ahead, and the sunlight is just beginning to fade. I smile in excitement. “Turn right.” He carefully turns right, and we go along a little bit. “Should be just up here.”

“Where?” He frowns.

“Just park anywhere.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes come over to me.

“We just set up where we want.”

“What, like”—he screws up his face as he looks around—“on the dirt?”

I laugh. “Were you expecting oak parquetry floor?”

He rolls his eyes and parks the truck, and I get out and walk up and down the water’s edge. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Looking for a good spot to set up. It needs to be high and flat.”

“Why high?” he asks as he starts to look around.

“In case it rains.”

His eyes come to me in horror. “Don’t even say that.”

“Quick, we have to get a move on.”

“Why?”

“It’s getting dark. We’re running out of sunlight.”

He looks up at the sky. “Do we have lighting?”

“We have a flashlight and two of those little headlight things that strap on our heads.”

“Good grief,” he snaps as he begins to throw the things out of the back with urgency. “I’m not wearing a fucking strap-on headlight in this stupid man-versus-wild experiment. It’s bad enough when I can see.”

I laugh as I grab the tent in its bag and begin to unpack it. I hand him the broom. “Sweep the dirt.”

He looks at me, completely lost. “What?”

“Sweep the dirt—clear a patch for us. No sticks or anything can be under the tent.”

“Sweep the dirt,” he repeats.

“Yes, Jameson. Hurry up, or you will be doing it in the dark.”

“Jesus Christ . . . now I’ve heard it all,” he mutters as he begins to sweep a patch of dirt to clear it. “Who sweeps fucking dirt?”

“Campers.” I smirk as I open the instructions, and then my face falls. The instructions look like they’re to build a nuclear reactor. Oh jeez, Molly said it was easy to put up.

Okay . . . whatever. It will be fine. I inwardly begin to panic. We are not going home.

I spread the tent out, and I hear a slap. “Ow.”

I keep concentrating as I get the poles out of their bag.

I hear another slap. “What the hell?” he cries.

“What?”

“These bugs are from Jurassic Park.” He swings his arms around to get them off him. “No bugs are this big.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I go back to my instructions. Okay, so it says here that this pole goes into this . . .

“Ahh,” he cries as he slaps his arm. “I’m getting fucking malaria over here, Emily.”

I roll my eyes. “Stop being a baby.” I put the pole into the correct place. “Can you grab the corner and stretch it out, please?”

He swings his arms around and goes and gets the corner of the tent and stretches it out. The sun is just setting. “Step back a little farther,” I say.

He slaps his legs. “Fuck off,” he whispers as he swings his arms around, trying to swat whatever it is he’s swatting.

“Step back farther.”

He walks backward and trips over a rock and falls into a bush. “Ah,” he cries.

“Oh.” I burst out laughing and run to help him up.

“What kind of fucking lunatic does this for fun?” he splutters as he climbs out of the bush.

“We do.” I laugh.

“This isn’t fun, Emily,” he huffs as he brushes the dirt off him. “This is a living hell in a hydroponic mutated-bug breeding zone.” Something bites him again, and he slaps his neck. “Fuck off,” he whispers to the bug.

“For God’s sake, get the bug spray, princess. It’s in the bag of supplies in the truck.”

“We have bug spray?” He looks at me deadpan. “Now you fucking tell me, after I’ve lost four pints of blood already.”

He storms to the truck, and I hear the spray can go . . . and go . . . and go . . . and go.

“Are you saving any for me?” I call.

“This is man versus wild, and every man is for himself. Don’t you watch Survivor? I’m voting you off the island tonight,” he calls before launching into a coughing attack and waving the air in front of him. “What the hell is in this stuff, anyway?”

“Poison.” I widen my eyes. “To kill the bugs.”

He storms back over. “Hurry up with the tent,” he demands. “What’s taking so long?”

“You put it up if you’re so perfect,” I snap.

“Fine.” He snatches the directions from me and stares at them for a moment as his eyes flick to the outstretched tent. He turns the paper around and twists his head. “Well, this all makes perfect sense now.”

“It does?” I frown. “I couldn’t work it out at all.”

“This isn’t directions to put up a tent—this is a map for an escape from Alcatraz.”

I burst out laughing.

“What’s funny?” he barks. “Nothing about this situation is funny, Emily.”

He turns the page and then turns it again and then again. We both frown as we stare at it. “Okay, I see now.”

“You do?” I ask hopefully.

“No. I don’t. We find a hotel.”

“Jameson,” I plead. “I wanted to do something with you that you’ve never done with an ex-girlfriend. I just wanted us to do this first together. Will you just humor me, please?”

He exhales heavily.

I take his hands in mine. “I know this isn’t what you’re used to, but I wanted to take you out of your comfort zone. I really want to do this—it’s important to me. This is how uncomfortable I feel in your fancy apartment.”

“Not possible.” His eyes hold mine, and then he exhales in defeat. “Fine.” He begins to study the directions again; the light is fading, and he’s squinting to see.

I go to the supply box and take out the two headlights and put one on his head and then my own. I switch them on.

He looks up at me deadpan.

I put my hand over my mouth as I get the giggles, and he continues reading the directions.

“Okay, it says the poles are in a separate bag,” he says.

“Got them.”

“And we need to peg out the corners.”

“Already done it.” I rub my hand down his back and onto his behind. He swats me away.

“We need to put the poles in the end and hoist them up.”

“Okay.” I lean up to kiss him.

“Emily.” He looks at me, and the flashlight strapped to his forehead shines in my eyes. “I smell like a toxic dumping ground of bug poison, and I have never felt so unsexy in my entire life. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dick has been poisoned off like a weed.”

I burst out laughing. “You could never be unsexy to me, and your dick is more of a tree than a weed.”

He raises his eyebrow, unimpressed.

I get the uncontrollable giggles. He really does look ridiculous. I want to take a photo for Alan, but I know he would go postal. He’s teetering on the edge here.

“Okay, let’s just get in and do it, and then we can pump up the bed.” I smile.

His face falls. “We have to pump up a bed?”

“No. You have to blow it up with your mouth,” I tease.

He throws the directions in the air. “That’s it—I’m out.”

I burst out laughing. “No, you don’t. I’m only teasing. We have a pump.”

He puts his hand on his hips and stares at me for a moment.

“Jameson.” I smile softly. “This weekend is symbolic in our relationship. You’re expecting me to give up everything I know to live in a world that’s completely foreign to me.”

He stares at me.

“I’m just asking you for three days.” I bounce on the spot. “Please. Can you just do this . . . for me?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, and I know I’ve nearly got him. I lean up and kiss his big lips. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Fine,” he snaps as he bends and picks the directions up and begins to reread them. “Get me the longest pole.”

Two hours later, the tent is finally up. The bed is ready, and I put out two fold-up chairs. “Come sit with me.” I smile as I open a bottle of red wine.

He sits down beside me, and I pass him his glass. I brought two wineglasses. I knew if I tried to make him drink out of a plastic cup, it would have been all over.

He sits in his cheap fold-up chair and takes his glass from me, and I smile and raise mine to him. “To a successful escape from Alcatraz.”

He smirks and takes a sip and looks around at the darkness. “Okay, so what do we do now?”

“This is it.”

“This is it?” He frowns.

“Yeah . . . you just sit here.”

“And do what?”

“Relax.”

“Oh.” He looks around at the dark forest and sips his wine, and I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing. It’s completely dark now, and the forest is beginning to come alive with animals. Echoes can be heard in the distance.

He’s in complete freak-out mode inside and holding it in. He tips his head back and drains his glass and holds it out for an immediate refill.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting plastered so I don’t remember getting eaten by a bear.” He shakes his head. “It’s the only way.”

I laugh. “This is completely safe, Jameson.”

He widens his eyes. “That’s what Daniel said right before he went missing.”

“Who’s Daniel?”

“Blair Witch Daniel . . . ever watched it?” he mutters dryly as he looks around.

“No.” I smirk.

“Probably best you don’t.” He looks around at the forest. “Hauntingly familiar.”

I laugh as I get up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“What?” He stands in a rush. “Where’s that?”

“Up the trail.”

His face falls. “You can’t walk up there alone. It’s dangerous.”

“No. I’m not. You’re coming with me.”

“What?” He frowns.

“Come on, Jay.”

“No, we are not leaving the campsite. I don’t want to be walking around.”

I smile as I look down at the lake. The moonlight is dancing across the water. “All right.” I stand and take my shirt off and then slide my panties down.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going skinny-dipping.”

“What?” His eyes flick to the black water. “No . . . no you’re not. I forbid it.”

I take off my bra and throw it over his head, and he snatches it away.

“Emily.”

I kick my panties off.

“Have you gone completely fucking crazy?” he whispers.

“Maybe.”

He looks around. “Anybody could be watching.”

I smile and run to the water’s edge. “You coming in, chicken?” I wade thigh high into the water.

“Are you fucking insane?” he cries from the water’s edge.

I splash water his way. “Get in, yellowbelly.”

He runs his hands through his hair in a complete panic. “Emily, this is not safe.”

“This is a lot safer than New York, Jay. Come on . . . live a little.”

He looks left, and then he looks right as he clenches his hands at his sides.

“Jay, come on, baby.” I smile as I lower myself into the water. “I’ll protect you.”

He closes his eyes. He wants to come in—I know he does.

“Come on.” I laugh as I swim. “The water is beautiful.”

With a shake of his head, he takes his shirt off and throws it to the side. I laugh as I float on my back. He begins to wade into the water.

“Take your shorts off.”

“No way in hell am I offering my dick as live bait for a fucking eel,” he barks.

He wades to me and takes me into his arms. The water is cold and fresh, and I wrap my arms around his neck.

The moonlight is beaming off the water, and he smiles as he kisses me gently. “You’re crazy, Emily Foster.”

“And I love you.” I smile up at him. This does feel crazy . . . crazy good.

“You better.” His lips dust mine.

I wrap my legs around his waist as I feel my arousal wake from its slumber. Our kiss turns passionate. “I think we need to christen the lake,” I whisper up at him.

“You’re a complete sex maniac.”

I smile as I kiss him and pull his shorts down a little. “We’ve already established this. Now fuck me, Lake Boy, before your wiener gets eaten, and I don’t mean by me.”

He smirks against my lips as he grabs my behind. “Shut up. You’re wrecking it.”

Drop.

Drop.

Drop, drop. From my deep slumber, I hear rain as it sprinkles onto the tent.

Drop, drop, drop. It gets heavier.

“Don’t fucking tell me,” Jameson whispers from beside me.

Crash sounds the thunder, and we both jump in fright as the forest flashes white.

“You can’t be serious,” he mutters into the darkness.

My back is to Jay, and I bite my lip to try to stop myself from laughing. He had a complete meltdown when we got into bed over the sound of the animals in the forest keeping him awake—in fact, he’s had about ten meltdowns.

This will be the icing on the cake.

The rain really begins to come down, and thunder begins to crack repeatedly.

“Well, this is just fucking great,” he huffs.

I smile and roll over to face him. “It’s fine. Tents are waterproof. Just go back to sleep.”

The tent continually lights up an iridescent white as lightning flashes through the sky.

He sits up and feels around the tent in the dark. He’s foraging for a long time on his hands and knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a fucking light!”

I laugh out loud.

“How do you find this funny? Not one fucking thing about this is funny, Emily.”

He finally finds the light and puts it on his head and switches it on and looks at me.

His hair is all mussed and sticking up everywhere, and his eyes are wide and crazy.

Unable to help it, I get an uncontrollable fit of the giggles.

“What?”

“If you could . . .” I have to stop talking because I’m laughing so much. “If you could just see yourself.”

He smirks, and then a crash of lightning hits so close it sounds like it hit a tree right next to us.

“We’re going to fucking die tonight,” he stammers in a panic.

The rain hammers down, and I unzip the tent. We both peer out into the apocalyptic storm.

It’s really pouring down, and I zip the tent back up. “It’s fine. The tent is waterproof, and we’ll just have to try to sleep through it.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he snaps. “Who could sleep through this?”

“Me—I could.” I lie back down and pull the sleeping bag blanket over me.

I smile when I remember Jameson’s earlier meltdown that he couldn’t touch me in my sleeping bag. In an hour-long operation, he unzipped both of our bags and put one underneath us and one over the top of us so that we could cuddle while we sleep. He’s super cute.

The tent begins to sway side to side as the windstorm picks up.

“Holy fucking . . . here we go,” he mutters as he looks at the ceiling of the tent.

One end of the tent lifts up in the wind, and he pounces over and holds the tent to the ground.

I burst out laughing again.

“Not helping,” he cries.

I jump up in my fits of giggles and grab his jacket and begin to put it on.

“What are you doing?” He frowns.

“I have to hammer the tent pegs back in.” I put my headlamp on my head.

His mouth drops open in horror. “What?”

“It’s the only way the tent will stay up.”

“You’re not going out there. It’s dangerous,” he whispers angrily.

“Somebody has to do it.” I pick up the hammer.

He snatches the hammer from me. “This will fucking do me in.”

I laugh.

“Goodbye, Emily.” He unzips the tent. “It was nice knowing you.” He disappears out into the storm.

“This is why you’re the CEO.” I giggle as I hear the metallic bangs as he hammers the tent pegs back in.

The rain really begins to pour down, and the wind is ferocious. Honestly, what are the chances?

Damn you, weather.

I unzip the tent and peer out into the pouring rain. He’s struggling to stay on his feet from the wind as he bends down and hammers tent pegs into the ground, headlamp still firmly in place. He’s muddy and sopping wet. I get the uncontrollable giggles once more, and unable to help it, I grab my phone and take some photos of him. Surely one day he’ll find this funny.

After ten minutes, he comes back in. He’s panting, wet, and covered in mud from the splashing of the rain. I grab a towel and begin to dry his hair. I peel his shirt off him and slide down his track pants. “Just get dry. It’s going to stop soon,” I say to try to calm him.

The sound of the rain is deafening above us, and he dries himself.

I shuffle through his bag and find him some dry clothes, and the tent begins to sway again as he hops around half-wet, trying to get dressed.

The tent lifts again.

“Get fucked,” he snaps.

Oh my God—this really is horrendous.

We hear a loud rip in the roof, and our eyes widen.

“Oh no . . . the tent,” I whisper. “We can’t damage the tent—it’s Michael’s.”

“I’ll buy the poor prick a camper. This is fucking intolerable,” he splutters.

Rip. The tent rips in half. “Ah,” I scream as our things go flying everywhere in the wind. I scurry to the ground as I try to throw everything into bags.

Some kind of sanity rubber band breaks inside him, and he puts his hands on his hips, tips his head back to the sky, and bursts out laughing.

“This isn’t funny. Get our bags to the truck,” I cry.

He laughs . . . and laughs . . . and laughs.

I scramble to keep our phones dry and run to the truck with our bags.

“Jameson,” I yell. “Do something.”

He turns to me and takes me in his arms in the pouring rain and kisses me. Our headlamps hit together, and I laugh too.

“This is ridiculous,” I whisper.

“Hotel?”

“Please.”

“Hello.” I smile at the receptionist of the tourist center. “Have you got any B and Bs available for two nights, please?”

The woman behind the desk types away.

We stayed in a hideous hotel last night, and Jameson refuses to stay there again. He said we can only stay the full weekend if I find somewhere half-decent for the next two nights. He’s chasing coffee outside for us.

The rain is gone, and at some stage we have to go back and pick up the camping stuff from the Armageddon storm last night. We just got our things and left. There was nothing we could do in the middle of the night in those conditions anyway.

“I only have a farmhouse.” She types and then reads. “Arndell is the property.”

I frown as I listen.

“It’s available for two nights, and you can have that at a discounted rate if you want.”

I smile. I love that she thinks we need a discount. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you.” I slide over Jameson’s credit card, and she does the paperwork.

“Here are the keys.” She hands me a map. “Go down to Falls Road, and then the property has its own road in on the right.”

“Oh, how big is it?”

“The house is on three hundred acres. The land is gorgeous. The house is a little tired, but the location is stunning.”

I smile. “Cool, okay.”

I bounce out to the pickup to see my poor disheveled man. He looks like he’s been to hell and back, and funnily enough, I think it’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. It’s as if that sanity rubber band that broke in him last night released some of his tension.

“Okay, we got a farmhouse.”

He reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh and hands me my coffee. He shifts the gears on the steering wheel and pulls out.

I smile out the window as I ride in the bumpy truck.

“Do you know we haven’t passed a car?” he says as he keeps his eyes on the road.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

He shrugs. “Different.”

We follow the directions, and ten minutes later we get to a big stone entryway with the sign.

ARNDELL

“This is it.”

We turn up the driveway, and I smile. The road is lined with huge trees that create a canopy. Rolling green hills are as far as you can see.

“Oh, look at this place.” I smile in wonder. “She said the land was beautiful.” For five minutes, we drive through until we get to the top of a hill and find a big old house. It’s white with a sweeping veranda around the edge. The roof is made of shingles, and it must be a hundred years old.

Jameson’s eyes find me.

“Don’t say anything.” I smirk.

He holds his hands up in the air as if crying defeat.

We climb out and open the front door and peer in. I smile broadly. Wide-timber floors, a huge fireplace, and great big windows with views out over the property. You can see for miles from up here. The furniture is dated, but that doesn’t matter to us.

I take Jay’s hand as we walk through and look around. A large living area, a formal dining room, a big kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom are downstairs. There’s an old timber staircase, and we go up to find five bedrooms and another bathroom.

I turn to Jameson and wrap my arms around his neck. “Is this better, Mr. Miles?”

He smiles as he bends to kiss me. “This will do.”

We lie on a blanket in the grass, and the sun is warm on our faces. It’s Sunday afternoon, and we are in a sleepy haze.

Last night was heaven. We lit the fire, and Jay humored me and helped me carry the mattress out so that we could sleep next to it.

Today we have explored the property and went into town to grab some groceries in our light-blue pickup truck.

Jameson is relaxed for the first time since we met.

I’m happy . . . so happy.

I roll to face him. “Tell me about your relationship with Claudia.”

He frowns and rolls to his side toward me. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

He reaches up and brushes his finger over my bottom lip. “It wasn’t like what we have.”

“How so?”

“Well, we were friends for a long time. There was never this instant attraction or . . .” His voice trails off.

“No, go on,” I urge. “I want to know.”

“She did some stories for us, and we got to know each other. Then . . . over time we built a friendship.”

I watch him.

“I thought . . .” He hesitates and plays with the blanket underneath him as he thinks for a moment.

“You thought what?”

“I thought she was the love of my life. She was like me. Driven.” He shrugs. “She got me.”

My stomach twists in jealousy.

“We were together for three years. Engaged.”

I frown. “You were engaged?” I didn’t know this. It was on her bio but not his, and I was hoping it was wrong.

“Yes.”

My eyes hold his. “What happened?”

He exhales heavily. “She was offered the job as editor in chief for British Vogue. It was a huge thing, and she had worked so hard to get it.”

I watch him as he speaks.

“She moved and . . .” His voice trails off.

“What?”

“We tried the long-distance thing, and I struggled with no sex. It’s not who I am.”

I frown.

“So we made a pact that we would be with other people but try again in a few years. We had a five-year plan of getting back together.”

My heart sinks. He still loves her.

“But then a year ago I met this girl on a plane.”

I smirk.

“And she was everything that I wasn’t looking for.”

Our eyes are locked, and the air crackles between us.

“But I couldn’t pursue her because of my promise to Claudia.” He takes my face in his hand, and his thumb dusts back and forth over my bottom lip. “I wanted to. I desperately wanted to. I felt a physical connection with her from the word go. I was hard the entire plane trip, and our night together was insane.” He smiles softly. “There was something about her that I couldn’t forget. She lingered in the back of my mind. I compared all sex and women with her since then.” He pauses as he tries to articulate his thoughts. “They always fell short . . . even Claudia.”

I smile as hope blooms in my chest.

“Recently I’d been thinking about her a lot, and I had even contacted the airline and found out her name.”

“You had?” I whisper. This is news.

He nods. “I got a photocopy of your passport emailed to me just six weeks before you started working for us. I’d planned on contacting you, but with everything going on at work, I hadn’t got around to it yet. I had no idea that you were coming to work for Miles Media.”

“That explains it, then.” I smirk.

“Explains what?”

“Why you never called. I look like a prisoner in that photo.”

He chuckles. “This is true.” He leans in and kisses me softly. “Tell me about your past loves.”

My eyes search his. “I can’t.”

He frowns.

“Since I met you, I’ve realized that I’ve never been in love before.”

He smiles softly. “What about the guy with Backseat Barbie?”

I giggle. “You remember him?”

“Yes.” He smirks as he pulls me over his body and holds me tight.

“What I felt for them, Jay, and what I feel for you is incomparable.”

We lie in silence for a while and stare up at the trees as they sway over us.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He kisses my temple. “Good, because I don’t camp in hell for just anyone.”

I giggle as I hug him. This man kills me.

Jameson

We stare at the fire as it flickers. It sporadically cracks as the wood burns. Emily is in front of me on our makeshift bed on the floor. We’ve just made love and are in a sleepy, relaxed state.

Home tomorrow.

To be honest, I could stay here with her forever.

She makes anywhere home.

Emily smiles up at me. Her long dark hair is splayed across the pillow, and her big eyes offer me a deep comfort. My hand slides down over her full breast and lower over her stomach. I turn her head and take her lips with mine. Our tongues dance in a slow erotic dance.

I’m so in love with this woman. When we’re alone, nothing else matters.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Her eyes search mine. “For what?”

“For finding me.”

She rolls toward me and takes my face in her hands. “We were always going to find each other,” she whispers. “Soul mates do that.”

I smirk as I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You don’t really buy into that soul mate mumbo jumbo thing, do you?”

“I didn’t.” She kisses me softly. “Until I met you.”

We stare at each other in the flickering light, and if I could bottle this moment, I would.

Never have I had something so raw and pure in my life.

Her love is a light . . . my light.

“Jay,” she murmurs as she runs her fingers through my stubble. Her eyes search mine.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can we come back here next weekend?” she asks hopefully.

“Really?” I whisper.

She nods with a soft smile. “I love this old house.”

I smirk. If the truth be known, I’m kind of keen on it myself. “Maybe.”

She snuggles against my chest. I feel her relax in my arms, and after a while, the gentle pattern of her breathing notifies me that she’s drifted off to sleep. I inhale deeply into her hair and smile as I watch the fire.

This is it. I can stop searching.

I’ve found her.