Yet now she couldn"t get away from him fast enough. Oh, the irony.
God, how had everything gotten so screwed up?
She sighed and set aside the magazine. Her life was far from a shambles, and she couldn"t pretend otherwise, even when firmly submerged in an early midlife crisis. She had a loving family, a secure job teaching music to excited kids eager to sponge up most—okay, a reasonable facsimile—of what she taught them. She had her health, friends, and plenty of money should she choose to use it, though she usually didn"t.
And she had Shawn.
She pushed to her feet and paced a few feet across the terminal. She"d made it to Chicago. In another hour, she"d be in the air again. She was halfway there. Half a country away from the man who was following her in her mind, if not in reality.
At the vibration of her cell in her purse, she sighed again. What was she supposed to say to him?
Hi there. Never mind that smoking kiss you planted on me last night, what’s new?
Uh-huh. That"d work.
She almost wanted to talk to him, to give him an equally smoking piece of her mind. She"d gone back to her original assessment of why he"d kissed her, and if he thought he could get away with it, she"d disabuse him of the notion quick.
But when she extracted her phone from her bag, she saw the caller wasn"t Shawn, but her sister. Rachel sat down again and tried her damnedest not to sound as exhausted as she felt. “Hey, Mor.”
“Hey, yourself. You must be in Chi-town by now.”
“Sure looks like it. What"s up?”
“Your guard dog"s chasing after you.”
“My guard dog?” Her furrowed brow smoothed as she understood. So much for him only following her in her mind. “You"ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Nope. He called here, hell-bent to find you. I don"t think he"s too pleased to have his place as the main man in your life usurped by your ex.”
“That"s not it.” It wasn"t. Just because 99.9% of their mutual friends and their respective families thought they were perfect for each other, they’d never put stock 16
in what everyone else believed. Sure, maybe one or the other had felt a stray niggle of attraction now and again during dry periods, but come on.
“Oh no? What is it then, Rach? I"m fascinated.”
“I won’t wait forever, Rachel.”
Her fingers tightened around her phone, and she stared hard at the magazine next to her hip. Her rationalizations worked fabulously until she brought back how he"d sounded as he said those words.
Like a man at the end of his very short, very thin rope.
Obviously he"d pulled out all the stops to save her from herself. Any other explanation just wasn"t plausible, not when she took into account all the years he"d had to make a move if that were truly what he wanted.
No, Shawn Griffin, esteemed architect, golden only son of one of Calvin Bay"s first families, and persistent indulger of the female-flavor-of-the-month club, didn"t do unrequited love. Or lust. Or any combination thereof.
“I"m here.” She crossed her legs, both to relieve her restlessness and because she itched to get out of her traveling clothes. She preferred jeans and hoodies to swanky designer outfits, but she"d been too well-groomed as a Cooper heiress to not dress the part in public. “He"s just trying to make sure I don"t make a fool of myself, Mor. Saves him the hassle of having to pick up the pieces later.”
Morgan laughed, loud enough that Rachel had to drag the phone from her ear.