“Helicopters crash,” she said softly.
“Not this one,” Zeke replied, reminding her that he could hear even her most private whispers. And so could Captain Davis. A strong bump jolted them into each other and elicited a soft cry from her.
The pilot was speaking softly to the Fisher Island helo control tower, the words “rough” and “turbulent” and “wind velocity” doing nothing to ease her fears. Zeke must have sensed that because he leaned forward and signaled to the pilot to give them a private channel. Instantly, the ground control communication ended, but she and Zeke could still talk to each other.
She wasn’t sure if that was better or not, but at least the pilot wouldn’t hear now how scared she was. She let her taut posture loosen slightly as Zeke repositioned his headset and mouthpiece to talk to her.
“I can distract you,” he offered, taking both her hands in his and holding tight.
He could and he did. And that was almost more dangerous than the winds that buffeted them.
“Hey.” He tugged her hands to turn her right to him. “Talk to me. It’ll help.”
“I can’t talk.” The headsets magnified the tension of her words.
“Sure you can. You want to know about people you’ll meet tonight?”
She nodded, trying to turn back to the window, but he wouldn’t let her. She tried to think of something that would genuinely get her mind off the turbulence. “Tell me about your softball team. What’s the name of it?”
“The Niners.”
“’Cause there are nine on a baseball team?”
“No, because there are...” He hesitated, shaking his head. “It’s kind of a joke.”
“What’s the joke?” she asked, keeping her voice steady despite the next rough bounce.
The chopper dropped hard, whipping to the right as it did. She let out a groan of fresh fear. “Please tell me something to get my mind off the fact that we’re about to die.”
He laughed softly. “We’re not going to die.”
“Niners, like it’s a play on the 49ers?” she asked. “The football team?”
“No.” He definitely seemed uncomfortable with the topic, and just as she was about to let it drop, he leaned closer and said, “It’s a reference to zeroes.”
Zeroes? They’re all a bunch of zeroes? She shook her head, not understanding.
“In our net worth,” he added.
A slight frown pulled as she visualized that many zeroes and then...holy shit. “Nine?” she asked, all the fear gone and replaced by astonishment.
That made him...a…she imagined a number with nine zeroes. “As in…” Her mouth formed a “b,” but no sound came out.
Another shrug. “I told you, I’ve had some success.”
“Some success?” She practically choked, the helicopter momentarily forgotten. “Wow. Really? Nine?”
He laughed, studying her. “You really didn’t know that? It’s pretty easy to find out with one Google search. The first story that comes up is from Forbes, calling me one of the top twenty most elig...” His voice trailed off, and the helicopter hit a welcome but rare smooth section of air.
Most eligible billionaires was what he was going to say, she assumed. “No,” she replied. “I didn’t Google you.” Then her heart stopped. “Did you Google me?”
The helicopter jolted again, knocking them hard and turning her words into a soft shriek.
The pilot was too busy getting them down to even throw back an apology, so Zeke pulled her closer, but it didn’t work. “Of course not.”
But his words were lost as the whole chopper vibrated and rumbled, bouncing in the wind like a kid’s toy on water.
“Oh, my God.” She barely mouthed the words. “I’m sorry to be so scared. I hate this.”
“Don’t be sorry. But I promise, I travel like this all the time. This is really rare.”
She nodded, biting her lip and holding his gaze. “I don’t want to die before I start my business,” she whispered.
“You’re not going to die.”
She closed her eyes without answering.
“Mandy.” He pulled her into him, fighting the pressure of his seat belt to get closer and wrap her in his arms. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “Don’t be…”
It wasn’t working; she was shuddering. With one quick look to the pilot, he snapped his mouthpiece down and did the same to hers.
Just as they plunged another few feet, he kissed her. She moaned into his mouth but didn’t move away because this...this felt so good. If she was going to die, it would be kissing this beautiful billionaire.
She grabbed his head and pulled him harder against her mouth. Taking the cue, he deepened the kiss, opening his lips, letting their tongues clash and collide.
He tasted like peppermint and safety, closing his hands over her face to hold her right where he wanted, each second of contact making the wind seem to die down. Or maybe she forgot to be afraid because this felt so good.
She took a breath, let out a soft sigh, and deepened the kiss. They stayed that way until they jolted one last time, hitting the concrete of Fisher Island Heliport.
“Uh, we made it, folks.”
The pilot’s voice, back in their ears, jolted them apart.
“Sorry for the rough ride.”
She closed her eyes. “That wasn’t rough,” she whispered. “That was perfect.”
Chapter Seven
Finally on solid ground, Amanda really tried to put that little tidbit of information on the back burner as Zeke ushered her to a private car, which took them around the island to the mind-boggling waterfront mansion owned by debonair Garrett Flynn and his vivacious and quite pregnant wife, Meredith. Still affected by the turbulence —and that kiss—Amanda managed not to swipe a damp palm over the couture dress before shaking their hands.
Instead, she took steadying breaths and tried not to ogle the surroundings as she was handed a crystal goblet of champagne, greeted by some of the other twenty or so guests, and introduced proudly by Zeke as his girlfriend, Mandy Mitchell.
His imaginary girlfriend.
Well, that made sense, because everything definitely had a fantasy-like feel to it. From the wall-to-wall aquarium stocked with sharks—real ones—in the living room to the multi-layered pool with at least fifteen canopied bed-like lounges around it, nothing seemed real. So it was fine to pretend to belong to the attentive man at her side as twilight descended over paradise and the first few sips of champagne took away Amanda’s nerves.