The Tycoon Meets His Match

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And there, mere inches from her face, was Rhys Paxton.

She popped up so quickly, she nearly clipped him on the chin. Seeming as startled as she felt, he straightened and took a step backward. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” he said stiffly. “But it’s imperative that you and I talk.”

Talk? Trying to shake off the effects of the dream, she stared at him. Nothing could be further from jungle attire than the charcoal-gray suit he now wore, with a cobalt-blue shirt and what was, for him, a rather dashing burgundy striped tie. With his freshly shaven face, he looked ready for the office. While she…

With what precious little sleep she’d gotten lately, she probably looked like death warmed over. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

He wore a self-satisfied smirk as he took the vacant seat across the aisle. “Actually, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Trae struggled to regroup, her thoughts chasing themselves through her head. Clearly, he’d been following her but how…when…where…

“Miami,” she thought aloud. “You must have been lying in wait for me there.”

He seemed taken aback for a moment—no doubt astounded by her cleverness—but he recovered with a quick shake of the head. He leaned over the armrest. “All that should concern you is that I’m here and not about to go away. We have—” he paused to consult his watch “—approximately one hour and fifty minutes until we land. So, for the time being, you’re not going anywhere, either.”

The last vestiges of the dream evaporated with his brusque words. No matter how he’d gotten there, Rhys Paxton was planted a mere two feet away and she had to deal with him. “Okay, so what do you want?”

He ignored her less than gracious tone. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. A truce might be a good idea, after all.”

“Ah, so now the man wants to make nice. This have anything to do with the fact that I have a viable lead and you’ve got nothing?”

That wiped the smirk off his face. “Keeping score isn’t going to help either of us find Lucie. We can continue to fight, but if we really want to find her, we can increase our chances considerably if we pool our resources.”

Trae shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m trying to save the girl, not deliver her to the Inquisition.”

“And your idea of salvation is to leave her in the clutches of a lowlife like Boudreaux?”

Not good, Trae thought uneasily. Not good at all if Rhys knew about Bobby.

She clung to the hope that he wouldn’t bother talking to her if he had all the pieces to the puzzle, or even any hope of collecting them in the near future. He thought he was so clever, but Trae could see right through him. He planned to use her, then spit her back out once he had what he wanted. “Here’s my problem, Paxton. You’re asking me to trust someone who just left me stranded in a foreign country without a passport.”

“Okay, I admit that was low. But I’d had a rough day and wasn’t thinking clearly. Now, however…”

“The only difference now is that I’ve got something you want.”

He stared at her, frowning. She imagined he wasn’t accustomed to people sassing him back.

“You’re right,” he said finally with a solemn nod.

She hadn’t expected the admission. Oddly enough, it disarmed her.

Until he added, “But keep in mind that I have the funds and connections to prolong my search indefinitely. I think we both know that I’m not about to give up. I will find her, with or without your help.”

“Is that a threat?”

With a shrug, he leaned back in his seat. “No, ma’am. Just a statement of fact. I can guarantee that I’ll bring her home eventually. Can you say the same?”

“My, my, my. Aren’t we cocky?”

“Not at all. I’m being realistic. We both know you’ll run out of funds long before I do.”

She thought of the three hundred dollars in the backpack. A comfortable cushion in the short term, but if this dragged on…

No, she’d worry about that when she had to. “Forget it. Your proposal is all win-win for you, and lose-lose for me. Not to mention poor Lucie. I’m not offering up my best friend to a loveless marriage.”

“Lucie and I have a steady, caring relationship,” he protested, appearing insulted by her words. “You’ve always refused to acknowledge that, but you know it’s true. I’ve been there for Lucie just as much as you have and if you don’t believe me, you can ask her yourself once we find her. I’m confident you’ll find she wants this marriage as much as I do.”

“Yeah, and that’s why she fled from the altar.”

“She panicked. Who can blame her? All those strangers in the church, her mother nagging, her friends stuffing her head with pointless advice.”

“Okay, Paxton,” Trae said, having no wish to confess the part she may have played in Lucie’s bolting. “Say I buy into your theory that Lucie panicked. It’s been days. Isn’t that enough time to come to her senses and head back home?”

“Mitsy just blew a damn fortune on that wedding. Would you want to face her any time soon?”

Good point. “Okay, but why hasn’t she contacted you? You two having this steady, caring relationship and all.”

His jaw was clenched so tight, it was a wonder he got the words out. “It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

This time, Trae leaned across the aisle. “Try me.”

He stared at her face for what seemed an aeon, as if taking her measure. “I know you want to paint me as the bad guy here, but I swear to you, all I want is to make sure she’s okay. Once I can see that she’s fine, you can talk to her all you want. Say whatever you want.”

“Even if I talk her out of marrying you?”

He shrugged. “You’re welcome to try. But right now, you need me as much as I need you. It’s vital we find Lucie before she ends up in serious trouble.”

Gazing back at him, Trae found it hard to doubt his sincerity. Against her better judgment, she could feel herself soften. “This promise of yours. I want more than simply being allowed to talk to Lucie. I need to speak to her first.”

“And why would I agree to this?”

“Because you’re confident she wants this marriage as much as you. Really, Paxton, what do you have to lose by letting me talk to her first?”

He narrowed his gaze as if suspecting a trick, but nonetheless nodded and held out his hand. “Fine. Then we have a deal?”

She didn’t know that she could trust him, but the more she thought about it, the more joining forces seemed the most practical solution. He had all the money, why not let him pay for the rental car, make him drive into the hills? All she’d have to do was go along for the ride, then whisk Lucie off to safety once they found her. “You don’t go anywhere near Lucie until I’ve had my say?”

“You have my word.”

She still wanted to argue, but really, what was the point? Reaching across the aisle, she clasped the hand he offered.

How could she have forgotten the jolt she got from touching this man?

No, not quite accurate to call it a jolt—more like a readjustment, her trying to get around the awareness that his grip could be rock solid, yet tender and warm and sincere at the same time.

If Trae truly believed she could judge a man’s character by his hands, she had to believe in a man who could hold hers like that.

Even if the man was Rhys Paxton.

Disconcerted, she looked up to meet his eyes, and for an instant got lost in his gaze. She’d never realized how blue his eyes were, how honest and direct. Gazing into them, she flashed back to her dream and found herself feeling heated inside, almost breathless, almost…

Was she out of her mind? This was Rhys Paxton, the most arrogant man she had ever known and, none too coincidentally, her best friend’s fiancé.

That damned dream, she thought, yanking her hand out of his grasp and sitting back in her seat.

She made a shooing motion with her hands, anxious to have him gone. Watching him make his way to the front of the plane, she sighed in exasperation. Figured he’d be in first class.

Okay, he’d gained the advantage in this round, but she hoped, for his sake, he wasn’t assuming he’d always get the best of her. Trae was taking nothing for granted, especially not his so-called word. He might not be as selfish and ruthless as she wanted to believe, but the Rhys Paxtons of this world almost always had their own agendas, and they rarely included standing aside for the Trae Andrelinis. She might have to work with the guy, but it didn’t mean she had to trust him.

Stretched out in the plush leather seat, Rhys knew he should be resting but he felt too unsettled to sleep. He was worried about Lucie—where she was, what she was doing, what kind of mischief Boudreaux could get her into this time.

Contrary to what Trae implied, he did care about Lucie. How could Trae call it a loveless marriage? She’d made it sound like another business acquisition. Granted, maybe their relationship didn’t have all the sizzle of a paperback romance, but he’d been looking out for her for years and couldn’t imagine ever doing otherwise. Everyone knew Lucie couldn’t ask for a more dependable or more devoted husband.

Yet…

The instant he’d touched Trae’s soft, warm skin, something shifted in chest. Holding her hand in his, staring into her deep, emerald eyes, his sense of obligation moved ever so slightly away from Lucie and onto…

He shook his head. He owed Trae nothing more than his promise that she’d get to speak to Lucie first. So why, then, did he suddenly feel guilty about leaving her scrunched up in economy while he luxuriated in first?

This wasn’t about anyone’s comfort—he was here to find Lucie. And if he expected to do so, he had to concentrate on what lay ahead. The wise man—the winning man—always came prepared.

He’d arranged the rental car, convinced Trae—albeit reluctantly—to lead him to Lucie and had two seats reserved for the red-eye to JFK this evening. As long as the Worldways baggage handlers didn’t go out on their threatened strike, he and Lucie would be home and back to business as usual by early tomorrow morning.

Smiling, he sat back in his seat. The ball was in his court again, just where he liked it.

Consulting the map in the glove compartment, Trae stifled a grin at Paxton’s grumbling as she guided them out of the airport. Apparently there had been a mix-up and all the agency could offer was this tiny, well-used Neon. Bad enough not to travel in the style to which he as accustomed, but to make matters worse for him, the baggage handlers had misplaced his luggage.