Entwined With You

think that’s it. I think it’s something else, but I don’t have a clue.”
    “Do you want me to look into it?”
    I turned my head to meet his gaze. I didn’t answer right away, thinking it over. “I do, yes. But I feel icky about it, too. I researched you, Dr. Lucas, Corinne … I keep digging for people’s secrets instead of just asking about them outright.”
    “So ask her,” he said, in that matter-of-fact male way.
    “I did. She said she’d talk about it when I wasn’t upset.”
    “Women,” he scoffed, with warm amusement in his eyes.
    “What did Giroux want? Did you know he was coming by?”
    He shook his head. “He wants someone to blame for his marriage troubles. I’m convenient.”
    “Why doesn’t he stop blaming and start fixing? They need to go into counseling.”
    “Or get a divorce.”
    I stiffened. “Is that what you want?”
    “What I want is you,” he purred, releasing my hand to grab me instead and pull me onto his lap.
    “Fiend.”
    “You have no idea. I have diabolical plans for you this weekend.”
    The heated look he raked me with had my thoughts shifting in a much naughtier direction. I was pulling his head down for a kiss when the Bentley turned, and it was suddenly dark. Looking around, I realized we’d pulled into a parking garage. We drove around two levels, pulled into a spot, then immediately pulled out again.
    Along with four other black Bentley SUVs.
    “What’s going on?” I asked, as we headed back toward the exit with two Bentleys in front of us and two behind us.
    “Shell game,” he said, nuzzling my throat.
    We pulled back out into traffic, heading in different directions.
    “Are we being followed?” I asked.
    “Just being cautious.” His teeth sank gently into my flesh, making my nipples hard. Supporting my back with one arm, he brushed the side of my breast with his thumb. “This weekend is ours.”
    He’d taken my mouth in a lush, deep kiss when we pulled into another parking garage. We slid into a spot and the door was yanked open. I was trying to figure out what was going on, when Gideon swung his legs to the side and slipped out of the Bentley with me held firmly in his arms, only to immediately step into the back of another car.
    We were on the road again in less than a minute, with the Bentleypulling out into traffic in front of us and heading in the opposite direction.
    “This is insane,” I said. “I thought we were leaving the country.”
    “We are. Trust me.”
    “I do.”
    His eyes were soft on my face. “I know you do.”
    We didn’t have any more stops on the way to the airport. We pulled right onto the tarmac after a brief security check, and I preceded Gideon up the short flight of steps into one of his private jets. The cabin was luxurious yet understated in its elegance, with sofa seating on the right and table and chairs on the left. The flight attendant was a handsome young guy with black dress slacks and vest embroidered with the Cross Industries logo and his name, Eric.
    “Good evening, Mr. Cross. Miss Tramell,” Eric greeted us with a smile. “Would you like something to drink as we prepare for takeoff?”
    “Cranberry and Kingsman for me,” I said.
    “The same,” Gideon replied, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it over to Eric, who waited while Gideon stripped off his vest and tie, too.
    I watched appreciatively, throwing in a whistle for good measure. “I’m liking this trip already.”
    “Angel.” He shook his head, his eyes laughing.
    A gentleman in a navy suit entered the plane. He greeted Gideon warmly, shook my hand when introduced, then requested our passports. He was gone as quickly as he’d come, and the cabin door was closed. Gideon and I were buckled in at the table with our drinks when the plane started taxiing down the runway.
    “Are you going to tell me where we’re headed?” I asked, lifting my drink in a toast.
    He clinked his crystal tumbler against mine. “Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”
    “Depends on how long it takes to get there. I might go crazy with curiosity before we land.”
    “I expect you’ll be too busy to think about it.” His mouth curved. “This is a mode of transportation, after all.”
    “Oh.” I glanced back, seeing the little hallway of doors at the back of the plane. One would be a lavatory, one an office, and the other a bedroom. Expectation coursed through me. “How much time have we got to kill?”
    “Hours,” he purred.
    My toes