I hastily made the arrangements and told the pilot to stand by. He didn’t look too happy with me, but he nodded. He was well paid to be on call for our family.

My heart was pounding and my skin tingling like an adolescent schoolboy whose crush had just said she liked him too.

Really off brand.

She texted again. How will I know if he’s legit?

Good question. Zee wouldn’t go off with just anyone. She knew better from experience.

He’ll have my number. Ask him to call me, and then ask to speak to me.

Okay.

Good. That seemed to work for her. No way would I let anything happen to her. That was why she was flying to New York with me and not on some commercial flight.

Ten minutes passed. The captain was updating the flight manifest and dealing with air traffic control. The flight attendants were seated, waiting for further instructions.

My phone buzzed.

“Mr. Wolfe, this is Ron James with airport security. I’m here with Ms. Jones. She’d like to speak with you.”

“Yes, please put her on.”

“Reid?”

Her voice. How happy I was to hear her voice.

“It’s me,” I said.

“So this guy’s cool?”

“Yes, you’ll be safe with him. He’ll bring you to the jet. See you in a bit.”

“Okay. Thanks, Reid. Bye.”

I headed to the cockpit to let the pilot know our passenger was on her way. “She’s in D concourse. A security guy is escorting her.”

“That’s about another twenty minutes, if they hurry,” he said. “I’ll update air traffic control.”

“Thanks.”

I conferred with the flight attendants quickly, ordering bottled water for Zee when she arrived.

The rest of the time passed slowly, as if I were a child waiting those last few days before Christmas.

Crazy, how Zee was affecting me.

Finally, she and her escort walked through the gate and onto the plane.

And my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

21

Zee

Several hours earlier…

“Good morning, Ms. Jones,” the receptionist at the salon and spa greeted me. “Have you had a chance to look at our brochure?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Mr. Wolfe said we’re to give you whatever services you’d like over the next four hours.” She smiled and handed me a paper. “Everything’s listed here. Please let me know what you’d like, and I’ll tell your stylist and therapist.”

I raked my gaze over the brochure. “There aren’t any prices listed.”

“Correct. Mr. Wolfe has prepaid for anything you want.”

“But I’d like to know…”

“He asked that we print up a list without prices.”

“Why?”

She smiled again. “You’d have to ask him.”