3. Claire

CHAPTER 3

CLAIRE

S o jealous, texted Sunny. Or that's what I read. What she'd sent was a GIF of a quivering jelly. She was thirty-two, ran an upscale ice cream chain, and still texted like she was a junior in high school.

Don't be, I typed. It's only a work trip.

a work trip to PARADISE!!!! Hearts and palm trees.

with the hottest guy ever!!! Blazing suns. Eggplants. Water droplets.

I could introduce you, I wrote, knowing I wouldn't. Conrad and I were strictly plus-ones, but that didn't mean I wanted to watch him fall for Sunny. I could see it happening, going all the way. Courtship. Engagement. A big floofy wedding. Sunny would make me her maid of honor. Conrad would hold her and tell her "I do." I bit my lip to stifle a grimace. Where was Conrad, anyway? He'd never been late.

lol, right. Sunny sent me a clown face. where u r rite now is the start of every romcom. 2 BFFs on a work beach vacation, then the work thing gets canceled and OMG! THEY KISS!

I texted back Pff , and then Don't jinx me . I wasn't superstitious, but this "work thing" mattered. Getting Verity Halford on board for Timeless… a brand like hers would draw more big names. She could launch me into the stratosphere with a flick of her pen. And what was keeping Conrad? Shouldn't we be in the air?

I peered out at the tarmac, searching for his limo, but the private airstrip was quiet, deserted. My phone pinged again, twice, thrice, four times.

lobster and oysters on a private jet

chocolate dipped strawberries

hey, that would make a good ice cream…

ugh, like three places already did it.

When I looked up, Conrad's limo was there, Conrad stepping out of it, striding over the tarmac. He jogged up the steps and then he was with me, flopping into his seat.

"Ugh, stupid traffic. Almost made me late."

I glanced at my phone, and sure enough, he'd just made it, three minutes ahead of the time we'd agreed on. He pulled out his laptop and cracked it open.

"I hope you don't mind if I get some work done en route. We're acquiring this startup — two startups, in fact — but they both have the same pain-in-the-ass lawyer on their payroll."

"Go for it," I said. "I have some work to do too."

I brought up my preview of Verity's new collection, first the couture line, then off-the-rack. She'd been cagey on this one, about her inspiration, but if I could guess right, that could give me an edge. Something to bond over, so I would stand out.

At first glance, the clothes were just pretty , soft pastel colors, ethereal fabrics. Skirts that shifted colors as their layers recombined. They reminded me of something — butterfly wings? No. Butterflies were more iridescent. These colors were muted, like flowers in a field. Impressionist paintings. Lilies on ponds. I pulled up my company's instant-messaging app and messaged my assistant.

What does this skirt remind you of?

The spoiler popped up — Amira is typing . Then it disappeared, then popped up again. I twisted around to look out as I waited, to watch New York City dwindle below us. I wondered if any kids were out in their playgrounds, on their backs in the grass, watching us go. Making up stories about where we were headed. That'll be us someday. We'll fly out to Disney.

I turned back to my screen. Amira hadn't replied. Across the aisle from me, Conrad let out a curse.

"What's the matter?"

"Wi-Fi's out," he said. He smacked the side of his laptop, as though that would revive it. Then he brightened up and set it aside. "Hey, are you hungry? I missed out on breakfast."

"Breakfast, you serious? It's past time for lunch. You must be starving."

"Yeah, I could eat." Conrad pressed his call button and leaned back in his seat. "How does brunch sound? Couple of mimosas? Lobster scrambled eggs and sour cream pancakes? Those, what do you call them, with the herbs in their crusts?"

I snickered. "Quiches?"

"Yeah, maybe. Those." He rubbed his belly, groaning. "I could eat about fifty. And a whole buttered lobster."

Sunny's text bubbled up in the back of my mind — lobster and oysters on a private jet . Her silly predictions were coming true. If she'd jinxed our conference, I'd wring her fool neck. Well, not really. Jinxes weren't real. Still, nervous bubbles rose in my gut. I shook my head to clear it and smiled at our stewardess.

"We were hoping for brunch. You got something like that?"

"Brunch? Yeah, we've got that. Can I get you a menu?"

"No need," said Conrad. "Just bring us the works. And make sure there's quiches. And something sweet for dessert."

"Of course, sir. I'll start you off with some drinks, then." She turned to go, and Conrad's face fell.

"Sorry, that was rude. Claire, I didn't even ask you, did you want anything special? I'm used to flying alone, or with Joe and the guys."

I brushed off his apology. "Brunch stuff is good."

Quicker than I'd have thought possible, we were drowning in brunch stuff, syrupy French toast, fluffy lobster scrambled eggs. Three kinds of quiches and little quince tarts. More food than two people could hope to eat, but we made a stab at it, diving on in. I moaned at my first forkful of scrambled eggs.

"Mmm. So luscious."

"Yeah, I love those." Conrad bit into a quiche and sagged back himself, his eyes rolling up as he savored the taste. "Try these next, the ham ones, not the spinach and parm."

I did as he said, and the flavor rocked my world. It was just cream and eggs, as far as I could tell, and some tangy cheese, and the richness of ham, but it flooded my tongue like nothing on earth, sending my tastebuds reeling with pleasure.

Conrad smirked. "Good right?"

" So freakin' good."

"It's like tomato juice," said Conrad. "Ever notice no one drinks that down on the ground, but you get on a plane and everyone wants some?"

Now he mentioned tomato juice, I really did want some. I poured myself a tall glass, and even that was exquisite.

"It's because it tastes better up in the air. I can't remember the ins and outs of it, what makes it taste better, but some flavors get sharper. Some fade away. The taste that you're left with is the best of tomato. I think it's the same thing with ham and cheese quiche."

I made a fft sound, trying to hold in my laughter. Spraying Conrad with crumbs would be bad table manners. I'd almost forgotten how silly he could be, delivering the most ridiculous of statements with a straight face.

"Remember in college, those bagel melts at Gold's?"

I sighed at the memory. "Those were so good."

"What was even on them, tomato and avocado? A bit of red onion? That weird cashew cheese with the peppercorns in it? I had my chef toast one up one time, but it wasn't the same."

I'd tried that too, making my own. They'd come out soggy, all mush and wet onion. "I think the secret was how they made them, not what they put in them. But, yeah, I never sussed that out either."

Conrad's brows twitched up. "You tried?"

"Nostalgia, you know. The good old days."

"We've come a long way since then. From bagels to brunch."

I took another delicious bite of my quiche, prepared by a private chef on a private plane. We'd come so far I wouldn't have believed it, if someone had told college Claire this would be her life. But when was the last time I'd gone for a bagel? Sat and enjoyed a meal and a good conversation, not a work lunch or something quick on the go? Not counting this, here, I couldn't remember.

I frowned over at Conrad. "You ever miss college?"

"Some parts," he said, and licked sauce off his lip. "Those bagel melts, yeah, and sleeping in Sundays. Playing Xbox with whatzername, remember my roommate?" He poured himself some tomato juice and took a sip. "I wouldn't go back, though. Life was still so uncertain."

Uncertain — had it been? Or full of options? Back then, it'd felt like the future was ours. Like it could be anything we could imagine. Now it was work and thinking about work, getting ready for work. Doing good work brought more work, its own reward. Surely life offered more than that, some better prize.

"We should talk strategy," I said, changing the subject. No sense getting bogged down in what was over and done.

Conrad swallowed quickly. "It's Verity we're schmoozing? Verity Halford?"

I nodded. "That's right."

"I did some digging on her. She's all self-taught, no college, no mentors, no apprenticeship. She launched her brand out of high school, from her mother's garage."

"Not her garage," I said. "Her, uh, laneway house."

Conrad's brows drew together. "What's a laneway house?"

"Like a pool house, a guest house, that kind of thing. A second, smaller house you build on your property, and your guests can stay there, or you'd rent it out. I think it's a Canadian thing. She's from Vancouver."

Conrad took a quince tart. "So her parents were rich."

"More middle class, I think, but they were doing okay. But I wouldn't mention them. They tried to sue her. They thought they were entitled to a share of her business, what with her starting it in their laneway house."

"Gross." Conrad scowled. "If my mom did that… Well, she's awesome. She wouldn't."

I glanced at my laptop, though it had gone to sleep. "So, she's big into sustainable production, which is obviously what makes her a great match for Timeless. But apart from that, she supports youth programs and mentorships. She does a big scholarship for girls in fashion. She's been married a long time, but they haven't had children. That might be a sore spot, so let's avoid that topic."

"You going to be wearing one of her designs?"

I held up my wrist. "Right here, this bracelet. It's one of the first pieces from her accessory line. But I thought one of her dresses would be too on the nose. I'm going with an Anne Turner for the big do tonight."

"Her first scholarship winner. See? I did my homework." Conrad reached for my garment bag. "So, do I get to see it?"

I snatched the bag back. "Careful! It'll wrinkle."

"Come on. Just a peek."

I stood and held the garment bag flush to my body and pulled down the zip to show him my dress. I pulled it down slowly, mindful of the fabric, and the slow reveal felt almost… naughty. My face went hot. Conrad sat up straighter. He set his fork down and watched the silk ripple.

"It's, uh… It's lovely," he said, slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat and tugged his tie into place. "That pink with your hair, you're going to look striking. Pink cherry and maple leaves. All you need is some green."

"I brought emerald earrings."

"Perfect." Conrad reached out and thumbed at the fabric. "It feels good as well. Sensual. Soft."

My eyes darted unbidden to the bow of his lips. Sensual. Soft. Like a touch in the night. Like his voice right now, sultry and low.

"I love silk," I said, teasing. "A caress that you wear."

Conrad shuddered slightly. I ran my hand down my skirt. This wouldn't lead anywhere, this banter, this flirting, but I loved that it still worked on him, and he still flirted back. He could have anyone, but for me, he'd still shiver. He'd still drop his voice to that deep, growling pitch, the one that made my heart race and my skin prickle for his touch.

His laptop made a beeping sound, interrupting our moment. I thought how tragic it'd be if I spilled champagne on it, but Conrad was already thumbing it awake.

I sighed. "Work calls?"

"Wi-Fi's back."

As if on cue, my laptop woke too, multiple apps pinging at once. I checked my notifications and groaned.

"I'm out of contact an hour, and the sky's tumbling down."

Conrad chuckled. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing big. Just a shipping disaster." I pushed my garment bag aside and hunched over my keyboard. "I might be a bit late for tonight's big event. If you catch Verity before me, talk me up, would you?"

"You know it," said Conrad, tapping on his own keyboard. "But don't be too late. These things get boozy. You'll want to catch her while she'll remember your name."

I snickered my agreement, already neck-deep in work. Tonight would be great — I wasn't worried. I had Conrad with me, and we were the dream team.

Nothing ever went wrong while he had my back.