All I Wanna Do Is You: A Road Trip Rom-Com Page 2

  Reagan’s anxiety had kicked into high gear at the thought of flying halfway across the country in a tiny tin can with wings. So she’d used a mandatory meeting at the office as an excuse to take a later commercial flight. If she was going to be gone for a long weekend, she justified to herself, she’d better tie up loose ends or she’d never be able to enjoy herself. It had taken her years to secure a promotion to executive management for a nationwide luxury resort chain that was headed her way. She wasn’t about to risk it.

  At least on a big plane she felt a little safer. If she’d finally had the courage to conquer her fear of flying, she’d be sliding her freshly-pedicured toes into strappy sandals and sitting at the beachside bar, sipping a mojito by now.

  The strappy sandals were nestled inside a felt shoe pouch in her checked roller bag. But she could do something about that drink. Her gaze swept over the tacky, thatched hut of the busy airport bar, no doubt an attempt to bring some south of the border sizzle to the dull terminal. She gathered her purse and the bakery box full of cupcakes she’d picked up for her brother, and made her way to a vacant high-top.

  Just as she reached for a stool, a trio of flight attendants laid claim to the table. Reagan stepped to the side to glance around the packed bar. With so many passengers delayed, it would probably be a while before another table cleared. A cup of hot tea from the coffee shop across the way would have to keep her pre-flight jitters at bay.

  “You can sit with me.”

  The voice came from behind her. She hadn’t heard that mixture of grit and deep, rich timbre since the ill-fated night of her high school graduation party. But that was impossible, it couldn’t be him.

  She took in a deep breath and steeled herself for disappointment. He’d moved to California. Hadn’t heard anything about him in over eight years. Well, except for a late-night, wine-induced Googling session where she’d discovered he’d become a professional photographer after all and had some prints for sale through a gallery in Santa Cruz.

  Seeing his two-by-two-inch bio picture had sent a zing right to her hoohah and left her tingling with a mixture of regret and what-might-have-been remorse. Slowly turning, she braced herself for the letdown of some middle-aged businessman on the hunt for a quickie.

  “Reagan Campbell. Long time no see, huh?”

  Four square inches of a pixelated PNG image on his web site had done nothing to prepare her for the sight of the broad-chested, confident man before her. Her knees turned to spaghetti noodles, and her vision went fuzzy at the edges, like she was looking through a dark tunnel and Zach Anderson stood at the other end, illuminated in a beam of dazzling sunlight.

  She grabbed the back of a stool to steady herself.

  “Zach?” His name floated from her lips on a breathy exhale. For over eight years his memory made her emotions bounce back and forth between extremes. Joy at the way he used to make her feel. Anger at the chicken shit way he’d ended things. Shame at the way she’d thrown herself at him the last night they’d been together.

  The anger and sadness had eventually faded. She even let herself think about Zach from time to time. Even pictured running into each other. But meeting at a cheesy airport bar wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

  He stood and wrapped her in a strong, comfortable hug.

  The scent of sunshine and leather drifted off his skin. Her brain registered the scruff of his whiskers against her cheek and the feel of his pecs crushed against her chest. Her heart glowed at the warmth and security of being snug in his arms. Her girly parts screamed for more.

  All too soon, the hug ended. He gestured to an empty stool and signaled the harried waitress to return to the table.

  “Pull up a chair. You on that flight to Miami?”

  Stunned by her reaction to the embrace, Reagan nodded and waited a beat, sure the hunky hallucination would fade away as quickly as he had appeared. When Zach’s image didn’t dissolve, she gripped the edges of the small table in both hands.

  He smiled, actually gave her the grin with the dimples, like the last time she’d seen him he hadn’t had his hands all over her naked chest. A wave of heat rolled up her neck.

  “You all right, Reagan? You look a little warm. Have some water.” He slid a glass of ice water across the table to her.

  So this was how he wanted to play it? Casual acquaintances running into each other at the airport? Living in the shadows of her dad’s limelight had taught her how to bury her emotions and keep her feelings in check. Fine. She could do aloof.

  Sliding her bakery box carry-on to the side, she pasted on an indifferent smile. “I heard you moved to LA. What are you doing in Chicago?”

  “Extended my connection from LAX to Miami to spend the day with my dad.” He nodded toward the large backpack on the stool next to him. “I have an assignment down in the Keys.”

  “I saw your photography online. It’s amazing.” Great, now he probably thought she’d been cyberstalking him all these years. “I mean, someone told me about it.” That sounded even worse. Stop talking, just stop talking.

  Somehow her butt cheek managed to slide onto the stool without turning it over. Zach Anderson. In the flesh. Were the gods giving her a second chance or rubbing her nose in a bitter dose of coulda-beens?

  The waitress reached the table. “I’ll have another one of these.” Zach pointed to his empty bottle of local craft brew. “How about you, Reagan?”

  “Um, any chance you can make a mojito?”

  The waitress shrugged. “It’s a cantina. The bartenders are better at margaritas, but I’ll see what they can do.”

  Reagan almost called her back to change her order to a Diet Coke. But Zach flashed her one of his trademark grins, like he dared her to have a grown-up drink with him, and she decided she’d play along, at least for the short amount of time before they boarded their flight.

  “What’s in the box?” His fingers toyed with the lid.

  She smacked his hand away. “A treat for Teddy and his fiancé before they tie the knot.” Her stomach twisted around itself like a stick of that red licorice Zach had been addicted to in high school. Crap. Her dad had insisted on absolute secrecy about her brother’s wedding. She’d threatened every member of her immediate family that if anyone divulged the location they’d have to deal with her.

  And now she’d gone and let something slip. Damn Zach and his magnetic, molten-chocolate gaze. He used to be able to shoot her one glance with those gorgeous brown eyes and she’d tell him anything he wanted to know. Looked like he hadn’t lost that particular superpower.

  “I can smell the sugar from here and the pink box tells me you’ve been to Sweet Sal’s.” He lifted the corner of the lid.

  She forced the top of the box down. “Cupcakes. Teddy really wanted Sal to do his wedding cake, but it would have been too difficult to transport. I picked up a dozen cupcakes as a consolation.” God, she’d done it again. Silently cursing herself, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from speaking.

  Zach’s tongue slid along his upper lip. “They’re like a little taste of heaven. Baker’s dozen, right? They wouldn’t miss just one.”

  “Hey, keep your hands to yourself.” She pulled the box closer to her side of the table.

  He leaned back on the stool and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. His sun-kissed, shoulder-length locks settled in a tousled frame around his face. “So Ted finally came out of the closet? I always figured he’d be too afraid of your dad.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Reagan uncrossed her legs and then crossed them again…left over right, right over left. It was like she’d decided to play a solo game of Twister. How long would it take for her antiperspirant to prove it wasn’t strong enough for a man? Not long if that man was Zach Anderson.

  “It’s kind of a big secret. Not the coming out, but the fact that he and Cal are getting married. Cal’s one of my dad’s staffers. If the press got wind of it, my dad would have to do some artful political maneuvering.” As
a conservative senator, and top pick for running mate of the front runner in the Presidential primaries, her dad made a career out of precariously balancing the political values of the party with his personal views.

  “Good for Teddy. He deserves to be happy.”

  The waitress approached and set a tall, full, glass in front of Reagan. She gulped. “That’s huge.”

  “Happy hour. Free size upgrade until six.” The waitress passed a bottle of beer to Zach, then turned her attention to the table next to them.

  “Cheers!” Zach clinked his beer against her drink and took a long swig from the bottle. His Adams apple bobbed up and down, drawing her attention to a braided leather cord hanging around his neck. The tight white T-shirt stretched across his chest hinted at the well-toned muscles underneath. His biceps bulged as he set the bottle back on the table. She raised her glass and took a long draw in an attempt to cool the heat his focused gaze generated in her panties.

  The burn of rum hit the back of her throat and she sputtered. Liquid fire slid down her chest and settled in her gut.

  “Water.” She grabbed for the glass of water he had passed her when she first sat down.

  “The mojito any good?” A questioning smile played across his lips.

  “More like rum on the rocks with a hint of mint.” She dabbed a napkin at the dots of liquid spattered across her blazer. “Can you watch my stuff for a sec? I’m going to run to the restroom.”

  “You bet.”

  She left Zach to nurse his beer alone and headed toward the nearest women’s room. What the hell had gotten into her this afternoon? Usually the epitome of cool, calm, and collected, she could assess, evaluate, and master a situation faster than most of her dad’s professional handlers. Running into Zach threw her completely off her game.

  Always had.

  Just a drink. She’d be on her way to Miami and back in control before midnight. Assured of her plan, she glanced back at him. He tipped his beer at her and tilted it, licking his lips right before the rim of the bottle met his mouth.

  A jolt of something hot and crackling zinged through her, ricocheting off her gut and settling down between her thighs.

  Zach.

  The flame she’d carried for him in high school had all but burned out over the years. Seeing him now stirred all those old feelings into a giant, confusing mixture of emotional soup. The best thing would be to play nice, part ways in Miami, and never let the likes of Zach Anderson breach the reinforced walls of her heart again.

  Like a salmon swimming upstream, Reagan struggled through the wave of passengers whirling around her. Two steps from the safety of the women’s restroom, she noticed the older, some might say distinguished-looking, Illinois Senator headed her way. A cannon ball of dread thudded into her gut.

  Before she had a chance to duck into the restroom, he stopped in front of her, creating a private island for the two of them. The sea of travelers flowed around.

  She swallowed hard. Hard enough to silence the panic alarm the sight of the senator had set off in her chest. Her gaze skimmed up his rumpled navy suit to rest on a paunchy, puffy face. A career in public service had taken its toll on the man her father considered one of his greatest political rivals.

  With the mask of her public persona firmly in place, Reagan pasted on a well-practiced smile and offered her hand. “Senator Stewart, what a surprise.”

  Douglas Stewart took her hand in his clammy grasp. She resisted the urge to pull away and swipe her now-damp palm across her pants.

  “Reagan, I thought that was you. I’m on my way back to the office from DC. I hope you’re headed somewhere nice and warm, away from this weather.”

  He’d be able to figure out where she was going if he turned around and looked at the gate monitor, so there was no use lying about it.

  Smile secured, her tone laced with a casual inflection, she politely slid her hand from his grasp. “Florida. I have an event there this weekend. I hope you enjoyed your time in Washington.”

  “Of course. Although I didn’t get a chance to catch up with your father on the Hill this time. Where’s he hiding?”

  “Dad? Oh, he has family commitments this week. But he’ll be back in the office soon.” Family commitments was a truthful way to describe her father’s plans. Senator Stewart wouldn’t hesitate to punch his campaign manager on speed dial if he knew to the real reason for her father’s absence.

  “Hmmph.” The senator leaned close to mutter in her ear. “I sure wouldn’t let a family commitment keep me from the action if I were on the short list for potential VP nominees.”

  Reagan gritted her teeth, backing away from his stale coffee breath. “I can assure you he’s handling everything he needs to while he’s away.”

  With a curt nod, the senator motioned to his small entourage of staffers and assistants. “Let’s get the car. It’ll take an hour to get into the city in this weather.” His minions scurried around them. Before he turned to follow, he narrowed his eyes and focused his red-rimmed gaze on Reagan. “I know your father’s been working on you to join his staff. You’re a smart cookie and a team player, kiddo. You ever want to join the good side, you let me know.”

  She stifled a snort at the thought of her die-hard conservative father letting her go work for his left-wing nemesis. “Thanks for the offer. You’ll be the first one I call if I ever change my political affiliation.”

  With a wink and quick turn of the heel, he strode away, down the terminal.

  Her pulse slowed and the swoosh of blood stopped thumping through her ears. Close call. A run-in with Senator Stewart could have blown her flimsy cover into a billion pieces.

  Creating a special day for Teddy and Cal had taken all of her free time and attention for the past six months. She needed to see it through. Five days from now she’d have plenty of time to figure out her career and relearn how to forget about her obsession with Zach. Nodding to herself, she ducked into the restroom and forced her well-worn mask of composure back into place.

  Zach waited for Reagan to turn the corner before he picked up his phone. She wasn’t supposed to be part of this job. He scrolled through his contacts and located the number for the sleazy agency he’d accepted his most recent assignment from a few days ago.

  John Scazzoli, chief scuzbag and middleman extraordinaire picked up before the phone even rang. “Anderson, talk to me.”

  The edge in his voice sawed along Zach’s nerves like a serrated hunting knife. He hated having to deal with a guy like Scazzoli. But what choice did he have? He thought his career as a celebrity-chasing paparazzi was behind him until Scazzoli reached out with one last request.

  “Hey, you’ve got to take me off the Campbell job.”

  “No can do, hot shot.”

  “You told me Senator Campbell would be traveling with his mistress. I’m at O’Hare and just bumped into his daughter, Reagan.”

  Scazzoli clucked his tongue. “She’s on her way to Florida too?”

  “Yeah. I think she’s on her way to her brother’s wedding in Miami.”

  “Hmm. I knew the senator was spending the weekend in Florida, but maybe instead of a romantic rendezvous, it’s a family affair. The Campbell wedding’s on the hot list. Rumors have been flying around for weeks, but none of my sources have confirmed when or where. Can you stick with her?”

  “No. That’s it. I can’t have anything to do with Reagan Campbell. We went to high school together. We’ve got a, uh, a history.” Scazzoli didn’t need to know the details—that Zach still harbored regret about the way he’d been forced to end things with Reagan. But he’d convinced himself it had been for the best. Her dad never would have let them have a future together.

  Scazzoli cleared his throat. “You told me I could count on you for this job, Anderson. Screw me on this and you know what’s going to happen.”

  Dammit. The last time Zach had gone into paparazzi mode, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t stoop to take any more of these low-life jobs. But when Scaz
zoli called and said Senator Campbell had been screwing around on his wife and he needed someone to get proof, Zach couldn’t say no. The job would pay more than enough to give him the last bit he needed to start up his own studio. Plus, Scazzoli threatened to expose him as the source behind a few shots he’d taken a few years ago that had some pretty powerful people pretty damn pissed. If word got out, Zach would have a hard time building a legitimate business. So he’d agreed to one final job.

  Besides, he was already supposed to be in Florida for a catalog job. Wouldn’t take but a few hours to sneak over and catch the senator with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. And it would provide a way to settle an old score with Reagan’s dad. Scazzoli had even texted a picture of the senator lip locked with a woman with jet black hair. They just needed an image of her face to confirm her identity.

  “Hey, I agreed to this before I knew Regan would be around.” Splashing her dad’s extra marital affair across the news would be bad enough, but if he took the pictures right in front of her it would kill Reagan. He’d managed to stay away from her since the night that had completely fucked up his life and ruined any chance of a future between them.

  “Sounds like things have changed.” Scazzoli grunted. “If there really is a wedding going on, you come through with pictures of daddy dearest walking one of the grooms down the aisle and you can pretty much set your price.”

  Low life bastard. A vision of Teddy standing at the altar flashed through his mind. Zach shook his head. It wasn’t about trying to get more cash.

  The asshole continued, “Mid fives, maybe even up to six figures if you get the money shot. Hell, some of his opponents with deep pockets might be willing to pay big bucks for the chance to set up a smear campaign. Plus, you get me off your back for good.”

  “I committed to taking pictures of the senator and his mistress, but I can’t ruin his son’s wedding. That’s sinking too low.”

  “You sure about that?” Scazzoli paused. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to change your mind. After that I’ll be forced to give the job to someone else and leak that little tidbit about your involvement in the scandal surrounding that media mogul’s wife. What was his name again?”