Playboy Pilot (20 page)

He kissed my lips. “I gotta get back. Take another look at the article. Maybe it’s your sign.”

Confused, I chuckled. “Okay.”

“See you on the ground, beautiful.” He stood and began to walk away when I called after him.

“Carter?”

“Yeah?”

“Do any flight attendants live in your building?”

He gave me a sexy half smile. “Definitely not.”

“Is there a uniformed doorman?”

“Nope.”

“Do you live in a penthouse?”

His half smile widened to a full-fledged grin. “Not even close.”

“So naked women don’t meet you at your door when you get home wearing stilettos?”

He laughed. “Thank Christ, no. You have no idea how funny that question is. If you decide to come home with me, remember what you just asked.”

“Okay.”

After Carter disappeared back into the cockpit, I took out my magazine and flipped through the pages until I came to the story about one of the Kardashian kids. Curious as to what he thought could be a sign for us, I reread the entire article. The story was about Kendall, so there was that commonality, but that was about all I could seem to find that could possibly point me to anything. She had met a new guy, that was sure as heck nothing new, and the article had a few pictures of them kissing and roller skating. Apparently they were on a trip to Miami, so there was a faint Florida connection, too. Unable to break his cryptic message, I figured I’d ask Carter about it when we landed. But then I closed the magazine and his
sign
hit me right smack in the face.

The cover had various quotes. In the top right-hand corner, there was a picture of Taylor Swift and underneath it read.
Taylor: Music is better than sex.
I laughed to myself thinking there was no way in hell
that
was a sign he wanted me to read into. Down at the bottom of the cover was a picture of Kendall Jenner. The words underneath hit me hard, and I knew exactly what Carter had been hoping I’d see as a sign.
Kendall: I fell in love in Florida.

WHEN WE LANDED
in Dubai, I waited in my seat until the plane was almost empty. After the last person passed, I stuffed my
Okay
magazine into my bag and made my way to the cockpit where Carter was standing. For the first time ever, he looked nervous. Gone was the smiling, confident, cocky pilot I knew, replaced by something that looked a hell of a lot like vulnerability.

We said nothing until I was standing in front of him. Then, he extended his hand to me hesitantly. “What do you say, Perky? Come home with me?”

I kept a solemn face as I reached up on my tippy toes to almost see eye to eye with him. “How can I possibly go against the advice of a Kardashian?”

FLYING WITH CARTER
next to me was so much more fun than having him be in the cockpit where I couldn’t stare at his handsome face. The flights from Dubai to Florida were on a code share, which meant we were on a sister airline and weren’t subjected to Carter’s usual harem of flight attendants for the torturously long flights. We spent fifteen hours flying and changing planes, yet between sleeping with my head on Carter’s chest and playing touchy feely underneath the skimpy flight blanket, I actually enjoyed every moment of the flights. In fact, I felt refreshed when we exited the terminal in Miami.

We hopped a shuttle bus to long-term parking, and when we walked to Carter’s car, I realized just how much I was going to learn about the man by seeing him in his familiar surroundings.

“This is me,” Carter said as we walked to a large, black Suburban. He opened the back hatch and lifted our luggage inside, then walked around to the passenger door, opened it, and helped me hop up and get in.

I turned and checked out the inside while he walked around to the driver’s side. “This thing is huge. I can fit two of my cars inside here. I think I pictured you more in a little sporty two-seater than this bus. Yet somehow, this fits you, too.”

“Used to have exactly that. A little red 1972 Porsche Targa. Loved that thing. Traded it with a friend last year for this beast. He had back surgery and was having trouble hopping up into the high seat, and I needed something bigger for hauling crap around.”

“Hauling crap around?”

Carter put the car into drive and pulled out of the lot. “Yeah. I’m always loading this thing for one reason or another.”

“How long is the drive to your place?”

“About a half-hour. Goes quick, it’s mostly highway.”

During the drive, I went through my emails. There was one I had been avoiding for a few days—responding to my mother. I knew she was at least half loaded when she wrote it, just from her run-on sentences. My well-spoken mother tended to lose her boarding school upbringing after a pint of vodka. Rather than explain what I was really up to, I took the easy way out and emailed back telling her I was traveling with a friend still, and I’d be in touch in a few days.

Before long, we pulled off the highway, made a few quick turns, and were pulling down a road that led to a residential community. The entrance had a large fountain in the middle of a circular drive and a welcoming clubhouse building. To the left and the right, there were entrance gates that blocked passage to what looked like hundreds of condos in a neatly planned community. Carter pulled to the left and stopped to roll down his window and key in a code. The gate slowly opened, and we drove through.

A decorative sign greeted us on the other side.
Welcome to Silver Shores. We’re glad you’re home safe.
An older man wearing a gray jumpsuit was driving a scooter with a basket on the front and waved and yelled when we passed. “Hey, Cap. Welcome home.”

Carter waved back and smiled. “That’s Ben. He was a New York City garbage man for forty years. Still wears the jumper every day. He’d be the closest to the uniformed doorman you imagined I had.”

As we drove farther into the community, I looked around. It was nothing like I expected. Although it was clean and well manicured, it was the exact opposite of a sleek high-rise. Instead, the buildings were all simple two level condos, very standard and normal.

After a few blocks, we turned left and pulled into a parking spot. Carter smirked and pointed to one of the units on the first floor. “And that there, that would be my penthouse.”

“WELCOME TO MY HUMBLE ABODE.”
Carter opened his arms wide as we entered the condo.

It was a nice size, not too small, not too big. Two plush, tan-colored couches sat in the middle of the open-concept space. Palm trees blew outside of the glass door in the back that led out to a small patio area.

“This is like a little hidden paradise.”

“Not exactly what you were expecting?”

“Honestly? It isn’t. I was picturing something like a high-rise on South Beach.”

“I know my life is pretty crazy, but when I’m home, I want peace, basically the total opposite from the fast-pace life I lead when flying.”

My stomach growled. “Goodness…sorry about that.”

“You hungry? I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Maybe a little. Yeah. That would be great.”

Carter opened his stainless steel fridge. “Let’s see what we got. Looks like there are some containers of food.”

“That stuff can’t be good. You’ve been gone too long.”

“No. This was just made today.” He pointed to a label. “See the date?”

Someone had stuck a sticky with today’s date on top of the Tupperware. It said,
Hot stuff for my hot stuff. —Muriel.

He took another Pyrex out. That one had a label that said,
Try this. It’s better than Muriel’s.

My heartbeat accelerated. “What the hell is this? You have women cooking for you?”

“My neighbors. They have my return dates on their calendar and drop off food. They have keys to my place because they feed my cat and change the litter box.”

“You have a cat?”

“Yes. Her name is Matilda. She hides when she smells a new person. That’s why you haven’t seen her.”

“Of course your pussy is a female.”

“I’m hoping that
my
pussy is standing right in front of me, because there is no other pussy I want.” The look on his face was totally serious when he said, “I can’t wait to eat it, too.”

Having to clench the muscles between my legs, I cleared my throat and changed the subject. “Who are these female neighbors?”

Shaking his head, he said, “It’s not what you think.”

“What is it, then?”

“They’re old enough to be your great-grandmothers, Kendall.”

Relieved, I squinted my eyes. “You have old ladies cooking for you?”

“Yes. They insist on it to pay me back for helping them out from time to time.”

“That’s actually pretty sweet.”

“Thank fuck they do it, because I can’t cook for shit.”

After a breakfast of sampling both Muriel and Irene’s casseroles, I ventured to Carter’s bathroom to take a hot shower.

Upon opening the door, I jumped at the site of Matilda the cat hissing at me. Claws out, she wouldn’t even let me in the door.

I yelled out toward the hallway, “Carter! Your kitty looks possessed. Help! She won’t let me pass.”

“Shit. Be right there!”

I looked back down at Matilda. “Calm down, kitty. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Carter appeared seconds later. “Didn’t realize she was in here. She usually hides under my bed. She’s very possessive.” He lifted the plump gray cat off the ground, and she meowed.

Matilda was just another one of Carter’s crazy bitches to contend with. My heart skipped a beat when he buried his face into her fur, showering her with kisses. I tried to quickly dismiss the fleeting thought that Carter might make a good daddy someday. It caused physical pain to think about that for some reason. Maybe that was because my gut still told me that our futures were not going to intertwine.

“Don’t take too long in the shower. I want to show you around. We have a big day. The first day back here is always a busy one.”

“Why busy?”

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

What did that mean?

After I emerged from the shower, Carter opened the bathroom door, and I instinctively grabbed the towel to cover myself.