Something More

SOMETHING MORE

SAMANTHYA WYATT

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

SOMETHING MORE

Copyright©2014

SAMANTHYA WYATT

Cover Design by Christy Caughie

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN: 978-1-61935—
485-2

www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

To my dear friend Tammy

who kept me supplied with plenty of books to read.

She just couldn’t understand what was taking me

so long to read them and give them back.

Now you know.

I was writing my own.

Chapter 1

Matthew paced back and forth with his cellphone next to his ear. “What the hell do you mean it’s unavailable? My jet is without a pilot. I gave Casper the night off. I won’t find him before tomorrow. I need another plane. Now.”

He stopped and ran a frustrated hand through his already disheveled hair. It’s a wonder he still had any left on his head. Any more pacing and he’d wear a hole in the hotel’s plush carpet.

Damn what a mess
.

The merger had to go through. The benefit his employees would receive outweighed any profit he would make. After all, he did this for them. And his family.

He pressed more buttons, icons flashed at his persistence. He scrolled down the list of names until he found the one he wanted. “Thank God, Holly, you’re still there. I need a flight. As soon as possible.”

Matthew gave instructions and ended the call. He could rent a plane, if he could locate another aviator. He’d have a hell of a time finding his pilot after the send-off he gave him. Thinking the deal was done, Casper went off to celebrate, and Matthew had promised to do the same. Now, he stood in front of the floor to ceiling glass in the luxurious penthouse suite. The last rays of sunlight streaked though the clouds hanging just above the thirtieth floor. Hands in his pockets, he stared at the splendor before him. Too irritated to enjoy the view, he frowned.

He jerked the phone as it chimed. “What!”

“Mr. Corridon?”

“Oh. Sorry, Holly.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Mr. Addison is in Tokyo.”

“What?”

“You did send him there with a contract.”

“And Atsushi is on his way here. How’s that for irony?” Matthew turned on the ball of his foot and strode to the couch.

“There aren’t many private pilots for hire at a moment’s notice,” his assistant said. “I called the airlines and there are no first class seats.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Try again.”

This night couldn’t get any worse.

Atsushi would be in New York tomorrow. Why the hell hadn’t someone given his office some warning? Atsushi’s people had scheduled their meeting for next week. Why the change? If he’d known about the switch, Casper would never have left his sight.

Tomorrow
.

Which meant Matthew had to leave today.

He jolted at the knock on the door. The only person who knew the name of his hotel was Casper. Matthew rushed to the door and threw it open.

She sure as hell wasn’t Casper.

A luscious blond with legs from here to eternity posed provocatively in the doorway—a pretty pout to her lips.

It took him a moment to recover from the sexy intrusion.

Her gaze moved slowly down his body, lingering just below his waist. She took her time before dragging her eyes back to his.

Intrigued, he asked, “Do you have the right room?”

“I sure hope so. I thought your friend was a prize.” She gave another slow perusal from his head down to his shiny black shoes. Her voice low and raspy, she captured his gaze and then added, “But, now that I’ve seen you . . .”

“My friend?”
Casper?

“He assured me you weren’t a lunatic or anything. And he’s an absolute doll, so I didn’t think he’d lie.” She extended to her full height. “I’m Olivia. May I come in?”

Casper had a talent for picking up a pretty girl. Gorgeous women flocked around him, lured by his fair hair and his inviting smile. He knew better than to send a woman up to Matthew’s suite. But then, Casper thought they were celebrating. Matthew could at least show the woman his manners. He stepped back allowing her to enter.

“I knew the top floor would be grand, but wow. Look at that view.”

Before the deal-breaking phone call, he might have been more susceptible to a charming companion. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I’m afraid my friend didn’t realize I’m working. Do you know where he is?”

“He mentioned you work too much. He said you were supposed to be celebrating.” She turned and gave him a saucy smile. “He didn’t say what.”

Matthew kept his distance. “Something came up. I need to find him right away. Do you know where he is?”

She shrugged one shoulder causing the shiny material to twinkle. “He seemed in a bit of a hurry. He brought me here and left.”

“He brought . . .” Matthew’s pulse picked up an extra beat. He lunged for the door and ran into the hallway. No sign of his pilot and no ding of the elevator. Tramping back inside, he grabbed the hotel phone and called the desk.

“This is Matthew Corridon. I’m looking for my pilot and he may be headed for the lobby.”

He tightened his jaw.

“No, that’s fine. Thanks.” He replaced the phone and heaved his shoulders at the setback. “He’s already gone.”

“Sorry.” She sounded sincere. When he glanced up, her expression stabbed his conscious.

“Never mind. I’m the one who should apologize. I do have work to do, and I’ll be headed to the airport soon.”

“But, I thought . . . You’re friend said . . .”

“He doesn’t know yet.” Matthew snapped, and then smiled to soften the blow. “I wish I didn’t have to leave. I’m sure you would be charming company.”

“If you’re not going to celebrate,” her throaty voice grew suggestive. “He also said you needed some relaxation.”

If she stayed, rest would be the last thing on his mind.

“I’m sorry. Maybe some other time,” he said to be polite. He hated being put in this position. Wait till he saw Casper.

“That’s too bad. Well, I guess I’ll be on my way.” She started for the door and paused as if she were mulling over a tough decision. The next instant, she dug in her small jeweled purse and withdrew a slip of paper. She scribbled a phone number on it and held it out, giving him a sultry smile. “If you venture this way again, or you miss that flight, call me.”

Matthew stared at her backside as she stepped to the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she swung around.

“You’re friend seems like a really cool guy. He will take care of my friend, won’t he?”

Now’s a good time to ask?

“I assure you. She’s safe with him.”

With a nod of her pretty head, she opened the door and slipped out. Her flowery scent lingered long after Matthew closed the door.

What the hell was Casper thinking? He knew Matthew did not pick up women. Even if she had appeared beautiful and rather charismatic. Had he been that uptight? Of course, he normally put in sixteen-hour days. Hell, from the time he made his appearance in the corporate world, he’d been fending off women by the dozens. Having a revolving bedroom door of non-stop females may have been fine in college, but he’d had his share of Barbie blondes and their shallow ways. He found women cared more for his bank account and what his money could buy.

When he got his hands on Casper . . .

The phone vibrated in his hand at the same time the tone sounded. “Yes.”

“Mr. Corridon. You won’t like this.”

“I don’t care, Holly. Just give it to me.”

“I found a flight. Nothing first class. Two seats in coach. I booked them both.”

No. Hell, no.

He shook his head. Shards of light blinded him beneath heavy lids. The headache that had started earlier pounded in his temples. He was silent for so long, Holly spoke again.

“Mr. Corridon?”

“I’m here. I guess I don’t have much choice.”

“No, sir.”

She gave him his seat numbers and flight time. He’d leave within the hour.

“How did I let you talk me into this?” She’d been off her game—that’s how. Just because her sister announced she was in love . . . With an exasperated sigh, Carrie made her way through the crowded airport. In a moment of weakness—
which was between few and never
—she’d allowed her best friend to talk her into what was supposed to be a short holiday. Thank God, it was over.

“I’m surprised you let me.” Ginger pulled her suitcase to a stop. “You’re a workaholic. I guess after the bomb your sister dropped, you needed a break.”

My sister.
There was no getting through to her. A brick wall would pay more attention. Ready to strangle her, a cruise had sounded like a good idea at the time.

Carrie observed the commotion inside the Miami terminal and pondered the past week. The cruise line had advertised ‘love’ and ‘romance’.
Ha
. Lust was more like it. A floating smorgasbord. Flaring male hormones, ranging from college age boys to men with silver tinting their hair. Swim suit model want-a-bees parading on deck as if they walked a red carpet Grammy event.

“Face it, Carrie. You’re too involved in your niece’s life.”

She blinked. Oh yes. The reason she’d agreed to her friend’s heavy-handed suggestion. She drew a deep breath with a retort in mind. Before she could utter a word, Ginger seized upon a new train of thought.

“Yummy at four o’clock.” She stood with one hand braced on her hip as if she posed for a photo shot for the cover of a magazine.

Carrie checked her watch. “We’ve been off the ship how long?”

Ginger’s smile showed off her perfect white teeth. “Loosen up. Several pairs of eyes are examining us as we speak.”

Her friend was drop dead gorgeous in anyone’s opinion. Sleek black hair and eye catching curves in all the right places. Where Ginger was dark, Carrie contrasted with blonde hair and blue eyes.

She glanced over her shoulder. Ginger was right. They had attracted considerable attention. As if she hadn’t received enough of that on the cruise.

With a toss of her head, Ginger flung her long black hair over one shoulder. “This is why you spend all those hours in the gym.”

“Yes, remind me why I subject myself to sweat and abuse.”

Shifting her weight, she prolonged a manipulative smile. “Others pay me extremely well for the same
training
I give you.”

“Training, you call it. I call it torture.” Even so, Carrie had worked hard. And she was damn proud of the result.

“Paid off, didn’t it? You’ve got a body some women would kill for.” Ginger nodded in the direction of two men with smiles as big as—probably—their egos. “And those guys have expressions of wolves after a hot babe.”

At five feet ten, Carrie looked most men in the eye—even while their gaze lingered on the extensive curves of her physique. But she had a sharp mind and searched beyond the words of a smooth talker. She would never be vulnerable like her sister.

“Our flight doesn’t leave for another thirty minutes.” In five-inch heels, Ginger glided to several seats by the wall of windows. She could have been a model on a fashion runway. Dropping onto the hard chair, she crossed her legs and removed the lid to her Starbucks latte.

Java
. The one saving grace in a jam-packed airport.

Carrie leaned back and took a sip of her own Frappuccino. Ummm. Vanilla enticed her nostrils and tingled on her taste buds.

Seven Forty Sevens lined the runway. As far as she could see to the left, planes hooked up to accordion-looking tunnels waiting for passengers to unload or board. To the right, the same thing, with trolley-carts full of luggage zipping around as if in a maze. How many thousands of people passed through the Miami terminal every day?

A young couple cut across her view. Between them a little girl danced with excitement, eager to point at the activity below.

“She thinks she’s in love,” Carrie said.

Ginger removed her shades and glared. “Are you back on your sister again?”

“She should have learned her lesson the first time,” she mumbled. “Now she has a daughter to think of.”

“I see the cruise did wonders,” Ginger said sarcastically. “You worry too much. They’ll be fine.”

Worry had been a habit since age fourteen, when her sister’s boyfriend split the second he found out she was pregnant. Carrie became her sister’s champion, and her young mind made a huge decision. Protect her sister and her innocent baby.

“Can’t evade it. I helped raise Andrea.”

“She has a mother, who I might add, is very capable of taking care of her daughter. It’s been years, Carrie. She’s a smart woman.”

“How smart can she be if she moves away with this guy?”

“This guy,” Ginger arched her perfectly shaped brows, “or any man?”

Carrie gave her most solemn look. “Can you seriously trust any man? She should not have forgotten.”

“Ha! Don’t be a hypocrite. You like men. And in your business you have to allow a certain amount of trust.”

“Of course I like men.” The most recent man in her life had not only been a good choice, but perfect for her, or so she thought. They both were successful, had the same interests and he was dynamite in bed. One day turned into another, and somehow every day became a boring routine that had taken over her life. Not that she needed a man. She’d never need a man. She did fine on her own.

As for business, the trust she gave was expecting an employee, man or woman, to do the job he or she was given. The magnitude of high dollar investments demanded it. If not, that person was dismissed. How’s that for trust?

“When it comes to my niece, I have to wonder if my sister has lost her common sense.”

Ginger twirled her shades around while her eyes held a mocking gleam. “Love can make you do things you would never normally do.”

“Yeah? And how would you know?”

“
Flight number two-one-seven-four now boarding
.”

A trill of laughter floated in the air as Ginger grabbed the handle on her tote. “Come on
Auntie
.”

The plane circled again and again due to the fog that hung over the city. Ginger shifted in her seat. “Are we ever going to land? I don’t have time to go home and change. Now, I’ll miss my flight to my folks.”

With a calmness she didn’t feel Carrie asked, “When does your plane leave?”

Ginger raised her arm and pushed back her sleeve. “In forty minutes. Good Lord, Carrie. They’re getting ready to board and I haven’t even checked in.”

“There’s still time.” Carrie glanced at the fasten seatbelt sign lighted above her head. As she sat there she wondered—just for a moment—what if she never saw her sister or her niece again?
Get a grip
. She’d never been scared of flying. But then, all of her harrowing rides had been in roller coasters in amusement parks.

“We’ve been circling forever. This damn storm,” Ginger mumbled.

Carrie shivered as lightning flashed above the jet’s wing. “That was close.”

“We’re sitting ducks in this tin can.” Ginger had never minded flying any more than Carrie did, but right now her fingers were white from gripping the arm rests on each side of her seat.

“I’ll feel much better when we’re on the ground,” Carrie said.

Ginger bent her head low so she could see out the little window. “I’m not exactly looking forward to getting in another airplane. I’d rather be back on the ship.”

When Carrie accepted Ginger’s offer of a cruise, her brain must have been on melt down. Lounging on deck this last week had become tedious. And now she balanced between life and what could be a harrowing life-threatening experience.

The captain’s voice came over the intercom announcing they were finally ready to land.

Ginger grabbed her purse from the floor. “‘Bout damn time.”

Elbow to elbow, people filled the airport. The flight attendant helped Ginger secure her luggage and get it on the outgoing flight. Carrie grabbed her friend and squeezed hard, which wasn’t necessary since the throng of people bumped and pushed them together.

“I feel like a sardine.” Ginger flung her hair back and secured her bag on her shoulder. “Gotta run to catch my flight.”

“Bye, Ginger. And thank you!” Carrie called to the disappearing form. She heard, “
Had a blast
,” as Ginger disappeared from sight.

Carrie finally made her way to the baggage claim area. While she waited, she silently thanked the blessed saints for the good sense to purchase a house and not a high-rise apartment in New York City. Hopefully she would arrive home in a reasonable amount of time without sitting in traffic on a congested freeway. Ginger had chosen the Newark Airport because it was further from the city than LaGuardia and JFK, and generally less crowded. Today, the place resembled a madhouse. Carrie had trudged through an obstacle course just to retrieve her luggage. People scurried in every direction. Lifting her bag, she headed for the exit doors.

Great. Now, it’s raining buckets.

Damn, that guy just elbowed her, the jerk. All the taxies seemed to be taken. Except one. Carrie took off running. Just as she reached the cab, another hand—a masculine hand—covered hers.

A deep voice surged over her shoulder. “Excuse me.”

The man jerked open the door, pushed her inside and jumped in behind her.

Of all the . . .

“Sorry. But we could have drowned while I played the gentleman.”