The Bishop Affair (Dominated by the Billionaire Brothers - Part Four) (2 page)

The closing of the driver
door alerted me to George’s presence. He bent down and offered a handkerchief
from his coat pocket. His frown deepened and he rested a hand on my bare
shoulder.

“Miss Gable, perhaps I
should take you to the hospital.” His sweet face was crinkled with concern.

“No, I’m all right,” I
gasped. It took effort, but I slowly propped myself upright. I leaned against
the headrest, exhausted.

“Is there anything I can get
for you? There’s some soda water in the fridge, if you’d like.”

The idea of pouring more
bubbly liquids into my belly after all the champagne going down and coming back
up nauseated me. I shook my head quickly, cleaning my face and wiping my hands
with the handkerchief.

“Thank you. I’m fine,
really. Something just didn’t agree with me.”

That was an understatement.

He eyeballed the
half-digested appetizers protruding from the liquid mess on the ground. “I take
it the seafood wasn’t too good.”

“At the time it was, not so
much now.” I sighed. “I’m so sorry about all of this George. I’m never eating
cocktail shrimp again.” What was once my favorite seafood was now my least
favorite.

He gave a wry grin. A moment
of silence passed with my eyes closed before he cleared his throat and spoke to
me again. “Pardon me for the inquiry Miss Gable, but was your plan to rush to
the airport and…puke on the plane?” His tone was joking.

My hand came up to my face
to hide my embarrassment but a smile broke through anyway. This was all so
crazy and dramatic, and I felt guilty for involving George in this mess. My
problems weren’t his; he didn’t deserve this, so I was glad to see he wasn’t
too upset by it.

“I guess I’ll just have to
settle for puking in a limo,” I teased.

He grimaced comically. “Miss
Gable, please restrain yourself from puking in my limo. Who do you think would
have to clean it up?”

“I thought this was Jordan
Bishop’s limo. I was hoping
he’d
have to clean it up.”

He gave a startlingly loud
hoot before slapping his knees with laughter. “That’s a good one. Mr. Jordan
scrubbing at your vomit.”

Laughter subsided my
distress briefly. George was doing his best to cheer me up but my grin faded
when Jordan and Vanessa flashed in my mind. There was nothing funny about that.

“Hey George,” I began, “how
long have you known Jordan?”

“Long enough, I suppose.” He
rubbed his chin and looked over the back of the limo. “He’s never had another
driver.”

“So you know him pretty
well?” I asked, hating myself as I did so.

“I’d say so, yes.” He
nodded.

“Seen a lot of girls come
and go?” My voice caught. What was I doing? Why did I feel the need to torture
myself?

He cocked his head at me
curiously. His mouth opened to answer.

“No, no.” I quickly waved my
hands to ward off any unwelcome information.

“Forget I asked.” I didn’t
want to know. I also didn’t want Jordan to know that I was asking about his
private life. That wasn’t behavior befitting a girlfriend....no, personal
assistant? God, what was I to him?

I realized I was clutching
George’s handkerchief to my chest and tried to give it back, but he just shook
his head.

“You keep it. In case you
feel like getting sick again.”

I looked at the handkerchief
again and realized how silly it was to return it considering how dirty it had
become.

The tinkling of tiny musical
notes cut across my thoughts. I reflexively glanced at my purse with my cell
phone inside before remembering that I turned it off. George patted his pocket
and found his own device, giving me an apologetic look before answering.

“Hello? Yes. Oh, yes.”
George looked at me carefully, nodding to the voice at the other end of the
line. He ended the call without saying goodbye and slipped the phone back into
his pocket.

“You know,” he said, “I
think the fresh air is doing you some good.”

“I think so, too.” I still
felt miserable, but at least I didn’t think I was going to blow chunks—as if
there was anything left to blow.

“Well, you want to keep
feeling good, and I want to keep your puke out of my limo. Sounds like we have
mutual interests.”

I attempted a smile, showing
my appreciation for him.

“You know there’s this
beautiful slice of beach not five minutes from here. My wife and I have been
there a few times. Nice, quiet, and has a gorgeous view. How about I take you
there?”

“Okay, that sounds good.” I
shrugged. The airport had been a pipe dream, anyway. I didn’t have a way back
to New York City tonight—or the money to buy one. I might as well go to the
beach to mope. We were in California, after all.

I scooched my legs in,
allowing George to close the passenger door. He hopped into the driver’s seat
and started the engine. Before long, we had stopped again. He hadn’t been
lying—I’d no sooner rolled down the window in the back of the limo than we had
arrived at the beach, the long vehicle sprawling across several parking spaces.
It was getting late so only a few other cars were in the lot.

I opened my door before
George made it around to the back of the limo to open it for me. I stepped out,
not bothering to take my heels. The smooth swooshing of waves nearby and the
smell of the sea were amazing and immediately lightened my mood.

“It’s beautiful, George.”

He chuckled. “Same words my
wife said when I took her here for the first time. That was many years ago.”

A crescent moon darted in
and out between swiftly moving clouds. We were too close to the city for the
stars to really shine, but some of them were still trying to put on a show.

“Do you mind if I walk out
to the waves?”

“You may do as you please,
Miss Gable. I’ll stay with the limo. Just so long as you promise me you won’t
go into the water. I’m afraid I’m not a very good swimmer at my age and there’s
no lifeguard at this hour.”

I smiled at him. “Thanks
George, I promise I’ll be safe.”

I padded onto the sand,
George lingering behind in the parking lot. Aside from the occasional pebble or
rock, the grains were soft and cool beneath my feet, soothing away the ache
from Sam’s stilettos and my run across the parking lot. I neared the waves,
standing just out of their reach, watching the surf tumble onto the shore, the
endless repetition mirroring my thoughts—examining and re-examining how I got
here, where things went wrong, and where they were going to go.

Just like Eric
. I couldn’t shake the coincidence from my
mind. I hadn’t been at the Alpha Pi Epsilon party for long, just enough time to
grab a plastic cup of Yuengling to fit in and chat with a few of Eric’s
friends. Although I hadn’t seen him on my first pass through the kitchen
dodging inebriated party-goers and ping pong balls, they all said he was around
the house somewhere. “Probably in the bathroom upstairs, puking,” they had
joked, having witnessed it on more than one occasion. Slightly embarrassed at
Eric’s reputation, I prepared myself to find my boyfriend in a less than ideal
state as I headed up the wooden staircase at the side of the house. The
bathroom was empty but I heard some noises from one of the open bedrooms
nearby. Curious, I entered and froze at the sight of him seated on the bed
making out with some wavy-haired brunette I’d never seen before. Spotting me,
his dazed eyes grew wide and he pushed her away. “Lori! Oh my god.” I stood
there for a moment unable to process. “It’s not what you think. I swear. I just
had too much to drink,” he sputtered, his face red as a beet. As if that
somehow excused infidelity. Afraid that if I tried to speak I’d start crying, I
took one last look at him and that dumb brunette who showed not a hint of
remorse, before I ran home and sobbed my eyes out. That english paper I had to
do never got finished that night and I had to turn it in late for a ‘C’—my
first one ever.

Why are men so stupid
sometimes?

Robbed of energy, I plopped
my butt onto the sand. The powder-fine granules invaded my gorgeous dress and I
noticed I had lost some of the beading somewhere between the charity event and
the beach. On the plane ride to California, I’d been so careful not to spill
anything on myself, even trying to minimize how much I shifted in my seat to
avoid sweating. It’s funny how quickly things change.

It was easy to get lost in
my broodings, wondering how to deal with my mess of a relationship with Jordan.
Jordan.
The name I’d so fondly repeated to myself in my private moments
at my desk or at night before falling asleep, enjoying how it rolled so easily
off my tongue, how it sounded when I said it, as if he was mine.
Jordan,
more like Whore-dan.
Negative thoughts pierced through my usual optimism
and I fought to prevent them from taking over.
No, quit being so petty Lori.
Don’t give him the satisfaction. You can’t change the past, only the future.
Yeah,
well what kind of future would that be, Mr. Smarty-Pants Conscience? I’d be
surprised to even have my job after this. Fired because I couldn’t play along
as the cheap lay for the CEO. Because I developed
feelings
. Then it’s
back home, moving in with my parents until I can find another job. Just the
thought of both being unemployed and having to deal with my mom’s craziness
again, made my head want to implode.

The sea wind lifted my hair
from my neck and gave me goose bumps. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my
knees. As beautiful as the view was, it was downright chilly sitting by the
waves.

Soft footfalls approached
from behind and the sudden warmth of a jacket draped over my bare shoulders was
a much desired comfort.

“Thanks, George,” I said,
craning to smile up at him.

My smile froze on my face.

Jordan’s hulking frame
towered over me like a magnificent statue. With his tux off, he wore a silver
vest that stretched over his hard chest and went exquisitely well with his
black trousers. His jacket warming my body carried a faint trace of woody
cologne mixed with his scent, sending a charge of awareness through me. In an
instant, I stood up and shrugged the jacket off, letting it fall to the sand.

“Lori, don’t be foolish,”
Jordan said softly. “I could see you shivering from the parking lot.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped,
hugging myself against the chill. “I don’t need your stuff touching me.”

“Can I explain what
happened? It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“What it looked like?” I
repeated, my eyes beginning to sting again. “I saw you kissing Vanessa. I’m not
sure how that could’ve looked like anything else.”

“Vanessa made a move on me,”
he corrected. “Believe me, I didn’t want it.”

I scoffed. “You’re telling
me that a tiny hundred pound girl forced you to kiss her? You can benchpress
like a million pounds for goodness sakes!” I hugged myself tighter, looking
away, not wanting him to see the tears beginning to form.

Jordan exhaled heavily.
“It’s true. Look, Lori, I know it looked horrible, but the kiss meant nothing.
I was caught off guard. I had no idea that would happen. I thought Vanessa just
wanted to talk. She told me it was something important.”

“That sounds like a
convenient reason.”

“You happened to walk in at
the worst possible moment when she made her move on me. That kiss lasted no
longer than a second.”

I swallowed a hard lump in
my throat. “Is that so? Then why didn’t you come after me right away? Stuck
around to do some more tongue wrestling?”

“There was no tongue.” His
jaw became taut and his voice strengthened. “Also, you ran off like a damn
cheetah in those heels. I was still making my way through the main hall, trying
not to bowl people over when you probably had already left the parking lot.”