A Mile High Rendezvous

  Steamy Short Stories by Cassidy Coal

  A Mile High Romance: The Complete Collection

  An Undeniable Attraction: The Complete Collection

  A New Year’s to Remember

  * * *

  Sweet Short Stories by Cassidy Coal

  writing as C. Coal

  Puppy Love: Volumes 1 to 13

  * * *

  Novels by Cassidy Coal writing as C.K. Carr

  Something Worth Having

  Something Gained

  A Mile High Rendezvous

  Cassidy Coal

  Contents

  A Mile High Rendezvous

  About the Author

  A Mile High Rendezvous

  Sarah Baxter tapped her pen on the conference room table as she absent-mindedly chewed on her lip. She was dying to get out of there. It was 4:15 and she had a flight to catch. A flight to Paris to spend the weekend with her incredibly sexy boyfriend, Tyler Corrigan.

  She hadn't seen him in three weeks and the wait was killing her. There was only so much satisfaction a girl could get from Skype chats even when the guy on the other end of the computer was as beautiful and amazing as Tyler.

  He was perfect in every way. Except for that whole billionaire head-of-a-multi-national-conglomerate thing. She could've passed on that. Keep the sexy, lose the entitled money side of things.

  But it was what it was.

  "Ms. Baxter? Are we keeping you from something?" Mr. Horowitz interrupted her reverie.

  Usually he looked like a kindly version of Santa Claus with the glasses and his white hair, but lately he'd reminded her more of a very disappointed father who knew his daughter was sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up with some boy but wasn't going to confront her on it.

  It's not like she'd lied to him. She hadn't been sleeping with Tyler when she went to Australia. It's just that seeing Tyler again and hearing how much he'd missed her and still wanted her had led to them getting back together. (Which then led to her blowing off her job for a long weekend in New Zealand during one of the busiest accounting periods of the year.)

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Horowitz. It's just…it's Friday afternoon and…"

  She glanced around the room at the other members of the accounting team—all boring, quiet types with short mousy brown hair and conservative white dress shirts (even the women) who had no plans for the weekend except heading home to their 2.2 kids and equally-boring spouses.

  Was she the only one who believed in wearing a little color in the office? She had on a hot pink top and bright blue skirt today. And why not? Had to have a little fun somehow. Unfortunately, her hot pink top stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the whites and blacks and navies of her co-workers.

  Even the secretary at the front desk wore black and white every day.

  She should be used to standing out by now, but she wasn't. Walking the tonified halls of Corrigan, Inc. made her feel like she was wearing a neon-orange sash across her chest that read "Trailer Park Queen – Doesn't Belong."

  Horowitz stared her down. "We need to get this report out today, Ms. Baxter. Do you have somewhere else you'd rather be?"

  Yes.

  But she couldn't say that.

  "No, sir. I'm sorry. Please. Continue."

  Two frickin' hours later, Sarah finally escaped that stifling hot, confined space. As she grabbed her coat and her overnight bag, she heard a gentle cough and whirled around to see Mr. Horowitz standing there. She jumped backward, startled that he'd managed to surprise her.

  "Mr. Horowitz. Something I can do for you?"

  He grimaced. "Perhaps it would be best if we talked in my office."

  She stared at him, biting her lip. She was supposed to fly out in one hour; if she left right now she'd still make the flight. But if she stayed for even ten more minutes she wouldn't. Sure, she was taking Tyler's private jet and was the only passenger, so not like they wouldn't wait for her. But…

  But that wasn't the point. The point was she didn't want to stay in the office ten more minutes. She wanted to leave as soon as possible so she could land as soon as possible so she could see the man she loved and spend as much time with him as she could before she had to turn around and come back home.

  Unfortunately, that wasn't the type of thing you told your boss, even if your boyfriend was his boss.

  "Um…Can I make one quick phone call first? And then I'll be right there."

  Horowitz nodded and walked away. Was it her imagination or were his shoulders slumped as if he had another person or two perched on them? Poor guy. They'd had one hell of a year between the Paris accounting scandal and some last-minute changes to the FASB standards. And then here she was, his go-to girl, daydreaming about long days spent in bed with her boyfriend instead of focused on her work.

  She hated the fact that she wasn't doing as well at her job as she used to. But…

  She was in love.

  It was easy to work long hours and completely focus on the latest ALLL calculation when the only other thing you had to think about was what you were going to get your brother for his birthday or what you were going to make for Sunday lunch at Mom's. Now she found it almost impossible to care about anything work-related.

  Let someone else agonize about what interest rate to use in the projections for the next fiscal year.

  Honestly. Who wanted to waste their life on things like that?

  Of course, this job was all that stood between her and sleeping on the couch in her mom's double-wide trailer.

  Oh, sure, Tyler would step in and rescue her if she managed to get fired. Happily and willingly. (Too happily.) But she didn’t want that. She was her own woman and she'd sworn to make her way through life without any man's help.

  Which meant she needed to start caring about things like interest rates and year-end adjustments before she permanently lost her boss's confidence.

  She called the jet and let Daphne know she was going to be delayed and then rushed down the hall to Horowitz's office.

  "Sir? You wanted to see me?"

  He glanced up at her. "Yes. Please. Have a seat." He pushed his glasses back up his nose as she settled herself on the edge of the seat, smoothing her skirt down where it had bunched up over her ample hips.

  Horowitz glanced at her and then back down at his desk. He steepled his fingers under his chin and studied her.

  "Sarah, this isn't easy for me to say…"

  She waited, dreading the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

  "You know, I think of you like one of my daughters. And I'm proud of you. You're a little rough around the edges, but given time you can be a brilliant accountant. You can go far in your career."

  "Thank you, sir."

  She tried to focus on the positives in what he'd said—that she could go far and was brilliant—and ignore the comment about how rough she was. It wasn't her fault no one in her family had ever worked in a corporate environment before. How was she supposed to know that genuine emotion and opinions were frowned upon? It wasn't exactly easy to overcome twenty-five years of openness and honesty, especially when there were times that someone needed to point out the obvious.

  Horowitz sighed deeply. "Unfortunately…." He looked away from her and back again. "Your performance has been slipping lately."

  When she went to respond, he held up his hand. "I don't need or want excuses. What I want is to see that brilliant go-getter I hired. Whatever it is that's distracting you, fix it. I'm not going to put you on performance review just yet, but…If things continue this way, I'll have to."

  "Performance review?" Sarah stared at him. Last year she'd received an Exceptional on her annual evaluation and now he wanted to put her on review? "I'm not…"
br />   What could she say? That she wasn't slipping? That she was still exceptional?

  She wasn't.

  He was right.

  Here she was, just starting her career, and she was fucking it up. And for what? A man?

  She knew better. Her dad had died when she was two leaving Sarah's mom to raise four kids on her own. He'd been killed in a bar fight. (Stepping in at the wrong moment to try to help a friend). He hadn’t wanted to abandon his wife and kids, but that's what had happened.

  At twenty-six her mom had been on her own with four kids under the age of eight, and she'd taught Sarah early that the only person she could truly count on was herself. Others came and went, willingly or not.

  She shook her head. "You're right, Mr. Horowitz. I'm sorry. I've…there's no excuse. I'll do better." She stood to leave and paused. She didn't want to ask, but she knew she had to. "Is there anything you need me to take care of this weekend? Or should I just hit the ground running on Monday?"

  There was a long pause as the question hung between them. He had to know she had plans. He had to.

  But what did he care if she had plans? He needed workers whose first priority was their jobs.

  Horowitz sucked on his teeth as he thought about it. Finally, when Sarah was about to burst from the tension of waiting, he shook his head. "No. Take the weekend. Do what you need to get your head on straight and I'll see you on Monday. And, Sarah?"

  "Yes?"

  "I don't want to have this conversation again."

  She smiled at him. "That makes two of us, sir."

  She practically ran out of the building. She'd spend this weekend with Tyler—a weekend of crepes smothered in Nutella while sitting in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower and strolling hand-in-hand along the Champs-Élysées—and then she'd get her act together.

  Her work had to be her priority.

  It had to.

  * * *

  But the next morning when the jet landed in Paris and she stepped into the doorway to see Tyler Corrigan waiting for her, every thought of work and being an independent woman who cared for herself flew away.

  He was truly breathtaking. Six-two, jet black hair, emerald-green eyes that could cut glass, a dimple in his chin when he smiled, and perfect white teeth; dressed in a casual weekend suit of dark navy with a pale blue dress shirt underneath, the top two buttons unbuttoned.

  Tyler Corrigan was every GQ ad she'd ever lusted after rolled into one.

  She tried not to think about the fact that his suit, including golden cuff-links, probably cost more than her mom's trailer.

  It didn't matter. So what if they were from completely opposite sides of the financial spectrum? What mattered is how they felt about each other.

  She loved him and he loved her and that was enough. This was the man who made her body vibrate at the mere memory of his touch. The man who told her she was perfect just the way she was like some silly line from a Bridget Jones movie and meant it.

  She raced down the stairs barefoot—she'd almost killed herself the last time she tried to walk down those steps in four-inch heels, and tennies just seemed too casual for the sexy dark purple dress she'd thrown on just before they landed—and flung herself into his arms.

  He lifted her into the air, spinning her around as they laughed.

  "I have missed you so much, my Rubenesque beauty." He lowered her to the ground and kissed her, his mouth hot and warm.

  She grasped the back of his neck and pulled him closer, saying with her mouth and body what she couldn't say in words—that she needed and wanted him more than anything she'd ever needed or wanted before. More than water or food or…

  Her job.

  She reluctantly pulled away and he stumbled after her, a shocked expression on his face. "What? What's wrong?"

  She shook her head. "Nothing. I just…Nothing."

  She stepped back into his embrace and lost herself in his kiss, forgetting everything in the world except how amazing it felt to have his perfect body pressed against hers.

  * * *

  He'd booked them into the same room they'd stayed in that first time they came to Paris and ended up spending the most magical Christmas together.

  It had all been so unexpected. A last-minute business trip with Tyler offering her a seat on his private jet and then a few too many shots of whiskey and some wine and she'd let him seduce her after years of resisting his charms.

  What followed had been the best two weeks ever. Sure, she'd had to spend every day poring over financial records trying to figure out what the hell that executive had done. But each night she'd come back to Tyler and lost herself in his kisses and caresses.

  They'd had their ups and downs since then, of course. Fiona Jones trying to get between them and Tyler's suggestion that Sarah just quit her job and trail along after him like some sort of pet on a leash. But they'd worked through them and come back together stronger than ever.

  Nothing could tear them apart. Nothing.

  Sarah gazed out the window at the stone buildings nestled side by side along the twisty street in front of the hotel. She loved the little cafes with wrought-iron tables out front, locals sipping their strong coffees and making dry, witty observations about the tourists as they took long drags on their cigarettes.

  Paris was so charming; she loved it.

  She turned around to see Tyler standing in the middle of the room, watching her intently. He held out a long blue velvet case. Sarah froze, staring at the box in his hands.

  "What's that?"

  "A gift." He studied her carefully. "Don't tell me I'm not allowed to give you a gift for our three-month anniversary."

  She shook her head. "Three months?"

  "Our first time together was December 23rd. And now it's March 23rd."

  She wrinkled her nose. "Well, it's not like we were actually together that whole time. I mean, there were about, what? Five weeks? When we weren't together. Those don't count. Do they?"

  Tyler crossed his arms and studied her. "So you don't want it?"

  Of course she wanted it. Who didn't want the man they loved to give them expensive jewelry? Because what else would be in a blue velvet box like that when your boyfriend was richer than God?

  Except, she didn't want it. She didn't want that burden. That reminder of how very different they were. Could she really keep whatever was in that box knowing that her brother had just lost his construction job and wasn't going to be able to feed his kids next month?

  "It's…it's a wonderful gesture, Tyler." She scratched her eyebrow.

  "But?"

  "But…it's just…it's a bit sudden isn't it? I mean, we're just finding out what we have here and something like that…"

  He glared at her. "We're just finding out what we have here?"

  "Yeah."

  He nodded slowly. "I see…"

  He turned away and set the box on the table, his shoulders tense. Sarah walked up behind him and rested her forehead against the space between his shoulder blades, inhaling the clean, crisp scent of him.

  He always smelled like he'd just stepped out of a shower. As if he didn't sweat like normal men.

  Oh, he did. She'd seen it when they were together—his skin glistening with sweat as he moved above her. But somehow he seemed removed from the normal cares and experiences of everyone else.

  It was equal parts incredibly sexy and intimidating as hell.

  Not at all like her brothers who were always sweaty or dirty. Or some of the men she'd met in the trailer park who were…beyond that. Like the dirt had made its way into the pores of their skin and would never wash away no matter what they did.

  But Tyler. Tyler was pure. Untouched. Above it all.

  Unlike her.

  She ran her hands down his arms. "Please don't be mad at me. I'm only here for two days. Let's not waste the time fighting."

  He turned and stared down at her, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "I don't want to fight with you, Sarah. But what are we if we aren't serious?"
He stroked her jaw with his thumb. "I love you. You understand that, don't you? I've never told any other woman that I love her, but I love you. I do."

  She chewed on her lip as she met his stunningly green eyes. "And I love you, Tyler. I just…"

  She looked away. She could never explain to him what it was like. She could never make him feel the uncertainty she carried around all the time. The fear and worry. She could never explain to him how hard it was to keep close to her family, to see them and love them and interact with them, when her life was slowly moving so far from their day-to-day reality.

  She'd just flown a private jet to Paris to see her boyfriend. Even thinking the words made her cringe. How frickin' pretentious was that? Oh, I'm going to Paris for the weekend to meet my billionaire boyfriend. I'm going to take his jet and we'll stay in a penthouse suite and eat caviar and drink Dom Perignon while we roll around in 1,800-threadcount sheets.

  It was the truth. But who said shit like that? So instead she was lying to everyone she knew. She'd told her mom it was a business trip, for cryin' out loud.

  She was slowly being ripped apart. Half of her wanted to be with her family, to belong in their world because they were the only ones who knew and understood what her childhood had been like. But the other half of her wanted everything that Tyler offered. The jets, the jewelry, the life of ease and luxury.

  She was only now starting to realize that she couldn't have both.

  And starting to worry that she couldn't have either one.

  Had she left her family too far behind to ever go back? And, if so, what happened if she failed to make the jump to Tyler's world?

  She'd be alone.

  But she couldn't tell Tyler that. He'd never get it. Oh, he might say the right words and pretend to understand, but she knew he never would, not really.

  So she did the only thing she could.

  She kissed him.

  * * *