Unworthy (The Worthy Series Book 1) Page 20

  All the doubts I’d had about surprising my boyfriend on his business trip had melted under the hot Phoenix sun, and if I didn’t get out of my warm traveling clothes, I was going to be the next thing to melt. It was no wonder Ben’s company wanted to have their annual all-hands meeting out here. It was a far, yet welcome, cry from the frigid temperatures blasting the heck out of the East Coast. Though I did have a gripe with the timing of their work retreat. What kind of despicable company held an event on Valentine’s Day?

  As an event planner, this was one of our busiest weekends as brides loved to get married on the most romantic day of the year, and since Valentine’s fell on a Friday this year, we’d been booked. Yet, I’d thrown caution to the wind and cleared my work calendar to be free to surprise Ben. Before leaving, I’d ensured the parties could go on without me. My mind was already visualizing sitting by the hotel pool in my bikini, sipping a colorful drink, waiting for Ben to finish his meetings and join me.

  After a quick elevator trip, I found Ben’s room and let myself in. I sighed fondly when I saw his clothes scattered haphazardly on a chair and the floor. Quickly, I made myself at home, gathering up Ben’s clothes and piling them neatly in the hotel laundry bag. I hung up my two sexy dresses I’d purchased for this weekend. So what if I’d gone a little wildly over budget? Go big or go home, right? A girl wanted to look good when discussing marriage with the love of her life.

  At that thought, I hesitated. Ben wasn’t the love of my life. Not exactly. We’d only been dating three months and things were amazing. Imagine how much better they’d be when we knew each other longer.

  I took a quick shower and changed into my sexy lingerie and sat on the bed prepared to wait for whenever Ben returned. As it was nearing dinnertime, surely it would be soon. He’d come in, laugh, we’d make love and then we’d go to a romantic dinner. He’d tell me how happy he was with my surprise and we’d live happily ever after.

  A banging on the hotel room door knocked me out of my happy reverie. Had Ben locked himself out?

  “Ben?” I called.

  A female voice answered, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying through the door and over the sound of the television. I snapped off the TV and hurried to peek out of the door. If it was room service or maintenance, they were going to have to wait. My lingerie was rated NC-17.

  A tall brunette was outside the door, and now I could hear what she was saying. “Ben, the front desk wouldn’t give me a room key because they said I’d already picked it up. Ben, open up. It’s Indira.”

  What did she mean Ben was supposed to leave her a room key? I yanked open the door and was faced by a woman taller and skinnier than my five-foot-six boobalicious body.

  “Who are you?” She eyed me as if I were a hotel bed bug come to answer the door. “Where’s Ben?”

  “I should be asking you that question.” Despite my scanty outfit—hey, I’d never been one to hide my rather smoking body—I leaned up toward her, hands on my hips and returned her sneer.

  “Which one? The who am I question or the where’s Ben?” she asked logically.

  Both, I guessed.

  But neither of us had to play Jeopardy much longer, as the man in question came sauntering around the corner from the elevator just then. His tall frame, clad in light slacks and a short-sleeve button-down shirt, ate up the carpet in quick steps. As he got closer, the happy smile on his face turned to confusion.

  “KK?”

  “Surprise!” I glanced at the other woman and held out my arms anyway, giving him a good ole look at the full package, but instead of walking into my arms and dragging me off to the bed inside as I’d hoped, he stood statue still. Only his head moved, rotating from side to side, first to look at me then to look at the other woman.

  “KK, what are you doing here?” he finally asked. His eyes were eating me up, but the tone of his voice was almost angry.

  Indira stepped to his side and rested her hand on his shoulder. “She was in the room, Ben. She must’ve been the woman who picked up the key you left for me.”

  “Why would he leave a key for you?” I finally found my voice. “I’m his girlfriend.”

  She stepped back, almost pushing Ben into the hallway wall in her haste to back off the obviously cheating skeez, whom I wanted to punch in the nuts. “You have a girlfriend?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said at the same time.

  Ben looked at me. “KK, we were dating, sure, but not exclusively or anything. I thought you knew that.”

  My heart lurched harder than a snowplow hitting a concrete barrier. “We’ve been together three months. What about all those things you said?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how you have more fun with me than any other woman you’ve been with. How great I am in…” I glanced behind me at the hotel room doorway, where there was a clear view of the bed.

  Ben’s expression was granite. “That didn’t mean we were exclusive. Look, KK, we have fun together, but I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea. I thought you understood. I mean you’re a party girl not…” He trailed off at my obviously stricken face.

  Even the other woman gave me a sympathetic look before muttering, “I’m out of here.” Indira sauntered down the hall, giving us both a view of her rather spectacular ass. I could see why Ben had invited her up to his room.

  “I’m not what?” I asked when the other woman was gone.

  “It doesn’t matter. Look, it shouldn’t change anything. We can still have a good time, right? When are you here until?”

  I narrowed my eyes and reentered the hotel room, slamming the door in Ben’s face. Two seconds later he opened it with his own room key. I was stomping around, throwing my clothes back into my suitcase because, stupid me, I’d unpacked.

  “KK, don’t do this. I was surprised, that’s all. Don’t have a tantrum. Indie doesn’t mean anything. She was just someone fun to hang out with at the conference.”

  “And that’s what you’re about?” I asked, “Fun? You still haven’t answered my question. I’m the girl you have fun with, not the girl you… What? Tell me, Ben. I really need to know.” I could barely stand to be in the same room as him, but something he’d said felt like the missing key to why I was still single.

  He folded his arms across his chest, and his gaze tracked me around the room as I finished shoving my clothes into my suitcase and pulled on my jeans and a hoodie right over the negligee. “KK, relax. You’re freaking out over nothing.”

  I paused to glare at him. “Am I Ben? Am I really? I thought we had something special between us. I took time off work and flew out here because I thought time alone would give us time to talk about our future. And, oh, by the way, I wanted to be with you on Valentine’s Day. I can tell by your face, I was an idiot.”

  His expression was uncomfortable enough that I almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. “KK, I didn’t know you wanted to have a serious relationship. I thought you were always up for a party. I didn’t think you wanted to settle down.”

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” My voice was loud and shrill enough that the occupants of the room next door might start calling hotel security. Tears streamed down my face, not at the loss of Ben—good riddance—but at my idiocy. What was wrong with me? Because this wasn’t the first time this had happened to me, or even the second. Why did all guys think I was a fun girl to party with, but not to marry? Wait, that was it. The key was in something Ben had said.

  I raised my head, face wet with tears. “That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m the party girl, but not the girl you take home to mom. Admit it.”

  Ben nodded.

  A new flood of tears welled up. Ben stood shifting his weight from foot to foot but making no move to offer comfort. Finally he found some words of comfort from the depths of his compassion—note my snark. “Listen, KK. I’ll go down to the lobby and get you your own hotel room. My treat,” he said after a slight delay.

  “Do
n’t bother. I’ll take care of myself.” I grabbed my suitcase and pushed past him and out the door into the thankfully empty hallway. I made it as far as I could away from Ben’s room and then I sank onto my bottom, back to the wall. I felt a torrent of sobs coming, but for now I was a dry well. My life made so much sense now. It was as if Ben’s words were the key to why all my dreams had been locked away.

  I was the party girl, not the girl next door. I didn’t fully understand. All I’d ever wanted was to find a nice guy and settle down. I’d found lots of guys I’d thought were nice and did my best to show them I was loveable. Was sex involved? Hell yeah, but wasn’t that one of the best ways to show someone you cared?

  I didn’t do one-night stands.

  At least I never meant to. If I slept with a guy, it was because I thought he had boyfriend potential. I was open-minded, willing to look for a prospective husband anywhere. Last year I’d dragged my bestie, Andrea, onto what I’d hoped would be a romantic cruise. It was romantic. For her. She and her fiancé had tied the knot in a gorgeous destination wedding. I was happy for her. Truly.

  Andrea hadn’t even been looking for love or marriage, but there it was dropped in her lap like so many of my other friends’ relationships. I was starting to feel like that always-a-bridesmaid character from that movie, including the closet full of bridesmaid dresses.

  It wasn’t fair. All my friends, who could not have cared less about marriage, were running down aisles wearing white and talking about getting off birth control to start families. And I, who desperately wanted to be in their shoes, wasn’t even close.

  Well, no more. I was taking a page from their book. No more hunting for Mr. Right. I was done. I would focus on my career and ignore men. With my newfound resolve, I pulled out my cell phone and called the airline to beg to get on a flight tonight. I should’ve accepted Ben’s offer of a hotel room, but pride hadn’t allowed it. Pride was a bitch who was going to max out my credit limit if the airline wouldn’t let me switch my flight.

  I’d be stuck here in this fabulous but pricey hotel.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I BOARDED THE PLANE as if it were the last plane out of hell. Given the temperature today in Phoenix compared to the rest of the country, maybe it was. The airline had nixed my plan of leaving last night and told me I could try to go standby this morning. So after a restless night’s sleep in a bed I couldn’t afford, I rolled out at the ass crack of dawn to taxi it to the airport where I’d been waiting to get on a flight. Finally at noon, they re-ticketed me.

  Blindly, I pushed through the narrow aisles to 26E. A middle seat. Hah, it figured. Nothing had gone my way all week—why would it start now?

  I stashed my suitcase in the overhead along with my oversized purse, then squeezed into my seat. Let them try to tell me to store it under my seat today. I dare them. I stared straight into the ugly fabric upholstering the seat in front of me and prayed no one would come to take the aisle seat next to me. My prayers held out until the flight attendant got on the intercom to announce the dreaded words. “This is a full flight. Please store smaller bags under the seat in front of you.” There went that pipe dream.

  Middle seat it was for the full flight from Phoenix back to Washington Reagan airport, stopping in Dallas for a layover. I didn’t even have a book or anything to entertain myself other than my dreary thoughts and coming up with a new philosophy on life. My old one wasn’t working. At all. Ben’s cruel but straight talk had my mind whirling and struggling to find a landing pad.

  For the past twenty years, since I’d been ten, I’d operated on an old-school fairy tale modus operandi. I’d assumed my heroic prince, my knight in shining armor was coming for me. The romantic fourteen-year-old me had assumed I’d meet him in high school. We’d be the homecoming king and queen, go off to college together and get married shortly after graduation.

  The only part of my dream to come true was the queen part. Prom Queen, class of 2003, thank you very much.

  “Excuse me.”

  I looked up from my thoughts to see a young man standing in the aisle, smiling down at me. How long had he been standing there?

  “I need to get by,” he said in a deep melodic voice that made me think of radio announcers from a bygone era. It was the kind of voice I’d want to hear in my ear while in bed as we… Stop it, KK. You’re done with men, remember, dumb ass?

  I skirted my knees to the side to let him pass and then scooched over in my seat to give him more space. He was big. Like legs that needed the exit row big. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, with a camouflage backpack with the name, “Dominguez” stenciled on the side. The bag looked as if he could parachute out of the plane if things went south.

  “Hi,” he said with a smile.

  “Hi,” I returned with no smile. I had to be the new KK. A KK that didn’t smile and flirt with every man who said hello. Old KK would already be flirting with 26F and planning a winter wedding with a military theme.

  “Hot enough for you?” he asked, wiping his brow with a muscular forearm.

  “Mm hmm,” I murmured noncommittally, hoping he’d take the hint that I wasn’t up for talking. If only I had a book to read as a screaming hint that I was not available to make nice for the next four hours. I grabbed for the magazine in the seat pocket in front of me and flipped through it feigning intense interest in the blur of words and pictures on my lap.

  “Se habla Español?” 26F asked in his deep voice that suddenly had a very authentic accent.

  I turned to him. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you speak Spanish?”

  I frowned wondering why he would be asking, but when he pointed to the glossy magazine on my lap, comprehension dawned. I’d been pretending to read the airline’s Spanish magazine. My cheeks felt hot and I wondered how long my high school Spanish could pass muster with an obviously dual-language speaker. “Un poco,” I finally said.

  “More than a little if you can read a Spanish magazine,” he said, looking excited at the thought I was bilingual like he was.

  Our attention was diverted for a minute by the arrival of the third person in our little cramped row. A man in his fifties, 26D had a sleep pillow looped around his neck and a black sleep mask covering his forehead. He collapsed into his seat, grunted to us, “Wake me if you have to piss,” pulled the sleep mask over his eyes and was snoring within seconds.

  I couldn’t help it. I started to giggle. Someone had obviously had as rough a trip to Arizona as I’d had. A low chuckle from the soldier at my right joined mine, and I turned to him still grinning.

  “Hi,” he said. “Me llamo, Aidan.” He stuck out his hand for me to shake and I accepted the offer.

  “KK,” I said, “but do you mind if we speak in English? I’m not really all that fluent in Spanish.”

  “KK?” His brow wrinkled and, for the first time, I noticed that he was freaking gorgeous. His backpack was a screaming giveaway that he was in the army, and I’d always been a sucker for a man in uniform, any uniform: firefighter, policeman, circus clown—long story, don’t ask. Even without the uniform, Aidan was hot, with a capital H. “Is that short for anything?” he asked.

  “Kristen Katherine, but no one calls me that.”

  At that moment, the pilot announced that we were boarded and ready for the flight attendants to prepare for takeoff. The plane reversed out of its gate and angled toward the runway.

  Aidan ignored me for a second to glue his face to the window and watch everything happening outside.

  “New flier?” I asked.

  He turned back to me. “No. But this is my last glimpse of America for a while. Just saying goodbye.”

  “Where are you headed?” I asked, despite myself. I was going to sit silently for the rest of the flight, truly I was, as soon as he answered this one question.

  “Afghanistan.”

  I inwardly shivered out of fear for him. He had to be terrified. For me, terror was going to a city neighborhood without ample parking. I couldn’t fathom the courag
e it took to knowingly propel yourself into danger. “For how long?” Last question, KK, then back to the silent treatment. Except, logically I had nothing to fear from Aidan. He looked to be younger than I was and he was off to a war zone for the foreseeable future. My usual MO of flirting, sleeping with, and getting dumped by a man wouldn’t apply here.

  “Who knows?” he said with a shrug.

  “You don’t know?” I asked in amazement. I couldn’t imagine going to Afghanistan, period, but to head off for an indeterminate amount of time was beyond scary to urban, comfort-seeking me.

  “Technically I’m signed on for a one-year tour, but it’ll probably last longer.”

  “Well, thank you for your service.” I turned back to my Spanish magazine and flipped through it as my symbol for this conversation is terminated.

  Aidan took the hint and went back to staring out the window as our plane taxied, turned onto the active runway and then built up speed to lift us into the air. As usual, my knuckles were tight on the hand rest during the routine bumps and noises. “Do you smell something burning? I think I smell a fire,” I chattered.

  Aidan looked me over. “Nervous flier?”

  “No. Well…maybe during takeoff and landing. That’s the most dangerous part, you know.”

  “I’m aware.” He rested his hand over my death grip on the armrest and gave a gentle stroke. I wanted to pull away because I was done with letting men be nice to me only to screw me over later. However, it felt too comforting to let him touch me, so my hand remained locked in place.

  As soon as it was smooth flying and we’d hit our proper altitude, I slid my hand out from under his and went back to my magazine. Aidan pulled a thick, dog-eared paperback out from his backpack and was soon engrossed.

  The Spanish magazine held my attention for about ten more seconds and then I was left fiddling my fingers and staring at all the other passengers. Finally when I couldn’t take the boredom anymore, I turned to Aidan. “Do you mind?” I reached into his seat back pocket for the English magazine and flipped to the back for the word games.