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Chapter Three
Lost Luggage
“What do you mean, my luggage is lost?” I stare wide-eyed at the customer service agent. “It was a direct flight! How is that even possible?” My hand makes a loud slapping sound as it lands hard and flat on the counter between us.
She clears her throat, her eyes darting everywhere except on me. “It seems it was never loaded on the plane in LAX. Some sort of mix-up with the cart it was placed on.”
“Some kind of mix-up?” I repeat, not even sure why, because I know it’s not going to change the predicament I’m in. “Well, how long is it going to take to fix it? I need my luggage.”
“Of course, ma’am.” She nods, her bobbed haircut swishing around her chin from the motion, as she reads the computer screen in front of her. “It was placed on another flight to New York City just three hours after yours and is expected to be here at eight-thirty this evening.”
Well, that’s not so bad, I suppose. At least I’ll have my clothes for my interview tomorrow. Before I can respond, she continues in a rush. “We will, of course, have it delivered wherever you’re staying, ma’am. Free of charge, of course.”
I scoff and shake my head in frustration. “Well, I guess it is what it is.”
“Can you give me an address where we can have it delivered, and a phone number where we can reach you?”
I sigh, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm my temper. I’ll have my clothes by this evening. Everything is going to be fine. I just need to breathe. I blink my lids open and award her with the most gracious smile I can muster. “Of course. I’m staying at The Sapphire Resorts on Wall Street. My cell number is 213-774-8448.”
“Thank you, Ms. Adams.” She slides a card across the counter to me. “Please, feel free to call me if you have any other issues at all. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Thank you, I appreciate your help,” I reply, about to walk away, but then step back to the counter. “Can you tell me which direction I can find a taxi?”
She smiles, then points to my left. “Just go up those stairs and straight through the sliding doors. The taxi station will be on your right.”
“Thanks again.” Less than five minutes later, I’m up the stairs and about to walk through the sliding doors when a hand latches onto arm, stopping me in my tracks. I spin around, then freeze, the corners of my mouth lifting in recognition. “Fin.”
“Chloe.” He draws me from of the doorway, out of the way of foot traffic, then releases his hold. “I thought that was you.”
“You’re still here?” I ask, finding it curious that he is.
“So are you, it seems.” He chuckles, his fingers brushing over the stubble lining his face. “I ran into a colleague. We had a quick drink before his flight.” He lifts his chin toward me. “What’s your excuse?”
I frown, lifting my shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Lost luggage. It seems it never made it onto our plane in Los Angeles.”
“Well, shit. That’s not good news for the snappy outfit you planned on wearing to your interview tomorrow,” he teases, a smile tugging on his lips.
“Yes, well, don’t you fret.” My tone snarky. “I’m told it’s on the next flight in and will be delivered to my hotel this evening.”
“Phew.” He chuckles again. “Not that I don’t think you look exceptional in that outfit.” His eyes trail over my bare legs for at least the third time today. “But, I don’t believe it meets the dress code for the restaurant I’m planning on taking you to tomorrow evening.”
“We could always grab a hot dog and take a walk through Central Park instead,” I suggest. “I am a simple girl, truth be told.”
He shakes his head back and forth, the dimple in his cheek appearing as he gives me a wide smile. “Chloe, there isn’t anything simple about you.”
I feel my traitorous cheeks heat, belying the confidence I want to portray, but give it my best shot anyway. “Fin, the same could be said about you.”
He lets out a huff of laughter, his eyes twinkling as they stay locked on me. “You need a ride? I’ve got a car. I can drop you at your hotel if you like? Especially now that I know you’re traveling light.”
“I was just headed to grab a taxi, as a matter of fact.” I look behind me through the doors, noting the long line of people waiting. “Are you sure it’s not an imposition?”
“Not even a little.” His large, warm hand presses flat against my back before I can blink, leading me outside, across one lane of traffic and to a waiting town car. A middle-aged man in a dark suit leaning against the car jumps to attention, moving to open the back door for us. “Good evening, sir.”
“Hey, Jimmy.” Fin’s hand slides from my waist down the length of my arm to grasp my knuckles as I lower myself into the car. “We’ll have an extra stop tonight.”
“No problem. You just tell me where to go.” The door shuts hard and firm, both men suddenly gone, the door on the other side of the car opening a second later, Fin sliding in beside me with ease.
It’s then that I notice he doesn’t have any luggage with him either, and I comment on it. “You don’t have any bags?”
