Author's note: I did so much research on the town of Baker California for this chapter that I really want to visit it now. I channeled some of myself into Paige for parts of this chapter, and my husband into Walter. The phrase "gift shop" makes my husband break out into a cold sweat, but he still lets me go inside them. And I have the magnets to prove it. Lol.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Paige walked into the living room of their suite as she fiddled with the clasp of her necklace. She spied Walter as she was about to call out his name so he could come help her. He was in the conference room, his back to her as he slouched in his chair, staring at his laptop screen, his left hand curled into a fist against his mouth.
Clutching the uncooperative chain in her hand, she padded across the room, coming up behind him. He must not have heard her approach because he jumped, sitting up straighter when she slipped her hands over his shoulders.
"Whatcha working on?" she asked.
"Nothing at the moment," he said. "I've hit a glitch in a program I'm writing for Elia's new smart building. I'm trying to add an override into the fail safe protocol so what happened with the first building won't happen again."
"That's a good idea," she said with a shudder. Too many people had been terrorized and injured because of one man's spite. And she'd never forget the little b. . .witch who had taken advantage of Walter's inexperience by drugging him so she could sabotage his coding.
"If I can get it to work." He hit a few keys before closing his computer and pushing back his chair. As he stood up and began to turn toward her, he added, "Are you ready to. . .?"
His mouth dropped open, allowing a small gasp to escape, his dark eyes gazing at her with a hungry intensity which always made her legs a little wobbly. "I-I was hoping you could help me. . ." Help with the itch she suddenly needed to scratch. "Help me with this," she said, letting her necklace partially fall from her grasp.
"Of-Of c-course." He stepped toward her as if she were a magnet and he a piece of steel. "Y-You. . .You look stun-stunning." The expression of awe never left his face.
Glancing down at her dress, she shrugged. "You've seen it before. It's the dress I wore in Bahari."
He nodded, his appreciation unwavering. "I-I recognize it. Y-You looked stunning then too. You always look stunning."
"Thank you, Walter," she said. "You're looking pretty handsome yourself."
And he did look good in his dark gray suit, white shirt, and her favorite red tie. The same clothes he'd been wearing the time she had tried to teach him how to flirt. He'd been so clueless. So uncomfortable. Closing her eyes, she relived how he'd shuddered under her touch, knowing now it hadn't been from revulsion. He was still pretty bad at flirting but he was so awkward, he was adorable.
Her compliment reddened his cheeks, only proving her point. She handed his the necklace before turning her back and lifting her hair. His fingers grazed her neck as he fumbled with the clasp and she moaned softly as shivers coursed down her spine.
"Uh, we should. . .um. . . We should g-go," he stated once he'd managed to fasten it and she'd spun back around to face him. He still stared at her as if she were a present he was dying to unwrap. And she was dying to let him. She didn't really want to go to the dinner anyway. It didn't seem like it would be a lot of fun. People she didn't know talking about things she couldn't comprehend.
What she had in mind was far more interesting. She just had to get Walter to play along.
"I still think it's odd Elia booked a suite with a conference room," she began, brushing her fingertips over the table's smooth surface. "I wonder if he was going to hold some kind of meeting?" Other than the obvious one he had planned with a romantic partner.
"He never said anything to me when he gave me the room," Walter said as he tucked his computer under his arm.
Moving closer to Walter, she tugged the laptop away from him and set it down. "It must be a powerful feeling," she said, "standing in front of a room full of investors or shareholders. . ."
"EliaTech is a private held com. . ."
She went on as if he hadn't interrupted, ". . .having them hanging on your every word, having them seek your guidance."
"I-I g-guess. . ."
Paige stepped in front of him and slowly dragged the back of hands up the length of his arms before settling them on his shoulders. "Power can be an aphrodisiac," she murmured as she skimmed her fingers along his jaw and sliding them across the back of his neck. He let out a grunt when she teased her fingers into his curls.
Moving in closer, she cupped his face, stroking his stubbly cheeks with her thumbs. The scent of his skin, a mixture of soap and something uniquely Walter, enveloped her, his feverish heat matching her own. Desire swirled through her like cyclone. . .and he wasn't even touching her.
His whole body trembled like a leaf in a windstorm. "You seem rather. . .tense, Mr O'Brien," she murmured, licking her lips as she loosened his tie.
His eyes widened when she tossed it aside. "Uh. . ."
Slipping her hands under the lapels of his jacket, she shoved it off his shoulders and tossed at the nearest chair. It landed on the floor instead and she chuckled huskily.
That chuckle pushed Walter over the edge. Granted, he had been teetering on the precipice since the moment he turned around and saw her in that black dress. The one which hugged her curves like a glove. The one he'd dreamed of taking off her so many nights since the first time he'd seen her wear it.
Almost involuntarily, his arms encircled her, his hands caressing the length of her back before settling in the little hollows right above her buttocks. He inhaled her lavender scent, which never failed to arouse his libido.
"Um. . .M-Ms D-Dineen," he said. She clearly wanted him to play the role of a powerful CEO while she was an underling of some sort. and he was more than willing to indulge her fantasy. "I-I do believe you are fl-flirting with me."
Her smile turned his brain to mush. "How perceptive of you, Mr O'Brien," she purred before returning to her quest to undo his shirt.
She took a step backward and he followed until she had backed herself against the edge of the table. She wanted him to lead, to take control. It had taken him awhile to figure it out, even longer to grow comfortable doing so. But now. . . He'd come to enjoy it as much as she did. Walter worked his way to the top of her dress and found the zipper. He slowly tugged it downward, tooth by tooth, as she squirmed.
"Oh, God, Walter," she moaned when he finally reached the bottom. She'd finished unbuttoning his shirt, yanking it from his trousers as her dress shimmied to the floor and leaving her clad in just a pair of lacy panties.
He forgot to breathe for several minutes as he gazed upon her bare breasts. "That's a, er, a quite a display of ass. . .assets, M-Ms D-Dineen," he said after scouring his oxygen deprived brain for something business-like to say.
"So are you interested. . .in investing?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.
"Yes." After stripping off his shirt and undershirt, he slid his hands under her bottom and lifted up to sit on the tabletop. "Wh-What. . .What about the, the d-dinner?" he managed to ask as she brushed her fingers over the back of his neck before entangling them in his hair.
"We can always order room service," she countered with a shrug. "Unless you want to go?"
"N-No." He'd only been going because he'd thought she wanted to go. He had not been looking forward to another evening making small talk with inebriated strangers. The encounter with Gloria Svenson had made him even more leery of attending. And in the spirit of open and honest communication, an encounter about which he needed to inform Paige.
He opened his mouth to do just that when she spread her legs, displaying, er, even more assets. His mind went blank as she arched an eyebrow questioningly.
He'd tell her later, he thought as he unzipped his trousers and dropping his boxers before inserting himself between her thighs. Power was indeed a potent aphrodisiac.
ooooo
The billboards started appearing before they'd barely driven ten miles out of town close to noon the next day. Walter vaguely remembered passing them on the way to Las Vegas but he'd been intent on seeing how fast he could drive the two hundred and seventy miles from Los Angeles to pay them much heed.
"Look, the World's Tallest Thermometer," Paige read as they zipped past.
"Uh-huh."
A few more miles down the freeway, another sign appeared. "Twenty-five miles ahead," she said before turning toward him. "Can we stop?"
"Uh, he grunted noncommittally, more focused on overtaking a semi truck pulling triple trailers. The other vehicle's longer length restricted the airflow between it and the Malibu for an extended period of time. Bernoulli's principle came into play as the restricted air moved at a great speed thus reducing the air pressure and sucking the car toward the larger truck.
Once he has merged back into the slow lane, yet another billboard appeared. "Alien Jerky?" She let out a laugh. "Okay, now we have to stop."
"Why?" Both venues were obvious tourist traps.
"Why? Because we have to find out if the jerky is made by aliens or from aliens."
She said it so earnestly he had to chuckle. "Okay."
"What?" she asked, eyeing him skeptically. "No declaration you don't believe in aliens and that they don't exist?"
"I don't know for a fact they don't exist," he stated. "There's not enough data to prove or disprove their existence. It would be rather arrogant to believe humans are the only beings in the universe. We've only explored a minute portion of it, a mere four percent of what's visible."
"Wow, I never though of it that way," she replied, staring at him in amazement. "You're right, it would be arrogant."
"Of course I am." He glanced in the rearview mirror, catching the smug grin on his face
She sighed. "Okay, Mr Smarty Pants. We can definitely stop then?"
"Yes, we'll stop." Looking over at her, he saw her smile. A rush of happiness filled him.
Another billboard swooshed by, this time advertising a Greek café boasting the best gyros, fresh strawberry shakes, and Greek statuary. "Oh, let's go there too," she said, "I'm hungry."
"We just had breakfast two hours ago," he pointed out.
"Coffee and a croissant are not breakfast," she contradicted. "And yes, I know it was my fault we were almost late checking out because I couldn't resist checking you out first."
Heat bloomed on his face as he recalled how she'd awakened him that morning. "Uh, okay," he conceded, unable to deny her request. "We can go there too."
"You're certainly in an agreeable mood today," she said, her delight plain . "I wonder what else I can get you to agree to?"
"Anything that makes you happy."
He was surprised when her eyes glimmered with tears. "Oh, you're so sweet," she murmured before leaning over and kissing his cheek. "I love you."
"Love you, too." He nodded toward yet another billboard. "Only fifteen more miles."
She started singing a song about driving fifteen miles then driving fifteen miles more and ending up at the Alien Jerky store. The tune sounded familiar, but he didn't think those were the correct lyrics though.
ooooo
"It's not even a thermometer," Walter complained as he and Paige exited the adjoining gift shop. Where she had purchased a tee shirt for Ralph plus a refrigerator magnet for herself.
They had already been to the jerky store, where she'd bought several packages of the so-called Alien Jerky (which looked like regular jerky to him, only more expensive), another shirt for Ralph and another magnet. They had also eaten at the café, where he had to acknowledge the gyros were indeed very delicious, although the Greek statues were low quality resin replicas.
"It tells the temperature, doesn't it?" she asked as she placed her bags in the Malibu's trunk.
"Yes, but it's just a digital display," he said. "A real thermometer has temperature sensor, either a bulb of a mercury-filled thermometer or a pyrometric sensor of an infrared thermometer. All this is doing is converting temperature measurements into numerical values. It's not a true thermometer if it only has half of the necessary elements."
"Well, according to the brochure, it's 134 feet high to commemorate the record temperature of 134 degrees set on July 10, 1913."
"Impressive, but it's still not. . ."
"Walter. . ."
Her irritated tone shut his mouth. He knew he was being a grump. He was hot (the stupid 'thermometer' read 101º), and bored and he was no doubt pissing her off. "Okay," he conceded, not wanting to fight over something so trivial. "Are we ready to go?"
"I think so," she said as she walked over to the passenger side of the car. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?"
"Uh. . .no." He'd already gone while she'd been shopping at the jerky store.
"Sorry," she said with a giggle. "I'm so used to asking Ralph whenever we go somewhere."
"That. . .That's okay." He opened the driver's side door.
"Do you want me to drive?" she asked. "You've done all the driving so far."
"No, I'm okay. Unless you want to?"
She shook her head. "I just thought I should volunteer." Opening the door on her side, she added, "Let's go home."
Home. There was no place he rather be, especially if she was there with him.
They both slipped into the car and buckled their seat belts. He exited the tourist trap's parking lot out into the wide street and headed in the direction of the westbound freeway entrance. Flipping on his turn signal, he steered the vehicle into the left turn lane before stopping for its red light.
Walter glanced over at her and she smiled at him. He grinned back at her, his earlier crankiness forgotten.
"The light's green," she said, pointing at the swaying traffic light.
Lifting his foot from the brake pedal, he pressed the accelerator and moved out into the intersection before beginning to turn. Something flashed in the corner of his eye but by then, it was too late to react.
A loud boom deafened him for a moment, followed by the sounds of crunching metal, shattering glass, and screaming, which seemed to be coming from both near and far away and from every direction. He tried to look to his right but gravitation forces smashed the left side of his head into the window and something gave. The window or his head, he didn't know. The side airbag deployed then and forcefully shoved him in the opposite direction
Blackness started creeping along the edges of his vision. Someone was still screaming but it began to fade as well. Darting his eyes to the right, he saw a shiny chrome bumper less than a foot away from his face.
"Paige!" Her name was torn from his throat and he realized he was the only one still screaming.
Then everything went dark.