reached past her to accept the glossy slip of paper and Chloe caught the clean, masculine scent of him.
“It’s good for fifteen percent off. There’s a map on the back detailing the closest locations to the airport. Someone will be at the gate to direct you to the taxi and shuttle stands, but if you need any help finding your way or, you know, with anything, just say the word. I’d be more than happy to help you.”
The breathy offer was very Marilyn Monroe.
“Jetopia apologizes for the delay, but we hope you’ll give us the chance to make it up to you. We’d love to have you fly with us again.” After a long moment, she tore her gaze away from Ben and focused on Chloe.
“And you’re...” She glanced back at the list and her face fell like she’d just seen someone kick a puppy. “Oh.” Her eyes darted between Chloe and Ben for a moment. Finally she said in a normal tone, “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“I’ll need my voucher,” Chloe reminded her.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Masterson, but there’s only one voucher per couple.”
“Oh, I’m not a couple. And it’s Miz. There’s no Mr. Masterson.”
“Actually...” Ben interrupted.
She twisted in her seat to find her handsome seatmate looking amused.
“I’m Mr. Masterson.”
“What?”
“My name is Ben Masterson.”
She stared at him for a long moment before turning back to the flight attendant. “I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”
Ben chuckled. “More like a Mrs.-understanding.”
“Are you kidding me?” Chloe exclaimed. “A pun? Now?”
“Just trying to keep my sense of humor intact,” he returned, unperturbed. After a beat, he added, “Dear.”
“We just met,” she pleaded, not trying to hide the anxiety in her voice. Chloe figured that an early-twenties poster girl for enhancement surgery probably understood a little something about desperation. “There’s no way we’re staying in the same room.”
“My goodness!” Chesty McLookatmyboobs’ attention focused on Ben with the precision of a heat-seeking missile, and her smile was one of renewed hope.
So much for girl power.
“I’m terribly sorry for the mix-up. I saw Ben Masterson and Chloe Masterson seated together on the passenger manifest and assumed... Well, let me find out what I can do for you.”
“Give me a voucher of my own and we’ll call it even,” Chloe suggested.
“I’m afraid I can’t just hand them out. For tracking purposes, I’ll have to assign one to you in our system. It’ll just take a second. I’m really sorry for the mix-up,” she said again, more in Ben’s direction, and sounding anything but sorry.
Chloe watched the flight attendant sashay down the aisle and disappear behind the first-class curtain before she swiveled to face her last-namesake.
“This is your fault, you know.”
He smiled apologetically. “I did set my weather machine to blizzard before I left Seattle.”
“You’re the one who rejected business class and deigned to sit with the common folk. No one would have assumed we were married if you and your Gucci suit had just stayed where you belong in the land of complimentary champagne and leg room.”
“Hey, statistically, the seats in the back of the plane are safer than the first seven rows. And how did you know this suit is Gucci?”
Chloe ignored him and his designer suit, unaware that she was nibbling at her right thumbnail.
Her mother would not be pleased when she found out Chloe wouldn’t be arriving until the day of the wedding. It was customary for the bride’s family to present a united front at the rehearsal dinner. Especially if a certain daughter’s absence would be duly noted and gossiped about.
She took a deep breath. Ben’s fortune cookies were right. Dwelling on the disaster wouldn’t change anything. Accepting that fact didn’t change her mood, though. “So your last name’s Masterson, huh?”
He nodded.
Crossing her arms, Chloe thunked her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. “Fucking Neil Diamond,” she said.
* * *
ASITTURNEDOUT, issuing another voucher did not “just take a second”. The conspiracy theorist in her was convinced Boobzilla had purposefully slowed the process to make sure Ben was miles away by the time Chloe entered the terminal. Not, Chloe was embarrassed to admit, that she hadn’t looked for him at the baggage claim when she finally made it there twenty minutes later, voucher in hand.
After grabbing her suitcase, she’d braved the icy roads in a crowded shuttle and was currently occupying the coveted “next in line” position in one of seven queues in the lobby of the Value Inn. Being this close to a shower and a bed had gone a long way toward taming her impatience. At least until the family of six ahead of her was told there was no room at the inn.
Chloe did a quick mental tally. Judging by the number of weary travelers still clogging the reception area, there were going to be a lot more disappointed people heading out into the snow tonight in search of shelter.
Chloe’s grip tightened on the strap of her purse.
Please don’t make me one of them.
When the balding desk clerk smiled at her, she stepped up to the counter.
“Welcome to the Value Inn. How can I help you tonight?” His voice was shockingly pleasant for a man dealing with a bunch of crabby, stranded nomads.
“Hi. Do you have a room for me?” They had to have a room left. She wasn’t picky. She’d even settle for access to a sink and a cot in the hallway.
“Let me check what I’ve got. What’s your name?”
“Chloe Masterson.”
The clickety-clack sound of his typing stretched her nerves taut, reminding her of a countdown clock on a bomb. “Here we go. And that’s for one night, correct?”
“Yes.” The word came out like a sigh, heavy on the s, and Chloe’s shoulders dropped to their normal position. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been.
“Okay, we’ve got you in room 224. Do you want a swipe key?”
Chloe raised her eyebrows. “I’ll probably need one to get in the room.”
Her sarcasm was lost on him. Nonplussed, he ran a plastic key through the card reader and handed it over with a smile. “Your room is on the second floor. Turn right when you exit the elevator.”
Chloe paused in the act of unzipping her purse. “You don’t need my credit card? Or my voucher?” She pulled the crumpled slip of paper from her coat pocket and held it out to him. “Because I went through a lot to get this.”
“That won’t be necessary. Your bill will be issued when you check out in the morning.”
Unbelievable. “Oh, okay.” Cursing Boobzilla’s name, she shoved it back in her pocket. “Great. Thanks, then.”
“Enjoy your stay.”
She’d no sooner stepped away from the counter when the inevitable happened.
“Excuse me, folks,” the clerk announced to the crowd. “I’m afraid we are all out of rooms for tonight.”
Finally, something had gone right for her today. She