Chasing Ivan Read Online Free Page B

competent French partner on the ground. It wasn’t just a question of transportation. One never knew what would come up that might require local influence or expertise. Speaking of things coming at me, it appeared that Joe hadn’t. I was looking at nothing but an empty carpet at the bottom of the G150’s airstair.

Chapter 7

    AS HER PRIVATE jet soared over the gleaming waters of the English Channel, Emily found herself eager to learn everything Alexandra knew about her virtual boyfriend. “Do you work full-time for Andreas?”
    Alexandra shook her head in a practiced manner that tossed her curls without being overtly flamboyant. “No, I work for an acquaintance of his. The man who owns the plane. He needed Andreas to stay the weekend, and offered this accommodation when Andreas explained his conflicting commitment to you.”
    “Sounds like a good acquaintance to have,” Emily said. She was also dying to know where they were headed, but would have felt silly asking at that point, so instead she said, “How long is the flight?”
    “About two hours,” Alexandra said. “You can go back and change now. Take a shower if you’d like, but don’t be too long. We’ll need time for your mani-pedi, makeover, and hair.”
    Time for a mani-pedi, makeover, and hair. Of course. She wondered if she should ask someone to pinch her.
    Emily had to take a shower if for no other reason than to take one on a plane. A private jet, no less. Heading to meet her new boyfriend somewhere on the continent for a dinner date. Unbelievable. People always said she had pretty eyes, and she worked hard to keep in shape with yoga and jogging, in addition to a diet that held far more no’s than yeses, but she was no model. No Alexandra. Far from it. She’d just found her soul mate, at long last. And he happened to be rich.
    After fumbling unsuccessfully with the clasp of her new necklace, she decided to leave it on, unwilling to risk jinxing things. While she lathered up with lilac-scented soap, Emily thought about the salon treatment to come. She silently promised herself that however this day turned out, she wouldn’t get upset. A couple of hours ago she’d been in the pit of despair, standing in her doorway with a broken phone and a wounded heart. Now she was living a life beyond her wildest dream. Even if Andreas turned out to be a fat old cretin who thought of women as objects of amusement, it would still be a day she could revisit — a story she could regale for the rest of her life.  
    That was a lie, of course.  
    If Andreas disappointed her, she’d be curled up in the corner with a case of wine and a tear-soaked blanket until her fortieth birthday. Even Jen would stop calling. Please, God. Please.
    “How well do you know Andreas?” she asked, picking up their earlier conversation, as Alexandra worked on her nails.
    “We’ve never actually met. We just spoke on the phone.”
    “Oh?” Emily said, disappointed.
    “He sure seemed smitten with you, though. He was much more interested in the details than most men, particularly the cut of your dress.” Emily looked down. The open front put her new necklace on prominent display, and more importantly, it did right by her cleavage. It wasn’t a bad picture, a golden sun rising from a sea of blue silk between two mountains — well, hills really, or hillocks perhaps. Regardless, in the abstract it resembled one of widow Cooper’s paintings.  
    “It was a first for me,” Alexandra continued, “shopping for clothes for a woman my client had never seen. If you don’t mind my asking, how did you and Andreas become acquainted?”
    “We met through an online dating service, a couple of months ago.”
    “A couple of months? And you still haven’t met in person?”
    “We both had bad prior experiences that made us cautious. But nonetheless, we soon developed an amazing online rapport. I felt as though he was inside my head. At some point I think we both became hesitant to meet