Unhinged by his White Heat (Unhinged Erotic Romance Series, Book 1)

Chapter 12

Five A.M. Thank God. At last she could give up pretending to sleep and start getting ready for her trip to Ghana with Oliver. Her friend.

Kema bounded up from her bed and rushed over to her wardrobe. She yanked it open and peered at the contents, her heart still beating with excitement at the thought of spending a day with him. Yippee!

The night before, she had selected her outfit for the trip; blue jeans and a t-shirt. The tee was one of the set her father had given her. The ones that said Knockout Girl. This particular shirt was sky-blue with pink lettering. Between her overpowering attraction to Oliver and the uncertainty about her career choices, she needed to see herself again through her father's eyes.

Two hours later, inside the Murtala Mohammed Airport, Kema grinned her thanks at Oliver as he handed her a boarding pass. The flight was boarding. It was time to head to Departures.

Trailing behind him as he strode into the departure lounge, his phone attached to his right ear, she grimaced. Damn, she thought she would have a bit of time to chat with him before the flight but he had been distracted with numerous calls. Argh.

And for most of the journey, Oliver barely paid her any attention. Yes, he smiled at her, squeezed her hand on occasion, apologized often, and mentioned something about putting out some security-related fires. Something to do with his work, she gathered.

Yes, okay, fine. But she could barely spend the whole time staring at him while he nattered on his phone and sent numerous emails off his iPad. She had had to resort to playing games on her phone. Ugh.

Eventually, after disembarking at Kotoka International Airport, Accra and zipping through customs, Oliver ended the last call. Profusely apologizing, he ushered her into a waiting car. From the airport, they were whisked straight to the Golden Tulip Hotel where his staff lingered.

***

"They're checking out of the hotel. Do you want to wait in the car or in the hotel lobby?" Oliver asked, glancing at Kema beside him.

"Your people?"

"Yeah."

"How many?"

"Ten."

"Ten?" Kema's eyes widened. "We don't have space in the car for ten people."

Oliver laughed, teeth gleaming. "One of those calls I received was from the driver of a fifteen-seater bus parked somewhere in the car-park right now. He'll take us to Kakum."

Kema stared up at the welcoming edifice of the Golden Tulip. She had stayed here once, long ago, on a family trip to Accra. When her dad was alive. She would like to see it again. And besides, her legs needed stretching.

She climbed out of the car and was halfway to the doors of the lobby by the time Oliver had unlocked his passenger door.

He ogled her as she moved, those over forty inch hips swinging. The lump in his throat shifted. Damn this woman. This enticing, magnificent, exasperating woman.

Oliver sprang out of the car and strode after her.

Just as she reached the doors, a man stepped out; Lebanese, raven-black hair, luminous mocha-brown eyes, late twenties, probably. The woman, nearly on his heels, was in a black skirt suit, her sleek brown weave cut into a severe bob. She looked like a boss. The guy's boss?

"Sorry," Kema muttered, stepping aside to allow them pass.

The woman's eyes skimmed over Kema and then darted away. She came to his side, drawing nearer to his body. Like she was trying to stake her claim.