Free Killjoy by Julie Garwood

done.
    It was probably too late to catch her at work or at home. She was probably already at the airport or perhaps on the plane now. Still, Carrie wanted to try. Maybe Avery would check her phone messages when she got to Denver. Yes, she would call as soon as they reached the baggage claim area.
    “Will any other guests be going with us to the spa?” she asked.
    “Yes,” he said. “There are two other guests. They’re waiting in the lounge. As soon as I pick up your luggage, we’ll head out.”
    “Do you have anyone scheduled for pickup this afternoon or this evening?”
    “No, this is my last trip. Why do you ask?”
    “My niece, Avery Delaney, is joining me at the spa.”
    Her comment so surprised him he stopped in the middle of the corridor. “You were expecting Miss Delaney to join you?”
    Hadn’t she said so? “Yes,” she said. “But she’s flying out of D.C. If you aren’t scheduled to come back and pick her up, the spa must be sending another escort.”
    They continued walking. “Yes, that must be so,” he said, sounding somewhat preoccupied.
    “I don’t have Avery’s flight information, but she might have called the spa to tell them so someone would pick her up. Could you call Utopia and find out? It would be lovely if we could wait for her. I do know she’s coming through Denver,” she thought to add.
    “I’ll be happy to call the spa,” he said. Glancing around, he nodded toward a line of empty chairs in front of a deserted gate. “Why don’t you have a seat.”
    He was placing her carry-on at her feet when she asked, “What does the ‘M’ stand for?”
    “Pardon me?”
    “Your name. ‘Mr. M. Edwards.’ What does the ‘M’ stand for?”
    He saw no reason to lie. “Monk. The ‘M’ stands for Monk.”
    “How delightfully different.”
    “I prefer that all clients call me Mr. Edwards.”
    What a stiff-neck, she thought. “Yes, of course.”
    “If you’ll excuse me . . .” He moved to the window as he pulled out his cell phone. Carrie grabbed her bag and went after him. She wanted to ask him to find out if there were any messages waiting for her at the spa.
    His back was to her as she approached. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Edwards.”
    Startled, he whirled around. “Hold on,” he said into the phone. Then, “Yes?”
    “Would you ask the receptionist if I have any messages?”
    He repeated the question, waited a moment, and then shook his head. Carrie felt foolish standing there and so she went back to the chair and sat down.
    He wasn’t on the phone long, and when he returned to her side, he picked up her bag and apologized for the delay.
    “There is another escort assigned to Miss Delaney.”
    “Couldn’t we just wait?”
    “I’m sorry. Did you say something?” he asked.
    His preoccupation was irritating. “I asked if we could wait for my niece.”
    “I’m afraid not,” he replied. “The other two clients have been waiting for you. I couldn’t ask them to wait even longer. I hope you understand.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Thank you,” he said. “The others will, no doubt, appreciate your cooperation.”
    “Who are they?” she bluntly asked.
    “I’m sorry?”
    “I was asking, Mr. Edwards, who the other clients are.”
    “Mrs. Trapp is from Cleveland, and Judge Collins’s plane arrived from Miami.”
    Carrie hadn’t heard either name before and wondered if they were famous. She certainly hoped so. She could use as many influential connections as she could get. Maybe the judge was one of those celebrities on television. Wouldn’t that be something?
    They finally reached the baggage claim area and joined the hordes of passengers pushing their way to the front. “How long will the drive to the spa take?”
    “Not long,” he answered. “You won’t be going directly to Utopia this evening, however,” he added. “There was a problem with the water main, but it will be repaired by midnight. So that you won’t be inconvenienced,