Girl on a Plane: A sexy, sassy, holiday read

“I was asking Yuki whether the coffee was any good. What do you think, Sinead?”

“Well, it’s hardly Jamaican Blue Mountain, but it’ll do in a pinch.” She winked at him, actually winked.

He liked this woman. His mouth tugged up at the corners. Too long. It’d been too long since he’d met a woman he wanted to banter with.

“You know all about Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, do you?”

The condescending comment was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Scorn dripping off his tongue seemed to be his default setting when talking to women lately. Too much time spent with his Mum, nurses, doctors, all women telling him things he didn’t want to know. He had to snap out of it. Charm came easily when he tried. He hadn’t always been a grumpy bastard.

Her lips twitched and she leaned a little lower over his seat. “As it happens, I do. Blue Mountain coffee beans come from a tightly controlled region in Jamaica and are considered the best in the world by many critics. We don’t currently stock it on board, but I can recommend a few excellent cafés in London serving it, for when you arrive.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“There is Tomtom in Belgravia of course, but my personal favourite is Nude Espresso in Soho Square.”

“Nude Espresso?” Gabriel raised his eyebrows. Was she flirting with him? Things were looking up.

“Yes. Nude.” Sinead’s cheeky half smile answered the question.

Hello, Irish fling. Definite interest there.

He chuckled, stretching out his legs. “Hmm, I’ll keep it in mind. But right now I’ll take a pot of tea.”

“Of course you will. Sir.” Sinead muttered the last word, reaching for the tea on her cart. The frown crossing her face was a kick in the guts, before she beamed like a little ray of sunshine.

He should’ve known better. In her mind, he was nothing but another rich arsehole, and she was used to serving them without a second glance. Unless he could show her he was different.

He wanted to be different. He didn’t want to be a man who would ruin a woman’s day. He’d like to make Sinead smile. Now wasn’t that a surprise?

Three hours later, Sinead slumped down in her jump seat next to the galley at the rear of the first-class cabin. She gazed out the window on her much needed break, feet aching, with her head up in the clouds. Which pretty much summed up her life at the moment. So much of her life was spent in the clouds. Fifty per cent. It was a strange realisation and she still wasn’t fully comfortable with it, even after five years of flying almost every day. Floating, gliding through the air.

Although she understood the basic mechanics of how a plane worked and concepts like wind resistance, it was somehow magical to travel through the sky in a metal box. So far above the earth and removed from everyday reality, as tiny people went about their lives below. She was somehow apart from them, removed. Sometimes it felt like she was on a different planet from most people.

The clouds today were different than usual, darker. Or was it a reflection of her strange mood? No, she’d flown in all sorts of conditions and knew a lot about weather these days. The clouds were dense and gathering quickly.

The plane lurched and bumped, and she grabbed hold of the armrests. Her stomach rolled over. Not a good sign. She was right about the clouds being different. Probably the tail of the storm system the captain mentioned during the pre-flight briefing. She needed an update on the weather conditions. As the lead cabin crew member on the flight, she had to understand what was happening to brief the others. She pushed herself upright and swayed into the partition.

On her way to the cockpit, the plane tipped sharply to the right, causing gasps and murmurs from the passengers. Sinead stumbled and tripped forward, grabbing hold of the nearest thing. A strong, muscular shoulder. Oh, no. The coffee man. She watched his blue eyes blink and open wide, his lips tugging up into a half smile. A surge and drop in an air current rattled the cabin, tray tables shaking. She pitched forward, pulse thumping loud in her ears, until she clutched the headrest beside his face.

Her boobs were lodged right in front of his head. Looking down, she saw his eyes widen and he took in the view straight down her now gaping neckline, between the girls.

She squeaked like a frightened mouse. Between the weather and the man, she was all off-balance and her heart was aflutter.

Somehow she had to move. But she was captured by his ruffled beachy blonde hair with the goldy highlights. Those baby blue eyes had her hooked, searing hot this close, only inches away.

She inhaled a full whiff of him. His scent shot straight from her nose to wrap around her good-feels receptors. Delicious, citrus and spice and all things nice, like some kind of tropical island spliced with man. Her blood was flowing too fast, or something. But it wouldn’t pump properly, having turned sticky in her veins, full of throbbing heat.

Danger. Pheromone alert.

It had to be him. Him being Mr Tall, Dark Blonde and Handsome, or Mr Anderson, as stated on the passenger list. So, she found out his name. It didn’t mean she was interested in him. She had a split-second to admire him and breathe him in again before … A sharp drop in altitude. It took her down with it. Toppling over, her stomach connected with his armrest.

Oooof.

Oh, Lord. She toppled right on top of him. Her face was dangerously close to his groin. It was the closest she’d been to that area of a man’s anatomy for quite some time. What must he be thinking? She must look like a complete idiot. He sucked in a deep breath.

Robbed of breath, possibly a few brain cells too, she tightened her grip on his seat and hauled herself upright. She rubbed at the sore spot on her stomach, which would probably become a nasty bruise.

His eyes followed the movement of her hand. “I wouldn’t refuse a lap dance, but are you okay?”

Such a crude comment. She had thought he was a better class of man than most, at least, good for a bit of flirting and ogling. But maybe not. The airline overlords expected them to put up with the odd comment or “joke”, but it did tick her off. Men.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She clenched her teeth and pushed back, out of his orbit.

Standing tall, she shrugged her shoulders and tugged at her shirt, making sure the girls were tucked in, then knotted the silk scarf which had come loose around her throat. Pulled herself together. Somehow, she’d forgotten where she was going. Cockpit. Right. She nodded, but her legs stayed put.

He nodded too and raised his eyebrows, crinkling his forehead in apparent concern. He ruffled a hand through his cropped hair and mussed it appealingly. What would it feel like, to run her own hands through his hair? To smooth her hand across his brow, then muss the man properly. What was wrong with her today? Had she bumped her head on the way down?

There was just something about him. An unwelcome pang of something – regret or desire, she wasn’t entirely sure – shot through her belly. A certain something likely to lead her into temptation and end in trouble.

Her heart ker-thumped out of rhythm and the air huffed from her lungs. Straightening her skirt, she hurried down the aisle to get away from him, swaying and bumping along with the turbulence.

Sinead entered the cockpit and nodded at the co-pilot she didn’t know well. He tipped his chin at her, but directed his attention back to the radar image. She hung back, hearing the tense tone of Captain Arrowsmith’s voice. “Acknowledged. We’ll await further instructions.”

Tom, as he’d asked her to call him when they first met, sat perfectly straight with his back to her, his spine rigid as he worked the controls and hung on for air traffic control. He was one of the good guys, always so professional. Not to mention a fine-looking older man. A silver fox. He spoke to her as an intelligent person, not a serving wench as some pilots did.

The disembodied voice of an air traffic controller crackled through the radio. “Flight 180, you are being diverted. You are go to Singapore. Repeat, you are go to Singapore.”

“Acknowledged. Repeat course correction.”

The rest of the conversation was a muffled blur against the backdrop of her mind. The storm was developing fast and air traffic control was clearing the airspace. Not a good sign. Everything was reminding her of the worst day of her travel career, a flight to the Philippines that went awry. Her breathing sped up and she wiped her palms against the wool fabric of her skirt.

Tom swivelled around, a frown creasing his forehead. His usual warm expression missing. “Okay, Sinead. We have a confirmed tropical storm and it’s getting stronger, possibly a typhoon developing. We’ll need to de-plane. Please inform the cabin crew and then I’ll make an announcement to the passengers.”

She nodded. “Yes, Captain. Tom, I mean.”

Her heart raced ahead and her mind played out worst-case scenarios as she stepped out of the cockpit.

Stay calm. She slowed her pace, walking on wobbly legs down the aisle back to her colleagues. She passed Mr Coffee with barely a glance, concentrating on the job at hand.

Minutes later, she’d assembled her crew mates in the galley for a briefing. They stood in a circle as she relayed the captain’s message, the bare facts. Yuki’s mouth popped open and Deanna leaned against a trolley, arms crossed tight across her chest. They were no doubt worried, but trying to remain professional. The rest of the crew looked at their feet or stared at her and nodded, silent as the grave. No. Not a grave, definitely not a grave. Silent as some other silent but lovely thing, like rainbows or butterflies. Sinead was working hard to think happy thoughts, anything other than a terrifying typhoon blowing a plane full of passengers off course.

Her crew were all okay. None of them were panicking. They’d remember their training and help the passengers however they could.

Damian was the odd man out. Pouting, his poufy black hair bouncing as he shook his head. He looked put out. Sinead knew he coveted her senior crew member position, which made him unmanageable at times.

Damian wasn’t a happy camper, but she wouldn’t waste any more time on him. He muttered something under his breath and then kept quiet.

She had a whole cabin of passengers to calm, to reassure, to make comfortable. Even when she was feeling less than calm and comfortable herself. She’d developed a sixth sense when it came to emotions, honed by years of anticipating and meeting other people’s needs. It didn’t make the work any easier. It was emotionally as well as physically exhausting and that was without the added stress of a tropical storm.