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

“Gabriel, please.”

“Gabriel. Such a lovely, angelic name. Shame it doesn’t match your personality.” With those words, she stood and grabbed her bag, then marched towards the buffet.

Sure, what did she need a man for? Coffee would always be there for her.

“C is for coffee.” She mumbled under her breath.

Foods and drinks beginning with the letter ‘c’ were her favourites. Naming and cataloguing them all, it was a little game she played to pass the time in the unfamiliar places she found herself around the world. Her favourites were coffee and chocolate, but from champagne and croissants in Paris to Chahan fried rice in Tokyo, her c-for-comforting foods never let her down.

She made a passable espresso using the coffee machine with the little pods. What to do next? Perhaps some tax-free shopping. She should stay close to the airport seeing as she was on-call for a few more hours. In case the weather improved and they received clearance to fly.

Unlikely. Glancing out the full-length windows, she craned her neck as the rain appeared to be falling sideways. It slashed across the runway in sheets, blown by typhoon winds with terrifying force. The planes on the ground shuddered with the impact. No, those planes were not going anywhere.

Something occurred to her, a light flicking on in her head. So many people were stranded. The hotels near the airport would be booked out soon, especially if all flights were officially grounded. She didn’t want to be left hanging in the airport, especially with Mr Grumpy who didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Yuki had taken off to the Orchard Road hotel as soon as their flight landed, although she probably should have stayed put. She was on call too. But Yuki was anxious to get to Daniel. Sinead was more than happy to leave them to have their fun privately, where she didn’t have to listen to them. If Sinead didn’t take action now, she may end up sharing a room with Yuki and Daniel, which didn’t bear thinking about.

Balancing her coffee in one hand, she moved to a more private lounge chair and grabbed her smartphone. A few clicks later, she’d booked a junior suite at the airport’s five-star hotel through the airline website. All the standard rooms were fully booked, and the suite was over her hotel allowance – it bordered on more than she could comfortably afford – but she’d pay the excess. It would be worth it.

Oh, the luxury of sleeping in a quiet room with a comfortable bed. She’d pretend it was a mini-break holiday, order some room service and watch a movie on satellite TV. She’d take a bubble bath. Proper girl time to relax and unwind was something she’d been sorely lacking.

The phone in her hand seemed to stare accusingly at her. She should probably send a message to her family. They might see the news reports about the typhoon and worry about her. At least her little sister Bridie might worry, if she wasn’t too busy with her latest boyfriend. She sent a quick text to Bridie. She texted Ma too, before she could rethink it. She wasn’t sure whether to expect a response.

Finishing her coffee, she grabbed her wheelie bag and strode out of the lounge. No time to lose, she had to check in to her hotel and ensconce herself in luxury while she could.

Gabriel pretended to read his copy of the Financial Times while he peered over the top of the paper and watched her across the room. The stunning Irish flight attendant with platinum blonde hair. Sinead. But he’d certainly blown it with her. What had he been thinking? Ranting about turbulence and the diversion to Singapore adding a day to his trip to London, plus the idiot airline manager. She’d taken the full brunt of his frustration, but none of it was her fault.

Just as it wasn’t his fault life had become nothing but a series of commitments and obligations, lined up, one after another. An endless to-do list. He barely had time to pause for breath, let alone meet a woman to spend time with. No wonder he was so rusty. When was the last time he’d even been out on a date? Six months ago? The stunning lawyer in New York. Gillian. She’d wanted more and he couldn’t commit. Not even to a next date.

Sinead on the other hand would probably understand the problems of dating when you’re always busy, always getting ready to leave. She was always travelling. He hadn’t exactly bowled her over though. Far from it.

He’d been completely unprepared for the effect of talking to her – the scent of her hair was distracting. And she was so freaking hot. Up close, she had the most amazing creamy skin which looked so soft. Then there were her legs – so long and elegant. When she crossed her legs and her skirt rode up her thighs, he couldn’t help but watch and wonder what sort of underwear was underneath. She’d completely thrown him off his game.

With most women, he practically had to fight them off. Once they realised he was a company CEO, young, single and not horrible looking, they pinned him as husband material. Not bloody likely.

Still, he couldn’t stop watching her. She was using her phone, probably texting someone special. Of course she’d have a boyfriend or a husband, although he hadn’t seen a ring on her finger. There must be someone worried about her back home. Did she live in Ireland? It wasn’t too far to fly there from London. If he could get her talking again …

It would be fun to have a fling on this trip, especially if he had to hang around in Singapore. All work and no play was making him a very dull boy lately. According to his best friend Ryan, he was a workaholic robot headcase. The guy didn’t mince words.

He needed to feel human again. To feel something other than stress. He needed a plan to get him into Sinead’s good books and, ideally, get her into his bed.

Oh hell. He was so distracted, he hadn’t even organised a bed for the night. It was already four o’clock and the weather was getting worse. What kind of an online travel expert was he? He should have been onto a hotel booking as soon as Mr Lim had made it clear he couldn’t help with a flight. Something, or someone, had obviously rattled his brains.

He looked at his smartphone on the coffee table. He finally had reception. But before he had a chance to browse his go-to hotel websites, his messages popped up. Twenty-three emails and voicemails too. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his temples. Even at a glance, they didn’t make fun reading.

Some shit-storm had blown up the company website while he’d been in the air during a typhoon. How appropriate. Looked like his personal life would have to wait while he dealt with it. Business as usual in other words.

Gabriel glanced at Sinead as she crossed the lounge to the exit. The stunning flight attendant had apparently walked out of his life. Too bad.

She was dying for a long soak in a bubble bath to ease her tension. It had been a rough day, keeping calm and in control during the turbulent flight. Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she pushed open the door to her hotel suite.

It was an email from the airline. All flights were grounded until they received a further update from the authorities about the storm later that evening. Which meant down time. Excellent. She was so glad she’d booked her room in advance.

Sinead entered the suite and wandered through the main sitting area (it had a separate sitting area!), kicked off her high heels with a sigh of relief and dumped her bag by the bed. The suite was all soothing earth tones and plush velvet with silky trimmings, a delicious hint of vanilla scented candles hanging in the air. Much nicer than the usual smaller hotel rooms or apartments.

She skimmed her fingertips along the silky edge of the caramel-coloured quilt and then flopped onto the king size bed.

“Oh, how divine,” she moaned.

Snuggling into the thick quilt and the feather-top mattress beneath, she closed her eyes. She could have happily crashed for a full eight hours, but there was a possibility she may have to fly again tonight. It was best to keep awake and somewhat alert. At least she could get comfortable and she wouldn’t have to worry about another run-in with Mr Grumpy.

When she was able to get vertical again, she checked her phone for messages. Nothing from the airline, not that she expected it so soon. But there was a message from her mother.

That job will be the death of you.

Short and not so sweet. Probably the best to be expected. At least Ma wasn’t harassing Sinead to lend Bridie more money. To be fair, Bridie hadn’t really asked for help, but Sinead had felt obligated.

Then another text popped up.

WHORE.

She sucked in a breath like she was being pulled underwater, drowning, gasping for air. It was from an unknown number. But she knew who sent it. Her whole body knew. Her fingers trembled as she deleted it and dropped the phone on the bed. She couldn’t deal with it now. When would he move on and leave her alone? It had been years. She couldn’t deal with him. Not again.

Needing a distraction, she explored the rest of the suite, especially her ensuite bathroom. An expanse of white marble tiles led to a massive, glass-walled shower with two massage-type shower heads. There was an inviting designer bathtub which looked like a sculpture of a giant egg and it called Sinead with its siren song. But what if she fell asleep in the tub? She’d miss work, if not risk drowning. The fancy shower would have to do. She stripped off her uniform and tossed it across an armchair near the bed.

She reached for the cotton balls to remove her mask of work makeup. A door slammed, so loud and so close, she jumped.

Jayzus!

She wrapped herself in a towel, then dashed in her bare feet on the slippery floor out of the bathroom. Catapulting through the bathroom doorway into the bedroom, she came to a stop near the bed, only to be confronted by a man. A tall, blonde and looming man, standing beside her bed.

It was the passenger again. The dishy ride of a man. The coffee nut. Gabriel. A moment ticked by, pure stunned silence as she stared at him, and he stared right back.

She clutched her towel, then screamed bloody murder.

“You! What in the name of all things holy are you doing in my suite?”

“Your suite? This is my suite.” He waved his key card around and dumped his overnight bag by his feet. As if that proved anything.

“Look here. I’m about to have a shower in my suite. I’ve half a mind to call hotel security right now. Explain yourself.”

“I can see you’re going in the shower,” he paused, but made no effort to hide the way his eyes slid right under her towel as he mentally undressed her. “I’ll call the concierge and sort it out.”

“You can get out while you do it.” She placed her hands on her hips. The towel slipped slightly.

“I don’t think so. You can’t kick me out of my own suite.”

“My suite. Mine! Get out!” Lord, was the man actually crazy?