Turn Me On

After a fitful night’s sleep—Faye could never sleep the night before a flight—the alarm went off at 4 a.m. She took a quick shower and did a last-minute check of the apartment. She then lugged her suitcase down the four flights of stairs, hoping not to disturb her neighbors, before pushing her way out of the building and onto the sidewalk where she could hail a cab.

A short taxi ride later—there was almost no traffic at this early hour—Faye went through security, found her gate and settled into a seat with the file folder on Gregor to wait for her boarding call. Ever punctual, she always liked getting to the airport with plenty of time to spare.

After a while, she looked up from an article about Gregor’s favorite Thanksgiving recipes, including a roguish photo of him in an apron with three-day stubble, to check out some of her fellow travelers. There were plenty of people flying solo, presumably on business, a few families dressed in their comfy sweats, their seats overflowing with bags and snacks and amusements, and seated just across from her, a young couple obviously on their honeymoon. The woman was wearing tight jeans and high-heeled boots and looked about the same age as Faye, and she could tell from the sparkle in her eye that she had to be a newlywed. Her husband, a tall man dressed in a gray sweater and jeans, seemed to dote on her. Faye smiled wanly in their direction. As hard as she tried, it wasn’t easy to let go of all the plans she had made for her life as a married woman. She would never admit it to anyone, but seeing other happy couples made her stomach churn. Other people in love only served to highlight how very alone she felt.

When it was finally time to board, Faye found herself seated near a window with an empty seat next to her. Perfect! she thought, wrapping the huge cashmere scarf she always brought on trips around her shoulders and fishing for Bev’s file folder in her bag. But before she could settle in, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw that it was the newlywed.

“So sorry to ask, but would you mind switching so we could sit together?” the woman asked.

Faye thought about saying no but decided that would be too mean.

“Okay,” she said reluctantly, gathering up her things.

“Thank you so much!” the woman cried, overenthusiastically.

Faye made her way into the aisle and squeezed past a burly man in a faux leather jacket to find the middle seat—with another just as large guy on the other side—that she had agreed to occupy for the next seven hours. And, to add insult to injury, she’d have to look at the heads of the happy couple right in front of her. Once the plane reached cruising altitude, they would probably be making out, or more.

Faye pulled out her file folder and was just about to resign herself—not just to the seat, but most likely dying alone in a fourth-floor walk-up apartment, when she heard a voice call out her name.

“Faye? Faye Curry?”

Faye sat up straight and looked around the plane, confused. Her first thought was that she was in trouble. Had the TSA found radioactive materials in her checked luggage? No, of course they hadn’t, she told herself.

“Excuse me? Is Faye here?”

As the voice got closer, she recognized a distinct British accent. And when a man with spiky brown hair, sunglasses and a leather bomber jacket appeared in the aisle, the hair on her arms stood up on end.

“Hello?” Faye said feebly, totally thrown off by the fact that Gregor was suddenly standing two feet away from her, yelling her name through a packed flight full of strangers.

“Sir, if you’ll just return to first class, we can page your friend.” A pretty flight attendant reached out her hand and tapped Gregor gently on the shoulder. Gregor turned to the flight attendant, lowered his sunglasses and gave her a smile.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ll have this sorted in a moment.”

The woman blushed, clearly mesmerized by his sparkling blue eyes and his warm tone of voice paired with that crisp accent.

Faye was fumbling with the materials spread out on her tray table. She wasn’t even sure if Gregor had heard her, until he turned his gaze toward her. She felt his eyes land on a picture of himself—the Thanksgiving article. Faye blushed deeply and quickly shoved the pages into her bag.

“I’m Faye,” she said, standing up and mustering her confidence. She thought she would have a day to get over the jet lag before meeting him—or at least a moment to freshen up in the washroom.

“Pleasure,” Gregor said, reaching out his hand to her. For a moment, Faye thought they were going to shake, but then she felt him leading her out of her seat and into the aisle. His hand was large, almost completely covering her own, and slightly rough to the touch. Once she was out in the aisle next to him, they looked at each other for the first time, face-to-face.

“You’re the writer.”

“You’re on my plane,” Faye said, stating the obvious.

Gregor smiled. “Let’s go ride up front, shall we?”

Faye grabbed her carry-on out of the overhead bin and followed Gregor up the aisle and past the curtain that partitioned off first class from the rest of the plane. Her mind was racing a mile a minute. She wasn’t expecting to have to begin her interview so soon. And she also hadn’t expected that Gregor would be this good-looking in person. She had hoped it would be like other celebrities she had met who looked amazing on TV but short with skinny bodies and big bobble heads in person. Gregor was, in fact, quite tall—well over six feet—with a nicely formed head and broad shoulders Faye could easily imagine wrapping her arms around if he were inside her…

Easy, girl! she cautioned herself. Not only would this line of thinking be extremely distracting from getting her assignment done, it was also against her journalistic code. Getting involved with a subject, no matter how rakishly sexy, was a very bad idea.

“Let me grab that for you,” Gregor said, taking the carry-on from Faye and easily hoisting it into the overhead compartment. The first-class cabin was the complete opposite of the cramped economy seating Faye was used to. The seats were wide and luxurious, each with their own entertainment center. A flight attendant was offering champagne to the couple seated in the row across from the one Gregor had stopped in front of. Although she was nervous about having to be “on duty” for the flight, at least she’d be comfortable, she figured.

“After you.”

Gregor had stepped aside and was gesturing for Faye to take the window seat.

“Thanks,” she said, sliding into the seat and looking up expectantly as Gregor sat down next to her. “So how did you know I’d be on this flight?”

“Bev told me,” he said matter-of-factly. “I realized I was going to be leaving New York at the same time and I have to admit, I wanted to check out who was going to be interviewing me.”

Faye smiled nervously, wondering what Bev had told Gregor about her.

“Bev said you’re her top writer at the magazine. That’s a very big deal.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” Faye said. “Well, not this exactly,” she said, looking around at her very not-usual surroundings. “But it’s what I love to do.”

“She didn’t tell me that you’re also strikingly gorgeous,” Gregor said and then quickly put a hand over his own mouth. “Sorry. Please tell me you’re not going to sue me for sexual harassment?”

Coming from any other man it might have seemed crude, but from Gregor, it was totally disarming. Faye smiled and laughed girlishly at the suggestion.

“You’re fine,” she said, trying to maintain an even keel while her mind did an instant replay of him calling her gorgeous.

“So what do you want to know?” Gregor folded his hands in his lap and looked directly at Faye, waiting for her response.

“Umm,” Faye stuttered. “How did you…?” Funny enough, her mind, which was normally filled with thoughtful and provocative questions, was running on an endless loop of shirtless Gregor up on that paddleboard.

“I’m kidding!” Gregor said, touching Faye’s shoulder so naturally and letting out a laugh. “Plenty of time for business later.” He turned his attention to the flight attendant who was passing by in the aisle and Faye audibly breathed a sigh of relief. This whole situation was just too intense! “Can we get two glasses of champagne?”

“Absolutely, sir,” the flight attendant responded in what Faye thought was a flirty tone. Moments later, they each had a real crystal glass in hand, filled to the top with fine, French bubbly.

“Cheers,” Gregor said, clinking glasses with her and taking a big sip. “Preflight ritual,” he said, holding up the glass by way of explanation.

Faye reached into her bag and pulled out the copies of her tabloid magazines. “These are mine,” she said with a grin.

“Oooh!” Gregor said, raising his eyebrows with a devilish grin. “I love these. They’re so sordid.”

Faye’s insides turned to butter in reaction to his wicked pronunciation of the word. Why did even normal, everyday words sound so sexual with a British accent? She could probably be happy with him reading the dictionary out loud to her for the entirety of the flight. Instead, Gregor had taken one of the magazines from her and was paging through it.

“This is my favorite!” he exclaimed. “‘Stars, they’re just like us.’ Look, it’s Matthew McConaughey eating a burrito!”

Faye laughed and looked over his shoulder at the picture. She couldn’t help but quickly inhale the scent of his aftershave. It was clean and manly and sent a signal straight to her private area.

“Have you ever been caught for one of these?”

Gregor waved off the suggestion. “That’s just for A-listers. No one wants to see me coming round the bend with a bog roll.”

“I think that would be rather intriguing,” Faye said, which made Gregor laugh.