Читать книгу Girl on a Plane: A sexy, sassy, holiday read - Cassandra O’Leary - Страница 7

“What the hell do you mean there’s no flights out of Singapore?” Gabriel’s blood pounded in his ears where he stood in front of the customer service desk.

The London office was counting on him. His mother was counting on him. And here he was stuck in the middle, no bloody good to either. Useless. His palm was slick with sweat where he gripped his carry-on bag.

“If this is how Mermaid Airlines treats its first-class passengers, I’ll have to rethink the online clients I swing your way. So I suggest you check your computer again and find me a flight.”

The customer service officer behind the first-class counter practically cowered behind her computer monitor. She was kind of young, could be new on the job. Once, he’d been like her, working retail, serving people all day long. He shouldn’t be a grumpy bastard. But being a pushover wouldn’t get him anywhere. If they were trying to pull the wool over his eyes, he wouldn’t stand for it. There had to be a flight out.

“I’m so sorry, sir. But as I explained before, there are currently no flights leaving Singapore. We’re waiting on a further announcement, but we expect long delays and cancellations. It’s a safety issue. But we’ll let you know as soon as possible about alternative transport or evacuation.” The tiny redhead blinked, awaiting his response. Her bottom lip trembled.

God, he was being a mean prick. The type of self-important arsehole he came in contact with growing up poor in an upper-middle-class suburb. The type he swore he’d never become, even as he built his business and earned more money. The last thing he wanted was to be the type of man to make a woman cry. What would his mum say if she knew? He let a long breath out of his lungs, allowing some of the tension to ease from his shoulders.

Time to change tactics and turn on his trademark charm. It worked every time when dealing with women.

“Okay,” he said, and checked her name tag. “Tania. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to work something out to keep me happy and you in a job. Sound good?”

Gabriel flashed his teeth. His smile usually had women eating out of his hand, or offering to do all sorts of other tasty things. Tania nodded, her face flushed and stunned-looking.

He leaned forward on the counter and whispered, “I know you only want to help me.”

Tania sighed and dropped her shoulders, then tapped at her keyboard. He waited and pushed down his earlier anger, schooling his expression into a mask of cheerful reasonableness.

Nothing to see here, folks.

“I’ve made an appointment for you to meet our head of customer relations, Mr Peter Lim. He’ll see you in his suite in a few minutes. Jennifer will show you the way.”

Another staff member appeared beside him. A younger woman, around twenty-two, dark hair, slim and attractive in those toppling high heels they made them wear. To appeal to men like him. It didn’t exactly work. He coughed on a half-chuckle. She was harmless enough.

He didn’t have a flight, but maybe it was progress. Mr Lim might have an ace up his sleeve for high rollers like him. Maybe a charter flight. “Not so hard, was it? Thank you very much for your excellent service. I’ll be sure to mention it to Mr Lim.”

To top it all off, he winked at her. The action reminded him of the cheeky flight attendant, Sinead. Would she be relaxing in some hotel room now? Why was he still thinking about her?

Tania’s pale skin flushed and she stammered a response he barely heard. He was already focused on young Jennifer, leading the way towards the airline’s offices.

He’d managed Tania, like he managed everyone and everything in his life – with a perfectly planned strategy and the right balance of emotion to swing things his way. It was the only way to keep everything running smoothly, to keep everything in balance so it didn’t come crashing down and falling in a heap on top of him.

Worked every time. Usually.

A crowded airport. Stranded, weary travellers as far as the eye could see. An angry storm. An even angrier man, right beside her. To unwind from the harrowing flight, Sinead had escaped to the relative privacy and quiet of the frequent travellers’ lounge with its cushy sofas and buffet of delicious food. She was waiting on word from the airline, there were delays but flights weren’t cancelled yet.

But instead of being allowed to curl up and read her new romance novel, a tall, blonde and stunning hunk of Australian surfer-in-a-suit style gorgeousness had decided to plonk himself in the chair next to her. It was him again – the handsome coffee connoisseur from seat 3A. Mr Anderson, it was indeed.

The way he looked at her, slowly running his gaze up and down her body, gave her a little shiver of delight. But no, he was not chatting her up. He was complaining. Loudly.

“Can you believe the ‘Customer Service Manager’ had the gall to call security and ‘escort’ me here to the lounge? If that’s how they handle complaints, they’ve got a lot to learn. For all they know I’ve live-tweeted the whole incident. There’s plenty of other airlines I can do business with.”

She tried valiantly to block out his voice and concentrate instead on his brilliant blue eyes and broad, muscular-looking shoulders, but without much luck. He was truly obnoxious. What a waste of perfectly good man candy. They could be stuck here for hours yet. She could have used a handsome distraction.

The Sky News report blaring on the TV screen in the corner warned of a typhoon rated Category Scary, or something. It was expected to hit hardest in Malaysia, not far from Singapore.

He stopped talking. Thank God! He stared at her with one eyebrow raised, as if he’d finally noticed she wasn’t paying attention.

“The least you could do is listen. I am a disgruntled passenger after all,” Mr Grumpy said.

Enough. She couldn’t listen to another word. Sinead broke out her winning hostess-with-the-mostest smile. “Mr Anderson.”

“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?

“Settle down, sweetheart. Why don’t you put some clothes on and lose the attitude?”

Her attitude? What about his? Busting into her room, then telling her what to do. “Why don’t you bite me?”

“Feisty. If I thought you really meant it, I’d bite you all right.” His eyes twinkled in such a playful way, all the fight went out of her.

Sinead huffed out a breath and sagged down onto the bed. The interloper took it as his cue to sit next to her. She stared, hardly believing his audacity. The bloody cheek of it. Then he picked up his phone and called the concierge as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Hello, this is Gabriel Anderson. I just checked in and there’s a mix-up with my suite. There’s a woman in here.” He laughed, low and throaty.

Everything under her towel clenched and tingled. That’s all she needed. Traitorous libido, getting all uppity.

He glanced at her and grinned. “No, I didn’t order a woman.”

“You cheeky bastard …”

“No, I don’t know her. Except from the flight. She works for the airline.” He paused and she tried to listen in to the voice babbling on the other end of the phone. “I see. The airline usually books the suites in case of emergency. Double booking. Right. We’ll discuss it. I’ll get back to you.”

Gabriel’s expression lit up with the kind of smile which could melt her knickers. If she’d been wearing any.

“We both have a valid booking. You, through the airline, and me, through my corporate account. I guess we’re stuck here together,” he said with a shrug, as if this were a perfectly acceptable situation.

“You guess wrong. You have thirty seconds to get out before I call security and scream ‘stalker’.” Sinead stood and marched towards the door, holding her towel firmly across her breasts. She opened the suite’s door and waved him out into the hall. “Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight …”

He raised his hands in the air. “Okay, I’m going. But you’ll see me again soon.” His grin was infuriating.

She rolled her eyes. “Not if I can help it.”

“Sooner rather than later, sweetheart.”

He walked through the door and she slammed it in his smug, sexy face. Her towel dropped to the floor and she groaned in frustration. All kinds. The I’ve-had-enough-of-this-day kind and definitely the I-haven’t-had-sex-in-a-year and I-can-feel-it-all-over-my-naked-body kind. Time for a shower. She scooped up her towel from the floor, checked the door lock and retreated to the luxurious bathroom. She locked that door too.

Many long minutes later, she emerged dripping wet, clean and refreshed, but feeling ever-so-slightly dirty. It was one of the best showers of her life. She may have fantasised about a certain blonde man with a grumpy disposition. Gabriel. She loved his name. But she didn’t understand why she was attracted to him when he was so annoying. It hardly mattered now. It was unlikely she’d see him again. He probably had the means to rent a hundred suites and then charter a private jet out of Singapore.

Would they have liked each other if they’d had time to talk? She’d have liked to get to know him, intimately. Up close and personal. There was no point in denying it. And he’d been helpful on the plane when the heckler was giving her trouble. He’d watched her during the flight, then again in the lounge. His gaze almost searing her, sending sparks flying willy-nilly through her body. Then he had to go and ruin it by being a grumpy-pants. As she towelled her skin dry, the ache of lingering want low in her belly bothered her.

It had been a long time since she’d last touched a man. Over a year since her ex-boyfriend, Brian The Banker, left. Even before they broke it off, they hadn’t been together often. With their busy work schedules, it was amazing they’d managed to get together every few weeks. She’d known it hadn’t been working, even before he pulled the plug by announcing he was moving to New York. Brian hadn’t suggested she go with him and she hadn’t broached the subject either. Since then, she’d been footloose and fancy-free, and more than a little lonely.

She stood naked in front of the large bathroom mirror and applied a few dabs of an expensive perfume sample, a freebie on the bathroom vanity. In the mirror, her reflected body looked pretty good. Not bad. Not as taut as she was at twenty-one, but slim and tall, with decent breasts and pretty nice hair.

Why did she have so much trouble meeting a man who wanted a real relationship with her? It was what she wanted, eventually. But she wasn’t even seeing anyone. No man had sparked her interest for years, Brian included. She’d gone for a different type with him. Safe. Undemanding. Boring. It hadn’t worked out so well.

She was the first to admit she’d been scared to get into anything serious, after Padraig. She’d been scared and alone and almost broken. But now she was strong and independent. So she told herself every day.

Was it something about her personality scaring the men away? Her mother would say so. Ma had always loved to criticise her, like a kind of hobby. She would’ve said Sinead was too quick to speak her mind. But since when was honesty a bad thing?

She shook her head to dismiss such depressing ideas and wandered through to the living area. Rifling through her bag for fresh clothes, she made a snap decision to get dressed. She didn’t want to stay in her room moping all night. She put on her off-duty clothes. Nice lingerie, skinny jeans and a funky silk top. She styled her hair so it hung in loose waves down her back.

It was so good to express her own style and feel unconfined after hours of having her hair pinned back, dolled-up like Barbie in her straight-laced work uniform.

As she bent to pick up her phone from a low coffee table, she stumbled, lightheaded, as a wave of dizziness hit. She’d forgotten to eat lunch on the plane and then left the airport lounge after only a coffee. On a whim, she decided to check out the dinner menu at the restaurant downstairs.

After a quick pit-stop at the mirror to apply some lip gloss and mascara, she zipped on her ankle boots. She was good to go.