The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection. Zara Stoneley
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end of the deal,’ he remarks.
‘Pardon?’
‘Oh good, you are still breathing. For a second there I wasn’t sure.’
Smart-arse, I think and can’t stop another smile from erupting. I shift away a bit. Maybe if we’re not so close … ‘Landing might present a challenge but I’m pretty sure I can cope with drawing breath.’ Is the shadow of stubble on his jaw getting darker? God, he’s sexy.
He cocks an eyebrow, a bit Sean Connery as James Bond. ‘From the shade of white you’re currently sporting I wondered how much oxygen was making it to your brain.’
‘Gee, thanks!’ Mouth dropping open, I go to wrench my hand away.
His fingers tighten, stopping me. ‘Relax! I’m kidding. You really are anxious about flying aren’t you?’ He nods to the towel peeking out from under my legs. ‘Is that why you spilt your water?’
‘Yes.’ No, it’s because I’m clumsy as hell when I forget to pay due care and attention. ‘It’s not the flying, though, it’s the landing bit. I really don’t like the transition from air to ground.’
‘Why didn’t you say something earlier?’
‘I need this assignment.’ I pause. ‘And we couldn’t exactly boat across.’
He’s not quick enough to hide his smile. ‘No, but I would have tried to make it easier for you if I’d known.’
An automatic response would you really have cared? almost breaks free but he’s showing he cares now. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say lightly, ‘but thank you.’
‘So how do you usually cope?’ he asks after a moment, a deep line appearing between his dark eyebrows. ‘When you go on holiday?’
‘Er.’ I glance around the spacious cabin, avoiding eye contact. Then peek at him. ‘Don’t laugh.’
‘It can’t be that bad. What is it?’
‘I drink.’
‘So? Other people drink to calm their nerves.’
‘No, I mean, I drink. Three or four vodkas usually help achieve the right sort of numbness.’
‘Three or four? Over the course of the flight?’
‘Um, not exactly.’ Please don’t let him think I’m an alcoholic. ‘First one is when the seatbelt lights blink on.’ Does he know he’s stroking my knuckles? It’s making my insides go hot and funny. ‘Second one is when the plane starts banking for approach. Third is usually as we start our descent and I might slip a fourth in during descent.’
‘How do you get away with it?’
‘Miniature bottles,’ I admit shakily, as the stroking of my fingers gets faster and a waft of his sexy aftershave invades my nose. ‘I swig them quickly and discreetly.’
‘I see,’ he deadpans. ‘Well, it’s medicinal I suppose.’ He pauses. ‘It, ah, must be interesting for your boyfriend trying to get you off the plane standing upright.’
‘I don’t go on holidays with boyfriends, only friends,’ I blurt. Why did I tell him that? ‘And I’m usually a little relaxed, but they know the score and help me through passport control. It takes about twenty minutes to really hit anyway. By that time we’re on the coach and I nap until we get to the hotel.’ Does he know our knees are touching? My leg feels like it’s on fire. I edge it away discreetly.
‘Sounds like you have it all figured out.’ He squeezes my fingers, looking concerned. ‘But why not just ask your doctor for sedatives if it’s that bad?’
‘Like I said, I’m okay with taking off and being in the air, it’s the end part. I don’t see any point in being knocked out for the whole flight.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Why would I want to waste my time asleep when I could be doing something else instead?’
He tilts his head towards mine, getting so close I start going cross-eyed. ‘Like what?’
‘Reading, watching a film, talking to my friends. You know, normal leisure stuff.’
‘Right.’
He says it like I’m talking about a foreign concept. Doesn’t he get any time off at all?
He shakes his head. ‘Interesting.’
‘What? You did ask.’
‘Not that.’ He leans over and points out the window. I can feel his warm breath on my cheek and shiver. ‘We’ve landed.’
‘Really?’ I look out the Perspex. He’s right. There’s a vast expanse of tarmac visible in the night outside, peppered with landing lights and a control tower. ‘Oh, yes.’ So involved in our conversation, I hadn’t noticed. It’s a first – the Earth and I reacquainting ourselves without the benefit of alcohol. ‘Thank you so much,’ I beam.
He pauses, staring at my mouth then glancing down at our entwined fingers. A strange look crosses his face and he releases my hand quickly. ‘No problem. Besides, it would hardly be good publicity if a member of staff suffered an anxiety-driven heart attack on my private plane. I also need you fully functioning tonight so we can have a proper briefing session. You can’t do that drunk.’
‘But I haven’t had anything to drink! That’s why I was getting anxious.’
He doesn’t answer, busying himself with straightening his tie and undoing his seatbelt.
‘Alex?’
‘Time to get off,’ he snaps. ‘Come on.’
‘Fine,’ I say stiffly. Undoing my belt I bolt from the chair, feeling unexpectedly stung by his briskness. How could I have forgotten who I was talking to? Why was I deluded enough to think he was being sweet and compassionate, even friendly? Why would I even want him to be? He’s not my friend, he’s my temporary boss, ensuring he’s upholding his duty of care. I can’t make the same mistake again; get too close to someone I work with, even if last time it was accidentally. Been there, done that, got the diamanté t-shirt.
Grabbing my handbag and coat from under the seat, I stride over to the exit, where the crew have gathered.
‘Have a pleasant stay in Barcelona.’ The blonde attendant smiles.
‘Thank you.’ Doubtful. ‘Bye.’
Picking my way down the metal stairs, I can’t see a transport bus, so set off towards the airport buildings, assuming our luggage will follow. It’s milder than London but an unkind wind still whistles along the concrete so I pull my coat tighter.
‘Charlotte,’ Alex calls behind me. I carry on walking. He can tell me what he wants to when he catches up.
‘Charley. Charley!’ he yells.
Stopping with a sigh, ‘Yes?’ I try not to let frost coat my voice.
He runs up. ‘No. Over there.’ He gestures back over his shoulder to a car I hadn’t noticed parked twenty feet or so behind the plane.
My eyes widen at the gorgeous lines of the black low-slung sports model. ‘Seriously?’ I breathe, skirting round him to start back.
‘Yes.’ Falling into step, Alex raises an eyebrow. ‘You like it?’ Frowning, ‘Or is it the status thing?’
Legs eating up the distance, I stop next to it, running my hand along the smooth bonnet. Something about the car reminds me of Alex. Powerful. Slick. Sexy. ‘Status? No. It’s not that. Cars aren’t my thing but … well, it’s kind of beautiful.’ Like him. No. Stop it!
‘My kind of woman,’ he murmurs appreciatively before looking horrified at his comment. ‘I mean, I like the way you think. I mean – never mind.’