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

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Published by Maze

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

The News Building

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2016

Copyright © Cassandra O’Leary 2016

Cassandra O’Leary asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © July 2016 ISBN: 9780008197025

Version 2016-06-10

For my husband, who has always supported my dreams and schemes, even when I was probably in La-La Land. And for my two beautiful little boys, who have shown me the world through fresh eyes and reminded me of the power of imagination.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Acknowledgements

About The Author

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

Mermaid Airlines Flight 180, Melbourne to London

Showtime! Sinead Kennealy sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Time to get it over and done with. The molly-coddled first-class passengers wouldn’t entertain themselves, apparently.

She sensed her colleagues Yuki and Deanna on either side of her usual position, centre front of the cabin. Yuki flicked her shiny black ponytail over her shoulder and flipped on the PA system. The airline’s theme song, a hackneyed rendition of the “Macarena”, blared from the plane’s speakers.

Hey! Mermaid Airlines.

Sinead’s heart sank like a stone dropped in a bucket of water even as she plastered on the airline’s trademark happy smile. Her jaw ached with the enforced perkiness, all day long. It was only breakfast time and she had a crick in her neck. A few more hours and they’d land in Dubai. She might have time for a massage at the hotel spa.

She shimmied forward in a practised and synchronised routine. The move she hated. The booby shake. A couple of mature men eagerly watched her from their premium seats with an over-excited gleam in their eyes.

One of the men mumbled, “Shake it, baby!”

Heat crawled up her throat to her cheeks and she wanted to slink away to the bathroom. Surely she couldn’t die from embarrassment. But it was a close call.

How much more of this job could she take? As an eager twenty-one-year-old recruit with Mermaid Airlines (The funnest airline in the world! so the tag-line went) she’d been bouncing off the walls with glee. The travel! The glamour! The most exciting job ever. Five years on, either her patience had run out or her expectations had grown.

Shimmy, shimmy, shake!

She kicked her leg. Shook her hips. A grown woman. Fluent in French, German and English, plus a sprinkling of Gaelic. A first-aid expert. Calm in an emergency. She had some mad skills these days. She’d even talked down an over-zealous pilot keen to initiate her into the Mile High Club. But look at her shaking her money-maker. Was it too much to ask for something more challenging?

Shimmy, shimmy, kick!

While she was ranting, why didn’t her male colleagues ever have to shake their tails to keep the high-flying passengers happy? Fecking Damian smirked at her over the passengers’ heads, from the rear of the cabin. Skiving off again. She gave him the evil eye, a slight pinch of her eyebrows the passengers wouldn’t notice. But he sure noticed, and scurried away like a little mouse back to the galley where he was meant to be preparing breakfast. She’d deal with him later.

Shimmy, kick!

She bowed. Enthusiastic applause from the whole cabin drowned out the roaring engines as the music died. She grabbed the microphone from Yuki.

“Thanks ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Mermaid Airlines flight 180 from Melbourne to London via Dubai. We will be serving breakfast shortly. In the meantime, please watch this short safety video.”

Mirroring the gestures in the safety video, she pointed out the nearest exits. Her arms went off on their own merry way, demonstrating on auto-pilot. A yawn rose up in her throat. So tired. She could have shut her eyes and slept where she stood. But her lips stretched upwards, and she nodded at the passengers in front of her.

A mixed bunch today. Business people mostly. One younger man in dark glasses who might have been a football player. Yuki would know, she was always up to speed on celebrities. Older Aussie gentleman in 5K, already showing signs of downing too many beers in the airport bar. And it was only eight o’clock in the morning. The heckler. She’d keep her eye on him.

She held up the airline’s safety card and waved in the direction of the oxygen masks.

A couple of other passengers stood out. Young professional-looking mother in 16G, dressed all in black, travelling alone with her baby. Was she wearing a Chanel suit? A different world, these rich people lived in. Who wore Chanel when they travelled? Let alone when they’d likely be covered in baby vomit in no time at all?

No matter, the bub was bound to annoy the first and business travellers. She’d help out by holding the baby when Mummy needed to go to the bathroom. He looked a sweet little thing. The random baby cuddles were a definite perk of the job.

She glanced towards Deanna. Her friend was well into robot mode, her dark eyes bright and blank.

Sinead scanned the rest of her passengers, letting her gaze slide over the business people who all looked much the same. Except …

Well, hello there.

Shockingly handsome young man with a perfectly sculpted face, full, kissable lips, sparkling blue eyes and dark blonde hair in 3A. Her belly fluttered and flipped. She was experiencing mild turbulence. Because of him? Her gaze tracked down his long, lean form, from broad shoulders to slim hips under a sharply cut suit. The man knew how to wear a suit.

And the man stared directly at her with intent—anyone would think he wanted to pounce on her and eat her alive. Yowza. Her stomach performed its own little dance and flipped over in the most peculiar way. As if she was falling.

Her hands formed into fists at her side and she sucked in a soothing deep breath. She was all hot then cold, goosebumps pebbling down her arms. The last thing she needed was another man who wanted to own her. But not all muscular and fit men were like Padraig. She’d left her mad ex-boyfriend years and thousands of miles away. Why couldn’t he stay there, out of sight, out of mind?

Don’t engage the crazy. Calm blue ocean. The image of a tropical Thai beach popped into her mind and calm washed over her like gentle waves against the shore.

She was still staring at Mr Hot Stuff in 3A. Rubbing her arms, she hastily looked away.

It was nearly time for the coffee and tea service, not the time for the distraction of a handsome man with a James Bond-ish air about him. Who looked like he would be able to handle himself … and a woman too.

What would it feel like, to let him handle her? Oh, Lord. She had a sneaking suspicion it would feel mighty fine. Heat crept up her throat and surged across her cheeks. The last thing she needed was a blush lighting up her face like an emergency beacon.

She lowered her arms and finished up the safety demo. And stood there staring for a few seconds too long. She’d better catch up to Yuki and get the beverage cart stocked. Time to crack on.

Gabriel cocked his head to one side and stared as her skin changed from pale porcelain to hot pink. The platinum blonde flight attendant was having some kind of reaction to him. Damned if he could tell whether it was good or bad. He gripped the iPad tighter in one hand where it balanced on his lap, as her red glossy mouth popped open and she inhaled deeply.

He’d first noticed her at the boarding gate, walking away from him towards the large wall of windows overlooking the runway. Her body had been framed in silhouette – the outline of long, slim legs and a shapely backside in her tight skirt drew his gaze and fired his imagination.

She seemed so confident and in control, a woman to be reckoned with. It had been a while since he’d met a sexy woman who wasn’t a complete pushover. Someone to spar with. He let the idea percolate as she headed off towards the staff area, behind the curtain at the front of the plane. The sway of her hips as she walked down the aisle was definitely some of the best inflight entertainment he’d seen in a long time.

He stopped gawking and let his gaze drop to his iPad and the designs for his company’s new travel blog. Something was off with the style but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The main Global Village website was doing fantastic business, especially since his deal with the major airlines flying through the Asian region.

But the demands from the board and shareholders were taking a toll. He rubbed his right temple with his forefinger, tiny circles, round and round. There was pressure to expand the business too quickly, pressure to push into new markets, and the constant pressure to make more money.

He’d commissioned a cutting-edge digital advertising agency to develop the new Asia blog. But they weren’t getting it right. What the hell was going on? He’d have to step in. Talk to the designers, get them to start from scratch. As if he didn’t have enough on his to-do list.

It was so hard to let go.

After starting a business fresh out of university and building it into a global brand, it wasn’t so easy to hand over the reins. Now the business was expanding from his home city of Melbourne to London. He should have stepped back and allowed the new Europe and Asia-Pacific regional managers to do their jobs. Instead he was on a flight to London to supervise the set-up phase for the new office.

He wasn’t sure he should have left his Mum, even if it was only two weeks. He’d promised to always be there for her. The guilt and stress threatened to devour him if he let it take over. He pushed it down till his gut ached. He needed a break. Some downtime to decompress.

It had been so long since he’d been on a proper holiday. Gabriel pictured the top of the range surfboard stashed somewhere in his Mum’s house. He’d love to take off surfing and drop-out for a while. Not likely in sunny London in February. He could try to take a weekend trip to Spain or down the coast back home. Surfing was the only personal time he seemed to get these days.

The other flight attendant pushed the drinks cart down the aisle and stopped beside his seat. She was pretty with her black glossy hair and even blacker eyes. Wide eyes. She looked younger than the other hostess. Yuki, he read on her name tag. He’d have a bit of fun with her, cheer himself up. He liked to flirt, hopefully she’d be into it too.

“Coffee or tea this morning?” Yuki asked.

“Let’s see. Is the coffee likely to be any good? On a scale from one to ten—one being sludge scraped off the bottom of the Yarra River to ten being nectar of the gods—how would you rate it, Yuki?”

She blinked, pausing for a second. “Ah, I believe the coffee is good, Sir. Would you like a cup?”

He raised his eyebrow. She was no fun. “You didn’t answer my question. If you give it a six or higher I’ll try it.”

“Right. I’d give it a six or seven.” Yuki poured the cup of coffee and set it on a small plastic tray, ready to pass across to him. He waved it away.

The tall blonde approached behind Yuki to help with the drinks service. His eyes instantly snapped to hers and then his gaze moved lower, to the name tag pinned above her perfectly round, high breasts. Wicked thoughts flitted through his mind, which she could obviously read in his expression. A pinched crease formed between her eyebrows, then her tongue darted out and licked across her soft-looking lower lip. Half-annoyed, half-interested?

Sinead. He noted her name in his memory bank. She had a musical Irish lilt in her accent when she’d made the announcement over the PA. Very sexy.

“Can I be of assistance?” Sinead’s voice was a little husky. Very sexy indeed.

Yuki nodded to Sinead and stepped past her, continuing to serve the next passenger.

“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.