In Flight(22)

He nodded absently, digging around. He could never find anything in the galley, and I didn’t know why he even tried anymore.

I opened a drawer full of cold bottles of water, pointing. “Just put those out for them. I’ll do the rest of the mimosa prep while you do that.”

I was already popping the cork on the champagne as he strode back into the cabin.

It was going to be a hectic morning. It just had that feeling to it. I liked that, though. Staying busy was never a bad thing, as far as I was concerned.

I had a tray of mimosas waiting when he came back a few minutes later. He headed immediately back out.

I had accounted for all of the drinks we needed. I began to count the meals, and prepare the menus. I handed Stephan the menus to hand out and he handed me a list of drink orders. No glasses remained on the tray.

“I should be good after you hand out those menus,” I told him. “Do I need to take out another tray of mimosas?”

“Nope, you made the perfect amount. And you have a surprise in 2D, Buttercup.” He grinned at me as he swept back out into the cabin.

I was only half listening, making drinks as quickly as possible. Pre-board service could be tricky when we were this pressed for time.

I strode out with the first round of drink orders. I was delivering the orders back to front, because that was how Stephan had written it down. It must have been the order they’d boarded in. The gate agents sometimes liked to mix it up, though only god knew why.

I unloaded the drinks quickly. There were some loud, boisterous New Yorkers up front today. I just smiled at them. A few men almost shouted at each other as they argued about some sports team. I counted five of them together that may be a possible problem, or may just need a firm shushing if they kept it up.

They got suddenly quiet as they noticed me.

“Hey, sugar. You’re a sight for sore eyes,” the loudest one said to me finally, after they’d all stared at me rudely while I set down their drinks. I looked up and smiled at him pleasantly. Neutrally. He was maybe in his late forties, with dark hair and swarthy skin. He looked like a New Yorker down to his toes.

“Good morning,” I murmured, heading back into the galley for the next round.

I only had a few more drinks to make after that. The waters and mimosas had been enough for most of them.

I handed out the next small round, collecting already empty glasses on my tray as I passed back in. I started from the front again, collecting jackets, and making sure no one needed anything.

I froze, my cool composure slipping for a heartbeat when I saw the man occupying 2D. I was surprised that I hadn’t noticed him sooner. It seemed as though my body should have sensed his very presence by the way it instantly reacted.

I recovered more quickly to the sight of him this time than I had the last time he’d been in that seat. I hoped that meant I was getting used to him.

He can’t continue to affect me this way every time I see him, I told myself. I knew it was just wishful thinking.

“May I get you anything else, Mr. Cavendish?” I inquired cooly. He already had one of the bottles of water that Stephan had handed out. Water seemed to be the only thing he drank. “May I hang your jacket?”

His face was tense, but he was silent as he stood and removed his suit jacket. The seat beside him was the only vacant one in first class, and I guessed that he had purchased it to gain some semblance of privacy.

I remembered from overhearing him speaking to our CEO on the charter flight where I had met him that he didn’t often fly commercial. Why on earth would he? He had a private jet. Why was he suddenly flying with us so often? I guessed it was most likely because he was looking into backing us financially in some way.

As he straightened in the aisle, he was suddenly only inches from me.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him. He smelled so wonderful, with just a hint of spicy cologne over his own natural scent.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking this flight?” I murmured the question to him as I took his jacket, my voice pitched low.

“It was a last minute decision. I didn’t know until this morning that I had urgent business in Las Vegas that needed attention today,” he murmured back, his voice soft, but his face still hard and tense.

I searched his face briefly, but had to quickly move on. There was just no time right then for figuring out what Mr. Beautiful was up to.

I barely got the glasses collected and the galley secured in time for the safety demonstration. I pointedly avoided looking at James and got through it with my usual composure.

The group of New Yorkers made a few raunchy comments about me loudly enough that I heard it as I passed them while I was doing a seat belt check. I ignored them easily. It was nothing unusual. In fact, it was par for the course on this particular flight.