Читать книгу: «First Class Sin»

CHAPTER ONE
Two hours earlier

JULIANA HATED BEING LATE. She jogged through the terminal at JFK Airport, past the dads pushing strollers and the sunburned college kids headed home from spring break and prayed she made it to her gate before they shut the doors. She had to make this flight, the last flight home to Chicago. She promised her sister she’d be there for her birthday dinner tomorrow, but with her never-ending consulting work for the Blue Sky project, she’d been AWOL for weeks, crisscrossing the country to evaluate the nation’s biggest airline. She would’ve been on time, except traffic had been monstrous, even more so than usual around JFK. And then her smart watch dinged with an incoming text. She glanced down at it.

Garrison had texted.

We need to talk.

Juliana groaned. She didn’t have time for her boss right now. He could wait. She rushed through the airport, her trim, rolling carry-on spinning behind her, her dark hair, normally up in a tight bun, begging to spring loose as she bounded through the terminal. If she didn’t make that flight...she’d have to wait a whole day for the next one, and she badly needed that day to write her report—which she couldn’t start until she’d evaluated the airline’s service on this route.

She headed to the gate and saw a worker in a Blue Sky uniform—blue-and-white scarf, and dark navy pantsuit—standing at the gate. Thank goodness!

She arrived, panting, and held out her ticket. “Just...made it,” she said, gasping.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the airline worker said, “but we’re loading standby passengers now, and we’ve already given away your seat.”

“But...the gate is open, and I’ve got my ticket.” Juliana held it up, as if the business class ticket ought to speak for her. “Has the standby passenger boarded yet?”

The airline worker—whose tag read “Bette”—reluctantly looked down at the computer screen in the counter. She typed on the keyboard, clearly out of sorts at having to do a little extra work. “No, not yet.” Her voice sounded clipped, annoyed. This is why you’re in a social media marketing mess, Juliana thought. Where your clients keep saying your philosophy is the customer is always wrong.

“Then please let me on.” She was the paying customer, the original customer, and standby was just that—a person who didn’t have a ticket for this flight but hoped to get one. Mentally, she noted the airline employee’s sullen attitude, her lack of willingness to help. Kicking off paying customers from flights had gotten Blue Sky in trouble in a series of damning viral videos of late, and here was yet another unhelpful employee seeming oblivious to the poor optics of this situation. This would most certainly go into her mergers and acquisitions report to AM Airlines.

“But the standby passenger is airline staff and I’m afraid...”

“Can I help?” The deep baritone of another passenger behind Juliana caused her to jump. She whirled to see a tall, forty-something man with the most amazing clear blue eyes she’d ever seen. He wore dark jeans and a fitted Polo across his broad chest, looking more like the lead in some movie that hadn’t been made yet, than a random passenger on a flight. Juliana usually didn’t register attractiveness, really, when mingling with strangers, but something about the man made him impossible to ignore. She could almost feel his magnetism, a force demanding her full attention, like a Viking marauding on a foreign shore.

“Sir...” The employee’s surly attitude seemed to get worse.

“I’m a standby passenger,” he offered, his deep voice seeming to reverberate in her bones. It felt like pure power. “I’ll give up my seat if that helps.” He handed her his ticket, so she could read his name.

Juliana glanced at the man, surprised. She’d always thought chivalry was dead, especially at airports. It was fend for yourself or die trying, it seemed at gates, on planes and at the baggage claim. The offer took her by surprise. The man looked at Juliana and smiled, a bright-white, dazzling smile. Was he famous? He seemed to have that easy air of someone who’d done well for himself. She noted his Bruno Mali suede loafers. Yes, clearly, his bank account must be full. Still, Juliana hesitated. Did she want this help from a stranger? She was no damsel in distress. She could handle herself. She never asked for help, because doing that was a sign of weakness, and she wasn’t weak.

Another Blue Sky employee glanced up from the nearby counter. “Bette, a word?” she said, calling the employee over. The two women put their heads together and conversed and in seconds, Bette looked ashen. What happened? What had the other employee told her? Was her cover somehow blown? She didn’t think rank and file knew about her being a consultant or about her covert flights to take notes about customer service.

“I am so sorry,” Bette babbled as she returned to her post. “We can get you both on this flight, not a problem.” She glanced at Juliana’s ticket. Bette nodded quickly, typing even faster on her keyboard, her fingers clacking on the keys. The small printer at the counter spit out two new tickets. “I hope you don’t mind new seats. They’re both in coach, but...”

“I don’t mind,” her rescuer quickly said. “Unless you do?”

She glanced at the intriguing man next to her, craning her neck to look at him, he was so tall. Juliana wondered if she’d be able to concentrate on the work at hand with this man sitting next to her. She also wondered if he was a celebrity. If the employees were fawning all over him for a reason she didn’t understand. Then again, maybe it was just that smile, with the hint of mischief.

“No, I don’t mind,” she said.

“So glad to hear it. So sorry, again, for the inconvenience, Ms. Hart,” the employee gushed to Juliana again, apologetic. Maybe someone told them Juliana was there to evaluate their performance. But who? If someone had leaked her route, then all evaluation of the flight would be moot. The whole point was she needed to be anonymous on this flight, just another regular customer. She glanced at the man behind her. “Yes, sorry, let me apologize again.” Bette scanned both tickets and handed them back, eyes lingering longer on her rescuer’s face. No, Juliana thought, this wasn’t about her at all. This was about him. He was the reason she was getting on this flight.

“Not a problem,” he said, waving a hand as he stepped back. His voice carried the vaguest hint of an accent. British? She couldn’t quite tell.

He glanced at Juliana, stretching his hand out to show her she ought to go first. Chivalry, again. Part of her bristled at the prospect. She had always been strong enough to get her own doors and chairs, and yet another part found it oddly...refreshing. She was so used to elbowing her largely male coworkers for space at the conference room table that she’d forgotten what it was like for a man not to be vying to go first.

She rolled her compact carry-on through the open door of the gate as they both walked down the jet bridge. She could feel the heavy weight of the man’s steps behind her in the aluminum hallway with the thin carpet. The man was tall and solid, a wall of muscle, clearly. Who was this man who got things done with a snap of his fingers? A flight attendant greeted them with a curt nod of her head as she read their tickets and directed them upstairs to the two-level airbus, the airplane equivalent of a double-wide trailer, Juliana thought. The big plane was headed to Chicago, but after that, Honolulu. She knew the itinerary by heart, part of her Blue Sky project knowledge. Still, she felt a ripple of unease in her stomach as she boarded the plane. It was nothing, really. She flew all the time and never got nervous, so why did she suddenly feel like the walls of the plane seemed too tight? She gave herself a mental shake. Get it together. She glanced at her ticket and then realized they were at the very back of the plane, last row. Well, that was what they got for being late, she figured. She hoped being so close to the bathroom didn’t turn out to be unpleasant during the long flight.

“Window seat or aisle?” Juliana asked him.

“What would you prefer?” he demurred, cocking his head slightly, clear blue eyes never leaving her face. He gave no hint about whether or not he cared about where he sat. His broad shoulders blocked the aisle as he waited for her answer.

“Window,” Juliana said. “If that’s okay.” She hated when the flight attendants rushed the cart down the aisle. Sometimes they’d hit her laptop or smack her elbow if she wasn’t careful.

“Absolutely.” He smiled, flashing his bright-white, toothpaste-ad smile once more. Wow, but his clear blue eyes looked like the clearest, purest water, almost the ice-blue of a wolf’s. Something about him screamed danger, too, the delicious kind that promised breathless fun, like riding helmetless on the back of a motorcycle. Confidence radiated off his shoulders, and she could tell by the way he carried himself he was put together, worldly, sophisticated. She worked on collapsing the handle of her bag, and Law stepped in.

“Let me help,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument as he whisked her bag up to the overhead compartment as if it weighed less than a pillow. I could’ve gotten that, she wanted to tell him. I’m not helpless. She scooted into the window seat and he took his place at the aisle. Blue Sky was like many other airlines, where coach seating was tight. The space was so close, and Juliana realized she’d be taking note of every slight shift from the man next to her. He’d absolutely be a distraction this flight, as she felt his elbow graze hers on the arm rest.

“Uh, so...” Juliana flashed him a smile as she set about fastening her seat belt to give her hands something to do.

“Call me Law. Short for Lawrence.” Law, as in lawless, she thought. His broad shoulders seemed better suited for leather and steel, rather than the domesticated Polo he wore.

“Law. Nice to meet you. I’m Juliana.”

Law took her hand and shook it. She liked the feel of his palm across hers, big, protective, strong. Made for wielding an ax or sword, not a briefcase. “You...have an accent,” she pointed out. “Are you... British?”

“Australian, actually.” He flashed a perfectly white smile. Now she imagined the Viking wrestling crocodiles. Just when she thought he couldn’t get more masculine, he somehow managed it. Then she mentally shook herself. What was wrong with her? “But I’ve lived in the States since I was twelve, so lost most of the accent. But it creeps in now and again. Usually after a drink or two at dinner.”

She loved how he sounded, how dinner almost became dinnah. It was decidedly faint, though, just the hint. “So, how did you manage that magic trick back there? Do airline employees always fall for your charms?” Juliana meant it to sound flirty, but it almost sounded...envious. Juliana wasn’t the type of woman who usually got what she wanted from charm. She usually got what she wanted by working hard and having all the facts at her disposal, by relentlessly pounding away until her opponents gave in. When she was younger, she’d been a nerdy bookworm, for the most part, an all-honors, all-A student. It didn’t help things that she’d been a late bloomer, not actually growing curves until her sophomore year in college. Until then, she’d been rail-thin.

“Well, I’m a frequent flier,” he explained, thick elbow resting dangerously close to hers on their short armrest.

Juliana swiveled, surprised. “So am I, but I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that level of service.”

“Yes, but I’ve got eleven million miles, give or take.”

Juliana barely prevented her mouth from dropping open. “Eleven million?” She did a rough calculation in her head. “That means if you traveled fifteen years, you’d need 733,333 miles a year.”

His mouth quirked up in an amused smile. She was relieved he didn’t act surprised, or say, Wow, you’re really good with numbers, like some men who seemed genuinely shocked that a woman could do math in her head.

“Yes, give or take that. I’ve been traveling regularly for twenty years, though, so really it’s just about 550,000 miles a year.”

“Still... That’s...mind-boggling.” Juliana struggled to process the staggering reality. “I thought I travel a lot, and I just hit 200,000 miles last year. What do you do? Are you a pilot?”

He chuckled, voice low. “No, but I wanted to be. I have a special kind of color-blindness. I mix up blues and greens, so I can’t fly.” His stark blue eyes never left hers. It was hard to imagine anything being wrong with them. “I wanted to fly fighter jets but couldn’t, back when I was twenty.” He shrugged one fit shoulder. She got a whiff of his cologne. Something subtle but earthy. She liked it. She found herself leaning in a bit more. “So instead of going to the Air Force Academy, I went to Wharton. And...here I am.”

“So what do you do?”

“What do I do for a living or what am I passionate about?”

Juliana considered this. She knew many folks who might not be so focused on their careers as their passion. She understood that. It wasn’t like consulting was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She’d much rather someday run her own company, call her own shots. That was what she’d like to do. Be the boss.

“What are you passionate about?”

“Charity and innovation.” Law’s eyes grew a brighter shade of blue. This really was his passion. She couldn’t help but be surprised. Something about his take-no-prisoners attitude didn’t seem to fit with a nonprofit. “I just started a charity. It helps encourage entrepreneurs from all over the world. I think we need more innovation, and sometimes big companies can hinder competition.”

“So what does the charity do?”

“We give out grants to small business owners, but from all over the world, whether that’s Uganda or New Jersey.”

“That’s great.”

He grinned, a blinding flash of white. She met his amused stare and found herself forgetting everything she wanted to say. Those eyes. So blue. So amazingly clear. Those firm, muscled arms on display through the thin cotton shirt. Juliana mentally shook herself. What was she doing? Drooling all over the passenger in 34H? Seriously? She wasn’t some teenager crushing all over the new boy in class; she was a professional woman with responsibilities. Besides, he was probably married. Her attention wandered to his left hand. No ring. Not that that meant anything. He could still be attached. Probably was. With that strong chin and accent? No doubt.

Law gently nudged her elbow and all thought of the past fled her mind. His arm was warm and solid and strong. She wondered what it would feel like wrapped around her. “What do you do?”

Juliana swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Focus on something other than his lips, Juliana. Geez.

“Business consultant. Mergers and acquisitions.”

“That can’t be easy.” He looked impressed.

“I don’t like easy. There’s no challenge in it.” She grinned as she delivered her signature line, the thing she said to strangers on planes, in hotels and at conferences. With all her travel, she’d become very good at summarizing her life in a few easy-to-digest lines.

Law chuckled a little. Juliana liked making him laugh. She wanted to do it again. But here was the part of the trip, no doubt, where he’d pull out his book or magazine or e-reader. He’d tuck his nose into his distractions and she’d answer her email on her phone and they’d become strangers again.

Juliana waited for it. After all, a man like this wouldn’t talk to her the whole flight. It just didn’t happen.

Her mother always thought she’d meet someone on her travels, a likely prospect for a husband, or heck, even a boyfriend, but it just didn’t happen. Maybe Juliana was too focused on her work, too eager to pull out her laptop and block everything else out. But she also wanted to tell her mother that it was next to impossible to make real connections with people as she crisscrossed the country, spending her time in tin birds and hotels that all looked the same.

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” Law was still looking at her. He made no move to pull out his phone to check his messages one last time, or reach for the onboard magazine. He still seemed interested. Odd.

“Oh, fun is usually work,” she said. “I like to run 5Ks when I can find a spare Saturday but normally, I’m working. Pretty boring life, I guess.”

Here’s the time he grows bored. Looks away. Finds something else to do. Men always get bored with her, especially good-looking men. She waited. But his attention didn’t waver.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “I spend most of my time working, too.”

Juliana’s smart watch dinged. She glanced down and frowned. Garrison again.

When you get back, let’s meet. I want to explain.

She ignored it. Garrison needed to get over himself. She mentally rolled her eyes. Couldn’t the man take a hint?

The flight attendants walked the aisles, shutting overhead compartments. They were getting close to takeoff. Juliana felt her blood pressure rise as sweat broke out on the small of her back. What was going on? She’d spent her entire life as a fearless flier, so what was up with her sudden nerves?

She took a deep breath and exhaled. Juliana didn’t know if it was because she’d researched airline crashes so much during her recent project or what. She sucked in a breath. Stop being silly, she warned herself. This is one of the safest planes in the fleet. Still, her heart thudded harder. Just get through takeoff. She knew most accidents happened during takeoff or landing. More things could go wrong, because the plane was closer to the ground and moving slower... And... Deep breath, she told herself. Take a deep breath. Think of something nice. Like your favorite glass of wine. Like lying on your favorite beach...like...

“Nervous flier?” Law asked, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

“Not usually.” Juliana laughed weakly. What was wrong with her? Was she coming down with something? Food poisoning, maybe? “Actually, never. I don’t know why, but suddenly—” she shrugged “—I just feel a little weird about it.” Light-headed, scared, even. This was so embarrassing...an airline consultant...afraid of flying. She’d spent countless hours on flights this month and didn’t blink an eye. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”