Modern Girl's Guide To Vacation Flings (2 page)

The lights in the cabin flickered, and Beth could feel the nausea returning. The plane dipped again before making a steep climb, and the captain's voice filled the cabin. "Sorry about the turbulence folks. It looks like we'll be in this storm front for the next twenty minutes, so please remain seated. After we're clear of the front, it should be a smooth ride for the rest of the flight."

Beth gripped the armrest so hard her fingers ached. Smooth ride her ass. A smooth ride would have been doing sixty down the freeway in her Mustang with the windows down and the radio blaring. Or even watching the trees fly by as she stared out the window of a train. Heck, she'd prefer a pack mule right now. It might have taken her three times as long, but at least there was less chance of falling out of the sky.

Laura, one of the first-class flight attendants, leaned down, startling Beth out of her current panic. "Can I get you something to drink, Ms. Riley?"

The older woman did an assessing glance down at her. Beth still held the armrest in white-knuckled terror with the airsick bag crushed in her lap, and the flight attendant smiled knowingly.

"I can get you some ginger ale. Maybe a glass of wine or something a little stronger might help you relax? We'll be out of this rough patch before you know it. This time of year the Midwest can be brutal."

"Just some water please," Beth said, but even the thought of that made her stomach turn.

She didn't need a drink. What she needed was something to take her mind off the anxiety. If she had someone to talk to it would help. A quick glance around the cabin offered no solution, but there weren't many options. Most of the seats were filled with pairs: two couples deep in conversation, some business men chatting while checking their phones. There was only one other lone traveler.

Beth wasn't a shy person. She would have hopped over to seat beside the other single, but he had headphones on, engrossed in a book; the universal signal for "leave me alone."

So much for that idea. Beth closed her eyes and suppressed the urge to go screaming down the aisle, reenacting Shatner's scene from the Twilight Zone. Thank God the flight was almost over.

Matt hated flying. Well, mostly he hated sitting next to strangers. Most of the time he tried to get an empty row, but the flight, even in first class, was almost full. However, after he boarded and saw the pretty blonde sitting in the seat next to his, Matt didn't think the flight would be too bad.

Poppy was going to Florida for a conference. She was excited and filled their long delay with pleasant conversation.

She came off as poised and charming, and Matt liked her right away. It turned out they had a lot of things in common. Poppy's grandmother died last year and left her with a sizable inheritance. She was planning on starting her own business with the money.

Matt had similarly taken most of the money from his trust fund and invested it in a startup with two of his close friends. It was refreshing to meet a kindred soul. So many of the socialites he'd met just relied on their family's wealth, instead of working or doing something with their lives. It was nice to meet a woman who wanted to make her own way in the world.

But first impressions weren't always what they seemed. A few minutes after the plane took off, Poppy started talking about her new "business" venture.

"You see, microlending really took off overseas. I got this email a few months ago from a company looking for investors. The CEO, Andrew Bennet, thinks there's a market for microlending in the United States. With the size of my investment, I'll be able to open four micro-lending banks in Chicago," she had explained.

Microlending in Africa had merit, and he was curious how they were planning on transferring that concept to the US. But after he asked a few more questions, Matt realized that Poppy was investing in a chain of Payday loan shops. His family had made their money in banking and Matt could smell a scam a mile away. He tried to point out the legal and ethical issues involved in the scheme, but she got defensive.

"This isn't anything like Payday loans. The economy is bad right now. Poor people need a place to turn to for help. Actually, it's more like charity than a business."

Matt almost laughed out loud when she said that. But she steadfastly continued on with the sales pitch she'd been fed. It wasn't long into her spiel before she got tripped up over the more complex banking ideas, like daily periodic interest and APR.

Matt knew there wasn't anything he could say to persuade her, so he tried to exit the conversation tactfully. At first he tried to change the subject, but she was determined to talk about her business.

"Mr. Bennet says if you don't talk about what you do, how will people know about this great business opportunity?"

Fine, if that wouldn't work, he would just stop responding and let the conversation die. He even pulled out his phone and tried to look occupied, but she ignored his subtle hint. It was becoming obvious she liked the sound of her own voice.

His mother had raised him to be polite, but this woman was testing his will. There was a point where Matt could have sworn she just started making nonsense words just to fill the silence, or he may have nodded off. Either way, he needed to escape.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood, hoping a trip to the bathroom would stop the conversation. He might have spent the rest of the flight there just for the silence, but as he stepped into the aisle, the flight attendant rushed over.

"I'm sorry Mr. Carver, but I need you to remain seated until the captain turns off the seatbelt sign."

"I was just headed to the bathroom," Matt said.

"Unless it's an emergency, I need to ask you to remain in your seat," she said firmly. "We should be through the weather in just a few more minutes."

"You'd better listen to her. After Nine-Eleven, stewardesses are like the police on a plane. I read this story on the Internet about a man who argued with the stewardess. She tased him then duct taped him to the seat." Poppy gave the flight attendant a cautious glance and said in a loud whisper, "It's like the wild west up here."

Matt couldn't resist the eye roll that time. "I'll be right back. I promise," he almost pleaded. Even a few seconds away would be reprieve from his annoying seat mate. But just as he was trying to step around the flight attendant, the plane dipped and pulled back up. Matt had to grab the seat back to keep from crashing into her.

"If you'll take your seat, sir," the woman said through a forced smile, "so I can get back to mine."

"Excuse me." The woman sitting two rows behind him spoke up. "The storm is really bothering me and I was wondering if my friend, Matt, could come sit with me until we get through the weather."

He had no idea who the woman was, but her pensive smile and huge doe eyes made her look small and frightened. Matt immediately sympathized with her. And besides that, stranger or no, he saw his chance to escape. Not waiting for the flight attendant's approval, Matt excused himself from Poppy and moved back two rows.

"That's fine," the flight attendant called after him, "As long as you stay seated."

Matt settled in the aisle seat beside the dark-haired woman. He'd noticed her at the terminal, talking on the phone. She was tall and slender, but filled out the clingy sundress quite well. Her olive skin and dark hair made her look exotic, at least to him. Matt was so used to pale blondes and waif-like brunettes back home. This woman was a nice change.

She caught him staring and smiled. "I promise, I'm not going to bite."

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

"Nope," she said without further explanation.

"Then how did you know my name?"

"I was standing behind you when they called first class boarding. Besides, that Poppy girl repeated it twenty times." She shrugged as if it should have been obvious. "When you stood up, I thought you might want to change seats. You looked desperate to get away. After the last hour of listening to your seat mate's incessant chatter, even I was hoping the plane would crash. You should have seen the look on your face when the flight attendant told you to sit down. I honestly thought you were going push her down and to make a break for the bathroom. Then she would have been forced to tase you."

She laughed, but he noticed the humor didn't reach her eyes. The plane did another couple of dips, and she reached out and grabbed the arm rest until her knuckles were white.

"So you weren't lying about the storm bothering you."

"I get motion sick. I fly a lot, but I hate flying in bad weather. To be honest, I prefer driving. It's more interesting scenery, and it's on the ground," she said through clenched teeth.

"You know, statistically—"

"If you tell me flying is safer than driving, I'm going to make you go back and sit with Chatty Cathy."

"Okay, okay." Matt held up his hands in surrender. After a few seconds, the plane leveled off again, and the woman beside him relaxed, but only a bit. "I'm at a disadvantage here. I never got your name."

"Beth." She released her kung fu grip from the armrest to shake his hand. Her slender hand was icy cold and sweaty at the same time. She yanked back her hand and quickly wiped it on her jeans before returning to her death grip. "Sorry."

"Not a problem," he said and tried to tamp down the urge to grab her hand again. People didn't go around holding stranger's hands, no matter how cute or vulnerable they looked. "And thank you, Beth. You were right. I needed rescuing. Now you look like you could use some help. Is there anything I can do? Maybe the taser wielding flight attendant can bring us some wine."

"Why, Matt, are you trying to get me drunk?"

"That's not what—"

The plane bounced up and down, like a car on uneven pavement, jostling him forward. Beth reached up and started rubbing the charm around her neck, clearly agitated. "Just talk," she said, then pressed her eyes shut and took long, slow breaths. "Talk about anything. I need something to keep my mind occupied, instead of thinking about Bernoulli's principle and whether the plane is going to fall out of the sky. Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

He wished she would have asked for a drink. Matt was terrible at small talk. Matt spent his days working with computers. Outside of his office, and the occasional function his mother begged him to attend, he didn't socialize. And to be honest, he preferred it that way. There wasn't anything worse than trying to entertain someone with mindless chatter.

If he was forced into social situations, he usually resorted to asking a few probing personal questions. After one or two, he was usually off the hook because people loved to talk about themselves. But she wanted him to do the talking.

After several seconds of silence, Beth opened her eyes to make sure that he hadn't left. He was staring down at his hand, looking a little pale and sweaty himself. Maybe he was bothered by the turbulence, too.

"Are you from Chicago?" she prompted, trying to get the conversation moving.

"Yes."

"Have you always lived there?" she asked, coaxing him a little more.

"I was born there," he said. "But I left for a few years during college."

He wasn't making this easy, that was for sure. It was obvious he was uncomfortable carrying the conversation. No wonder the woman he was sitting with ran roughshod over him.

"But you live in Chicago now, right?"