Turbulence

by E. J. Noyes

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Synopsis

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Other Books by E. J. Noyes

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Bella Books

  Synopsis

  Stockbroker Isabelle Rhodes has a lot of money, a lot of trust issues, and a whole lot of reasons to believe her ex-girlfriend was right when she said that Isabelle sucked at relationships. With that accusation stuck in her head, Isabelle throws caution to the wind and dives into her first one-night stand. Checking that off her bucket list should be something to celebrate—except it turns out that the woman she just spent an earth-shattering night with is actually her newly hired company pilot, Audrey Graham.

  Ms. Never-See-You-Again just turned into Ms. See-You-Constantly.

  Concerned about the stigma of workplace dalliances, Isabelle vows it can’t go further than the one night. Good plan—if not for an insistent libido and an even more persistent Audrey who conspires to break Isabelle’s resolve. Soon their no strings arrangement starts to feel a lot like dating, and Isabelle finds herself wanting more than just casual nights together…

  Copyright © 2017 by E. J. Noyes

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  First Bella Books Edition 2017

  eBook released 2017

  Editor: Cath Walker

  Cover Designer: Judith Fellows

  ISBN: 978-1-59493-561-9

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Other Bella Books by E. J. Noyes

  Ask, Tell

  Acknowledgments

  There are always so many people to thank for the smallest things while writing a book, but if I started on a list that includes the barista for keeping me caffeinated and every one of my friends who accepted my vacant “I’m writing in my head right now instead of joining in a social gathering” stare, this section may never end.

  Thank you, BFF extraordinaire Kate for reading everything I write, picking it all apart, and for your willingness to talk through the weirdest plot and character things with me. I promise I’ll write you a non-romance one day, even though I’m still a little bit mad at you for not naming your only daughter after me.

  Thanks to Ash, my Americanis(z)ation expert. Sorry about all the random, often greeting-less messages and for your patience with all my questions.

  Unending gratitude to my editor, Cath, who makes everything so much better, and who has tried so valiantly to teach me the right usage of lay and lie and what nouns and verbs are.

  Thank you to the team at Bella for making the second try as smooth as the first.

  Most importantly, I’d never get a word down if it wasn’t for the support, encouragement and love from my partner. Pheebs, we’ve had eleven years of clear flying, and there’s nothing but endless blue skies ahead.

  Chapter One

  For the first time in months, the hand fondling my breast was not mine. I opened my eyes a fraction, then jammed them closed on the sunrise beginning to peek through partially open curtains. The hand shifted ever so slightly. Something brushed across my nipple, which stiffened a fraction before my body did. Traitor.

  Hips snuggled into my ass and breasts pressed harder against my back. “Ah-ha.” The voice was low and smooth like buttered whisky. “You are awake.” The hand moved again, sliding down my stomach before slipping between my legs. A hot tongue danced over my neck. “You never did tell me your name.”

  Before I go further, I’d like to make something clear. I’m not the kind of girl who falls asleep in the same bed as a one-night stand. Actually, I’m not even the kind of girl who has one-night stands. Standards aside, there was something about the woman who had her hand between my thighs that had made me throw my usual rules out the window.

  Cliché? Yes, but true. What can I say? I was lonely and susceptible to a hot woman with a great voice and a knack for flirting. After all, I hadn’t been laid since Steph walked out on me months earlier, screaming about how I should try investing in our relationship as much as I did in my company. By “our relationship,” she mostly meant her business ideas.

  Flimsy reasons aside, there I was in my hotel but not in my room, and in danger of turning one night into one night plus a morning-after romp. I was also in danger of being late for my meeting with my best friend slash business partner, Mark. A night of hot sex wasn’t a legitimate excuse for forgetting to set an alarm and potentially missing the meeting, even if he had once used the very same excuse on me. Okay, more than once.

  The hand was making progress. Very good progress. Despite my mental protest and rationalization, my clit was running this show. But I had places to be. I stifled a moan and rolled over to put a stop to the proceedings.

  Face-to-face with her, I confirmed the woman was every bit as stunning as she had been last night. No booze goggles for me. I slapped a disclaimer down as quickly as I could. “Look. Last night was fantastic. Mind boggling even. Just what I needed.” My voice was hoarse from lack of sleep. And four screaming orgasms.

  Dark wavy hair bounced around her face and shoulders as she nodded in time with my rambling, her eyes wide and full lips upturned. “I’m pleased. I thought so too.” She reached for me again, fingers playing over my hip.

  Stay the course, Isabelle. Focus. I twitched away from her. “I have to go. I need to get to the airport.” Not that I’d miss my flight. One of the benefits of a company jet.

  “Me too. Let’s share a cab.” She smiled lazily at me. The woman stretched, the sheet slipped and it took every bit of willpower I had to keep my eyes on her face. I failed, miserably, my gaze sweeping over her nakedness. Oh Christ. If this
were a cartoon, I would have been drooling with my eyes bouncing on stalks.

  Lightly muscled with delicious curves, legs that went on forever, firm breasts that were a little more than a handful—but I do have small hands. Her eyes. Darkest brown I’d ever seen, with laugh lines creasing the edges. Adorable cleft chin and a bone structure that made me want to weep. Nowhere near butch, but not quite my usual ultra-femme type. Though, after the things she did to me, I wondered if all this time I didn’t actually know my type.

  I slid from her grasp and grabbed the phone, pressing the button for the front desk. Phone between ear and shoulder, I fumbled on the floor for my panties. I was sure they’d been tossed in that general direction. An overly-cheerful voice answered after three rings. “Concierge. How may I assist you?”

  “This is twelve-zero-one. Can you please arrange a car to the airport?”

  “Certainly, Ms. uh…Rhodes. When will you be ready?”

  I snagged my panties, or at least the panties I thought were mine. Black lacy thong. Yes, mine. “Fifteen minutes.”

  “A driver will be waiting for you downstairs. Do you need help with your baggage?”

  “No. Thank you.” I hung up, tugged my underwear on and stood up. The woman was watching me, still smiling. Temptress. I turned around, certain my resolve would crumble if I kept looking at her. The tingle in my groin had not gone away. In fact it had become more insistent, as had the memory of her mouth on me. Don’t think about it, find your things and leave.

  My bra was on the television, pantyhose hung over a small black suitcase, blouse and jacket slung neatly over the chair. How clever of me to have the foresight to keep some of my clothes unwrinkled while I had a mouth on my breasts and hands groping my ass. I located my skirt and purse near the front door and began to dress. “What floor am I on right now?”

  “Fifth.” She rolled onto her stomach and crawled to the end of the bed, chin propped in a hand. Those dark eyes watched me hopping around as I tried to find my second made-to-measure Louboutin and zip my skirt at the same time. “Sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?”

  Yes, I really did want to stay. Thankfully some sensible part of my brain waded through my lust to take charge. “No, I need to go now. I’ve got a breakfast meeting before my flight.”

  “Pity. Aren’t you at least going to give me your number?” she asked coyly.

  I grinned, tucked my blouse in and bent down so we were inches apart. “No. I don’t live anywhere near Oklahoma. We’re never going to see each other again.”

  She closed the gap between our lips and gave my mouth a casual exploration with her tongue. Mine responded without permission, as did my hands which reached to tangle in her hair. The throb downstairs dialed itself from a six to an off-the-chart thirteen. Dammit. I moved away first and took a step backward, otherwise it was going to be fuck the meeting to stay and fuck the girl. Again.

  I slid toward the door and glanced around to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. I hadn’t, but I wished I could leave my arousal behind so I could think straight. “Have a nice day. And um…thanks.”

  I closed the door on her response and raced along the hallway, nearly crashing into a bellboy setting breakfast outside a room. I called an apology over my shoulder as I raced to the elevator. While it rose to the top floor, I checked my appearance in the mirrored walls.

  It was the appearance of someone who’d consumed a number of gin and tonics the night before, got thoroughly and deliciously fucked for four hours and slept less than two. I tried to tame my hair between floors seven and twelve and gave up just before the elevator doors slid open.

  Mama would surely scold me for running, in a skirt suit no less, but I imagined some part of her would approve of the way I handled turns in my four-inch heels. It was a skill I learned back home running from my forced and unfortunately male date at the ninth grade dance. Scott Devery.

  No. Thank. You.

  Since I was six years old, I’d been telling Mama I liked girls. At sixteen, she’d gently asked if maybe my girl thing was just a phase. At twenty-six, when I’d lived in New York with a woman after college, Mama realized it wasn’t going away. Now that I was almost thirty-six, she’d fully accepted that my being a lesbian was here to stay and was rather pleased with the idea. Aside from wanting me to be happy and all that, being the mother of the lesbian who left town made her stand out in a dull community. And Mama sure loved being different.

  I barged into my suite and hastily repacked the bag I’d barely unpacked, given this was only an overnight trip and the overnight was spent in a room other than my own. Teeth brushed, world’s fastest shower, makeup fixed, fresh suit, hair…barely passable. I was checked out and in the lobby waiting for my car with forty seconds to spare. That was forty seconds I could have spent kissing hottie on the fifth floor. Damn.

  I made it to the airport by six fifty and was in the terminal, handing over my lounge membership card by six fifty-two. Eight minutes to spare. I could have squeezed in a fifth orgasm. Double damn. The desk clerk frowned. “I’m sorry, Ms.—”

  “Isabelle Rhodes.” I spelled both my names for him.

  “Ms. Rhodes, that card doesn’t appear to be registered in our system.”

  I hiked an eyebrow skyward. “Swipe it again, please. I was here two weeks ago.” It came out a little bitchy, a by-product of annoyance and a headache starting to slide from last night’s gin into caffeine withdrawal. Not a place I wanted to be. Not a place the world would want me to be.

  Ever so slowly, he dragged my card through the reader again, shaking his head. “I’m very sorry, it’s still not coming up.”

  I lifted my finger to stop him saying another word and fished in my handbag for my phone to rectify the situation immediately. “Mark, I’m stuck outside the lounge. My card isn’t working. Can you come out and help me, please?” The pitch of my voice rose along with my indignation.

  He chuckled. “Calm down, Belle. I’m sure it’s just a glitch.”

  “This glitch is keepin’ me away from coffee and breakfast.” I cringed at the drawl creeping into my voice. Cool it, Isabelle and pick up your dropped g. After more than ten years in New York, my South Carolina accent had almost disappeared, though it slid back out whenever I spoke to Mama or was stressed. Both occurred quite frequently.

  The sharp sound of Mark’s shoes on the marble floor approached. “There’s my little pocket rocket. Stop tapping your foot, it makes you look like you need to pee.”

  I hung up as he appeared adroitly behind the clerk, now happy to accept me into the lounge as Mark’s guest. His appearance was of a man who’d slept for ten glorious hours, then had a massage and maybe a blow job before coming here. I hated him for it, all too aware of my appearance. Adding to the misery was the knowledge that my hair had gone from passable to misbehaving, evidenced by blond tendrils falling across my face.

  Mark’s hazel eyes were amused. “Late night.” A statement, not a question.

  I narrowed my blues at him. “Don’t start.”

  My friend laughed and took my suitcase, leaving me to follow him. I was assaulted by the smell of coffee and I made vague gestures at the barista as we passed. Gestures I hoped would convey that I needed an espresso, pronto, before things got ugly. She’d worked this lounge for a few months. She’d remember me, know what I meant and what I wanted. Or rather, she should.

  She caught my eye and I caught her slightly panicked expression before she plastered a smile on her face and nodded. I shrugged out of my suit jacket and lowered myself onto the plush recliner, crossing my ankles demurely.

  Mark glanced at his watch. “We’re scheduled for eight, so we’ll need to head through around ten to.”

  Another benefit of our own jet was avoiding security hassles. “Mhmm.”

  “Did that new client sign yesterday?”

  “Yes. Yours?”

  “Yep.” He rolled his neck and it cracked disgustingly. “How did it go with Shane Preston last night?”


  Even the sound of that client’s name tightened my neck with annoyance. I yanked my laptop out and flipped it open. “I managed to get him up to fifteen, but I don’t think he’s going to budge from that.” Even then, that extra three mil was begged and cajoled and flattered out of him.

  Mark gulped his full-fat caramel latte then set it back down with what I swear was a smug look in my direction. “Twenty is his hard limit? If he wants the growth, he’s going to have to put in.”

  “No shit, Mark. What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past five years?”

  He grunted. “I spent most of yesterday trying to talk that new client out of overextending. Maybe he’ll listen if he goes bankrupt. Wanna swap?”

  Tempting. Mark and I were equal partners, but we handled separate client portfolios. “I’ll try Shane again, but you know how cautious he’s been ever since his brother-in-law started to give him advice.” I made air quotes. “Three trips this month alone, trying to get him on board. I’m about ready to give up.”

  And I was getting sick of his insistence on late meetings and then dinner, because he “liked to really know who he was dealing with.” The whole thing made long days even longer and after half a decade, I’d have thought he knew me pretty well. I yanked my hair from its loose ponytail and into a messy topknot, almost elbowing the life-saving barista. She set my coffee on the table.

  “Thank you so much. Also, I’ll have an egg white omelet, please. Spinach, mushroom, tomato. Hot sauce. And another espresso, thank you.”

  She nodded amicably. “Sure thing, ma’am.”

  Ma’am. Ugh. Before she’d even turned around, I’d dumped two packets of sweetener into my black coffee and swallowed a gulp, temperature be damned. Mark spoke slyly. “Belle, I can’t help but note your appearance. It’s been a while, so I gotta ask…who and how was she?”

  Play dumb. “How was who?”