“I don’t think that’s a good choice for you. Prostitution is legal there. You walk around the city with no bra, you could get mistaken for something you’re not.”
My eyes widened. “You think I could be mistaken for a whore?”
“The whores are pretty classy there, actually.”
“And how would you know?”
“Whoa…I don’t pay for sex, if that’s what you’re getting at.” He let out a throaty laugh. “I have the opposite problem, actually.”
“Wait. Women pay you for sex?” I covered my mouth. “Oh my God. You’re a male prostitute! Or an escort? Is that what you’re doing hanging around in airport lounges?”
He bent his head back in laughter. “No.”
“So, women just throw themselves at you. That’s what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying that…sometimes it’s fun to be the chaser. And I haven’t had to do that for a very long time, nor have I really found anyone worth chasing. So basically, the last thing I would need to do is pay for sex.”
That didn’t surprise me. I couldn’t even conjure up a comeback. This man was gorgeous and charismatic. Cocky as hell. Women loved that.
When he grabbed the phone back from me, the quick touch of his hand felt really good. Too good.
“Ever been to Brazil, Kendall?”
“No.”
“It’s really nice there this time of year. It’s winter. But it’s still warm enough to enjoy.” He slammed the phone in front of me “Rio. International Airlines. 10:05.”
“What else is there to do there?”
“The beaches are beautiful. There are also a ton of clubs and bars in Copacabana and Ipanema. It’s fun as hell.”
“Is it safe for a single woman traveling alone?”
“You need to use the same common sense you would any place you go. Maybe buy a bra.”
Carter suddenly flipped his phone back around to look at the time. “Shit. I have to go. I’m late for work,” he said as he got up from his seat, throwing a wad of cash on the table.
He hadn’t given me a chance to ask him what he did for a living, or where he was going. I really still knew nothing about this man, but a gnawing feeling of disappointment inside of me proved that I really wanted to know more.
“Um…okay. Well, thanks for the appetizers.”
After a long pause, he said, “Let fate decide. But for the record, my vote is for Rio. Take care of yourself, Kendall.”
As he started to walk away, I realized I was still wearing his leather jacket. I called after him, “Wait! Your jacket!”
“Keep it. It’ll keep your tits warm.”
That was oddly endearing. “Alright.” I laughed slightly and lifted my hand. “Goodbye, I guess.”
“Hello, Goodbye.”
“What?”
“Beatles song.” He winked.
“Oh.” I rolled my eyes. “I should’ve known.”
He smiled, and I realized it was probably the last time I would ever see that dimple on his chin for as long as I lived. As he walked away, I admired his ass, which I hadn’t really gotten a good look at until that moment. He suddenly stopped and turned around. “Kendall…”
“Yeah?”
“If you don’t choose Brazil, have a nice life.”
Before I could respond, he turned back around and kept going at a faster pace.
An unwelcome feeling of loneliness washed over me. I watched him until he turned a corner and was out of sight.
That was an odd comment, though.
If I don’t choose Brazil…have a nice life?
Was I stupid for listening to this stranger’s advice? Time wasn’t exactly on my side. I had to pick something. So…Rio de Janeiro? And if I ended up dead, I’d blame it on Rio.
Wasn’t that a movie?
Blame it on Rio?
I started to sweat in his jacket. God, I was still so hot and bothered.
Blame it on Carter.
I COULDN’T HELP BUT FEEL disappointment when the flight attendant pulled the plane door shut, even though I knew it was ridiculous to feel that way. Sitting in first class, instead of sipping my pre-flight champagne and enjoying warm roasted peanuts, I found myself looking up, hopeful as each passenger boarded.
I thought for sure Carter would be on this flight, although he hadn’t exactly said he was heading to Brazil. A recording came over the cabin PA system, and a flight attendant followed along demonstrating the oxygen mask and seatbelt. After the demo was finished in English, she performed an encore, the second time moving along to a recording in…Brazilian? Wait. No. That wasn’t right. Portuguese? I think. Shit. I was heading to a country I knew nothing about and definitely didn’t speak the language.
Once we were in the air, another flight attendant came to take my dinner and drink order. Oddly, I noticed she resembled the seatbelt mime. Tall, thin, with a pretty face that was heavily made up, yet she could have done without it all. Both had their dark hair pulled back and done up in a tight twist in the back. A third flight attendant came up to the front of the plane, and for the first time, I realized they all looked the same. It was as if someone had built the ideal flight attendant, then cloned her.
After about ten minutes, the plane seemed to level out. Since the seat next to me was empty, I slipped off my Tory Burch ballerina flats and decided to close my eyes. Of course, that was almost exactly the same time that the Captain decided to make his welcome announcement.
“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Supreme Commander otherwise known as Captain Clynes. I’d like to take a moment to welcome you this evening to my home away from home here on this beautiful Boeing 757. Our flying time from Miami to Rio de Janeiro will be a little over eight and a half hours tonight. We anticipate a smooth…”
Holy shit. That voice. Is it…could it be?
Just then, the flight attendant arrived with my Appletini. “Excuse me. Do you happen to know the Captain’s first name?”
“Of course.” She lifted her hand up and wiggled her fingers, showing off a massive rock on her ring finger, then winked and leaned in. “I used to yell it every once in a while. Engaged now to someone else, so I don’t anymore. That’s Captain Carter Clynes, though. The man gives new meaning to flying the friendly skies.”
Captain Carter Clynes. It all made sense now. The wings on his jacket, being on a first-name-basis with the airport lounge staff, even the quick way he pulled up the flight schedule on his iPhone. How could I have missed the clues? I knew how. I was distracted by his looks and cocky attitude.
It was definitely not easy to relax after that. Knowing that Carter was on board, that my life was in his hands for the next eight hours, made me anxious, to say the least. Although it wasn’t the type of anxiousness I have waiting in the chair for the dentist to come in. It was more like that anxious feeling I get when I hear the clank of the lock bolt into place after I’m seated on a roller coaster. It would either be the ride of my life, or I’d wind up splattered on the ground.
A few hours later, another announcement came overhead. Carter’s voice was low and raspy as he spoke. “This is Captain Clynes here. We’re just about across the Caribbean Sea right now. I’m going to go ahead and dim the cabin lights and hopefully you’ll be able to catch some shut eye.” A minute later, the lights turned off and the cabin became dark, except for a few reading lights illuminated above some of the seats. Deciding to try to get some sleep, I reclined my seat all the way back, pulling the blanket up to my chin, and shut my eyes. Low music started to play after that. At first, I wasn’t sure where it was even coming from. Until I recognized the song being played—Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. And the singer—it wasn’t John Lennon crooning about Lucy—it was Carter singing over the cabin PA system.
He really was nutty. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop smiling for the entire song.
I WAS MOMENTARILY confused when my eyes opened the next morning. At least I thought it was morning. It took me a minute to fig
ure out I was still on a plane. Was I really going to Brazil, or had last night all been a dream? The seat next to me was no longer empty, too. A flight attendant was drinking coffee and reading a paper. I pressed the button to upright my seat and smiled at the woman next to me. It wasn’t the same attendant who had shown me her sparkly ring and dished about Carter.
“Morning. Hope you don’t mind me sitting here. We take turns on our breaks and it’s much more comfortable to sit in one of these big cushy seats than in that fold up jump seat.”
“I would imagine.” I hesitated before I asked the question I was thinking, figuring she might think I was a little crazy. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Where are we heading to?”
Her manicured brows rose. “Rio de Janeiro. Is that not where you’re supposed to be heading?”
“No. It is. I just made a last minute change in plans last night and for a second, I thought I had dreamt I was heading to Brazil.”
“Nope. We should arrive in about an hour. It’s good you got some sleep.”
I nodded. As long as she already thought I was a little off, I might as well jump in with both feet. “Did…the pilot sing Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds last night to the cabin?”
She chuckled. “Sure did. Sings it on every night flight. Not sure why.”
“That’s a little strange.”
“That’s Captain Clynes for you. A little crazy, but a whole lot gorgeous and fun.”
“The other flight attended alluded to him being fun.”
“I’m sure there are a lot of flight attendants who would tell you how much fun he is.”
“But not you?”
She shook her head slowly. “Men like that aren’t usually my thing.”
Feeling deflated, I had to agree. “Mine either, I suppose.”
Something in her face changed, and she inched closer. “You know what is my thing?”
“What?”
“Petite little blondes with big blue eyes and pouty lips. We have a full two- day layover in Rio, if you want some company.”
What in the lord’s name? Was everyone crazy on this plane? Maybe the oxygen was too thin flying around at thirty-five thousand feet all the time. “Umm…thanks. But, I don’t…ummm…just no thank you.”
She smiled politely and folded up her paper. “Shame. But enjoy your trip anyway. I have to serve breakfast in steerage before we land.”
When our plane finally touched down on the tarmac, I stalled while the rest of first class disembarked, waiting for the cockpit door to open. I’m not even sure why I did it, or what I would have done if it had opened, yet I felt compelled to see Carter at least one last time. Wasn’t he at least curious if I was on the plane?
That answer became abundantly clear ten minutes later. Pretty much the entire plane was already off, and I was still sitting in my seat like an idiot stealing fleeting glances at a cockpit door that never opened. “What the hell is wrong with me?” I grumbled to myself. I’d met a random man in the airport lounge, whose first words to me were an invitation to go home with him, he then made my blouse see-through and talked about my boobs. So, of course, I did the only logical thing any woman in my place would have done—bought a three thousand dollar first-class ticket to follow him to Brazil. My actions pretty much went with the current fucked-up state of my life. This was supposed to be a trip about finding my own answers (and maybe finding some great shoes along the way), not about being a notch in the bedpost of Captain Freelove, no matter how fuckably handsome he was.
Standing, I picked up my Louis Vuitton Venus bag, smoothed down my crumpled top, and took a deep breath.
Later, Captain Clynes.
IT TOOK MORE THAN an hour to find my luggage and wait on the taxi line. The heat outside was oppressive even though it was supposed to be winter in Brazil, and I felt beads of sweat beginning to form on my back. I needed a cool shower, gigantic cup of iced coffee (vanilla or hazelnut might be nice), and possibly a ninety-minute massage at a hotel spa. When it was finally my turn at the front of the line, I couldn’t wait to slip inside the air-conditioned taxi while the driver packed my bags into the trunk then joined me.
“Ola. Onde gostaris de ir?”
Shit. “No habla Portugese.” Wait…was no habla the same in Portugese as it was in Spanish?
The driver turned to face me. “You speak English, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Ok. You tell me where you want to go, understand?”
“Oh. Sorry. Give me a second.” I quickly typed luxury hotels with spa in Rio into Google. The Internet connection was slow, but eventually I began to scroll through hotels looking for a chain I was at least familiar with. My search was interrupted by the cab door opening.
The driver began to shout something in Portuguese. The way his finger was wagging, I assumed he was telling the person that the cab was full. But the passenger didn’t listen. Next thing I knew, I was sitting next to someone in the back seat.
Someone wearing a uniform.
Captain Carter Clynes in the flesh.
He turned to face me with a wicked grin on his face. “My layover just got more interesting.”
Damn. He seemed to have grown that stubble overnight.
“How was your flight, Perky? Did you enjoy the ride I gave you?”
“My shirt’s dry. I think you can drop the Perky.”
His eyes lowered to my breasts. Of course, my nipples were standing at full attention since the sheen of sweat on my skin had met the cool air-conditioning inside the cab.
Carter scrubbed his hands over his face. “Damn. You weren’t kidding about those things. I haven’t slept in eighteen hours, and they just woke me up. I think they’re contagious, and I’m fucking perky now.”
“That’s not really an appropriate thing to say to a woman you just met, you know.”
“We didn’t just meet. This is our third date.”
“Third date?”
“I bought you dinner in an elegant restaurant for our first one and took you up for a plane ride for our second one. Those were damn good dates. Some women would kill for that kind of lavishness. Seems fitting date three we should be heading to a hotel.” He winked.
I wasn’t sure if it was the time change, my being tired from restless sleep on the plane, or if it was possible this man could say anything and I wouldn’t be offended. Why am I not I offended?
When I didn’t respond, he continued. “I’m glad I saw you. Didn’t think I would ever see you again.”
“That might be because you didn’t look for me.”
“I never thought you’d actually take my suggestion and fly to Brazil.”
I mumbled. “Neither did I.”
The cab driver interrupted, looking between us to ask, “You share cab, yes?”
Surprising me, Carter answered. In Portuguese. The language that sounded choppy and frustrating just two minutes ago, suddenly sounded sexy and romantic.
He turned back to me in English. “What hotel are you staying at?”
“I was just trying to figure that out with a little help from Google. Do you have one to recommend?”
“You trust me to pick out where you’ll stay tonight?”
I considered his question for a minute. It was illogical, that much I knew, but I did trust him to pick my hotel. Lord knows why. “I think I do.”
That response earned me another sexy grin that had me more excited than I’d been in the last year.
Almost a half-hour later, we were finally off the highway and traveling into what looked like a residential neighborhood. “Barra de Tijuca.” I read the street sign aloud.
“Very good. I should probably warn you. It’s probably not the type of hotel you’re used to.”
“What does that mean?”
“You look like you’re more of the luxury chain with a spa type of woman, that’s all.”
Even though that was exactly what I’d typed into Google, when he said it that way,
it sounded like a bad thing. It made me defensive. “And what’s wrong with a luxury hotel? Sometimes a girl needs a massage and a soak in a nice bathtub while traveling.”
“Well, you certainly won’t be getting either of those where we’re heading.” Carter caught my eye. “Unless I’m the one doing the massaging, that is.”
I blushed, which caused Carter to chuckle. “You really are fucking adorable. I’m not sure what’s sexier, the fact that you’re up for letting me take you on this little adventure, or that you secretly like the thought of me giving you a massage.”
“I do not!” My quick, defensive response only confirmed he was right.
He leaned to me. “Do, too.”
“You’re off base.”
“That’s a shame. I’ve been told I’m really good with my hands.” He held out his hands in front of him, examining them. Big hands. Hands that looked like he used them to do some actual work when he wasn’t flying a plane.
Damn.
I needed to be back in control of my body and this conversation. “Actually, I’ve heard you were good…with your hands.”
Carter furrowed his brow.
“Your crew. They might have mentioned something.”
“What did they mention?”
“It’s not important.”
Carter was about to push for more information, until the taxi came to a stop. I looked around. “Where are we?” We were still in the middle of a residential neighborhood.
“Maria Rosa Rio Guesthouse.”
“You mean like a bed and breakfast?”
“It’s more like a bed and dinner. Maria Rosa doesn’t usually get up before noon. But she makes the best damn feijoada south of the equator.”
He exited the car and surprised me by offering me his hand. “Fei-what?” I asked as he helped me out of the taxi.
“Trust me. It’s fucking delicious. I get hard just thinking about it.”
“You’re a pig, aren’t you?”
“Perky, you have no idea. I’ve been holding back, trying to be a gentleman since you seem a little more refined than I’m used to.”
Carter handed a wad of cash to the driver and toted my carry-on bag on top of his wheeled suitcase as we walked up the driveway. After he rang the bell and we were standing on the doorstep waiting, the taxi drove away. It was at that moment that he decided to let me in on a little information.
Playboy Pilot Page 2
