Facebook:http://www.facebook.com/AuthorVictoriaHSmith
Twitter: VictoriaSmith76
Email: [email protected]
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Other books by Victoria H. Smith
Holiday Fling (Christmas Novelette)
New Adult Contemporary Romance
The Crimson Hunt (Book One of the Eldaen Light Chronicles)
New Adult Science Fiction Romance
The Bringer’s Quest (Book Two of the Eldaen Light Chronicles):
Coming Summer 2013
Incandescence (Book 2.5 of the Eldaen Light Chronicles):
Coming Summer 2013
Please enjoy this excerpt from:
Coffee and Cockpits
A new adult contemporary romance by, Jade Hart
By
Jade Hart
By day, Nina Poppins is a professional flight attendant, who lives to travel, and isn’t afraid to chase her dreams. By night, she’s an award winning salsa dancer who wears sexy corsets and garter belts. She keeps her two lives separate, and none of her colleagues suspect that cool, demure Nina has a hot, spicy side.
Liam Mikin is a co-pilot who can get any air-hostess he wants with one blazing look of his blue eyes, and he wants Nina. He knows her secrets and is determined to win her affections.
Nikolai Rivers is an aircraft engineer who can dance as well as Nina and enjoys getting hot and heavy with her on the dance floor. But frustration chafes him at being held at arm’s length. However, his opportunity to break her exterior comes when an airplane malfunctions on a flight to Samoa, stranding all the crew on the Pacific island indefinitely.
Liam and Nikolai see each other as a challenge and start a race to be the first to earn Nina’s attention, but what they didn’t count on was the consequences of being island-wrecked, or the problems that come with fighting for the same girl...
(Disclaimer: Unedited Version. Release end of March 2013)
earned my wings.
This was it. I was qualified.
Stepping on-board the plane, fizzles of joy frothed in my stomach. I’d done it; one step closer to my dream and free to fly the skies. I was no longer a ground-dweller stifled in an office. My work day included prancing around fluffy clouds. It didn’t matter I wasn’t graced with a halo. For all intents, I was an angel of the horizon. Who needed stupid wings when gravity relinquished its hold in the form of a giant metal bird? Jet-fuel and combustion were my wings and were a lot faster than flimsy, fluttering things.
Acute, sharp happiness buoyed me and I swear I floated by sheer emotion.
A good day at work meant soaring above the globe. A bad day at work meant turbulence and…a horrific crash, flames, mutilation, and/or death. Um, I didn’t think this through, did I?
My heart stuttered at the thought of my body, crisp in its immaculate uniform, mangled and whooshing with fire. Great, I signed up for death by—
“Nina Poppins?”
“Here!” I shouted, running daintily down the aisle in a pair of brand new heels that were evil incarnate. I no longer just had ankles—I had blisters the size of golf balls on my ankles. The price of beauty. And in this case, my job.
“You’re late, young lady,” the airline examiner snipped. Her blonde hair was in a bun, sprayed to plastic-hardness, and her perfect red-orange lipstick was primed to perfection. Not a face-fuzz or nail chip in sight.
I shriveled inside. I spent much longer than usual dressing this morning, and yet I didn’t spruce up as nice as Ms. Klein.
She gave me a hoity-toity look down her nose.
“Sorry, Ms. Klein.” Swallowing, I slung my satchel over my shoulder and smoothed down my air hostess uniform, searching for the creases I knew had to be there. I wasn’t like the creature in front of me. She was a sharp-tongued-take-no-crap Barbie doll.
I presented well, but I could never compete with that edgy chic. I was more suited to vibrancy and music. A whimsical dancer’s soul lived within me, no matter how aloft and professionally aspiring my dreams were. I didn’t like the severe uniform; I liked freedom and color. I didn’t want to work down the back of the plane; I wanted the front seat. Spectator to storms and crystal blue horizon; in control of rudders, ailerons, and wings.
A small smile played on my lips. At least I wore something fun and flirty beneath my clothes. I had a serious obsession with lingerie: corsets, garter-belts, lace, and organza. Didn’t know why I bothered, though, no men saw me, and I was too focused on my career to chase love and attention.
Dodging past Ms. Klein’s piercing glare, I dashed down the aisle of the 737-300 Boeing. Checking, as I hustled, that all the seat-belts were neatly crossed on the seats and the magazines were placed just so in the seat pockets.
“Hey, Nina,” Joslyn said as I arrived in the back galley. Her heart-shaped face was warm, green eyes twinkling. If it hadn’t been for Joslyn, I would’ve died of tedium on the flight attendant course. She was as unpredictable as a pinwheel firework and although some of what she said made me cringe, I enjoyed her company.
I shot her a smile, pretending to wrap a noose around my throat. “Do you think they’ll fire me on my first day?”
“What, and waste eight weeks of training invested in you?” She punched me gently. “No chance.”
I bit my lip. “I hope so. I’d hate to go down in history for the shortest air hostess employment record ever.” Biting my lip reminded me I hadn’t put lippy on this morning.
Fumbling in my bag for my Coral Crush lipstick, I found it and looked at Joslyn. My eyes zeroed in on her neck, covered demurely by a teal scarf. I frowned. “What the hell is that? You never wear scarves.”
She flushed, her cheeks glowing a bright shade of fuchsia. “What? I’m allowed a wardrobe change, aren’t I? No crime in accessorizing, Nina.”
Joslyn was a terrible liar. I leaned in, trying to stifle my chuckle. “You naughty bitch.”
She groaned. “No! How did you guess?” She opened the food trolley and grabbed the hand mirror hidden on top—a necessity of our occupation—we always had to look our best for the passengers.
I stole the mirror to apply my lippy. My powder-blue eyes popped beneath a dusting of eye-shadow and my bronzy-chestnut hair behaved itself for once, staying in its plait. “It’s too obvious. You never wear scarves. Not even when it snowed last month.”
She hung her head in her hands. “Do you think Ms. Klien will notice? You being late won’t matter at all if she spots me.”
“Spots the giant hickey on your neck, you mean?” I giggled, pulling the material wrapped around her throat to expose the angry bruise left by audacious lips. “Ouch. That’s gonna linger.”
Her eyes grew dewy. “Ah, but it was worth it.”
I cocked my hip. “Which one? You do realise you signed up to be a flight attendant to travel the world and see exotic places right? Not to bang the pilots.”
She gave me a fake-shocked look. “Really? Here I was thinking I had to earn my wings.” She snickered.
Oh, for heaven sakes. What was with girls and pilots? Every pilot I’d met was either ancient, married, or a sleazoid. No, thank you very much. They did not interest me. Travelling did. This was a win-win. Travel—see the world—all while getting paid for it.
“What are you two gigglers doing down here?” Ms. Klein suddenly appeared down the aisle.
Crap. Strike two. First late, now loitering.
“Nothing,” Joslyn and I both chimed. She pinched my arm inconspicuously. I glared at her and we both struggled not to laugh.
Ms. Klein narrowed her eyes, but didn’t comment on our disorderly conduct. “Boarding commences in two minutes. Go to your stations.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Joslyn nodded.
The minute Ms. Klein was out of ear range, I rolled my eyes. “Ma’am? What are you? Forty?”
She ran hands over her strawberry blonde hairdo. “Nope. I’m a healthy twenty-three-year-old who likes to bonk pilots.”
I snorted, unable to k
eep a straight face. Bolting to my side of the plane, I tried to plaster a professional, vacant smile on my lips instead.
This was it.
I wasn’t in training anymore. My first day as a professional flight attendant, and I was…
Wait a sec?
I wasn’t nervous. Huh, that’s interesting. I guess the training drill yesterday dissolved my anxiety. That was nasty. Being forced inside a tube the size of a plane and then the seats being set on fire. Having to crawl out of the tiny space, swamped with black, acrid smoke was my worst idea of fun. I struggled with claustrophobia on a good day, let alone when I might become a s'more.
Passengers filed past me with their over-the-limit carry-on, ignoring and bumping me to put their bags in overhead lockers. One woman practically fell into my lap she had so much crap: three bags, a laptop, purse, and a toddler on her hip.
“Can you hold him?” she asked, shoving the kid in my face.
Nope. Not gonna happen. I’d never held a kid before, wasn’t gonna start now. I beamed my ‘I’m here to help you’ smile and took her bags instead. “Why don’t you hold your bundle of joy. I’ll put the bags away for you.”
The bundle of joy took that moment to sneeze and a giant geyser of snot expelled from his nose and dribbled down his chin. Lucky for me my gag-reflex didn’t kick in.
Gross.
“Oh, thank you,” the woman said, before sliding awkwardly into the window seat. I pitied the poor person who had the seat next to that drooling bag of germs.
“Excuse me,” a masculine voice said behind me. “I believe I’m 24B.”
Oh, the poor sucker. I turned and lost my voice.
A tall, well-built man with wavy brown hair, dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, smiled. His hazel eyes twinkled when I didn’t move. He said, “You have to reverse if I’m to get into my seat.”
“Right. Sorry.” I took a few steps back and he stretched to put his black bag in the overhead compartment. “Um, do you want some help?” I asked belatedly, too focused on the small space of skin showing his lower back and stomach from his t-shirt riding up.
“No, I’m good.” He flashed me a smile. “Thanks, though.” He squeezed into the row, took one look at mom and toddler, and his smile fell.
I made a mental note to shift him if the plane wasn’t full. No person should have to put up with a snot-nosed kid. Especially a man as easy on the eyes as he was.
Samantha, the third and final crew member, waved to get my attention up at the front of the plane. She was sweet as candyfloss, part Maori, with endless black eyes, ebony hair, and a tan to die for. She also didn’t know how to ask for help. The number of times she floundered in training and I had to bail her out was beyond normal. I really hoped she was up for the final exam—in the real world.
Moving away from hazel-eyed gorgeous man in 24B, I picked up the phone in the rear galley. “Yes?” I asked, making eye contact with her up the aisle.
She answered in a nervous voice, “Everyone’s on board. We’re just waiting on the manifest.”
“Okay.” I hung up and stayed down the back, watching the heads of people getting settled, and making last minute phone calls.
The flight wasn’t long today. Our training exam would consist of a three hour journey from Christchurch, New Zealand to Sydney, Australia. And yet, in those three hours, there would be tests and drills. All going on without the passenger’s knowledge, of course, and I had no clue what to expect.
Whatever came our way, it couldn’t be as bad as being almost set on fire like yesterday. Perhaps, I could raid the small liquor cabinet in the galley.
That was a good idea… pity I had to be coherent to pass.
minutes into the flight, the seatbelt sign flickered off. So far, take off was smooth, and my new job was exactly as imagined. In the clouds—walking on air—literally. Alright, slight over-exaggeration. My feet were firmly planted on the aircraft floor, but a girl could dream.
Now, I had to face the air-gods. The men who thought just because they worked in a confined space called the cockpit it gave them free rein to be cocks.
Joslyn threw me a look while pulling vacuum wrapped cheese and crackers from the storage trolley. “We’ve been summoned.” Her tone was deliberately deep and sombre, while her eyes glinted with mischief.
I groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t get that hickey from a pilot flying us today?”
Her hands flew to her throat in mock horror. “Ms. Nina Poppins, how low do you think of me?”
Smirking, I said, “Gutter low, Ms. Joslyn Duncan.” Jumping out the way of her smack, I added, “You have no boundaries when it comes to a uniform and a man who can control his joystick.”
Samantha appeared; her lips twitched and she giggled. “What’s this I hear about you messing around with joysticks, Jos?”
Joslyn’s cheeks pinked as she licked her lips. “What can I say about joysticks? Love ‘em.”
The seat-belt sign pinged on and off again. I sighed. “Impatient much?”
“I’ve heard that’s how pilots ask for their tea and coffee. I didn’t think it was true though. Bit chauvinistic don’t you think?” Samantha asked, wrinkling her nose.
Finally, someone like me.
I didn’t like pilots because of their hugely inflated egos. I doubted most of the planes needed wings; they could probably float on the hot air of the men flying them.
“I’ll go,” I muttered, plucking two Styrofoam cups from the galley and filling them with instant coffee.
Joslyn patted me on the back. “There’s the spirit. Go nab yourself a cockpit-sitting, joystick-wielding, sexy pilot.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. God, how old am I again? Blowing raspberries was hardly professional flight attendant material.
Collecting myself, I patted my French braid to smooth any fly-aways and rubbed my cheeks to get rid of any sheen. It was rather hot in the cabin today. Mental note: tell the douche-canoes flying this metal tin can to turn the air conditioner up.
Grabbing my flimsy tray of scalding liquid, I flashed Joslyn and Samantha a smile. “Wish me luck.”
Joslyn laughed. “Don’t come back unless you’re pregnant.”
“Punch her for me will you, Sam?”
Joslyn hopped delicately out of the way of Samantha’s half-hearted swing. Then quipped, “You know, you could just jump out the plane with your black umbrella and float back to all the children you nanny. Saves dealing with men and their cockpits.”
Very slowly, I turned and placed the coffees on the counter. Smiling ever so sweetly, I backed Joslyn against the galley and tickled her. “Don’t ever refer to me and my last name again. It’s not original. I’ve put up with Mary Poppins jokes all my—”
“What on earth is going on here?” a sharp snap said behind me.
Joslyn immediately stopped chuckling and straightened her uniform.
Cringing, I turned and hung my head. “Sorry, Ms. Klein. Nothing’s going on. I was just about to take the pilots their coffees.”
Ms. Klein pursed her lips, tapping her pen against her clipboard. Glaring at both Jos and I, she scribbled something on her assessment form.
My heart sank. Why was I so stupid? This was the most important day of my career and I was screwing it up by joking and tickling a colleague. Might as well jump out the door without a parachute.
Standing straighter, I tugged my blazer down and sucked in a deep breath. “It won’t happen again.”
Ms. Klein titled her head. “Make sure it doesn’t. Go take the pilots their drinks, then report to me down the back.” Scowling at Joslyn and Samantha, she ordered, “Start the service. We’re already five minutes behind as it is. We’ll be in Sydney before passengers get their snack.”
With the coffee in hand, I slunk out of the galley and knocked on the cockpit door. I waited like a naughty child for admittance. God, this was a nightmare. I was so moronic to think I could have fun and let my guard down a little. No more. The fun was over, and I wa
s all business from here on in.
“Enter,” a voice ordered through the door.
Rolling my eyes, I did as commanded and turned the doorknob in the special way that unlocks it. Every year the security measures increased. Soon there’d be fingerprint scans and eye retina probes. It was such a hassle, but it didn’t stop the pilots from demanding their coffee. Oh no, they had to have their caffeine.
I frowned as I entered, closing the door behind me. What the hell?
Captain Anderson had the local paper spread out in front of him, completely obscuring the window and the endless blue yonder, and Co-pilot Mikin had one foot thrown over his knee, rubbing his calf.
I knew we were on auto-pilot, but surely some sort of readiness was required if something failed?
Hiding my exasperated look, I said, “Two coffees?”
Liam Mikin turned to face me, his silver aviators hid his eyes. Confidence shimmered around him, setting my teeth on edge. I’d seen him around the airport and occasionally at the training facility, but hadn’t spoken to him. I didn’t need to speak to him to know the type of man he was. Slut was what came to mind.
“Do you know how I like it?” His lips quirked; they were full and shapely. His jaw was well-defined, and his Adam’s apple drew my eyes to his tanned throat.
My heart fluttered and I was instantly pissed at myself for such a feminine reaction to a good-looking man who’s panty score eclipsed mine one hundred to one.
Captain Anderson guffawed. “Don’t they all, Mikin?”
Yep – there it was—admission to being a player.
My mouth pursed. “Black with two sugars?”
“Yep. You got it.” Liam smiled, removing his glasses with a suave flourish. He turned the full force of his pupils—blue as the sky and as icy as the cubes I envisioned him rubbing over my body—on me.
I had no idea how I knew his coffee preference, but I’d sure heard the stories about him. One rather elaborate tale about him getting a hosty fired for stealing her blouse after a tryst in an airport bathroom on a layover. She had to do service with only her blazer and bra.
The Space Between Page 29
