Nice Day For A White Wedding

by Le Carre, Georgia

  I remember the promise I’ve just made to myself.

  No flirting.

  Nothing even mildly inappropriate. Just cool and professional, nothing else. But the sight of her walking in the sunlight, gives my cock other ideas and I adjust my jeans slightly to make sure my hard-on isn’t on show.

  I shake my head at myself in surprise. I’m never ever like this around a woman. No woman has ever affected me the way she does. Best part is she’s not even fucking trying. Hell, this is the behavior of a fucking horny teenager, and it has to stop. I dread to think what effect she could have on me if she actually wanted to seduce me. I’d be like a blabbering idiot, frothing at the mouth.

  I force my eyes away from her legs. If I focus on them for too long, I know what will happen. This trip will become utter hell.

  She comes up the steps and I smile as she reaches my side. I gesture for her to go ahead and enter the plane.

  “Welcome aboard,” the stewardess says as she steps into the cabin.

  She turns back and looks at me over her shoulder, flashing me a quick smile and then she turns back to the stewardess.

  “Thank you,” she says quietly. Suddenly, she appears dignified, like a woman who has been flying in private planes all her life and I know for sure I have made the right decision. She will do a good job.

  I walk past her and sit down.

  She takes the seat opposite mine, adjusts her dress modestly, then spoils it by crossing her silky legs seductively. It takes all of my willpower to keep my eyes focused on her face rather than those long, long legs.

  I picture her stretching out and kicking off one of her sandals. I see her lift her leg casually, then her toes are pushing inside my trouser leg, trailing over my skin, moving higher. I can almost feel her touch. Inside my heated head, she springs out of her seat, straddles me, and unleashing my cock, rides me.

  Fuck!

  “The captain will be doing his final checks now,” I mutter, pleased that my voice doesn’t give away the images my brain cooks up when I look at her bare legs. “We’re due to take off in less than five minutes, and once we’re up, the bar opens.”

  “Sounds good,” she says, fastening her seat belt. “Can I ask you something? Something that’s going to make me sound a bit naïve.”

  “Sure,” I smile.

  “What’s the procedure to flying into Russia?” she asks.

  “We’ll touch down briefly in a normal airport and a customs officer will get on board, check our passports and the pilot’s flight details. Once we’re cleared, we’ll go back up and land at the private airstrip on my aunt’s land.”

  “I see. I guess the real benefit of flying private is not having to rub shoulders with all the rest of the cattle, isn’t it?”

  I arch an eyebrow. “You think I’m a terrible snob?”

  “Oh, I do,” she admits with tinkling laughter. “A snob and a queue jumper. The worst combination.”

  Her laugh is infectious and I can’t help myself from breaking into a grin. It’s good to hear her real laugh, see her real smile. This is a very different Cindy to the one I met the other night in the casino.

  “Seriously though, I can see the appeal of not having to be at the airport for hours before taking off, and I can definitely see the appeal of skipping the lines at the other end.”

  “And it’s always good to know your bags are definitely on board the right plane too,” I add, trying not to stare at her. The sunlight is slanting in through the window, turning her hair gold and her eyes into twin blue fires.

  “And we have blue skies,” she says cheerfully, peering out of the window. She seems surprisingly laid back, and I feel as if I’m getting to know the real Cindy, the one behind the customer service face.

  We’re interrupted briefly when the air stewardess comes over to see that all is well. Then she closes the main cabin door. It gives a quiet hiss as the seal engages. She comes back over to us once the door is sealed and smiles at me.

  “The captain is ready for take off. We’re expecting a smooth and comfortable flight with around a three-hour flight time. I’ll return once we’re air bound to see if either of you need anything. Have a great flight.”

  “Don’t worry about coming back, Gloria,” I say. “Just chill out and enjoy the flight. We can grab our own drinks.”

  Gloria nods at me and moves away to the staff area of the plane.

  “That was totally for my benefit, wasn’t it?” Cindy asks with laughs.

  “Totally.”

  The engines roar into life, the seat vibrates slightly beneath me, and we start moving.

  Alex

  “So … what exactly is it that you do?” Cindy asks. Her tone is light and conversational but the question is not.

  “You could say I’m a businessman although I don’t really like the word. It always makes me think of a middle-aged, slightly obese man selling things nobody wants to buy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s hardly me, is it?”

  “No, because the middle-aged man wouldn’t be so secretive about what he does,” she says seriously.

  “I’m not being secretive. Or at least not intentionally. I just don’t want to bore you with the details. But you’ve asked for it now. I’ve acquired The Macau, obviously. I also have three others in Vegas, two in Madrid and one in France. I have hotels all across the world, and I have several clubs in London, New York and Moscow and I dabble in the property market quite a bit. Does that answer your question?”

  “In a way.” She gives me a teasing smile. “You’re a jack of all trades.”

  I frown. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I only know two things. How to recognize a good deal, and I know how to read people. It means I can negotiate deals most people wouldn’t imagine possible. But once I sign on the dotted line, I rely on people like you who know how the business runs to keep it profitable.”

  “And The Macau is a good deal?”

  “Yes. At a certain point other things become far more important than money. I can always earn more money, but this might be my last chance to make my great aunt happy.”

  Cindy mulls this over for a while. “Do you ever get lonely?”

  I am a little surprised by her question and I frown.

  “Sorry, was that too personal?”

  “No. I never get lonely. Do you?” I ask curiously.

  She shifts uncomfortably. “I have my job and my friends. So … no. I don’t get lonely.”

  “Do you travel a lot on business?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “But London’s your base.”

  “You could say that.”

  “So when your aunt asks, we live in London?” she asks.

  “Yes, but not together. My great aunt’s predictably old fashioned and she won’t approve of the idea of us living together before marriage, anyway, so you can just tell her the truth about having your own place.”

  She smiles and looks relieved. She doesn’t want to have to lie to my aunt any more than she has to. I don’t much like the idea of lying to my aunt either.

  “She sounds a lot like my grandmother.” Cindy smiles. “She always wanted me to find a good husband and settle down and be happy. I don’t think she ever accepted that I am happy as I am. She would have felt exactly the same about the idea of me living with a guy before marriage. Living in sin she used to call it. She was a great romantic, she believed love was worth waiting for.”

  “It sounds like my great aunt and your grandmother would have gotten along really well,” I say.

  “Yes, I imagine they would. I can imagine them now sitting side by side plotting our wedding,” Cindy says with an uncomfortable laugh.

  “Speaking of weddings … if my aunt asks, we haven’t picked a date yet. We’re taking things slowly.” I lean to the side and dig into my pocket and then pull out a little box and I hand it to Cindy. “But you will need this though.”

  She takes the box from me and opens it. She gasps when she sees the g
old ring with a large, sparkling emerald sitting in a bed of diamonds.

  “It’s beautiful,” she says.

  I smile. “I’m afraid you won’t get to keep it. It’s been in my family for years. Put it on and don’t lose it.”

  She puts it on and holds her hand out in front of her, admiring it. She smiles a little sadly and then she drops her hand back into her lap and looks out of the window. The conversation seems to be over, and I am relieved when the light goes on in the cabin to tell us we can move around.

  “I’ll get us some drinks,” I say.

  “Just a diet coke for me please. I want to be levelheaded when I meet your family.”

  I decide that’s not the worst idea and I pour her a diet coke and a large whisky for myself.

  “Ice?” I ask.

  Cindy nods. I add ice to both glasses, then I take the drinks back to my seat. I hand Cindy her Coke, and as she takes it, her fingers brush mine. Instantly, I feel that rush again. This is going to be a long week if I feel that every time we accidentally touch each other.

  I take a gulp. “Shall we get our story straight?”

  “Ah, yes, let’s get our epic romance all synchronized, the moment we met, how long we’ve been together, the rainy day you got on one knee after a meal in a French restaurant and proposed …”

  I frown. I didn’t expect her to get so detailed. I was actually hoping to wing it. No one needs details like that.

  “If your aunt is so worried about your future, she will ask us questions about how we met. And if our stories don’t match, she’ll smell a rat,” Cindy says, taking a sip of her drink.

  She studies my face for a few seconds, then she laughs softly. “You don’t have a story planned out, do you?”

  I shake my head a little sheepishly. “No. I never considered going into that kind of detail. I was planning on keeping it simple. How about I’ll grunt and pretend it’s too private to discuss, and you can make up anything you feel will fly.”

  She pauses, her brow creased slightly as she thinks. “OK. Here goes. Let’s say we met in a supermarket.”

  “Um … no. I don’t shop for myself.”

  She grins. “Silly me, of course you don’t. How about you ran out of milk and you popped into the supermarket for that?”

  “Unlikely, but carry on,” I said, intrigued.

  “Well, I was trying to reach something off the top shelf and you got it down for me. And then, as we continued shopping … of course, you only came in for milk, but you were so entranced by me you couldn’t help yourself.”

  I grinned.

  Ignoring me, she went on with her story. “You made sure that we kept running into each other in each aisle. We ended up getting served at checkouts side by side, and when we got out of the store and went to the car park, our cars were parked next to each other.” She paused. “Er … what kind of car do you drive?”

  “Take your pick. A dark green Rolls, a yellow lambo, or a silver Aston.”

  She bites her bottom lip and my mouth waters.

  “Let’s go with the silver Aston Martin,” she decides. “You told me it was fate and asked for my phone number. I was thinking the same thing; that fate had brought us together and since you were such a dish, I gave you my number.”

  I smiled at the cheeky look she gave. God help me, she was flirting with me.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “you texted me the same day. That was, shall we say, four months ago. For our first date, we went for the most delicious Italian food.”

  “Didn’t you mention earlier it was a French restaurant?”

  “I’ve changed my mind. Italian sounds more passionate,” she says, lifting one shoulder.

  “Right.”

  “We drank a whole bottle of champagne—”

  “I never drink champagne,” I interrupt.

  She frowns at the way facts are ruining her pretty story. “Well, that night you did. Then you walked me home and we ended up on my porch for hours, just talking. There was so much about you I wanted to know and it was the same with you. We didn’t even care that we were cold. You gave up your coat for me, and yet you barely even noticed the cold. Until dawn was in the sky and all around us was pink and rosy. At that moment, we both knew it. We were completely smitten with each other. Then to our surprise it began to rain. You bent your head and kissed me, and it was the most wonderful kiss in the whole world.”

  The muscles in my jaw twitch with the effort not to laugh. “Four months ago, would make it the tail end of winter. Wouldn’t the rain be too cold to be hanging out in?”

  “We were heated up with passion,” she persists. “So with the cold rain splashing down on us, you just knew you had to propose. You went down on one knee. Obviously, I said yes, and the rest, as they say, is history.” Cindy smiles.

  “Did you just think that all up?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  Sudden color races up her neck and she quickly turns toward the window. Wow! That’s a turn up for the books. Has she been daydreaming about me? Concocting various scenarios in her head? I shake my head at the direction of my own thoughts. No, that’s ridiculous. She’s just being a professional and made the effort to come up with a story my aunt will buy.

  Cindy turns her face toward me again and the blush from her cheeks is gone. “Well one of us had to think about it,” she says. “And like I said, your aunt sounds a lot like my grandmother, and I know those are the kinds of things she’d have asked me about.”

  “Were you close to your grandmother?” I ask.

  “Yes, I was,” she says. “When I was small, we spent a lot of time at her home. My grandfather died while I was little more than a baby and I think my mum was worried grandmother was lonely. She never was though. I mean don’t get me wrong, she missed my grandfather terribly, but she had lots of friends. She was part of a book club and she took cookery classes. She could never have been lonely. She had more of a social life than I’ve ever had. Bingo. Dances. Pie and pea nights down at her local pub. But I was always the apple of her eye. She doted on me. Even as a teenager I was always round her house. When she died … it was difficult.” She trails off.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Don’t be,” she says a twist to her lips. “My grandmother was a big part in making me who I am today and I would never change the time I had with her. That’s why I’m so determined to make this work. I wish I had been given a similar chance to make my grandmother happy before she passed away. It’ll be nice to make your great aunt happy.”

  “I know my great aunt is going to love you,” I say with a smile. Right then, I knew without a doubt I’d made the right decision in picking her. Cindy is everything my aunt would love to have in my future wife. She’s beautiful, smart, compassionate and kind. The only problem was how I was going to keep my hands off her. With every passing second that was getting harder and harder.

  “I hope so,” Cindy murmurs.

  For a second our eyes lock and I can feel that thing between us again. It is so strong it’s almost palpable. Then she jumps up suddenly. “I would kind of like to see the inside of a bathroom.”

  I point behind me. “Straight to the back of the cabin and it’s the door on your left.”

  “Thanks.” She turns to move into the aisle, cuts the corner a little too wide, and her leg brushes against my knee. I feel more than a spark this time. It’s like she plugged me directly into a wall socket. An incredible jolt of tingling temptation slams through my knee and up my thigh. I feel goose bumps rising on my thigh and my cock jumps to life.

  “Sorry,” Cindy says as she steps into the aisle.

  Her voice is low and breathy and I know she felt the burn of pure lust. That knowledge is going to make remaining professional over the trip a fucking nightmare. I don’t turn to watch her go. I clench my jaw and get a control of myself. When was the last time a woman did that to me?

  Never!

  I take a couple of deep breaths and consider my options. Abandon the trip with
some plausible excuse like a spineless coward, or bite the bullet and get the job done. Put like that my options narrowed down considerably. My control is back by the time Cindy returns from the bathroom.

  I can hear her humming to herself as she walks back towards me. She gets to her seat, giving me a wide berth this time. She’s fighting the attraction between us too. If she’s as determined to ignore the raging desire inside her as I am, then I have a better chance of not behaving like a Neanderthal.

  Cindy covers a yawn with her hand. “Seriously, there’s just something about flying. I always end up so tired. I can sit in a car or on a bus or train for hours and be fine, but flying does it every time. I blame the air pressure.”

  “We still have hours before we land. Why don’t you take a nap?” I suggest. “I have a whole briefcase of work. I’m sure I can entertain myself for a while.”

  “No, I don’t want to fall asleep with my mouth open in front of you.” Then she yawns again right after she makes her declaration and we both laugh.

  “Tell you what. I’ll move over to that corner and you can rest in peace. Hmmm?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “No trouble,” I say, standing. It would be good to be away from her. She’s too distracting.

  “Thank you for being such a gentleman.”

  I nod and move away, but the term surprises me. No woman has ever called me a gentleman. Ever. Hard. Cold. Unfeeling. Bastard. Aloof. Heartless. Those are the words that are usually hurled at me.

  I debate getting myself a whisky, but I would rather stay sober. I am thirsty though and I’m starting to get restless cooped up on the plane. I go to the bar and I pour myself a coke, add some ice and walk to the corner seat. For a second I stand looking down at the seat then I walk back toward Cindy. The word she used is still rattling around in my brain. Gentleman?

  Cindy is already fast asleep. And her mouth is slightly parted.

  I can’t move. I stand over her and watch her with fascination. She looks so angelic, her long lashes lying on her smooth cheeks. Her skin looks so damn soft I want to touch it and let my fingers caress the curving contours.