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He’d never been able to resist this body, not once in his entire life.
I pushed up my breasts, pinching my nipples until they popped perkily through the layers of my blouse and vest.
Go get him, tiger.
I smiled a bloodthirsty smile at my own reflection and headed back out to the galley.
The curtain was still up, but Leona was out in the cabin. Serving the first pre-board round of champagne, I assumed.
I grabbed my manual and made a quick announcement over the intercom, lowering my voice just so, turning it into a near seductive purr.
I did this for one reason. I knew it would get to him.
I wanted to score a hit before I ever even had to look at him.
He’d had the nerve to come into my territory.
I’d make him pay.
I always traveled with two pairs of shoes. One on my feet and one in my carryon. Work heels and killer heels. Work heels were for work, i.e. all of the grunt work on the airplane and keeping my balance at 35,000 feet. The killer heels were for the glamorous walk through the airport with my crew of gorgeous girls.
Well, okay, it wasn’t glamorous. Nothing about being a flight attendant was. But we made it look glamorous, which was close enough, as far as I was concerned.
I yanked my bag out of its spot in a cubby that ran just behind my jump seat and pulled out my killer heels.
Don’t get me wrong. My work heels are not hideous. I wouldn’t be caught dead in hideous shoes. They were black, patent leather, three-inch wedges with a cute little bow on the toe.
But this was not the time for cute.
I switched out my shoes in record time, stepping into five-inch red platform stilettos with a peep toe.
My uniform was simple and sleek. A black pencil skirt, white dress shirt, black vest and tie. I’d had every piece custom tailored to fit
to perfection, accentuating my figure to its best advantage.
Add to that a sexy pair of red stilettos, and I knew I looked like a million bucks.
I stashed my bag right as Leona returned to the galley.
“I handed out menus, but the champagne could use topping off,” she informed me, dashing back into her galley to prep for takeoff.
That was fine. I was ready.
I grabbed the opened bottle of champagne and strutted out into the cabin.
Under my breath I was humming Seven Nation Army.
My battle anthem.
Because this was war.
I faltered slightly when I spotted him, but recovered between one step and the next. His face was downcast, eyes pointed away from me, thank God, so at least he hadn’t seen it.
His looks had always devastated me.
I was a shallow thing, with a weakness for the superficial. Even now, with all we’d put each other through, his beautiful face moved me.
He was just how I remembered. Every gut-punching, heart-wrenching inch of him.
