Up for Love in London (6 page)

~

The trip home
is hectic, with a full load of passengers and lots of young
children. In first class, serenity reigns and it’s comical to see
the difference between my cabin and the rest of the plane. All
flight long, coach class crews travel to my galley, needing a quick
coffee break, drink of water or first class snack. Normally I’m
quite happy to have visitors but I finally ask Richard to
intervene.

“There’s so
much foot traffic, I think my passengers are getting annoyed. Can
you say something to the crew? I don’t want to sound like a
bitch.”

“I’m happy to
bitch for you, Lauren. Really, if they love first class so much,
they should work. Don’t worry darling, I’ll look after it before I
open the duty free cart. By the way, are you doing any onboard
shopping?”

“Not this trip,
but I’ll ask the pilots.” I hadn’t spoken to Jim since the outbound
flight so this would be a good opportunity to talk about Brad, if I
was still interested. Funny how a new romance can ease the pain of
an old one. Even though I might be jumping from the frying pan into
the fire, I’m going to enjoy the ride.

I call Jim on
the interphone to tell him his meal is ready and to ask about duty
free. He says yes to dinner with a glass of milk and no to shopping
for both him and the first officer. When I enter the flight deck,
Jim has folded out his tray table and tossed his tie over his
shoulder. “I’m ravenous, as usual. Must be something about the time
change.”

“Bon appetite,”
I say, not wanting to discuss Brad. My hand is on the door knob
when Jim speaks.

“How was your date with Mr. Bentley?”
So he knew already!

I keep my cool
and reply, “About as fabulous as you’d expect a date with a
handsome billionaire to be. How did you know?”

“Brad told
me.”

“Brad! He
wasn’t in London, was he?”

“No, but
Jennifer was and she texted him and you can guess the rest. Maybe
Jennifer thinks Brad still has the hots for you.”

“Brad has the
hots for flight attendants in general.” I even manage to chuckle
about it. “Call when you’ve finished your meal. There’s some
leftover first class dessert, black forest cake, your
favourite.”

“Thanks,
Lauren. And by the way, Melissa says Brad made a big mistake. I
agree.”

I put my hand
on his shoulder. “I appreciate your support, Jim, but that’s all in
the past now.” It is, and I’m ridiculously pleased.

~

Even though our
flight left Heathrow late, we touch down on time and reach the gate
five minutes after. Richard’s landing announcement reminds everyone
to collect their bags, coats and children before leaving the
aircraft. That always brings a few giggles, even from the primmest
passengers.

The crew
deplanes last, as usual, but we take a few extra moments to wish
each other Merry Christmas and for those flying the following week,
to toss around ideas for the layover. Most of the shops and some
restaurants will be closed so it’s wise to schedule a private
dinner or confirmed reservation.

“What about you
Lauren?” David asks. “Do you have plans for Christmas Eve?”

I’ve just
turned on my phone, but there is no new message from Charles.

“Maybe,” I say,
“but then again, maybe not.”

“No problem, we
can talk on the flight next week. I hope we can work together
again.”

“Me too.”

I hug Richard
and wish him a Merry Christmas.

He squeezes
hard and plants and a kiss on each cheek. “Same to you darling, and
a sexy New Year.”

~

By Tuesday, I
receive the first of many emails from Charles. Most of them are
short and sweet, updates on his day and a few details about our
plans for Christmas Eve. Dinner and something after. “I’ll be
driving the Bentley but let me remind you that I do own a hotel.”
That makes me smile.

Olivia calls me
for a quick get together and over lunch at a nearby café, I spill
the beans about the true nature of my encounter with Charles.

“Lauren, you
didn’t!”

“Oh God, I did,
I really did. And I don’t regret it. He is so gorgeous and…”

“And…?”

“And super
sexy, a fabulous lover.”

“Just imagine
what he could do on a mattress in a room.”

We’re giggling
so loudly, I’m afraid we’ll get kicked out of the restaurant.

Olivia leans in
and her voice becomes serious. “By the way Lauren, you’re not
getting involved too quickly are you? After all, he’s miles away
and busy and really wealthy and his family…”

“What about his
family?” I swirl the last mouthful of cappuccino in my cup and
swallow it hastily, afraid to hear her opinion.

“His family is
very upper crust, but I’m sure you’ve already checked online about
that. The Sterlings have quite a reputation for snobbery and I’m
certain they’d prefer Charles to date inside his circle. They might
be suspicious of your motives.”

“My motives?
What do you mean by that?”

She reaches
over and grabs my wrist. “Don’t get mad, Lauren. Things are
changing in British society but not as quickly as one might think.
A few eyes were batted when Prince William started dating Kate
Middleton, but her family has bags of money and she wasn’t a flight
attendant, her mother was.”

My indignation
flared. “Olivia, that’s outrageous, how can you say that? You’re a
flight attendant, too. I’m not trying to date someone in the royal
family, and I’m not after his money, you know that.”

“Lauren, I may
be wrong, and I do hope I am, but please just have fun and don’t
set your heart on a lifetime with Charles Sterling. I don’t want
you to get hurt.”

“I’m a big girl
and I know what I’m doing. I can handle this.”

“I see that
faraway look in your eyes whenever you talk about him but never
mind. Let’s chat about something else.”

I feel deflated
but Olivia is a straight shooter and is only concerned with my
emotional well-being. There was no reason for me to be angry at
her. I apologize sincerely but her words stick in my mind.

CHAPTER 6 ~
Anticipation

The plane touches down at Heathrow
early on the morning of the 24
^th
. There were a few open seats
in coach– I suppose most people had already reached their
destination by that time – but first class was full and not with
the usual crowd of business executives and old money.

“What a motley crew,” our purser, Elizabeth, sniffs after they
deplane. “Walmart must have had a seat sale.” Elizabeth is chic,
smart and as senior as Richard, but with a more biting sense of
humour. With the amount of settlement she’s received from her last
two husbands, I’m amazed she bothers to work at all. Richard says
she likes to get out of the house once in a while. “I mean
the
pent
house,
darling.”

“I suppose it’s
the usual end-of-year redemption of upgrade coupons. Use it or lose
it. Well, we gave them our very best so at least they’ll have
something to remember on their next flight in coach.”

We collect our
luggage and walk down the stairs to the crew bus.

“Do you have
plans for tonight, Lauren?”

“Yes, I do.”
Not wanting reveal too many details, I change the subject quickly.
“What about you – will you get together with the crew? David has
planned cocktails in his room, then dinner at the Greek restaurant
around the corner. I’m sure they’d like you to join them.”

“Ah, Peter the
Greek. He’s actually Swiss you know. I’m surprised the restaurant
is still around, but I suppose all those hungry pilots and flight
attendants keep him in business. How sweet that he’s staying open
for us tonight. Yes, I think I’ll do that.”

We’re the last
two to board the bus before it swings away from the airplane. A few
minutes later, we stop so Elizabeth can drop off the customs
documents. She then joins the rest of the crew at the back of the
bus. They’re mostly junior and ready for a fun time. I hear the
“crack, fizz” of cans opening and I know they’re not drinking
soda.

Even though I
hate seeming anti-social, I curl up in the front seat and gaze out
the window. The sky is dreary and the forecast calls for rain, it’s
too mild for snow. I should try to sleep but I’m so excited about
tonight. Fortunately, traffic is light and it doesn’t take long
before the bus jerks to a halt in front of the hotel. The driveway
is full of cars so we have to haul our bags up the long steep road.
Thank goodness for suitcases with wheels. Inside the lobby, I hold
back while the crew checks in. Perhaps there’ll be a message from
Charles. I haven’t heard from him since Thursday night. Odd, since
we’d been in touch several times a day.

Perhaps he’s
been busy with Christmas preparations, like I have. I’m starting to
think I made the right choice to be away this year, though I will
miss the “calm before the storm” on Christmas Eve at my parent’s
house. There were many years when I had no choice but to fly over
the holidays that I learned to celebrate wherever and whenever. My
colleagues became my family, sharing homemade cookies, decorating
the airplane and even exchanging small presents.

I wonder if
Charles will like the gift I’ve chosen for him? I love shopping for
people and pride myself on always finding something special.
Deciding what to buy for a man who has everything was a bit
challenging. I settled on a silver pen from the onboard duty free
shop. A bit last minute I know, but I did bring wrapping paper and
a bow from home.

When I finally
approach the front desk, there’s a note from Charles and a keycard
to a suite on the executive floor. I’m thrilled and relieved and
mentally give myself a high-five. At least I hope it was mental, as
the front desk staff whispers and casts quick glances at me. I wait
till the rest of the crew takes elevators to their rooms and I ride
alone to the penthouse.

The hallways are as beautifully designed as on the
12
^th
floor but more so - more real flowers, more art, more
antiques. My hands tremble with excitement as I insert the key card
into PH 1. I don’t think Charles will be waiting – he’s too much of
a gentleman to do that to a jetlagged flight attendant without at
least a warning - but my heart pounds wildly.

I push the door
open and catch my breath in awe. This suite is even more stunning
than the last. I step inside and the heavy door quietly clicks shut
behind me. A bouquet of hand-tied white roses rest on a Regency
demi-lune table along with a basket of fruit – all exotic and
out-of-season delicacies, including cherries, rambutans and guava.
Beside them, two white china plates and cutlery wrapped in crisp
linen napkins. The fridge is stocked with bottled water, both still
and sparkling, and white wine and champagne. A box of hand-made
chocolate truffles sits on the console. I’m overjoyed. Surely these
details demonstrate Charles’ feelings for me.

There’s also a
large flat screen TV over the gas fireplace. The curtains are open,
perhaps to showcase the spectacular outlook from the top floor.
Though it’s a grey and misty morning, the view to the park is as
splendid as ever.

I spin around
the room and my exhaustion dissipates. Unpacking my dress is my
first priority – I don’t want it to look wrinkled. Though I have a
fabulous wardrobe, it was hard to select an outfit for tonight.
Charles is so meticulous and so handsome. I almost feel like I
don’t deserve to be seen in public with him.

I open the
mirrored double closet doors and find my gorgeous red dress on a
hanger. How could I have forgotten his promise of this gift? I’m so
thrilled, I try it on even before showering. It fits like the
proverbial glove and Charles has even added a pair of shoes – nude
heels from LK Bennett, of course. They’re my size – how did he
know? I wish I had remembered to pack a small handbag and I should
have brought a better coat, but my uniform coat will have to do
tonight. It’s a good thing I have a nice pashmina I can wrap around
my shoulders for warmth when we’re out. I hate to even take the
dress off, but I know that the lack of sleep will soon catch up
with me.

I may as well
wrap his gift now. I examine the pen again. It’s sleek, stylish and
expensive looking, just like Charles. It is too much or not enough?
Jet lag and a need to sleep urges me not to second-guess my choice
and I fold one delicate sheet of indigo and silver origami paper
around it, tack the edges with clear tape and press a small silver
bow on top.

The bathtub in
the executive suite is deep and I fill it with warm water, pouring
a generous amount of rose-scented bath oil. I turn on the radio,
roll up a thick towel for behind my head and gratefully sink into
the heat and fragrance. The piped-in music reminds me of a serene
spa. I could soak all day but I want to rest for my evening with
Charles.

Thinking about
him makes my pulse race and I allow myself a little pleasure when I
stand up to rinse off, moving the hand-held shower spray slowly
over my breasts, stomach and between my thighs. I wonder what
tonight will bring, passion for sure but perhaps more than that.
After all, it is Christmas Eve. And he’s chosen to spend it with
me. That says a lot, doesn’t it?

For a moment, I
let myself think of his family, about whom I know nothing. I didn’t
take Olivia’s advice and Google them. But his parents, siblings and
other relatives surely must enjoy his company at the holiday. I
expect he’ll see them tomorrow, but tonight he’s all mine.

I slip into a
soft terry robe and the nicest hotel slippers I’ve ever seen. Both
are substantial and elegant, discretely monogrammed with the hotel
crest. I’m feeling relaxed and drowsy. In the bedroom, a single
white rose blooms on the table with a note “See you at six,
Charles.”