by Jade Hart
Acclaim for Jade Hart’s OCEAN KILLS:
"Jade Hart's OCEAN KILLS sizzles as an intensely moving debut...It's time to make room for a new literary star!" –Aiden James, bestselling author of The Judas Chronicles and Cades Cove
“With Jade Hart's well written words you will be witness to the most beautiful locations, the most horrendous people, and one of the sexiest male leads.”
—Kelley Lynn, author of Fraction Of Stone
“My verdict–it easily gets 5 stars from me. Once I began reading, it was a race to the finish. I couldn’t stand not knowing what was going to happen and then, it ended! And, I still need more. I need to know more about her abilities, the markings, and Callan!”
—Fel Wetzig, Peasants Revolt
“This book is FANTASTIC!!! It is something paranormal that you have never seen before. The writing is exquisite, the story line flows, and you can't help but feel everything the characters do. This book has catapulted to my #1 favourite book. A must read!”
—Shana, Goodreads
“I'm a little mad at this author—because I missed out in serious sleep time!! I am over the moon with this series! Gimme gimme gimme more, as soon as possible!! 5 DEVASTATING CAPTIVATING AMAZING PAWS!!!”
—Maghon Thomas from Happy Tails and Tales Blog Reviews
“Ocean Kills was a very enjoyable read. It kept me up until the early morning hours, and that is the evidence of a great story for me. I'm definitely looking forward to the next book in this series.”
— Leigh Ann, Flying on Silver Wings Blog Reviews
BOOKS BY JADE HART
OCEAN BREEZE SERIES
Ocean Kills (Dec 2012)
Ocean Slays (coming June 2013)
Ocean Hunts (coming late 2013)
STAND ALONE CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Coffee and Cockpits (Apr 2013)
Octopus Lotto (coming mid-late 2013)
Snow and Gold-dust (coming early 2014)
Anamorphic Sight (coming late 2013)
URBAN FANTASY
Loka (coming May 2013)
Coffee & Cockpits
Copyright © 2013 Jade Hart
Published by Jade Hart
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published: Jade Hart April 2013: [email protected]
Cover Design: by Megan at Abuse of Reason: http://www.facebook.com/abuseofreason?fref=ts
Editing: by Marcie of Looking Glass Editing:
http://lookingglassediting.blogspot.co.nz/
Images used in manuscript from Canstock Photos: http://www.canstockphoto.com
Dominic
Without you, I would never have written a word. Therefore, I owe you all of them.
xx
I 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 shrivelled 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 colour. I didn’t want to work 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. Having a career equalled money. And money equalled freedom from my poverty past. Probably why I was drunk on buying finery… I’d never had the bank balance to do it.
Dodging past Ms. Klein’s piercing glare, I dashed down the aisle of the 737-300 Boeing. Checking, as I hustled, that all the seatbelts were neatly crossed on the seats and the magazines 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 deep as jade. If it hadn’t been for Joslyn, I would’ve died of tedium in 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. She was the exact opposite of my doom and gloom family, and reminded me my life had just begun.
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 they 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.” Not to mention have my father rub my face in it. He disowned me when I got the job. His quote: ‘No daughter of his would be a slut in the sky.’ My stomach rolled, but I focused on other things. Important things like I hadn’t put lippy on this morning.
Fumbling in my bag for the 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 glow
ing 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 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. Klein 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 a 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.” I had to agree with my father on that one. I was here for one thing only: career.
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 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 hair. “Nope. I’m a healthy twenty-three-year-old who likes to boink pilots.”
I snorted, unable to keep 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 into overhead lockers. One woman practically fell into my lap she had so much crap: a bag, 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, and only one of us qualified, 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 had been our mentor for the past week, ever since Joslyn and I were assigned a crew. If Jos and I passed our exams, we’d fly together on rosters. The airline thought if we became a unit, we were more likely to enjoy our job and perform better. I wasn’t arguing.
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 friendly voice, “Everyone’s on board. We’re just waiting on the manifest.”
“Okay.” I hung up and stayed in the back, watching the heads of people getting settled, and making last minute phone calls. I was here because of my will and determination. Ever since my father disowned me, I revelled in not telling him a single thing in my life.
Pride swirled in my chest. I’d achieved a lot in the last year, and not just this job. I wished Mom was still alive—she’d be proud of me.
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 passengers’ 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 to calm my nerves.
That was a good idea… pity I had to be coherent to pass.
Ten 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?” Jos asked, wrinkling her nose.
Finally, someone thought 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 shine. 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 of 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 voice sounded 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 coffee.”
Ms. Klein pursed her lips, tapping her pen against her clipboard. Glaring at Jos and me, she scribbled something on her assessment form.