Somehow, it’s incredibly easy to exude confidence when I’m dressed all chic like this. “These are Valentino, actually.”
Sonya makes a sound of envy that can only be described as partway between a sigh and a purr.
“We’re going to walk in like we own the place, okay? Just me and you, two girls out on the town, champagne flute in one hand, nibbles of sushi in the other,” Sonya briefs me.
I laugh. “I’ve been to fancy parties before, thanks for the pep talk, though.”
“Hey, I’m just keeping you on-target.”
“What would that target be?”
“Forgetting not just Stefan but every man in your life who’s ever done you wrong,” she winks at me. “By way of letting you meet someone so handsome your panties melt.”
“Did you have anyone particular in mind?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Hey, look, I can’t do all the work for you! Attraction is all about you and him, so if you find someone you like, well… you don’t need me holding your hand, babe!”
We walk towards the bar, and the bartender nods at us as Sonya and I figure out what we want to drink. She goes straight for a double rum and coke, while I take it easy with a gin and tonic.
“So much for champagne,” I joke at my best friend.
“Don’t worry about that, the waiters will pass with trays of Dom Perignon, trust me,” Sonya says, pretty much downing her drink in a single gulp. I stare at her in amazement.
“What? I’m working all night. Gotta get myself suitably smoothed out,” she says. “Anyway, two things to tell you right now. First is that I must bid thee farewell for the moment, because I just saw the club owner getting interviewed by a rival journalist and I don’t intend for him to write a better story than me.”
“And the second?” I ask Sonya, sipping my drink.
“Mega hottie staring at you from across the room. Slim-cut suit, open collar. Banging body. Don’t turn and look, jeez! You’ve got like, zero subtlety. Okay, time to go! Don’t wait up… and don’t misbehave too much, okay?”
She blows me a kiss while I watch her leave, shaking my head in amusement. Now all I’ve got to do is slowly reposition myself so I can see who Sonya meant.
As I start to scour the room for someone to match that description, immediately I see him. And of course he’s looking straight back.
My heart thuds as our eyes meet but I react with a smile, rather than the shyness I would normally resort to. Confidence courtesy of Fendi and Valentino, I’m pleased to report.
But then I see this hunk walk towards me, and all pretensions of confidence rapidly desert me, at least on the inside. Oh my God, I’m just going to have to put on a brave face.
TWO
LIDING. THAT’S WHAT it feels like, being in control of a plane, gracefully banking into the final decent path. Leveling out on the perfect approach path to the runway. It’s a meditative task, and one I never fail to appreciate. To position the bird just right, it’s like ballet. The plane, the wind and the glide to the runway, it’s the story, the music and the dance.
When the nose is perfectly pointed, the flaps are down and the angle is just right, I glance over at Will, my co-pilot. “Call the ball, Will. You’ve got the stick, I can’t hog all the flying hours. The company wants you to learn how to fly, after all.”
The clipped military slang is natural to me, from my time flying for the Marines. I was never meant to be a grunt — much as I love my fellow jarheads, I ran my three tours of duty flying elite fighters for the USMC. Ain’t nothing like it.
Will does a passable job with the landing, keeping it conservative, bringing the plane down in a slow, smooth motion. Most important, no bump. the VIP passengers aren’t paying for drama. His first landing for me, I know he’s going to work hard. And he doesn’t disappoint. I can definitely appreciate that.
“Good work.” I praise him.
I take over again once we’ve hit the runway, because he’s never taken a small jet like this to a full stop in a private hangar. It takes as much runway as a jumbo to stop, and that can take a little getting used to.
At this point, I’d normally go back into the cabin, tip my hat to the client. Mr Escobedo’s a real big shot, and it’s cute how he’s always so excited to see me after a landing. Like it’s a big deal that he gets to shake my hand and pass me my check. So I let him come to the cockpit.
“Señor,” I extend a paw to greet the man as I open the cockpit door. “Always a pleasure to have you on board.”
“Pleasure is all mine, Jagger! Flying with you is always a pleasure,” he says, although I can see his eyes linger — in the direction of Serena, our head of cabin crew.
Serena’s a tall, leggy redhead with a resting bitch face that instantly tells me she’s never too excited to have to pretend to be nice to people like Escobedo, who you can bet is always slobbering after her.
I shoot her a wink and she smirks right back. But back to the client. “Well, you’re always safe in my hands, that’s for sure,” I say to Escobedo.
“Now, here you go… you know how it goes. A big check for a big man,” Escobedo says, giving me a once over that almost borders on fetishistic in its admiration.
I get it, I’m a big guy — as buff as I was when I was serving in the Marines, maybe ever more so now, actually. I was muscular back then, but these days I add a bit more to it. I’ve got myself a personal trainer who works with Olympians. I make time for myself.
Still, I wait until he disembarks the jet before I glance at the check he’s folded into my hands. “Wow,” I smile, registering the very fat bonus.
“It sure isn’t fair,” Will shakes his head, lugging his cabin bag past me. “I wish I was paid in tips too. Instead the company just direct deposits for me.”
“One day, when you’re flying Escobedo, you’ll get to bank in a check with all these zeroes,” I grin at Will. “Until then, you get off your lazy ass and clock a ton of flight hours.”
“Alright,” Will grins back. “See ya.”
I’m the kind of captain who never gives up control. I trust Serena and the girls to manage the cabin, but even so, I make it a point to check the whole interior before I deplane. Cockpit, cabin, even the toilets.
When I shut the toilet door behind me, I see Serena blocking my way, her eyes glittering with flirtatiousness as she arches an eyebrow at me.
“Hey there, Serena,” I say, looking her in the eyes.
“Empty plane, Jag,” she says, standing glamorously before me, chest forward. Very generous chest forward. “Want to stay aboard just a little longer?”
“Oh yeah? Play some chess or something?” I wink at her.
“Play with this, I was thinking,” she tells me, one hand smoothing over her outfit.
God damn, she looks great in that uniform.
But I want to make this girl bite her lip. There just plain ain’t no prettier sight. “Next time, baby girl,” I say, walking down the cabin to the exit, surprising her. “Rain check. I need a drink, and then I’ve got an event to meet my next client.”
“Well,” Serena says, recovering from her disappointment quickly. “Buy you a drink?”
“That sounds harmless,” I accept. But a quick glance at her, following the curves of her figure… well, a drink’s harmless. Her body? Definitely not.
A good pilot knows better than to play in the cockpit. Mostly.
Bless the girl, in the bar Serena is still exuding the full force of her deep desire to fuck me. I’m sipping on a whiskey on the rocks, she’s got a mojito, and we’re trading work stories. I tell her about how Escobedo eyes me up like he wishes he was me.
“That’s not how he looks at me,” Serena quips.
I wasn’t lying, though. I really do have that event, and I’m not really in the mood for a quickie in the plane, or in the airport. Won’t lie, the pilots quarters here sure has a reputation… but a guy’s gotta keep work and play separated.
Most of the time, at least.
Especially from ladies like Serena.
“I honestly can’t believe you’re not interested,” she says outright, downing the last of her mojito. She plays with the little sprig of mint, teasing me.
“Not interested in what? I’m having a drink with you, aren’t I?”
She gives me a look of incredulousness that fades into pure fuck-me eyes. “You’re the first pilot I’ve met who doesn’t enjoy a fuck in first class.”
“Whoa there, cowgirl,” I grin. “Am I detecting hurt feelings here? I didn’t know your type got all upset when a guy says no.”
“Whatever,” Serena shrugs it off. “I’m flying to Vegas tomorrow. Plenty of hot, rich college dick on those flights. Can’t say I’m missing out.”
I give her a grin that’s so cocky I’m almost ashamed by myself. “Serena, baby girl, I’m sorry to say this… but you are. You’re missing out on a lot.”
The flash of frustrated annoyance in her eyes as she pouts is just precious. “I know.”
“So, you’re saying no because you know ‘my type’? Or are you sure it’s not something else?” Serena offers.
I raise an eyebrow. “What’re you thinking now?”
“You’re a hunter, Jagger,” she says, leaning forward. My view is now the entirety of her cleavage, which even in my state of meditative refusal is still a beautiful and inspiring sight. “You love the chase too much. A girl who’s forward is a girl who’s unattractive to you. You like your virginal, shy types.”
“Naw,” I reject. “Forward girls are wonderful. I’m a caveman sometimes, Serena. Means I don’t know how to read the signals a lady’s putting out.”
“Bullshit,” Serena smiles.
“Okay, you got me there. I never misread signals. But you’re not entirely right with your assessment. I like all types of women… just not the kind who want to ride me hard in the cockpit because I’m wearing a uniform and a flight cap. You’re barking up the wrong tree, doll. I like the chase, but let’s not be so simplistic as to turn every type of romantic pursuit into a who-starts-first argument,” I tell her.
She considers this, looking at the bartender. She lifts her glass calling for another one. Barkeep looks at me. I shake my head.
“I bet you’ve never even had to chase anyone in your life,” Serena continues, a flush of daring appearing on her face. “A guy like you, with your looks, your attitude? Girls melt on seeing you. Nobody’s ever forced you to work for a thing, have they?”
I have to bite back a laugh, watching the playful aggressiveness in her voice. “Keep going.”
“Let me just tell you this, Jagger McCann, the first girl that’s a match for your cockiness… I’m telling you, you won’t know what to do with yourself.”
Shaking my head again, still grinning, I glance at my watch. “Alright, sweetie, want to fuck? Let’s go, you’ve got me all good and going. You know about the bed in the pilots’ overnight room?”
Serena stands up, taking her drink with her as she moves away. “My turn to say no to you now. That plane’s already at thirty-thousand feet, mister.”
“Hey,” I say, stopping her.
“Oh?” she says, standing close, ready for me to coax her into the closest bed. I can tell she’s just an inch away from dropping everything and saying yes.
“It’s Captain Jagger McCann,” I wink at her. “Save mister for civvies like Escobedo. See ya, doll. Like I said, I’ve got an event to suit up for.”
A lesser man would feel frustration ramp up inside him, after turning down a gorgeous girl like Serena. Won’t lie, my cock got hard at the very last second, thinking, a little tango can’t be the worst thing in the world.
Plus, nothing like an early conquest to make the evening more fun.
But this zen, centered state I’m in is even better. Screw Serena, I was right about her type — someone who considers a preppy college kid living off Daddy’s funds ‘hot college dick’, well, I’m best off far, far away from being between her legs.
Still, that doesn’t mean I’m going to spend this evening chaste and innocent. No, sir. Miss Karina, owner of the nightclub that’s opening, let’s just say she’s a bombshell and a half. And if I don’t get any time with her, this whole event will be nothing but pure sexual energy.
When Miss Karina called me up to invite me, I even suggested she make the event a masked ball. “Really, Jagger? How very interesting. The way your wicked mind works…”
All compliments, what a great lady.
I hang back at the entrance, letting others arrive. If I had been feeling nice, I’d have invited Will along — but I figure this is the sort of night a pilot flies solo.
Don’t need a wingman tonight.
It’s obvious many of my clients and passengers run in the same circles, because Miss Karina’s event tonight is full of Escobedo types. I can’t walk any distance without crossing paths with a major business man. They recognise me, either because I’ve flown them or I’ve flown their friends and they’ve heard how good I was. These tycoons, software wizards, and gods of finance all have that in common. they’re all out to beat each other. Nothing drives them on like competition. If they hear I’m the best, and they do, then they’re climbing over each other to get me first.
Here’s a hedge-fund billionaire, asking if I’d have a glass of champagne with him.
“No thanks,” I’d say, lifting my glass of whiskey up. “Already juiced up.”
A client gushes about me to his friends. “This here is Captain McCann, the very best in terms of private pilots in all of North America,” I smile and raise a toast to the lot of them, before walking away.
Talking shop can wait. Right now, I’m more interested in spotting my prospects.
My eyes browse around the area near the bar, and I immediately spot Miss Karina. She’s surrounded by an entourage, of course.
“Jagger!” she says, her high-pitched voice always so distinguishable, even with the loud music playing, the work of a celebrity DJ. “So glad you could be here, darling.”
Dah-link, that is.
I’m about to push my way through her entourage when she tells me she’ll get back to me, having recognized an important Arab donor to one of her many charitable foundations.
“Any time,” I grin.
Next! My head tells me. Can’t figure out which head.
Oh yeah, so back to browsing.
And there she is. Little black dress, looking almost uncomfortable here, ordering a drink with a friend. The friend’s pretty cute, too.
But the girl my eye latches on to? I do the opposite of what I normally do. I go over her from the floor up. Sexy red heels, tall, glossy and lethal, like they belong in a showroom somewhere. Legs that make my mouth water.
Some guys are all about tits, some guys are all about asses. Call me classy. I’m all about legs.
By the time I get to her face I’m already a thousand percent sure she’s my choice for the night. I’m fucking her, and she’s a damn sight better than any Serena or Karina, I bet.
Determination takes over me, and we make eye contact. It’s like a flashbulb goes off. For all the shyness I thought I saw in her, she actually meets my gaze directly, giving me an even look, an invitation most guys would be too afraid to take. So I walk straight to her. With her friend leaving, and with me striding across the bar toward her, I know right down in my heart of hearts this is happening.
Captain Charming (Tales of 1001 Flights) Page 2