Charming the Shortstop

by Heather B. Moore

  His unibrow seatmate chuckled. “Is that like a nickname, or your birth name?”

  Brighton offered a standard smile. “It’s my real name. Enjoy the flight.” Then she moved on, tuning out whatever they said next.

  Tonya had been close enough to hear the comments. She exchanged a knowing look with Brighton. Tonya was tall and statuesque, with gorgeous caramel skin. She got plenty of her own pickups as well.

  “You go, girl,” Tonya said in a quiet voice as they switched places and completed their checks.

  Then they buckled into the flight attendant chairs as the plane taxied the runway.

  Gabe joined them, snapping into his own seat as the plane sped up.

  “Did you see the tiger in 3A?” he asked Tonya.

  “I did. But remember...” She held up her left hand to show the sparkling diamond engagement ring on her finger. “My William is a jealous man.”

  Gabe’s eyes popped. “What. In. The. World? When did this happen?”

  Brighton grasped Tonya’s hand and examined the ring. She had known Tonya had a boyfriend, but this was definitely a step up. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “William proposed last night,” Tonya said with a happy sigh. “We went to Ricardo’s in downtown Seattle. Roses, music, wine... he had the whole thing going on. Then he popped the question.”

  “Congratulations.” Brighton hugged Tonya.

  Then Tonya hugged Gabe too.

  “Thanks, guys.”

  “So when’s the big date?” Gabe gushed.

  “We’re thinking September,” Tonya said.

  Brighton ignored the twinge in her stomach, because a year ago in September she was supposed to get married. She couldn’t believe it had been seven months since her canceled wedding date. Time had both flown and crawled.

  She kept a smile on her face as Tonya continued to talk. Brighton had mostly moved on from her former relationship with Leo. He’d been one of the airline pilots at the last airline she’d worked for. After their breakup, Brighton’s first order of business was to change airlines.

  The plane leveled off, and the pilot’s voice came on, telling the passengers that they could move about the cabin if necessary, but to keep on their seatbelts when sitting. “Our drink service will begin in a few moments.”

  “That’s our cue,” Gabe said, then hugged Tonya again. “I’m so happy for you. If William needs a best man, I’m totally available.”

  Tonya laughed. “I’ll let him know.”

  Brighton unbuckled her seatbelt, grateful to be able to stand. In another three hours, her feet would ache plenty. Another requirement of Swift was that the female flight attendants had to wear black heels.

  Tonya headed toward the back, where she’d start the service from the rear kitchen. Brighton would work in the one shared with first class.

  “Just one peek,” Gabe said. “I know you’re tempted.”

  Brighton exhaled. “Okay. If only to shut you up. But if one first-class passenger makes a request, I’m pointing to you.”

  Gabe only grinned.

  So Brighton drew open the curtain and walked up the aisle, toward the pilot’s door, as if she were on some errand. First class was only half full, and about every other seat was filled. She adjusted the magazines in the wall rack, then turned and headed the way she’d come. She glanced over at the man in row three.

  Her brisk step nearly faltered.

  He wasn’t looking at her. Which was probably a good thing. His arms were folded, giving her a good idea of the definition of his muscular build, and his head was turned toward the window, so she only caught his profile.

  Gabe was right, absolutely right. This was a tiger. Holy Hector. The man’s fitted T-shirt made it no secret that he was some sort of athlete or took fitness very seriously. His faded jeans were ripped at the knees, but everything about him reeked of money. From his gold necklace to his long, perfect fingers and nails that had to be the result of a manicure, to the set of his ball cap pulled low, to the way he sat, taking up more than his share of space even though the first-class seat was more than enough room for a man who must be at least six feet three or six foot four.

  Brighton could appreciate a well-groomed man, but not a pampered one. And this guy reeked of pampering. So why was she still staring? And then she really did lurch forward, because the plane jolted without warning. She gripped the headrest next to her.

  The turbulence evened out, and it was probably nothing to worry about, but the man in 3A turned his head. Their eyes connected for only the briefest moment, and Brighton caught a glimpse of gold-brown eyes. Yep. Gabe had been right. Tiger-like. Then, before she could pull her gaze from Tiger Man, someone two rows away screamed.

  CHAPTER 3

  Violet. Axel had never seen eyes that color until now. The woman with the violet eyes, a.k.a. the flight attendant, had nearly tripped because of the turbulence, and all he could think of was the color of her eyes and the way her long lashes fluttered as she caught herself against the seat next to him.

  Axel should be helping her, not staring at her, but he’d never quite been caught so unawares before. The rest of her had piqued his attention too: from the faint pink of her cheeks, her full lips a darker pink contrasting with her smooth skin, to her dark waves gathered into an elegant twist, which only accentuated the graceful curve of her neck.

  That spell was broken when someone screamed behind him.

  “He’s dying!” The woman’s voice was shrill, full of panic.

  Axel rose from his seat without another thought and moved into the aisle. The flight attendant was faster and had already reached the screaming woman, who was pointing at the man next to her. The man looked to be late fifties or early sixties. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his face was very pale as he gripped his chest.

  Axel had heard of medical emergencies on planes, but had never been a witness to one. What if this man keeled over right before his eyes?

  The flight attendant pressed her fingers against the passenger’s neck.

  “Sir, can you tell me what’s happening?” she asked the man.

  The man opened his mouth, then closed it. He shook his head.

  “Is the pain only in your chest or in other places?” the flight attendant asked.

  “I can’t... breathe...”

  The woman next to him, who had to be his wife because she was now sobbing uncontrollably, cried out, “He’s going to die!”

  “Ma’am, can you stop saying that?” the flight attendant said in a sharp voice.

  If Axel weren’t so caught up in the man’s pain, he would have been impressed.

  “I... can’t... breathe,” the man moaned.

  “Does he have asthma?” the flight attendant asked the crying wife.

  “N-no.”

  Then Axel remembered how, two weeks ago, one of his teammates had had a panic attack in the locker room during the coach’s talk. His symptoms were shortness of breath, a racing heart, and the feeling of extreme claustrophobia.

  “Can you move his wife to another seat?” Axel asked the flight attendant. “I think I can help him.”

  She didn’t argue and grasped the hysterical wife’s hand. “Come out of the way, ma’am, so we can help your husband.”

  The wife’s eyes went wide, and she hiccupped on a sob, but she let the flight attendant lead her to the next row.

  Axel hoped he was right, and despite his racing pulse, he slid into the seat next to the man. He’d watched the coach help his teammate through the panic attack, so Axel did what he could remember. Axel grasped one of the man’s hands. “Hello, sir. I think you’re having a panic attack, so let’s focus on your breathing, okay?”

  The man gave a slight nod, and Axel took that as a good sign, although the man’s eyes were still closed.

  “One of my buddies has them from time to time,” Axel continued, “and they don’t last too long. So let’s breathe together and try to push through it.”

>   Axel hoped he was right. “Inhale,” he said. “Now exhale. You can grip my hand as hard as you want.”

  The man’s grip was already tight.

  “Inhale again,” Axel continued. “Exhale. More slowly this time. Don’t think about anything but your breathing.” He breathed along with the man.

  After several repetitions, Axel saw a change in the man’s pinched expression. He was relaxing. “What’s your name?”

  The man opened his eyes, and Axel offered a small smile.

  “Parker Brown,” he said, his voice a rasp.

  Axel didn’t know if it was the man’s usual voice or if it was because of his distress. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Brown. I’m Axel.”

  Mr. Brown gave a brief nod, but he was still pale.

  “Keep breathing,” Axel encouraged. “I hear the food at the Chicago airport is decent.”

  Mr. Brown’s gaze shifted past Axel, then back to him. “I don’t believe it.”

  Axel chuckled. “Tell you what, when we get to Chicago, lunch is on me. Then you can decide for yourself.”

  Mr. Brown’s eyes seemed more focused now.

  “You’re doing great,” Axel said. “How’s your chest?”

  “Not as tight,” Mr. Brown said. “I think this breathing thing is working. Are you a doctor or something?”

  “Uh, no.” Axel released Mr. Brown’s hand. “But I can confirm that you’re looking a lot better. It’s not an official diagnosis.”

  A woman spoke behind him. “Is he all right?”

  Without looking at her, Axel guessed it to be the flight attendant. But he kept his gaze on Mr. Brown.

  “I’m doing much better,” Mr. Brown said with a weak smile. “Sorry to give everyone a scare.”

  Axel looked up and saw several people standing in the aisles, watching. He scanned the concerned faces, then his gaze landed on the flight attendant. Yep. Her eyes were violet. Which perfectly complemented her olive complexion. He guessed her to be about five feet eight, and her navy skirt and jacket looked far from standard uniform on her. He was in the middle of a crisis, and right now was not a good time to check out a woman. But his eyes weren’t listening to his mind, and he read her name tag: Brighton. Not a name easy to forget.

  “Great,” the flight attendant said. “I’ll let the pilot know we don’t need to make an emergency landing.” She met Axel’s gaze. “Thank you, sir, for everything. I don’t know what would have happened without you figuring out it was a panic attack.”

  “No problem,” he said, and for some reason his voice sounded husky. “I’m glad it wasn’t more serious.”

  “Me too.” She touched his shoulder briefly. “Thank you again.”

  He nodded. Then she turned and headed toward the cockpit. Axel might have let his gaze linger a little too long as she walked away.

  “You’re a hero.” Mr. Brown’s wife had returned.

  He moved out of the seat and stood. “Here you go, ma’am.”

  Her watery eyes met his. “You saved my husband’s life.”

  “Not exactly—” Axel began to say, but his words were cut short when the woman hugged him.

  He patted her shoulder, hoping she wouldn’t start sobbing again.

  When she drew away, his own eyes might have been a bit misty.

  Mrs. Brown slid into the seat next to her husband and kissed his cheek. “You frightened me, old man.”

  Mr. Brown gave his wife a tender smile and grasped her hand. “Sorry, honey.”

  The two of them became lost in their endearments, and Axel turned to move to his seat.

  “Wait a minute,” Mr. Brown’s gravelly voice stopped him.

  Axel looked back.

  “Aren’t you the Axe Man?” Mr. Brown asked.

  “I am,” Axel said.

  Mrs. Brown gasped. “Goodness! Axel Diaz! It is you.”

  Her red-rimmed eyes took on that dreamy quality that Axel was well familiar with. He got it, he really did, but he’d never get used to it. Just because he was a professional baseball player didn’t mean he wasn’t also a regular guy with a million problems.

  “And I hugged you!” Mrs. Brown said, her cheeks growing pink.

  Axel smiled. “No problem.”

  “And he’s taking us to lunch,” Mr. Brown said.

  Mrs. Brown gasped again. “What?”

  Axel bent to speak quietly. “It will be an airport lunch,” he said. “I’ve got a connecting flight to catch, but it’s true. I’m buying the two of you lunch once we land.”

  Mrs. Brown released a small squeal, and then, thankfully, she turned her enthusiasm upon her husband and kissed his cheek.

  Axel raised his hand in a semi-wave. “See you after we land.”

  He made it back to his seat without any more interruptions. But he couldn’t relax, and even though he scrolled through the movies on the screen in front of him, there was nothing that interested him. The curtain had closed between the two cabins, and Axel looked back a time or two, but he saw no more sign of the flight attendant named Brighton.

  When the drink service started, the male flight attendant, Gabe, served the first-class passengers.

  “What’ll you have, sir?” Gabe asked.

  Axel put in an order, and before Gabe walked away, Brighton was back. She touched Gabe on the shoulder, then continued walking toward the front of the plane. She stopped in the space between the bathroom and the door to the cockpit.

  “I’ll be right back, sir,” Gabe told Axel.

  Now Axel was curious. He shifted in his seat so that he had a glimpse of Brighton and Gabe. Brighton’s cheeks were flushed. They were whispering, so Axel couldn’t hear anything, but it wasn’t hard to see that the woman was upset about something.

  Gabe shook his head, his face growing red too.

  Brighton straightened the scarf about her neck, and Axel noticed the trembling of her hands.

  Axel couldn’t sit here and do nothing. He didn’t know what was going on, but before he could question his motive, he moved out of his seat and walked toward the two attendants. Neither of them paid attention to him as he approached. They both seemed completely caught up in their whispered conversation.

  When Axel grew closer, he said, “Is there something I can help with?”

  Brighton’s gaze snapped to his, and her cheeks reddened further. “No, sorry to disturb you,” she said, but Axel didn’t miss the slight tremor of her voice.

  “Maybe he could help,” Gabe said. “Look at him. He’s huge.”

  Brighton shook her head. “Trade me sections for the rest of the flight, Gabe, and we’ll forget about it.”

  Gabe folded his arms. “I’ll trade, but those guys still need to learn their lesson. We need to report them.”

  This alerted Axel. “What guys?” He focused on Brighton. A familiar scent tickled his senses—oranges. She smelled like orange blossoms. “What’s going on?”

  She pressed those full lips of hers together, then turned back to Gabe and said, “I don’t know if I want to file an official complaint.”

  “Right,” Gabe said with a scowl. “So... let Tall And Hunky have a few words.”

  Brighton didn’t say anything for a moment, and Gabe seemed to take that as license to explain. “Two guys in coach have made sexually harassing comments toward Brighton,” he said. “She’s like a magnet for these things, or only jerks book with Swift Airlines. The airline has a policy that if an employee files a complaint against a passenger, and an investigation has to be opened, then the employee is put on unpaid leave until the investigation is completed.”

  Axel frowned. “Which seats are they in?”

  “Neither of you is doing anything,” Brighton said, putting her hand on both of their arms. “I’m fine. The flight’s over in an hour. Life will go on. Jerks are a part of life wherever we are. We don’t need any more distractions on this flight.” Her violet eyes focused on Axel. “Thanks for your offer, sir, but I can assure you that I’m fine.”

  Her stea
dy gaze told Axel that she wasn’t budging.

  “I’ll finish up the drink orders,” she told Gabe. “Thanks for switching.”

  Gabe held up his hands as if he were washing them of the situation. “Sure thing.”

  Brighton brushed past Axel and walked down the aisle, stopping next to the first-class passengers and taking drink orders.

  “She’s the most stubborn woman I know,” Gabe said with a huff.

  “Give me the seat numbers,” Axel said.

  Gabe raised a brow. “She’ll kill me.”

  “I won’t talk to them until we’re off the plane,” he said. “I just want to get a look at them.”

  “Okay. 14C and D.”

  Axel nodded, then walked down the aisle. He passed Brighton and felt her gaze burning a hole in his back as he continued to the coach section. He got a good look at the two yahoos in the seats on row fourteen. It was all he needed.

  As he made his way back to his seat, he felt Brighton’s eyes on him again. She said nothing to him, but the ice water he’d ordered from Gabe was on the tray at his seat. He settled in for the rest of the flight and slowly sipped the water.

  CHAPTER 4

  Brighton was off the plane before the passengers disembarked. She’d probably get written up for early departure, but she had to calm her thoughts, and she didn’t want to see Baldie and Unibrow again if she could help it.

  Sometimes working on the airline was like working in a bar or as a waitress at a sleazy grill. She didn’t know why some men felt they had license to make comments on her body, or what they thought she should do with them, but today had been the last straw.

  She knew by filing the report, she’d be put on a thirty-six-hour leave. Unpaid. And she couldn’t afford to have a cut in her paycheck. She was already making less at Swift than she had at her previous airline, because she was a first-year employee. Maybe she just needed an hour or two to cool off. She could always file the report after the flight from Chicago to Belltown.

  Brighton walked through the terminal, past a couple of the gates, then stopped in front of a bank of windows. The Chicago sky was partly cloudy, and the airport seemed quieter than usual.