One Flight Stand: A Bad Boy's Baby Romance Read online

  One Flight Stand

  Kim Linwood

  Kim Linwood

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  One Flight Stand

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  Copyright © 2017 by Kim Linwood

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.ß

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  One Flight Stand: A Bad Boy’s Baby Romance

  February 13, 2017

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  One Flight Stand

  1

  Andrea

  “Felicity! What are you doing over here? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  The boom of a deep voice startles me from my phone screen. A giant man built like a solid brick wall of yum strides my way across the British Airways flight lounge at the Chicago O’Hare International Airport. I glance around, wondering where the mysterious—and probably stupidly gorgeous—Felicity is hiding, but nope, it’s just me. All by my lonesome, the only one at the end of the bar.

  But hey, if he wants me to be Felicity for a drink or two, I could give it a go.

  I wrap my tongue around the tiny little straw in my drink and take a sip as my eyes trace the way his expertly tailored slacks hug his muscles. It’s a good thing they put too much ice in my drink, because he’s hot in the sort of way that makes my knees weak and my throat parched.

  A wavy lock of rich, brown hair hangs over his forehead, just a little too long to be professional, and a little too short for a rock star. He’s maybe thirty years old with an angular jaw framed by a neatly trimmed beard, and his eyes…

  So dark they look black, they’re locked onto me with an intensity that has my stomach fluttering hard enough to take off without clearance from the traffic control tower.

  I wait for him to realize his mistake, and the closer he gets the more I dread the awkward moment when he figures it out.

  But he doesn’t.

  Not even when he’s close enough for me to get hit by the full force of his sensual mouth spreading into a sexy smile. Full lips frame his straight, white teeth and a ball of searing heat drops straight into my lap. I don’t have nearly enough ice for this.

  When he throws out his arms and wraps them around me, I really should say something, but my brain has just kind of stopped.

  Completely.

  Mmm, he smells like expensive cologne. Of course he does.

  “God, I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you’re here.” He pulls me off my stool and against his chest so hard I have to quickly put my drink down or risk it going everywhere.

  “What are you—” I lose track of what I was saying as his hand slides down to the small of my back, settling a hair’s breadth above my ass.

  What the hell? As much as I’m kind of liking where I am, I try to push back a little. It’s like trying to move concrete.

  “Go with it,” he whispers in my ear. “Please.” He tips his head, leaning closer before he stops, waiting to see what I do. Those lips look incredibly kissable.

  Is this a hidden camera show? Now, wouldn’t that piss my mother off?

  That’s reason enough right there.

  I go for it, wrapping a hand around his neck and pressing my mouth to his. There’s no hesitation as he responds, his lips soft and insistent against my own.

  Would tongue be too much?

  Oh my God, Andrea, of course it is!

  Damn.

  He knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure. After the initial shock, I really want to give him the chance to show me exactly how good this kiss could be, because even as chaste as it is, I think my panties just ran off.

  It takes several long moments before the surreality of what I’m doing fully sinks in. I’m standing in an airport lounge being kissed by a man I don’t know. My eyes pop open and I stiffen in his arms. The confusing hottie pulls back slowly, his gaze sultry and a playful smile on his lips. Oh yeah, he knows exactly how much I enjoyed that.

  So much.

  Ugh, focus.

  I open my mouth and raise my hands to give him a piece of my mind, but before I get out a word, he presses a finger to my lips.

  “Don’t say anything yet, darling. Just let me look at you. You’re even more beautiful than last I saw you.”

  Seriously?

  Okay, yeah. There have to be cameras hidden somewhere.

  “And here I thought you were faking.” It takes a second to realize the annoyed woman standing a few feet away with her hand on her hip is talking to us. Or at least to my surprise boyfriend.

  Hottie’s eyes plead with me, as he mouths, “Please”.

  My brain finally kicks into gear and I put two and two together. “Th—thank you, uh Pookie.”

  Ok, that was lame.

  His lip twitches. “It’s only what you deserve, oh jewel of my soul.”

  Biting down hard on my lip to keep from laughing, I barely get out, “You’re so sweet, motion of my ocean.”

  He almost loses it. His expression is soooo close to cracking, and his chest convulses in suppressed laughter.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Monty. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  Monty? Okay, that I wasn’t expecting. I giggle.

  Who is this woman? Aside from someone Monty is obviously desperate to get away from. I’ve played the “cover for me” game enough with my friends while we’re out to know a cry for help when I see one.

  This better not be his girlfriend. I don’t mind helping out, but I have no desire to get caught up in some three-way tsunami of jealousy over drama I’m not involved in.

  Leaning to the side, I peer past his considerable bulk to get a better look. Who could be bad enough to send a man like this fleeing for his life, into my arms?

  She’s a bottle blonde with a forehead so tight it’s shiny, and a pert little nose I’m pretty sure she found in a catalogue. She’s also at least twenty years older than he is and wearing a uniform from one of the domestic airlines.

  His mom?

  No way, not with the daggers she’s sending my way.

  I pat his arm. “Yes, Monty darling. Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

  He sighs when I call him Monty, obviously not a fan of the name either. Not letting me go, he keeps an arm around my waist as he faces both of us towards her. “Patty, this is who I was telling you about, my beautiful fiancée. Felicity, this is Patty. She was gracious enough to offer to keep me company and find me somewhere more comfortable to wait, but I told her I had to find you first.”

  Oh, I’ll just bet she was.

  “Glad to help,” Patty bites out. She’d be glaring if her face still moved.

  Welcome to Cougar Town. Population: her. Rawr.

  I pull away from Monty and grab Patty by the shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze before planting noisy kisses on both her cheeks. “Really, it was so sweet of you. I hope you thanked the nice lady, Shnookums. Do you have five bucks? She deserves a good tip.”

  Patty’s eyes widen. She’s gone from wanting to stake her claim to looking for an escape hatch to dive through. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my mother, it’s how to get my point buried in someone’s back with
a giant smile on my face.

  An incomprehensible announcement sounds from the airport speakers. Patty pulls away in a rush. “That’s my flight. I should really go.” Glancing at my “fiancé”, she gives him one last wistful look before practically running out of the lounge.

  We stand rooted to the spot, not saying anything until she’s well out of sight.

  Monty drops smoothly to one knee and takes my hand in his. “Marry me, Buttercup. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “You know, usually the asking happens before the engagement.” I know he’s just kidding around, but my cheeks warm anyway. “Monty.”

  He returns to his feet, but doesn’t drop my hand. “Please, never say that again. The name’s Montana.”

  What an odd name. “Andrea.”

  He smiles. “Oh, that suits you a lot better than Felicity.”

  “Thanks? I suppose I’ve gotten used to it.” Now that’s a story I don’t feel like getting into right now. “Where’d you pull Felicity from? Secret Keri Russell fan?”

  Montana laughs. “Would you believe me if I said it was on while I was waiting and might have contributed to why she didn’t trust my fiancée story?”

  “Can’t say I blame her for doubting you. You do seem a little shifty.”

  “Baby, sweetie, honey-bun, how can you say that?” He clutches a hand to his chest, mortally wounded by my implication. “If it makes you feel any better, I did try to escape on my own first, but she was remarkably persistent and I had to go to Plan B.”

  I roll my eyes and smack his side. “Plan B, huh? I’m so flattered.”

  “You should be, you were the most beautiful woman I could find.” His grin is half teasing, half flirtatious, and all sexy.

  Looking around the nearly empty lounge, I spot a frustrated mother herding two identical toddler boys while cradling a crying pink bundle in her arms, and a gray-haired businessman who seems very intent on picking something out from under a fingernail.

  “Not exactly much competition, was there?”

  He scratches the back of his head, picking his words carefully. “Doesn't mean you're not beautiful.”

  The ridiculousness of it all makes me laugh. “Flatterer.”

  “It’s true.”

  God, that smile.

  If I weren't in the process of leaving the country, I could easily see myself fawning after him like Patty. How embarrassing. “Alright, well, my flight is leaving soon.”

  He nods in understanding and presses a kiss to my cheek, his beard rasping pleasantly against my skin. “You’ll always be my lifesaver.”

  I nod graciously. “All in a day’s work.”

  “Really? A kiss like that? I need to reconsider my day job. Keep me in mind if there’s a position open.” He winks at me, before he turns and walks off.

  My olive skin usually saves me from the worst of blushing, but I'm pretty sure I'm beaming bright red all the way up to the roots of my hair.

  Wow.

  2

  Andrea

  “Ms. DiFiero? It says here there should be another person in your party.” The boarding attendant at the gate eyes me suspiciously down her hawkish nose. “Will… Franco Marino be joining you?”

  I tap my foot and let out a frustrated breath. I’ve paid for first class, you’d think she could spare me the third degree. This is what I get for dressing for comfort in a simple dress and leggings.

  “Look, like I explained when I checked in, he was supposed to fly with me but had to cancel at the last minute. He’ll be flying later this week instead.” Actually, he’s busy puking his guts out, but I’ll save her the gory details.

  I feel bad for Franco, but classes aren’t going to wait for his stomach flu, and for once Dad was willing to let me go back to England on my own. A calculated risk based on the very real possibility I might’ve killed my mother if we’d had to share the house for another day.

  Every year he convinces me to come home to Chicago for his birthday, and every year I let him, even knowing what it’s going to be like. This year has been no exception. The only thing worse than family time, is Family time.

  As in the DiFiero Family.

  The sort of family where when your father says: “Don’t worry. Someone will take care of Franco,” you have to assume he means care for, and not take care of. It was just a bad chili dog, and even in the Mafia, that’d be a bit extreme.

  I smile at the attendant and gesture at my passport. “Is there going to be a problem?”

  She shakes her head, but gives me a look that I’m sure is meant to teach me a lesson and speaks in a tone filled with condescension. “No, you may board, but this flight is nearly full. In the future we’d appreciate it if you let us know ahead of time if a member of your party isn’t flying.”

  “That would be why I did,” I lean over and check her name tag. “Stephanie. Or are you holding me responsible for the failure of your airline’s system to relay that information?” She sputters as I yank my papers out of her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to report the problem.”

  “Well played.”

  I know that voice. Glancing to the left, I find Montana waiting in the economy line. “Oh… hey. Small world. You’re going to London too?”

  “Yep, and remind me to bring you along next time I need to make a return. I bet you’d be hell on customer service.” He winks.

  I clutch the handle of my carry-on, flustered. “I can get you cash back and a store discount, and you won’t even need the receipt.” An older couple shoulders past me. Crap, I’m holding things up. “Have a nice flight.”

  Montana smiles, making my heart skip a beat. “Yeah, you too.”

  I should turn around and walk away. Maybe glance over my shoulder and flip my hair so he thinks I’m mysterious and sexy.

  Does that really work? We don’t even know each other, and I’m about to go spend another month away at school, but there’s something about him that gets me tingling all over.

  “Guess I’ll see you on the plane,” I babble redundantly.

  His grin widens. “Yep. Seems that way.”

  God, that’s a nice smile, but I need to get going. If nothing else so that I don’t embarrass myself.

  Not at all sexy and mysterious, I force myself to turn away and walk down the jet bridge that leads to the plane. I do throw a glance over my shoulder. He’s watching me, and for a short moment, our eyes lock, right until I ram my hip into the handrail and flee before I can see him laugh.

  So much for not embarrassing myself. What’s this guy doing to me?

  Once I’m actually on the plane, I relax a little. Pretty soon I’ll be back in my apartment in Durham with my roommate Evie. For a while at least, life will get back to normal again. Ten types of curry, all the tea I can drink, and most importantly, I can be me.

  Just Andie, and not Andrea DiFiero, reluctant Mafia princess.

  When I was little, I thought Dad was a businessman like all of my other friends’ dads. We were all well off. Expensive schools, name brand clothes, personal drivers, the works. My life was no different from theirs. I was just another spoiled little brat.

  It wasn’t until I was eight that I learned we weren’t quite the same after all.

  Stacy Ryan—of the Cheesy Sausage Empire Ryans—and I were best friends until third grade. We were totally inseparable, right up until the day she stopped talking to me. I didn’t get it, and grade school me was just as stubborn as twenty-two year old me, so I wasn’t about to let it go without a fight.

  After two days, I finally cornered her on the playground, and she started crying. We weren’t nice people, her daddy had said, and if she promised to make new friends, he would buy her a pony. Talk about a punch to the gut.

  Heartbroken, I went crying to my daddy.

  I got a brand new pony that moved into the stable right next to Stacy’s. A very tense month later, her family relocated to California after her father’s office burned down. That was the year I learned that nobody messes with
a DiFiero.

  And also that maybe, just maybe, the people I loved actually weren’t always very nice.

  Getting your way doesn’t always make you feel as good as you think it will.

  From then on, I had friends, but it wasn’t until I flew halfway across the world that I let myself really get close to someone again, like my roommate. I’d do anything for Evie. I just hope she never finds out that I could literally do just about anything for her, because that would lead to some very uncomfortable questions.

  “This way, Miss.” The flight attendant shows me to my seat in first class, towards the front of the plane, helping me stow my carry-on suitcase. He takes my drink order, and fetches me headphones and a fuzzy blanket.

  By the time the economy seats start boarding, I’m snuggled up in my chair with my e-reader out and a glass of white wine on the little table next to me. I’ve got a paper due on the Canterbury Tales, and this is the perfect opportunity to get some uninterrupted reading time in.

  The curtain dividing the sections is still partially open, and out of the corner of my eye, I watch as the rest of the plane boards behind me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to get a glimpse of Montana.

  First come the families, tiny faces full of excitement and confusion, and grown-up faces full of resignation and dread. The mother with the twins and the baby who was in the lounge earlier seems to have made it in one piece. I hope for her sake she has someone seriously awesome waiting for her at the end of the trip, because I can’t imagine being trapped in a metal tube with three little kids for eight hours is going to be much fun.

  Once the families are in, the rest squeeze through the door like the terminal is on fire. I don’t know what it is about planes, but everyone’s convinced they absolutely, positively have to get to their seat and claim every inch of available space before anyone else. Of course, given the way airlines like to overbook flights, they might not be totally wrong. It doesn’t take long before the whole line is completely stuck.