The Woman in 3B - Eliza Lentzski Page 0,33

get back?” she asked.

Her question was vague, but I assumed she meant when we got back to the Detroit airport. We wouldn’t be resuming our original flight to Boston. Since that trip had been canceled, the passengers for that flight would have been reassigned to other regularly scheduled flights. Lara, Derek, and I would probably be deadheading on a return trip to Detroit. Deadheading referred to when an airline employee flied as a passenger as part of their job, typically in uniform. We weren’t still on the clock and wouldn’t be expected to work the flight, but we also weren’t on vacation either.

“I’m on call,” I said. “But I’ll probably check out the Trade Board when we get back. Maybe I can pick up a few flights today.”

Lara frowned. “Even after yesterday’s hassle?”

I shrugged noncommittally, and didn’t go into additional details. Since we hadn’t flown to Boston and then back to Detroit, my paycheck would be two flights lighter.

“You should really give Cheri hell for asking you to switch flights.” I changed the subject to avoid talking about my financial situation. “You shouldn’t even be here right now.”

Lara gave me a peculiar smile. “You assume she was the one who asked,” she cryptically replied.

+ + +

I didn’t have any more seat-specific bingo challenges to complete, but I didn’t tell either Kent or Gemma that so I could continue to work the First Class cabin on our Wednesday flights. I also hadn’t told them that I’d been propositioned by a Business Class passenger over the weekend. It was the kind of juicy gossip that would have kept them preoccupied for the rest of the month, and I didn’t want their entertainment to be at my expense.

I held the customary tray of complimentary water for the First Class passengers while the rest of the plane boarded. Anissa was already buckled into seat 3B.

“I think it might rain today,” I announced with a mischievous tone. “The forecast is calling for cloudy with a chance of showers.”

Anissa looked up from her tablet at my words. Unlike the majority of my other passengers, I noticed she never wore earbuds or headphones. I understood the appeal of noise-canceling technology, but it made my job a thousand times harder.

A slight look of panic crossed her features when she saw me and the full tray of water glasses. She clutched her armrest with her free hand like the plane was going to crash. “Oh no. This isn’t some kind of payback for last Friday, is it? Tsunami warning?”

I laughed—a genuine laugh, not the hollow, empty laugh that came with customer service. “Just bringing you your complimentary drink, Miss. We value your continued loyalty.”

Instead of the standard glass of water, I handed her a glass that bubbled. “Cranberry, splash of seltzer.”

“You remembered.” She chuckled and shook her head. “This airline’s customer service is unparalleled.” Her caramel-colored eyes locked their focus on me. “Or maybe it’s just a particular flight attendant.”

I could feel the apples of my cheeks warm. “I figured you’d say no to whiskey,” I deflected.

I watched the tip of her pink tongue sneak out from her parted mouth to wet her full, lower lip. “There you go being a bad influence again, Alice.”

The movement of her mouth and the low burr of her voice caused an involuntary reaction beneath my bra and in between my thighs. God, why hadn’t I had sex with this woman when I’d had the chance? Who in their right mind turned down that?

“Oh! That reminds me. I’ve got something for you.” Anissa unbuckled her safety belt and stood up. She opened the overhead storage bin above her seat and unzipped the main zipper of an oversized leather purse. While she retrieved something from her bag, my eyes inadvertently slid down to her backside.

The linen suit she wore was beautiful, just like the woman who wore it. I marveled first that the pants weren’t already creased from sitting, but soon found myself admiring more than the resilience of the cotton fabric. The fitted material hugged her lower curves and hit at just the right places. A thin leather belt cinched at her waist. The t-shirt beneath her light jacket was probably more expensive than my fanciest shirt.

Anissa turned around and my eyes snapped up to her face. I worried she’d caught me staring, but if she had she didn’t call me out for ogling her. Again.

“I washed them,” she said.

I blinked. “Washed what?”

“Your pajamas?” She held out a neatly folded stack of familiar-looking