Crashed into Love: Episode One (4 page)

It was a weird ride. Liam sat in the front chatting to the driver, while Joslyn kept whispering in my ear about her escapades with ‘random hickey guy’ and how big his trouser snake had been. Judging by the bruise on her neck, I’d say she was full of tales, and I longed for the ride to be over. It didn’t help that the air had decided to turn to the atmospheric equivalent of rain-drenched clouds: thick and stifling. It was Liam’s fault. That and the knowledge he wasn’t nearly as playboyish as I thought.

Joslyn made some crude comment about girth, and I muttered, “Seriously, I don’t want to think about that part of some unknown’s anatomy.”

“Did you say something?” Liam asked, spinning in his seat to face us. His blue eyes blazed.

My cheeks flushed, and I suddenly found the twinkling Sydney skyline super interesting as we hurtled toward the city. “No. You must have been hearing things.” No way did I want to repeat what Jos was now giggling about. My ears were hot enough to sizzle.

The rest of the ride I refused to entertain Joslyn’s crass remarks and tried not to perve at Liam in the side mirrors of the car. It wasn’t fair a man had hair like that. Every street light reflected in its inky blackness. It was so glossy it could be a mirror, or an endless dark lake, waiting to drown me.

By the time we pulled up in front of the hotel, I was tense with Joslyn’s sexy commentary. She acted as if she’d been a forced nun her entire life and had just been released. Couple that with Liam’s brooding masculinity, and I practically threw myself from the vehicle before it stopped moving.

Joslyn laughed after me. “God, you’re such a prude, Nina.”

Liam’s voice rose over hers. “What did you do this time, Jos? Was she freaking you out with over-exaggerated sex talk, Nina? ‘Cause I can totally relate. She does it to me all the time.”

Fighting the urge to smile and warm to Liam—he truly did seem delicious and not sleazy—I stormed to check in.  Handing over my airline credentials to the pretty, blonde receptionist, I said, “Nina Poppins. Flight crew for Kiwi Air.”

“Ah, yes, Ms. Poppins.” She tapped on her computer before saying, “You’re on the twenty-fifth floor with a lovely harbour view. Sign here, please.”

I did as requested, very aware Liam appeared beside me; his crisp white shirt brushed against my jade-green blazer.

“Here you go.” The receptionist handed me an envelope and plastic key-card.

“Thank you.” Tucking the envelope into my satchel, I kept my key in hand. I knew from our job descriptions that Jos, Samantha, and I were given ninety dollars in cash for an overnight. Whereas Captain Anderson and Liam received one hundred and twenty.

It was the perk of flying. The ninety bucks was food money, toiletries, and a ‘we’re sorry you’re away from your family’ money. It wasn’t taxable and I loved it.

I manoeuvred my trolley bag around Liam, flashing him a smile. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

Joslyn piped in, abandoning her own paperwork filing. “You don’t wanna hang tonight? Go sample the Sydney night life?”

Liam’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that sounds like an awesome idea. You keen, Nina?”

The thought of going out with them was very tempting, but I had something I needed to do. It was especially important now, seeing as all my neurons decided to misfire in Liam’s presence. I needed to purge myself of these new tingly and unwanted feelings, and I knew exactly how to do it.

“Can’t tonight.” I sighed regretfully. “Sorry.”

Joslyn slouched. “Well, that sucks.” She nudged Liam with her shoulder. “Guess it’s just you and me, Mikin.”

Leaving them to bicker about who owned the pen Joslyn clutched in her hand, I waved and beelined for the elevators.

While I waited for the metal cube, I wondered where Samantha was. I hoped she was okay. I should’ve gone to find her before we left.

Unhappy with the thought we left her behind, I pushed my worries away. I was free. No more work. No more colleagues or pilots. The night stretched temptingly in front of me, and my body itched to change and leave.

I tapped my foot waiting for the slowest elevator in Sydney and jumped when a warm hand touched my elbow. “I’m on the same floor as you. How convenient.” Liam’s eyes glimmered in the lobby lights, looking like flecks of icebergs and snow.

My own eyes narrowed as the lift pinged, and we entered. Liam pressed the button while I stood silently. Was it coincidence he was on my floor or was it planned? And where the hell was Joslyn?

I opened my mouth to ask, but the doors closed. Instantly all the air sucked out of the small space, leaving us vacuum wrapped with awareness. Every one of my senses catapulted to life, and my heart decided to act like a wild roadrunner being chased by a stupid coyote.

Liam kept sneaking glances at me, moving to talk a couple of times, but we ended up just standing there in shambling silence. The doors slid open, and I gave him a sideways look as we walked down the plush carpeted corridor.

I stopped outside my room. “Well…this is me.” I fumbled with my bags as I tried to insert my key card and get the hell away from the sexy co-pilot who caused my body to quiver. Where the
hell
had Joslyn gone? I would
not
end up a statistic and be yet another easy conquest. No chance. Regardless if Liam seemed like a winsome guy and was related to a great friend of mine. “I’ll see you at nine a.m. to head back to the airport?”

He paused, lips tightening at my curt tone. “Sure.” He scratched the back of his neck and took a few steps past me. Then he stopped and stalked back. “I know you said you were busy, but you sure you don’t want to come out? We could go to dinner? Perhaps head to the House of Everything by the harbour? I hear they have awesome steak.”

I shook my head. No way was I fraternising with him. The rumours would dart faster than a concord and might wreck my career. “No thanks. I don’t like red meat.”

Opening my door, I nodded goodnight and shut it in his face. Phew. Dodged that one. I didn’t intend to be another notch on his wingtip. No sir. Not me. Not Nina Poppins who was gonna have his job in a few years and possibly even sit beside him as his co-pilot.

That would be
beyond
awkward.

P
ulling off my uniform piece by piece, I shimmied out of the ornate hook-eye corset I wore under my shirt. Just knowing I wore something alluring and kinky under my uniform made me feel powerfully feminine.

I sighed, relaxing for the first time since I dressed that morning and headed to the balcony in just my knickers, and stockings.

My room was a silver dream: walls the colour of storms, sweeping pewter drapes, snowy sheets, and artwork depicting dewy, white roses. Being air crew had its perks and having the union battle for a four-and-a-half star hotel was one of them. I couldn’t wait to be rostered on routes to Thailand and Hong Kong.

Un-plaiting my braid, I stared at the harbour view. Sydney vibrated with money, class, and Hollywood glam. Many floors below, ant-sized people darted around night-stalls. And in the distance, in Circular Quay, the Opera House glittered in its up-lit glow.

A bit belatedly, I worried people might see me in my half-nakedness. Stepping back into the depths of my bedroom, I grabbed my trolley and unzipped it on the bed. Inside wasn’t a lot of practical clothing. I shoved aside three corsets, four pairs of knickers, and two packets of pantyhose to reach the only item that would cover me enough for public interaction. Highly stupid to pack so much nonessential finery, but it was my addiction.

I kicked off my heels into random corners of the room and padded into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, I was fresh and reeking of hotel body wash. I took my time applying make-up—going for dark eye shadow and red lipstick this time. None of that Coral Crush crap. I wanted to be sexy and incognito in Sydney.

I knew nobody, and nobody knew me. Therefore, I could be the
real
me. The me who loved to dance, to laugh, to have fun. To tease and flirt, but then walk away not having to put out, or give a part of myself that had been rejected by my ex. Even now, after two years, my heart still panged.

Stupid jerk.

I knew where I was headed: Latin Motion—a dance club I’d heard of and been dying to try. It was the perfect cure to a long day and some serious sexual frustration. Thanks to Liam and Nikolai, Mr. Sexy 24B.

Dressed, I slinked from my room and descended to the lobby. I sneaked fugitive looks around, hoping Liam and Joslyn wouldn’t catch me. I didn’t have any excuse if they saw me sneaking out.

Rushing to the concierge, I asked, “Do you have a map? I want to walk to Latin Motion, but don’t know how to get there.”

The elderly bellhop nodded, his weathered face wrinkling in a grin. “Of course, miss.” Whisking out a map, he circled where I needed to go and gave me directions.

I thanked him and exited the hotel. Strolling along the harbour, I was immersed in Sydney life—a brighter, more vibrant life than the one I led in New Zealand. The jetties with their fancy-pants boats oozed class and fun. I could see myself in a 1920’s pin-up bathing suit, water skiing behind one of them.

Soaking in my surroundings, my journey didn’t take long to climb the overpass and head deeper into the city.

The tang of Greek food and loud music spilled from a café; while scents of burgers and grease teased me from the pub. I was hungry, but the thought of dancing on a full stomach didn’t sit well.

I’d dance my fill then go back and order room service. I smiled, excited to get down and sweaty with a complete stranger, then curl up in bed in a fluffy robe and eat cheesecake. I loved my life.

Latin Motion nightclub was pumping, which, considering it was only eight p.m. was relatively early to have such a big crowd. Not that I cared. The more bodies writhing on the dance floor the better.

My blood sang as the beat soaked into me, and I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face as I paid the fifteen dollar cover charge.

After ramming the remaining envelope of cash into my little beaded purse, I smoothed my bright yellow dress and made sure the ties were secure behind my neck. It was a rather risky dress, and I couldn’t wear a corset underneath as I needed to be lithe and flexible for dipping and twisting. The entire expanse of my back was on display and most of my legs as well, but the ruffled material at the front hid my cleavage, brushing my flesh mid-thigh. It was a ‘respectable but I like to have fun’ dress.

My bronzy, chestnut hair was loose and curly from being in my braid all day, and I looked nothing like the flight attendant Nina Poppins. Tonight, my name would be Monica, and I would be mysterious and sexy.

Ducking and weaving between dancing couples, I headed to the bar. Leaning on the alcohol sticky bench, I yelled over the music, “Do you have a coat check?” I waggled my bag, just in case he couldn’t hear me.

“I keep personal belongings behind the bar. Here.” The young barman handed me a post-it note with the number seventy-nine scribbled on it.

It wasn’t a high-tech system, but I guessed it would work. I grabbed the post-it, and he took my bag. Now what the hell was I supposed to do with the neon piece of paper? Shrugging, I stuck it in my bra.

Pouring myself a glass of water from the carafe on the bar, I sashayed into the crowd with H20 in hand.

My feet itched to dance; my limbs agonised to sway and spin. But I held my cool; sipping my drink, watching men whisk their partners around. I tried to see who the best dancer was.

Oh crap.

24B danced right in front of me, holding onto a woman who was slinky and refined. Her body was encased in a tasselled dress and wrapped around her neck was a black feather boa. My God, she’d strangle herself with that.

He dipped her and looked up—right into my shocked eyes.

My body tingled; I took a step back, directly onto someone’s foot.

Spinning around, I muttered, “Geez, I’m so sorry.” My heels would’ve done a nasty number to his toe. Damn Nikolai. What the hell was he doing here anyway?

The man I’d trampled on was good looking. Eurasian, I guessed, and was around my height.

“No problem.” He cocked his head at me and then the dance floor. “Wanna dance?”

My heart leapt.
Hell yes
. This was the best part. I could say yes to a complete stranger as he would
remain
a complete stranger. Sure we’d dance for a bit, and let’s face it, Salsa was like sex except vertical. But at the end of the night he’d go his way, I’d go mine. No complications. No expectations. Just dance.

“Yes.” I put my water on the nearest table and held out my hand; hoping Nikolai had disappeared into the throng of dancers, and I wouldn’t see him again.

The handsome stranger’s lips smirked, and he tugged me to the dance floor. I looked over my shoulder at his group of friends who were all smiling. But it wasn’t a ‘he’s gonna get laid’ smile. It was a ‘have a good dance’ smile. Dancers—we’re a different breed. Dancing was fun—pure and simple. It wasn’t about trying to hook up. Or at least it wasn’t for most of us.

My partner spun me suddenly and captured my waist, pulling me closer to his hips.

I shivered with delight—not from the contact, but because any moment now we would dance like crazy.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Stranger asked.

“Monica.”

“Lee.” He grinned and tilted his head, listening to the beat then raised an eyebrow.

I knew what he was thinking: Merengue over Lambada. The tempo would work for both, but a Merengue guaranteed us to be hot and sweaty by the time it finished. I nodded to his silent question.

And that was the last time I thought.

My body took over. My hips, pulsating to the music, moved with Lee’s every step. His grip was firm as we both panted and danced, keeping perfect rhythm. He smiled halfway through the song. “You’ve done Salsa for a while?”

“A few years,” I said breathlessly. Closing my eyes, I allowed the music to thrill through my blood.

Lee breathed hard. “Are you up for some serious moves?”

“Hell yes.” That’s what I’d gambled on—picking a partner, or in my case, stepping on one, who knew their stuff. I was in luck.

Just as Lee threw me out for a triple spin, someone put themselves in my trajectory, and I crashed against them. Air exploded from my lungs, and I lost my grip on Lee’s fingers. He threw me an apologetic smile, but it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t the one who spun me into oncoming traffic. A douche-canoe had planted himself squarely in my path.

“What do you want?” I asked Nikolai, looking around for the slinky woman who’d been in his arms only moments before. They’d been dancing not far from us. Not that I noticed or anything.

“I told you we’d see each other again, but I had no idea it would be so soon. And I had no clue you could Salsa.” He grinned. His hazel eyes reflected the yellow and blue gaudy flashing lights, making them seem green then blue—a mixture of sea tints.

I rubbed my brow, hating that I was a sweating mess.
Not that I care. Right, Nina?
I cocked my hip. “Why would you know I dance? We met for all of three hours up at ten thousand feet.”

I turned to go back to Lee, but Nikolai’s fingers latched around my elbow. “Well, perhaps I don’t want to just know you for three hours. Can I buy you a drink?”

I waved around us. “We’re in a Salsa club; drinks consist of water.”

Again, dancers were a strange breed. Alcohol wasn’t fun on a night out. It ruined coordination and the excitement of music pumping in our veins. “Plus, I don’t drink as a rule.” With men as sexy as him anyway—
way
too dangerous to let my inhibitions go.

Nikolai looked over my shoulder, narrowing his eyes. “Who are you dancing with?”

I craned my neck to look for Lee. He stood with his friends again; his brow creased and hands on his hips. If I didn’t go back to him, he’d find another partner, and I’d lose my opportunity to get jiggy, sweaty, and gloriously tired through dancing.

“I have to go. Nice bumping into you,” I said, although that was a lie. He ruined my spin. I didn’t come here to be recognised. I came to be incognito. I conveniently ignored the slight buzz my body had around Nikolai. Memories of his exposed stomach and happy trail when he reached for the overhead locker made me flush. He
was
rather gorgeous, despite being an inconvenience.

“Hey, wait,” Nikolai shouted over the music. “Did you get my napkin?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I got your scribbled on piece of rubbish. Thanks for picking up after yourself. However, I’d appreciate it next time if you put it in the bin.” He didn’t need to know his number was scrunched in my uniform pocket. I had every intention of throwing it away—more so than ever now I knew he could dance. Dancers were as dangerous to me as pilots. Maybe more so, seeing as my heart was broken by one.

He laughed.

I frowned. I didn’t make a joke.

“So, there
will
be a next time?” Nikolai leaned in toward me, his body boiling with heat from the club.

Scowling, I took a step away, looking for Lee. When I found him, he made eye contact and shook his head, turning his back on me. Dang namit. Now, I’d lost a dance partner.

Annoyed, I said, “No, there will not be a next time. You were a passenger who I helped escape a drenching of drool. I don’t fraternise with patrons. Now, if you excuse me, I have to return to my hotel seeing as you scared away my partner.” Perhaps I could find another club and proposition another guy. Away from this passenger who sent thrills whizzing in my blood, more enticing than the music.

I shoved past a few writhing bodies, absurdly frustrated my night was interrupted by someone I only knew for a brief moment. I wanted anonymity dammit, and he ruined it.

Hands clamped around my waist, jerking me back into the thick of the dance floor. Hips slammed against mine and gyrated to the beat.

Holy hell.
What the flaming balls was he doing?

The hands on my hips spread hot fire through the fabric of my dress as Nikolai spun me away from him and caught me against his chest. My figure squished against his; I blazed with awareness of his flesh against mine.

Not giving me time to think, he moved his body in time to the Merengue. I had no choice but to sway with him, otherwise I’d be left in an awkward limbo of being crushed to his chest.

Eyes burning into mine, he slinked one arm around my waist and held his other hand out in invitation. His tanned skin shone with the lights and a slight smile played on his lips. “Don’t leave without one dance.”

Sighing, I placed my hand in his and gasped as he pulled me even closer. Any closer and I’d be in his black jeans. My nose was a millimetre away from the small sprig of hair protruding from his shirt and every breath was full of his musky, bedroomy scent.

Without warning, he flung me out and wrapped me around his body in a spin. I went willingly, rolling around his frame till I was back to his front.
Okay, I admit. He can dance
.

Smiling, he placed one hand on my breastbone and pushed so I folded backward. My back arched and my long hair swept the sticky dance floor. Our hips were glued together, and the friction of the dip between us had my lungs seizing.