Turbulent Intentions (6 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

The taxi pulled up in front of the Sea-Tac terminal after a nauseating ride, swerving in and out of traffic and around single-minded travelers. Stormy Halifax tossed the driver his money, two hours worth of work gone in twenty minutes of wasted time on the commute, and leapt from the cab, running straight for the front entrance of the airport.

She was all set to begin her average day with its monotonous routine. She was one of the baristas at a small latte shop, Republic Coffee, located in the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The small and quaint café was nestled in between the food court and a local gift shop.

Stormy had been at her job for only a month, but it was such a hassle to get there that she wasn’t sure she even wanted the job to last anymore. If only she didn’t need the money so desperately.

The airport was a bustling madhouse with an endless sea of people on what seemed to be a busy travel day. Republic Coffee stayed fairly busy throughout the day because it was near the top of the escalators and the main entranceway to a majority of the airline gates after security.

As Stormy stepped off the escalator, she was immediately assailed by oblivious passengers, the smell of coffee, and the sound of a gate agent getting reamed by an unhappy customer.

Yes, it would obviously be another long day of coffee drudgery, pushy passengers, and egotistical pilots. She could handle most of it, but the pilots were the absolute worst.

When she first started working here, she’d found them fascinating—a great number of them were sexy, confident, and downright charming. It didn’t hurt that they were well paid, flashing bulging wallets at the coffeehouse and flaunting expensive watches and sunglasses.

By her third week, though, she’d discovered that most of the pilots made no secret about wanting one thing only. A lot of them had a different girlfriend in each city on their routes.

She absolutely wanted no part of that. She’d rather be single than be some arrogant man’s plaything. After she’d turned down several “kind” offers, they’d finally taken the hint and stopped asking her for dates—or one-night stands, if she was being honest. Yes, she’d had one of those, but that was in the past.

Stormy had just signed into her register when a man in a clean, pressed button-up shirt, impeccably tailored even to the most stringent of military standards, walked into her field of vision.

His gleaming gold pilot’s wings adorned the left side of his broad chest, and above his right chest pocket he wore a bright name badge with the words “Captain Armstrong, Trans Pacific Airlines.”

This pilot stood about six feet four, with piercing green eyes. He wore a captain’s hat embroidered with a gold leaf and it had his airline insignia centered above the visor. Peering out from the underside of the visor and on the visible side of his temple was nearly black hair, well trimmed and styled. His skin tone was slightly dark, perhaps a hint of a Mediterranean heritage. His face was clean shaven, showcasing his incredibly sensual lips.

His physique was a sight to behold, with broad shoulders, a muscular, well-defined chest, and deltoids, biceps, and triceps filling out his dress shirt. Stormy’s eyes followed the natural progression of his impressive physique, dropping to the black belt fitted perfectly at his hips.

Why did he look familiar?

It wasn’t until he was right in front of her that the connection clicked.

Flashes of a moonlit beach—a hot, steamy shower, and even hotter kisses—large, strong hands tracing her body . . .

Reaching for the missing necklace again, she fought the dizziness she suddenly felt. She knew this man, though he was someone she’d never thought she’d see again. And now she knew his name, or at least his last name. Her body trembled as she faced him. It had been years, six years to be exact, and he’d changed, but the instant ache between her thighs was a quick reminder that her body hadn’t forgotten him.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she allowed herself to remember that night, remember every moment of it with him expertly caressing every inch of her, making her cry out over and over again. She’d done things with this man she’d never done before, and certainly hadn’t done since.

How did one follow up with another man after being with someone like Green Eyes? He’d been incredible, and she hadn’t once felt the same reaction with another man.

Her cheeks flaming, Stormy looked at Green Eyes and waited for recognition to light his eyes. But there was nothing there except a slight tilt to his head and definite interest in his expression.

He had no clue who she was.

Damn! She hadn’t thought she was quite that forgettable, even if it had been six years earlier and she’d grown more curves and lost that youthful glow only a twenty-year-old could have. Well, her hair was now its naturally dark brown color again, too . . .

Still, her ego took a nosedive.

But did she really want him to know who she was? Would he expect a repeat performance? Would that be so bad? Questions with no answers flooded her mind as she stood there unable to speak.

“Did you hear me?” Green Eyes asked.

“What? No. I’m sorry,” Stormy replied. He must have placed an order with her, and she hadn’t processed a single thing that had come out of his mouth.

“I want an Americano, four shots with room for cream.”

Her brain was still muddled and she just stared at him blankly. Dammit. With all the blood rushing through her brain, she couldn’t quite grasp what he was asking.

“I want an Americano with four shots and room for cream,” he repeated, very slowly now. “I’ve been gone a while, but I would hope the servers here could still actually
serve
coffee.”

“Yes, sorry, I’ll get that right away.”

She turned and knocked down the container of half-and-half, cream spilling all over her leg and the floor. Silence echoed off the walls for several moments until he spoke again.

“Have a rough night?” he asked with a laugh.

She shuddered. She was really thrown off her game right now, and though it frustrated her, she was fighting tears. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, doll. I know women, and obviously you’re having a rough day, maybe not getting enough sleep. Maybe you should dump the man who’s giving you those circles under your eyes and let a real man make sure you’re resting like a baby,” he boldly told her, then added insult to injury when he winked.

She was mortified to know she’d slept with this man. Even more mortified to realize she still couldn’t regret it, even if he was acting like a typical alpha pilot who thought panties were automatically supposed to drop when he entered the room. Taking a deep breath, she decided she wasn’t going to keep acting like an A-class klutz and she was certainly going to stand up for herself, which wasn’t something easy for her to do.

“I can’t figure out if you’re hitting on me or insulting me, but either way, your behavior is unacceptable.” There. That was good, she convinced herself.

Her anger partly stemmed from him not remembering her and partly because his attitude toward her was now ruining her one Cinderella moment in time. No, she hadn’t escaped at the stroke of midnight, but she had run away, though he’d never come calling for her. Not that she wanted him to, she told herself. But still, she sort of liked living with the fantasy of a lover lost.

He was no longer lost, dammit!

“I would never insult a beautiful woman,” he told her as he leaned a little closer across the counter. “However, I could give you a good night’s rest.”

Stormy didn’t know what to be more offended about, but she most certainly was horrified he would speak to her this way. Seriously, how could he not have even the smallest inkling of recognition?

Best sex in his life? Apparently not.

Her pride was wounded, and she was hurt, which made her words sharper than she normally ever spoke.

“You will never give me
anything
, especially not at night. I don’t go for coarse, primitive men like you,” she said, a bit too loudly in her attempt at being stern, making several heads turn in their direction. “I have standards.”

But right after snapping at him, her cheeks flushed as she looked around the rapidly filling coffeehouse. This was hardly the place for private discussions. People were going to assume she was crazy and a man-hater. She just might be a little bit of both.

He didn’t seem offended. “Well then,” he drawled.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. She was going to get into serious trouble if her boss came out from his office in the back.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. But while you’re standing there, maybe I could get my coffee.” He was still leaning in way too close for her comfort, and her body was still reacting to his.

With trembling fingers, she picked up the coffee cup and turned away before speaking just loudly enough for him to hear.

“Obviously another pilot with an ego big enough to make up for a small package.” Of course it was anything but small, but he didn’t know that
she
knew that.

“Stormy!”

Stormy’s shoulders hunched. Dang it, of course her boss would chose the exact moment she lost her cool to come and check on her. Now the wretched man would bust her for being less than her absolute best with a customer.

But Green Eyes had deserved her wrath. If only her boss were a woman, this would be so much easier to explain. However, Henry hadn’t liked her from day one, and now she was practically handing him a solid reason to fire her.

The man had a high-pitched, nasal voice that was like nails on a chalkboard. Henry was known as Mr. Customer Service and took any opportunity he could to insult the girls in front of the clientele. It was his petty form of vengeance, or so the theory went, for being turned down left and right by the opposite sex.

“Henry, I’m—”

Before Stormy could even finish, Henry interrupted. “Captain Armstrong, I’m sorry about the delay and about Ms. Halifax’s behavior. This one is on us.”

“No, no, everything is fine,” Captain Armstrong said with a smile. “Ms. Halifax is clearly having a rough morning, and maybe she just wasn’t getting my sense of humor.” As the man spoke to Henry, his eyes never left Stormy, as if to apologize for the entire scene he’d helped create.

It didn’t matter. Despite his clear remorse, she was still seething.

“Nevertheless, your coffee’s on us,” Henry said before turning to Stormy. “Finish with the captain, and then immediately join me in my office.”

Stormy’s heart sank to her stomach. Her day had just gone from bad to worse. She had zero doubt that she was about to get canned—and on the same day she’d received an eviction notice. What was next, getting struck by a rare strike of Seattle lightning?

As she began to come to terms with the gravity of her situation, images of living on the streets or staying at a homeless shelter began to circle in her mind. Jobs, even service jobs, didn’t come easy, especially if you’d been fired from your last one.

“Hey. You okay?” It took a moment to realize that the captain was speaking to her.

But when she did, she gave the man a withering glare before deciding she’d best make this coffee a great one, since it was most likely her last one.

“Right! One quad shot Americano coming right up!” Stormy made quick work of making the coffee and handing it over the counter. “I apologize for my behavior,” she told him through gritted teeth.

The pilot took a sip of his hot coffee before smiling. “Thanks for the apology. You don’t need to worry about it, though. I can take it as good as I give it. Hope your day goes a little better than the way it’s been so far.” He tossed down a hundred-dollar bill as if it were petty cash and then strode off to his gate.

Stormy stood there motionless as she watched the incredible backside of Captain Armstrong as he walked away. Damn, she wished he were short, fat, and ugly. Why was it that if a man was good-looking, it made you think he was actually a decent human being? It had to be the smile. No, it definitely had to be the eyes.

Possibly the backside.

Whatever the hell it was, she wanted to hate him—but she couldn’t quite do that. For now, she could just feel anger.

The man had insulted her, most likely gotten her fired, and he couldn’t even apologize. He figured throwing out a ridiculous tip would make up for his rude behavior. Either that or he wanted her to know he was rich, thinking he could buy a night with her.

He would be wrong on both fronts.

But there was an upside here. Being fired would mean that she wouldn’t have to deal with him or any of the other jackass men who roamed the airport hallways thinking they were God’s gift to women.

The one thing that worried her the most, though, was the fact that she was still stupidly attracted to the man. How in the world could she find him attractive? What was wrong with her that she found it acceptable to be attracted to the man who couldn’t be bothered to remember they’d slept together?

Stormy had been loved and taken care of by incredible parents. She’d had a few hard knocks in life, but who the hell hadn’t? She’d never been neglected or tortured. On the whole, her life had been pretty damn great, actually.

Enough reflection. Hardening her resolve to deal with her slimy boss, she squared her shoulders and forced herself to turn toward the office. Though her feet were dragging, she made her way inside and stood in the doorway.

Henry made her wait while he scribbled for several moments in some notebook behind his pathetically small desk. It was a power move on his part. Not surprising, she thought. How much respect could the man have for himself, working at a crap job with horrible wages despite his law degree from Harvard?

Too bad the man had been caught concealing material evidence in a case and had been disbarred. He had wound up a manager in a small coffee shop. And he took his anger out on everyone.

“Are you trying to get us shut down, Stormy?”

She hadn’t expected that. “No,” she said.

“Well, if you don’t follow the rules, you get fined, and if you get fined enough, you get shut down. So again, what are your intentions while working here?”