Page 5 of Veiled Fantasies

Jill felt her hackles rise.I called him first!

He had already had a couple of stiff drinks. They’d been spaced out by a couple of hours, but still a little borderline. Why so much drink? Why so much work?

Perfection, she knew, was never what it seemed. Was he escaping something? Surely Mr. Perfect didn’t need an escape. Not when he had a great job and a lovely family and a gorgeous wife. Not him!

He’d already two hard drinks. One more and Mister Perfect would have to be demoted to simply Mr. Gorgeous. Jill kept very still as he hesitated.

“Water, please,” he said.

Whew.

She ordered an orange juice and a water and downed each in a single gulp.

* * *

The engines were still droning when Jill snapped awake from a dream. Merciless criminals were chasing her over a bizarre landscape that started in her childhood neighborhood and ended in the Sydney airport. Mr. Perfect was there, too, texting away while other bystanders stood rooted dumbly to the ground. Couldn’t anyone hear her cries for help? And why did she feel like she was running through jelly?

She snapped her head up and blinked at the seat in front of her. The plane was hushed, almost frozen in time.

She tried shaking the dream out of her head. If only she wasn’t in the middle seat, she could get up to walk it off. Or look out the window and distract herself with the view. Asia was down there, and she was missing all of it. The window shade was drawn, and her neighbor had nodded off. What was he dreaming about?

Maybe he didn’t need to dream. Perfect was perfect, after all.

She thought about the landscape hidden from view, so far below. If only she could slide the window shade up and sneak a peek. And maybe do the same with his shirt.

Jill Bowden! Watch your dirty mind!

She really needed to get a grip. Still, it was better than a nightmare. She closed her eyes and disciplined herself to think soothing, pleasant thoughts. Most of them featuring the sturdy ass she’d admired going down the aisle when Perfect had finally taken a break from work. She leaned a little closer, inhaling his irresistible cologne. Something woodsy but not too far from the sea.

No reason not to dream.

Chapter Three

Jill couldn’t believe it.

Flight canceled.

On the departure board in the Dubai airport, the same two words appeared in neat, repetitive columns.Flight canceled,all the way down the list.

Every flight. At least, every flight over Europe and the North Atlantic. Dubai to London, to Paris, Manchester, Frankfurt, Amsterdam, even New York. All canceled.

Rumors were swirling, something about a volcano. In Dubai? She swung her eyes to the windows. The panoramic panes revealed a featureless world of sand and concrete. No volcanoes. Not a one. Not a lick of shade, either. Just a dusty horizon shimmering with heat, burning up in front of her eyes.

A muted television monitor showed images of a volcano in a cold, wind-swept landscape totally incongruous with the view outside. A caption rolled under the image, identifying the scene as Iceland. The volcano was in Iceland. But what did Iceland have to do with anything? Whatever it was, the reporter sure looked serious. Just like the farmer gesticulating at the volcano in a breathless interview. Just like the lab-coated expert pointing to diagrams of the Earth’s layers, in the next. And the airline employee, over at the information counter? All of them serious.

Very serious.

Bit by bit, she pieced it together. Plumes of volcanic ash were spewing over Europe and the North Atlantic, making air travel unsafe. All flights were grounded, stranding thousands of passengers all over the world.

“For how long?” an irate passenger demanded.

Jill strained to hear the uniformed official’s answer. “Could be a few days,” the man said, face pained. “Could be weeks.”

Weeks? Her eyes flew to the windows again. In Dubai?

The same thought was on everyone’s mind. The mother traveling alone with three children looked dazed. She sat waiting for somebody, something to guide her while the children squirmed in exhaustion-induced hyperactivity. The two officers escorting the criminal were absolutely livid. Their charge, on the other hand, looked almost gleeful at this glitch in their plans. The backpackers were snapping pictures. To them, everything was an adventure. Other passengers were complaining loudly or muttering in low tones. Mr. Perfect was calmly texting away.Delayed. Love you. Will call soon.

Jill let herself be shepherded down to baggage claim and spent an hour watching the carousel circulate with an ever-dwindling line-up of suitcases. Not a sign of her bag. She risked a detour to the bathroom, then the water fountain, slurping down water like a camel at an oasis. Who knew how long this ordeal was going to last?

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