Page 1 of The Best Bad Decision

one

Prologue

The air vibrated withbass and excitement, thick with humidity and the anticipation of a new year. The music was loud—too loud, even—and the lights flashed a rainbow of colours as they danced around the dimly lit bar. Bartenders in crisp white shirts served shots and cocktails by the dozen. It was New Year’s Eve, and the celebrations in the bar were in full swing.

Cam hooked the heel of his boot on the rung of the bar stool, keen green eyes taking in the scene around him. The bar occupied a vast majority of the hotel’s rooftop, the party starting in the covered space and spilling out into the open-air seating area beyond festively decorated railings. He recognised several faces amongst the revellers; many of them fellow flight crews, not just from his own airline but others too. The hotel was a popular one in the industry, offering a great location and amenities for visiting crew from across the world. Cam nodded ahelloto a small group of women he recognised as flight attendants from a European airline and they all raised glasses of brightly-coloured liquid in return.

The bartender approached him then, and he placed his order—bourbon, neat, billed to his room to be paid off by a future version of himself when he checked out. Within a minute or two, a cut-glasstumbler was pushed across the bar into his waiting hand, and the amber liquid inside winked and swirled as he lifted it to his lips. The first sip burned; the second warmed, and by the third, he was significantly more relaxed than when he had arrived.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there. Quite the opposite: an extrovert by nature, he loved to socialise on his layovers and as holiday scheduling had resulted in an unusually long stay, he was ready to take advantage of his time away.

Singapore had always been one of his favourite layovers. It was worlds away from his hometown of Phoenix, Arizona, with some of the best food he’d ever tasted and friendly locals who were always willing to lend a hand when he got turned around in the extensive public transit system. The flight was often a struggle—sixteen and a half hours by air and a full sixteen hours ahead of his work base in San Francisco made for some hellish jet lag; sometimes he thought it was hardly even worth it for just thirty-six hours on the ground. But with a longer layover this time, he had more time to adjust and explore. More time to soak in the festivities. And more than enough time for another drink. The next time the bartender worked her way down the bar, he waved her down and ordered another glass.

As he brought the fresh glass to his lips, the barstool beside him emptied and almost immediately, a new figure slid in and settled into the shadow. He turned to see a head of dark curls attached to a feminine profile: a pert nose, full lips, and high cheekbones dusted with some kind of champagne shimmer. She wasn’t just pretty. She was drop-dead gorgeous, the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. In the dim downlight of the back bar, her lips glistened with some kind of rose-pink gloss. They turned up in a smile that took his breath away.He swallowed a large mouthful of bourbon, filling up on the liquid courage and letting it lead.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. She turned to face him fully and suddenly, despite the drink, his mouth felt impossibly dry.

“Sure,” she answered in a clipped, British accent that had Cam’s stomach somersaulting. “Why the hell not? I’m Amie, by the way.”

“Cam.” He introduced himself, sticking out a hand. She took it in hers and wrapped her warm fingers around his, squeezing gently. He returned her grin and signalled to the bartender again.

“What do you do, Cam?” she asked as they waited for their drinks. He glanced out at the sky, moon high and stars twinkling, then back at the woman in front of him. Her eyes twinkled brighter than the stars, he decided.

“I’m a pilot,” he answered, and she smirked, making a show of glancing at the delicate gold watch on her wrist.

“Wow,” she said dryly, crinkling her nose in laughter. It was well-known that you could always identify a pilot in the midst—because he’d always tell you. “Thirty-five seconds, must be a record!”

He hooked an ankle around her barstool and dragged her closer, leaning in until his lips almost touched the shell of her ear.

“I promise I’ll last longer when I send you flying.”

Her breath hitched with a split second of hesitation and then she laughed, a light, musical sound that had his cock twitching in his pants as she directed a dazzling smile at him. He shifted slightly in his seat.

“What about you, Amie?” He changed the subject. “What do you do? What brings you to Singapore at New Year?”

“I’m a flight attendant,” she admitted with a smile, ducking her face towards the drink the bartender had just placed in front of her. “I guess we’re even.”

Cam grinned and picked up his own drink.

“Amie.” He tested her name on his tongue. It tasted good. “Tell me more about you.”

“What do you want to know?” She offered a coy smile, leaning closer along the bar.

“You’re a beautiful woman alone in a bar on New Year’s Eve, sweetheart, there’s gotta be a story somewhere.”

She sighed, curling a lip slightly in contemplation as she considered her answer.

“The rest of the crew have someone with them so I figured, I’d come up here, enjoy the view and see where the night takes me.”

“And are you? Enjoying the view?”

“Very much.”

Cam grinned, the kind of heart-stopping, dazzling, dizzying smile sure to make women—and men—weak at the knees. His bright eyes burned a hole right through her skin, heating her from within. It made her pulse race, and with every new quirk of his lips or deep rumble of laughter, she felt her heartbeat quickening, stumbling against her ribs and taking every last inhibition with it.

“What kind of pilot are you?” Amie drained the last of her drink, slamming the glass down on the bar just a little too hard.

“A good one, I hope,” Cam joked. “I’m a first officer. I fly the triple out of San Fran.”

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