Page 72 of Bad Influence
‘The reformer?’
‘That’s the one. Brutal.’ I went to lift up my right arm, to illustrate, and winced.
Jimi laughed.
‘Oi!’
‘I’m sorry. You’ve not having much luck in the gym at the moment, are you? First your lip. Now this.’
I smiled, in spite of myself.
My phone rang. I slid it from the back pocket of my jeans and saw it was Rob calling.Typical timing.A reaction must have shown on my face, as Jimi looked at me quizzically.
‘It’s no one important,’ I said, telling my first lie to him.
‘Are you packed?’ he asked. ‘I was sent to check, and to remind you that we leave at five a.m. I can come and help you with your case if you like?’
‘It’s okay, I’ll manage.’
‘See you in the morning then.’
‘See you.’
Chapter Eighteen
WEEK FOUR
Ihad just taken half a sleeping tablet when Mandy appeared in the premium economy cabin on the plane. She was wearing the plush first-class loungewear and looked worried.
‘I wondered if we could have a little chat?’ she asked pensively, as the guy I was sitting next to involuntarily snorted in his sleep. ‘Shall we go somewhere private?’
‘Like where?’ I asked, looking around me. The baby in the bassinet on the row to my right hadn’t stopped wailing for the last forty minutes, and most of the passengers who were awake, which was most of us, were now gawping at Mandy.
‘No way. That’s Mandy Sykes!’ I heard a woman in the row behind whisper loudly.
‘Who?’ replied the man sitting next to her.
‘This is hell,’ Mandy muttered.
I wonder if she’s referring to not being recognised or being this far back on a plane?
‘Come to the front. They won’t mind if we have five minutes, they’re looking after us so well.’ She smiled broadly, so as many people as possible could hear.
I felt a little disgruntled that I didn’t even make it tobusiness with Jimi for this flight, although I knew it wasn’t justified – I was just staff, and premium economy was at least one step up from the economy cabin where Mona always sat me.
We moved through the plane, passing Jimi in business. I tried not to obviously stare, but noticed he was lying flat on his bed, arms folded casually across his broad chest, eyes closed, his lush, dark curled eyelashes long enough to windsurf on.Dreamy.
‘So, Amber, how are we going to handle the styling?’ Mandy asked when we reached her mini suite in row one of the plane. She moved the four-hundred-thread-count bedding out of the way and indicated for me to join her and sit. An attendant approached and offered me a drink.
‘Champagne?’ Mandy asked.
I politely declined. Although I generally enjoyed working with Mandy, there was often a sense that she was playing with me; that she might dangle something tantalising and then disapprove if I took her up on it.
‘This pregnancy,’ she confided, ‘it’s new territory for me and I’m nervous.’
‘That’s natural,’ I reassured her. ‘I’ve not been pregnant myself, but I imagine every mum-to-be must feel the same.’
‘So how do you suggest we work it, style-wise?’
