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“So am I.” Ava’s eyes meet mine for a spilt second.
“Okay, that’s fine. As long as I know.” Margaret looks between the two of us and then continues down the hall. Ava goes with her, and the sound of their easy chatter grows quieter.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, my shoulders tight with tension over whatever the fuck just happened.
Whatever that moment was.
Asking her to dinner was a bad idea.
I should have taken my chance with Jones, Carmichael, and the strippers.
Chapter 11
Ava
I take in thered crescent-shaped marks on the back of Jet’s hand as he places his wine glass down and nods, feigning interest in Jones’s conversation.
Carmichael, his slimmer but pervier companion leans into me, his hot breath fanning my cheek. “Jet doesn’t usually bring such beautiful company with him.”
“Oh?” I smile politely.
“He always comes alone.” His eyes move over my hair and down to my cleavage. “This is a nice change. Tell me, there’s always something I’ve been curious about with redheads…”
Jet’s darkened gaze bores into Carmichael, making me shudder.
“Is your hair that beautiful color everywh—?”
I tip my wine glass over, decanting my merlot into his lap.
“Oops. I am so sorry. I’m so clumsy.” I fake an apologetic smile as I grab my napkin, passing it to him. As he looks down, I use the opportunity to inch my chair away. We’re sitting at a small round table, so my movement makes me brush up against Jet.
He stands quickly. “Take my seat, Ava.”
“There’s none on her seat,” Carmichael says. “It’s all on me.”
Jet holds my eyes. “My seat,” he clips.
I slide across onto it and he steps around and lowers into mine.
“How’s your wife?” he asks as Carmichael blots his wet pants. “You told me she’d taken up painting last time we saw each other.”
Carmichael’s jaw tenses and he drops the napkin back to the table. “She’s enjoying it. She has a talent for it.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
I settle into Jet’s chair and the server brings over a fresh glass of wine. The men begin talking about Atlantic Airways and new route announcements. The majority of the evening has been Jet answering their nitpicky questions about things. He’s right, they are boring. I stifle a yawn, hiding it behind my hand.
“Lost a lot of money, I bet.”
My attention piques as Jet stiffens at Jones’s words.
“We’ve heard rumors that if you don’t get these engine issues fixed, then the whole airline is at risk,” Jones continues.
“Your US operation could drag the UK one down with it. Ruin both sides,” Carmichael adds, his eyes wandering to me and dipping to my cleavage again.
“You should know better than to listen to rumors, gentlemen,” Jet says with a sharp edge to his voice. “Atlantic has been in our family for generations. We aren’t about to change that.”
“Maybe it’s time for something new.” Carmichael leers at me. “I always like trying out something different. Maybe a new CFO would—”
