jasmine-scented perfume.
Gemma.
He realized a silly grin had reshaped his face. Probably looked goofy, but he didn’t care. He conjured the memory of her eyes, her lips, her voice. Immediately, raw energy added a bounce to his steps. He would find a way to get in touch with her again, to know the inner Gemma he saw behind those eyes. He had many contacts, particularly in England.
At the priority gate, he handed his boarding pass and passport. He was one of the last to board.
“
Bonjour
,” the attendant said.
The machine yelped and the screen flashed
erreur
.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“One moment please,” she said, typing feverishly on the computer. “Ah, you have a new boarding pass. Seat change.”
“That’s odd. I reserved the seat I wanted yesterday.”
“I don’t know, sir,” she said as she handed him the new boarding pass.
The new pass said
First Class
, which didn’t make sense. M&T’s contract called for the client to pay for business class. Maybe Air France had upgraded him? Or had Roger upgraded their tickets to make up for the canceled vacation plans? If so, it was pitiful and transparent.
Andre stepped onto the plane and turned left, passing through business class. But Roger was still there. Odd.
“Where are you going?” Roger asked.
“I’ve been upgraded.”
Roger’s mouth slackened. Upon reflection, Andre was glad Roger wouldn’t be next to him for the next eleven hours.
His boarding pass identified his seat as 2B. When he turned, he noticed the passenger occupying seat 2A and froze in place.
Gemma turned toward him. “Hope you don’t mind the upgrade.”
Words didn’t register on his lips fast enough. “Wait, you upgraded me?” he asked.
“Guilty.” She produced a shy smile. “If you’re going to fly to Los Angeles, you might as well have a proper seat.”
He transferred his bag from one hand to the other. “Are you sure you’re ready to spend the next eleven hours with a stranger who may sell you out to
People
magazine?”
Her angelic eyes brightened. “I’m willing to take a chance on you.”
The presumption is that the person serving has an advantage over the receiver. Therefore it is only possible to win the match by breaking, or defeating, the opponent’s serve. The service must be broken at least once, if the opponent has any hopes of forcing the match into a tiebreak.
~Tennis Basics
“All the events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.”
~Richard Bach
emma studied Andre as he put away his bag in the overhead compartment then tugged his jacket over his head. His shirt slid up, exposing his abs. Her eyes froze on his chiseled body. That alone was worth the price of admission.
“It’s warm in here,” he said as he adjusted his shirt. The scent of his cologne drifted.
“Yes. Yes it is.”
He sank into his seat. “I’m starting to enjoy this stalker thing. Thank you, Gemma.”
“My pleasure, but there is no free lunch, I’m afraid. I fully expect free advice from the master problem solver.”
His mobile rang just as he was about to respond. He studied the display. “Sorry. I have to get this.”
She waved him on.
“
Hola Gustavo, cómo estás?
” He spoke in Spanish for a couple of minutes with a perfect Castilian accent. She understood Spanish fairly well and eavesdropped shamelessly. Andre was apparently approving some construction work in his home.
“How do you know Spanish?” she asked once he hung up.
“My father’s family is from Spain.”
A Spaniard, like me. Another coincidence
, she mused.
“So, back to where we left off at the lounge. Do you like what you do?”
“Mmm…” She hesitated.
“That’s not a trick question,” he added.
“No, but difficult to answer. My first memory is tennis. In fact, I can’t say I have any independent recollections of events in my life that exclude the game. My life is completely intertwined
Gemma.
He realized a silly grin had reshaped his face. Probably looked goofy, but he didn’t care. He conjured the memory of her eyes, her lips, her voice. Immediately, raw energy added a bounce to his steps. He would find a way to get in touch with her again, to know the inner Gemma he saw behind those eyes. He had many contacts, particularly in England.
At the priority gate, he handed his boarding pass and passport. He was one of the last to board.
“
Bonjour
,” the attendant said.
The machine yelped and the screen flashed
erreur
.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“One moment please,” she said, typing feverishly on the computer. “Ah, you have a new boarding pass. Seat change.”
“That’s odd. I reserved the seat I wanted yesterday.”
“I don’t know, sir,” she said as she handed him the new boarding pass.
The new pass said
First Class
, which didn’t make sense. M&T’s contract called for the client to pay for business class. Maybe Air France had upgraded him? Or had Roger upgraded their tickets to make up for the canceled vacation plans? If so, it was pitiful and transparent.
Andre stepped onto the plane and turned left, passing through business class. But Roger was still there. Odd.
“Where are you going?” Roger asked.
“I’ve been upgraded.”
Roger’s mouth slackened. Upon reflection, Andre was glad Roger wouldn’t be next to him for the next eleven hours.
His boarding pass identified his seat as 2B. When he turned, he noticed the passenger occupying seat 2A and froze in place.
Gemma turned toward him. “Hope you don’t mind the upgrade.”
Words didn’t register on his lips fast enough. “Wait, you upgraded me?” he asked.
“Guilty.” She produced a shy smile. “If you’re going to fly to Los Angeles, you might as well have a proper seat.”
He transferred his bag from one hand to the other. “Are you sure you’re ready to spend the next eleven hours with a stranger who may sell you out to
People
magazine?”
Her angelic eyes brightened. “I’m willing to take a chance on you.”
The presumption is that the person serving has an advantage over the receiver. Therefore it is only possible to win the match by breaking, or defeating, the opponent’s serve. The service must be broken at least once, if the opponent has any hopes of forcing the match into a tiebreak.
~Tennis Basics
“All the events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.”
~Richard Bach
emma studied Andre as he put away his bag in the overhead compartment then tugged his jacket over his head. His shirt slid up, exposing his abs. Her eyes froze on his chiseled body. That alone was worth the price of admission.
“It’s warm in here,” he said as he adjusted his shirt. The scent of his cologne drifted.
“Yes. Yes it is.”
He sank into his seat. “I’m starting to enjoy this stalker thing. Thank you, Gemma.”
“My pleasure, but there is no free lunch, I’m afraid. I fully expect free advice from the master problem solver.”
His mobile rang just as he was about to respond. He studied the display. “Sorry. I have to get this.”
She waved him on.
“
Hola Gustavo, cómo estás?
” He spoke in Spanish for a couple of minutes with a perfect Castilian accent. She understood Spanish fairly well and eavesdropped shamelessly. Andre was apparently approving some construction work in his home.
“How do you know Spanish?” she asked once he hung up.
“My father’s family is from Spain.”
A Spaniard, like me. Another coincidence
, she mused.
“So, back to where we left off at the lounge. Do you like what you do?”
“Mmm…” She hesitated.
“That’s not a trick question,” he added.
“No, but difficult to answer. My first memory is tennis. In fact, I can’t say I have any independent recollections of events in my life that exclude the game. My life is completely intertwined
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