Harden My Hart - Clare Connelly Page 0,2

the absurdity of what I’m doing—standing in the cabin, staring at Holden Hart until I can hardly think straight.

‘Is that all, sir?’

‘Sit.’ He waves a hand towards the armchair opposite, not directly answering my question.

‘I—’

I what? It’s not like I can make the kind of excuse I ordinarily would when a passenger tries to keep me hostage, taking advantage of the fact we’re there to make their journey as pleasant as possible.

He knows I don’t have another call button awaiting my attention.

‘It wasn’t an invitation.’

That goads me. ‘It was what? An order? A command?’ I think of Amy and regret lashing out. She trusts me. She recommended me to take over for her. I shouldn’t risk doing anything that could hurt her job. But seriously?

Something changes in his expression. I can’t say what—it’s a tiny shift of his lips and eyes so he looks—for barely a millisecond—amused. Then, nothing. He drinks his beer, his eyes on mine so I know I can’t drop my gaze to his Adam’s apple, despite the fact I have a strong impulse to do just that.

He replaces the beer on the table in front of him, his expression contemplative. ‘I don’t know you.’ The words are said simply, yet I feel like there’s an undercurrent to them I can’t possibly comprehend.

‘No, that’s true.’ I don’t sit down, but nor do I move.

‘I know everyone who flies with me.’

I relax a little. He’s a control freak, that’s all. ‘I see.’

‘So? What are you doing on my jet?’

There’s a simple answer to this. Why do I feel like I want to tease him a little, string this out, make him worry? The urge is completely unprofessional.

And yet... ‘Flying to Australia.’

He frowns, and then his eyes spark to mine and something changes in the air between us. I want to take the words back, so too my teasing—okay, flirty—tone. What the hell’s got into me?

‘You’re some kind of sky hitchhiker?’

My smile is involuntary. This time when he gestures to the seat opposite him I take it with only the slightest hesitation. ‘Yep. Thanks for letting me jump aboard.’

He lifts a brow but it takes me a second to hear the unintentional double entendre to my words. I wonder if he’s going to say something. To tease me back. He doesn’t. His face is like stone once more. Grumpy, cross. ‘So, Cora Andersson, how did you come to be wearing a Hart uniform?’

I look down at the navy suit, glad Amy and I are basically the same size. She’s a little less endowed in the bust region and, okay, she’s slimmer at the waist too so I’m wearing a T-shirt beneath the shirt of the suit, just in case I pop a button.

‘I’m filling in for someone.’

‘I see.’

‘Amy.’ I dart my tongue out, licking my lower lip, then stop as soon as his eyes drop to the gesture, following it lazily so heat flicks at the soles of my feet.

‘Hancock.’

I’m impressed by his instant recollection. Then again, Amy’s pretty memorable with her flame-red hair, eyes like emeralds and creamy, flawless skin.

‘Right.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Sick.’

He doesn’t react except for the slightest narrowing of his eyes. ‘So why you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We have other staff.’

I compress my lips. ‘She said something about a training weekend.’

He lifts his brows then nods, slowly. ‘Right. Every quarter our flight crew are sent for retraining.’

‘Every quarter?’

He nods, his eyes scanning my face. After a moment—a moment that scatters heat across my flesh like sunbeams—he drawls, ‘You have thoughts on that?’

‘Should I?’ I’m a study of wide-eyed innocence.

‘Whether you should or shouldn’t has no bearing on your thoughts.’

I dip my head forward, concealing a small smile at his quick retort.

‘So? What are they?’

I lift my gaze, fixing him with a steady look.

‘Quarterly retraining seems...somewhat excessive.’

His eyes narrow and I feel every bit of his multi-billion-dollar CEO strength. It makes my tummy loop.

‘Why?’

It’s a little hard to think straight under the intensity of his stare. ‘Well, not a lot changes in three months.’

‘People change.’ His voice is low. ‘The training isn’t just to teach. It’s to test.’

I consider that. It’s true, people can become lazy, or distracted. I’ve had a few occasions in the sky that have caused me to have a mid-air freak-out because one of my fellow crew failed to properly secure something or double-check a switch before take-off.

‘Only the best fly with us.’

I’d smile if I thought he was making a joke, but his expression is deadly serious.

‘I can assure you I’m across all the