Girl on a Plane: A sexy, sassy, holiday read. Cassandra O’Leary

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СКАЧАТЬ belly like a roll of thunder. He didn’t laugh often, but when he did there was such an open and sunny look on his face, it was almost boyish. It was addictive. She loved being able to turn his frown upside down. She wanted more of his laughter, his humour.

      “Oh, no. My musical taste is eclectic, but it runs more to the Nirvana side of the equation, with a bit of Hilltop Hoods thrown in. How about you?”

      “Little known fact about me,” she mirrored his earlier comment, “when I was a teenager I followed a couple of punk bands around the festival circuit, Glastonbury, Reading, the whole scene. I even shaved off all my hair like Sinead O’Connor. My favourite band of all time is The Sex Pistols. But I love my pop songs too.”

      “I never would have picked you as a punk, but I’m impressed. Although I don’t think I approve of your being a skinhead. I can’t imagine you without your beautiful blonde hair.”

      She stilled, afraid to break the spell as he reached across the table and stroked his fingers through the lengths of her hair. Already trembling, she gasped under the light but sensual touch. She couldn’t hide her reaction, but bit her lip to keep from groaning.

      His hand hovered next to her cheek for a split second as if to touch her face, to feel her skin. “You have beautiful skin too. Irish cream.”

      She wanted him to touch her, willed him to. It was so strange, she’d never been so drawn to a man in her life.

      He dropped his hand down onto the table in front of him. Her heart sank with disappointment.

      “I reckon it’s time for another drink. What do you say?” Gabriel avoided her eyes.

      She could have sworn he was blushing too, even through his suntan.

      Two Singapore Slings later and Gabriel’s head was about to explode. Not from sitting so close to Sinead, although she was definitely getting under his skin. It was an all-too-familiar foe. A migraine.

      He was an idiot, it was official. Too many drinks in his system and probably one of his food triggers. He should’ve checked the ingredients of the meal. It must have contained MSG.

      The synapses in his brain were firing randomly and a full-blown migraine was coming. But he didn’t want a bloody headache to ruin his night with Sinead. He pressed his hand to his forehead. The acupressure move was supposed to help. No luck so far.

      The darkened bar was completely packed, spotlights illuminating the stage. A bunch of people stood jammed in near the stage, swaying and shouting. He’d agreed to karaoke, mostly so he could stay close to Sinead a while longer. Now it was hurting his brain.

      The MC called for more volunteers and Sinead’s hand shot straight up in the air. Okay, then. He’d cheer her on. People nearby clapped and hooted. She jumped up and was almost away before she cupped her hand to his ear. Her warm breath rushed across his neck and he had to tell himself not to reach for her. Not to kiss her.

      “Wish me luck?” Then she was off, weaving through the crowd.

      “Luck!” He wasn’t sure if she’d heard him, but she looked back and winked over her shoulder.

      A wash of heat stole over him. Damn, she owned him with a wink.

      Now he was eager to see her in action. She was a wannabe rock star and she’d really loosened up with the potent cocktails.

      She bounded up to the low stage. The crowd was lapping it up, shouting and applauding after the last act, or victim. He could do without more pounding bass beats, keeping time with the pounding inside his head.

      He sat higher in his seat and craned his neck for a better view. She spoke to the MC and chose a song from the database. The music started and he groaned. Not because of the throbbing pain in his head, because of the song.

      “Not bloody Kylie,” he whispered. The singing budgie wasn’t his favourite Aussie export. He rubbed his temples with both hands.

      Sinead was centre stage with a microphone in one hand, doing the weird dance from the music video. Even though he wasn’t a fan, it was the type of song your brain absorbed by osmosis. She wasn’t wearing the famous white jumpsuit with the plunging neckline, but he pictured it anyway. She already looked damn fine up there, shimmying and shaking, even sexier than when she’d danced to the Macarena song back on the plane. The Kylie outfit would be the icing on the cake though.

      “La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la … ”

      She launched into the song and as she started on the lyrics, he had to admit she wasn’t half bad. At least she was giving it everything she had.

      Gabriel’s ears pricked up at the words of the song. Could the lyrics be meant especially for him? She couldn’t get some guy out of her head, and his loving was all she could think about.

      This song wasn’t so bad after all. Sinead strutted across the stage like a real rock chick. Her tight jeans gave him a fine view of her assets, along with every other bloke in the bar.

      One guy yelled out. “Hey Kylie! Wanna do the locomotion with me?”

      Laughs broke out from the punters near the stage. A jolt of jealousy struck him like a punch in the gut. He couldn’t stand the idea of these guys looking at her, let alone laying their hands on her. Weird, seeing as he’d never experienced anything like it. Ever.

      Sinead seemed to be oblivious to the effect she had on the guys in the crowd. She was in the zone. Now Sinead sang about wanting the guy every day and every night. Asking him to stay.

      Absolutely. He wanted to stay with her and he was going to get her. Now. He stood up and steadied himself. Most of his body was ready to leave, but his brain, and a killer migraine, had other ideas. The hazy aura in the corners of his vision slowed him down. This migraine was going to hurt. Based on past experience, he reckoned it would hit full-force in about half an hour.

      Then so many things happened at once, he wasn’t sure what came first. Sinead fell off the stage with a massive crash, singing as she went down.

       “La, la, la, la, laaaaaahhh!”

      Shit! She’d taken a headlong stage-dive into the crowd. He had to help her. No one had any warning. No-one had tried to catch her or help her to crowd-surf, not like at a music festival.

      Bloody hell.

      “Sinead!” His voice got lost in the crowd.

      He was on his feet and moving, pushing and stomping his way through people. A space opened in the crowd at the front of the stage but he still couldn’t see her.

      Then from behind him, a sound like tearing metal and cracking glass made him spin. He swivelled on the spot and took in the scene. A window had shattered at the bar’s entrance. Shards of glass and half a palm tree had blown inside. The typhoon had hit. Literally. Wind rushed through the open windows, howling and creaking.

      People screamed. A woman somewhere behind him laughed hysterically. He staggered back from the windows like everyone else as water rushed across the floor.

      Where the hell was Sinead? He had to get to her.

      Everyone was going nuts, running around, bashing into each other, looking for the nearest СКАЧАТЬ