Fatal Justice (Jack Lamburt #1)(44)

“Wow, do you believe this guy?” Beverly asked. “Must be a full moon tonight.”

“’Tis the season.” Carol winked at her and pretended to chug a shot. “It’s going to be the flight from hell with this clown on board. I’ll double up his drinks, and maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll pass out.”

“Come on, be honest. You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?” Beverly nudged her shoulder.

“Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me? Have you seen this guy?”

“Hey, you know what they say about not judging a book by its cover. You’d never know how good a lover he is unless you try him out. How would you be able to go through life not knowing? Could you live with yourself? I think that you should sleep with him. Tonight. Consider it your Christmas penance for the time you had sex in the pilots’ lounge with that married French copilot.”

“Oh dear, I don’t know how those rumors get started.” Carol shook her head and sighed. “He was a captain, not a copilot.”

“Right. Just the same, I’ll put in a good word for you with your new friend in 3B. I’ll tell him that you want him. That you’re fantastic in bed and that you won’t take no for an answer. That men line up for your services. They fly in from France. Pay you, even. But he won’t have to. Wait in line. Or pay you. Unless he wants to pay you. Brad Pitt pays you. What should I tell him your normal rate is?”

Carol giggled and shook her head. “Don’t you have work to do? I hear the cattle in the back of the plane are thirsty.”

Beverly smiled mischievously at Carol before turning to leave. She couldn’t resist throwing out one last dig to her friend, letting it fly in a serious tone that was loud enough for everyone in first class to hear. “Okay, Carol, I’ll find out what hotel he’s staying in tonight and get his room number for you.”

Beverly sauntered over to 3B, her hips swinging as if in an old Mae West movie, and stopped right next to him. She looked right in his eyes and smiled.

“My drink?” he asked, holding out his glass.

She pushed his arm away, leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Carol will be right with you, sir,” her voice raspy and seductive like a young Kathleen Turner. She winked, looked him up and down with the lustful approval of a sailor at a strip club, and proceeded down the aisle.