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Department per diem rate for Tahiti?"
    "Those are very high--"
    "It's not what I asked, Mitch."
    "Of course not." He could barely hide his
resentment. He took a deep breath as he read out the numbers.
    "The current maximum rate is... $421."
    Melanie's jaw dropped.
    "Multiply that by eight days and that comes
to $3,368, for a grand total of $12,048."
    It was more than half her annual salary and
more than enough to keep the nursing home happy.
    Alex looked at her.
    "So what do you say Melanie? Do you want the
job or not? It's entirely up to you."
    "I... I..." she stammered, "I only have an
overnight bag." She finally said.
    "Is that all?" He smiled. "Don't worry, we
have everything you need at our place on the island, and whatever
we don't have, we can find. I never travel with anything other than
hand luggage anyway." He held up his designer hand luggage and
Melanie winced as she saw the large scuffmark from where she had
knocked it out of his hands. He noticed her expression and looked
at the large black dirty line. He gave it a brush or two with his
big strong hand, making no impression on the stain.
    Then he laughed chivalrously.
    "That mark has been there for ages," he
said, but she knew he was fibbing. "Come on, let's go." He put out
his hand for her. She felt like a princess in a fairytale as she
put her slim white delicate hand into his strong tanned fingers,
feeling them close gently around hers. She hadn't been this excited
or terrified about anything in years.

Chapter Six
     
    Melanie normally arrived with the rest of the crew to
the aircraft first in order to get things ready for the passengers.
But today, she was escorted like royalty to the steps of the
Drummond Family’s personal jet. It was all she could do to prevent
her head from spinning as Alex put out his hand like the perfect
gentleman to help her down from the runway vehicle. He smiled and
nodded for her to go first and she felt a flush of
self-consciousness. She would have to mount the steps one by one
with him following close behind her, getting a front row view of
her rear tightly packaged into her flight attendant's skirt. She
wished she didn't have to wear work clothes for this. These days it
felt like she was never out of the uniform since she worked every
flight she could in order to barely cover her rent and
expenses.
    Just so this rich playboy can have his
private jets, she thought. Then pay you over $12,000 for one single
trip.
    She could feel him following behind her.
    I hope you're enjoying yourself. She
thought.
    She needed to stay focused. The last thing
she wanted to do was totter over and trip up the steps. How
charming would that be? Nevertheless, she couldn't help but put a
little sway into her hips as she carefully mounted higher.
    He's the boss after all, might as well give
him what he wants. Somehow, the thought was exciting to her. This
powerful man behind her, the owner of this sleek jet and employer
of everyone at Drummond Airlines was her boss, and she was going to
serve him for the next nine hours like a palace slave.
    I need to get some air and come back down to
earth. She thought. Most likely, all he wanted was a bag of salted
peanuts with a seltzer and she just happened to be the only
available employee to serve him on his South Pacific jaunt. He had
probably bedded hundreds of beautiful girls and plenty of flight
attendants among them. He was way out of her league and even if
they did get involved, it wouldn't be for long. Probably only long
enough for him to 'do' her and then move on.
    But she wasn't that kind of girl.
    No way. Just earn your money, pay the
nursing home bill, and then get back to reality again.
    So then why was the highly improbable
thought of something happening between them exciting her so
much?
    This flight threatened to drive her crazy.
It was going to be one long nine-hour stretch.
    She was almost at the last step when her
footing went and she felt herself slip backwards. For a moment she
panicked,