‘Would I have heard of your brand?’

‘No.’

Glassy-eyed indifference.

And now there was the added complication of Jemima sharing the same publisher as Chance’s brother. This plane was too small to contain his potential excitement if that information grenade was tossed in.

‘I write novels about a woman who investigates insurance fraud. I used to be a junior investigator. Anyway, you’ve probably never heard of them unless you buy your books from charity shops but I was number nineteen in What Insurance? magazine’s top twenty insurance-based novels, so…’

Confession over, Jemima braced herself for the judgemental axe of Chance’s glassy-eyed indifference.

‘Wait, you wrote those Beverly Blake books?’ he said clicking his fingers to spur his memory. ‘You’re Jemima Abeson? I frigging love them! What do you mean “charity shops”? Your first book was on The Times bestseller list. Tell me there’s gonna be a third one. The way Mysteries ended I was like, come on!’

Jemima tentatively dipped her toe in the pool of adoration. The water was warm. It was a rare treat to meet a fan who was a real-world normal person and not an insurance investigator eager to correct her factual inaccuracies. It’s a made-up story, she always wanted to bellow at them.

‘I’m close to finishing the third one.’ She smiled.

‘Mate, that’s awesome!’ said Chance. ‘And will Beverly find out what’s in lock-up 639? Actually, I don’t want to know. Man, this is intense!’

Wow, he really did know the books, thought Jemima.

‘I won’t spoil it but let’s just say, it picks up with her heading to Swindon,’ she teased.

‘God, I’ve got so many questions!’

And he really did. Through the drinks service and evening meal, Chance interrogated Jemima on every detail of her novels. And as the cabin lights dimmed, Jemima realised his voice, rather than grating, was actually pretty sexy – from an objective point of view, she clarified to herself for no reason. And his eyes, the hazel, green and brown seemed to almost glimmer in the subdued light. But it wasn’t so much his eyes, more the way he looked at her. And she’d clearly had more drinks than she’d thought because she was starting to feel flirty. That hadn’t happened for a very, very long time. Jemima breathed Chance in. He smelled like… running. Not in a bad way. It was the aroma of hard work and life and skin. He smelt like earth, like a forest. Jemima bit her lip. Given they were random strangers, would a mini-flirt be such a dreadful thing? She ran her fingers through her bob, twirling a finger around a stray strand.

‘Look, I’ve gotta ask,’ Chance said leaning in, ‘why doesn’t Beverly have a special someone?’

Jemima’s smile flickered and Chance immediately back-pedalled, ‘I’m being nosy. You’ve got to keep some stuff under wraps. I get it.’

Jemima turned to him tugging her finger from a tangled knot of hair.

‘It’s my publisher,’ she sighed, ‘they’re not happy with Beverly’s love life which is obviously ridiculous. Eve, my editor, loved the will-they-won’t-they between Beverly and her boss in the first book and she wanted me to take it further in the second book, Mysteries.’