In Flight (Up in the Air, #1), Mile High (Up in the Air, #2), Grounded (Up in the Air, #3), Book 1. In Flight. by R.K. Lilley. · 69, Ratings · 3, Reviews. R K Lilley - [Up In the Air 01] - In flight Contents Title Page Dedication Copyright BOOKS BY R.K. Lilley Mr. Beautiful Book Four: Up in the Air Download PDF. Free eBooks at Planet ruthenpress.info Chapter 1. It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were .. right up into the air a helicopter with a camera in its nose.
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Page 1 The Air We Breathe is a picture book designed to introduce Earth's atmosphere and its burning up objects like meteors from space. Thanks to the. and nonsense which make up so much of what we're told about climate renewable energy, David MacKay's book provides a wel- come addition to the . Many of the early chapters (numbered 1, 2, 3,) have longer. Page 1 for cover. A stilted heron labored up into the air and pounded down river. He pulled his time book out of his pocket and opened it where a pencil.
This article has been cited by other articles in PMC. Abstract Despite past improvements in air quality, very large parts of the population in urban areas breathe air that does not meet European standards let alone the health-based World Health Organisation Air Quality Guidelines. Data strongly suggest that effects have no threshold within the studied range of ambient concentrations, can occur at levels close to PM2. Having firmly established this significant public health problem, there has been an enormous effort to identify what it is in ambient PM that affects health and to understand the underlying biological basis of toxicity by identifying mechanistic pathways—information that in turn will inform policy makers how best to legislate for cleaner air.
Another intervention in moving towards a healthier environment depends upon the achieving the right public attitude and behaviour by the use of optimal air pollution monitoring, forecasting and reporting that exploits increasingly sophisticated information systems.
Improving air quality is a considerable but not an intractable challenge. Translating the correct scientific evidence into bold, realistic and effective policies undisputedly has the potential to reduce air pollution so that it no longer poses a damaging and costly toll on public health. I enjoyed the feeling, but was extremely unnerved by it.
He shrugged out of his finely tailored suit jacket, handing it to me. He remained in a fine white dress shirt with a pale blue tie. I saw that, although he was lean and elegant, he was also surprisingly muscular.
The sight of that hard play of muscles under his shirt made my mouth go dry. I finished my usual pre-board service in a bit of a daze, barely locking down all of the carts in my galley before it was time to step again in front of Mr. Cavendish for the safety demonstration. He watched me intently, his gaze never leaving my face.
Never once had his gaze left my face. I sensed that he was interested in me. But in what way? I had no idea. Usually when men hit on me, their eyes were all over my body, not unswervingly glued to my eyes. My demonstration was unusually graceless. I even fumbled with the seat buckle in my nervousness. I took my seat for takeoff with a sense of relief. I needed a moment of peace to gather my composure. My jump seat faced Mr. Cavendish almost perfectly. I had to make a conscious effort not to meet his eyes during the long taxi and then takeoff.
Generous Stephan clutched my hand warmly as we took off. We both loved the feeling of takeoff. It represented good things for both of us. New places. New adventures. Leaving bad things behind us. I sent him a quick, affectionate smile before I looked out the window in the door to my right, avoiding looking at Mr.
Cavendish for as long as I could. Finally, I stole a furtive glance at him, and was baffled by the change I saw in him. He was still as a statue now, his eyes positively glacial.
It occurred to me that it must look as though we were a couple. Stephan and I often appeared that way, even encouraged it at times.
But it made me uncomfortable that Mr. Cavendish might make that assumption. I barely knew the man. We quickly reached ten thousand feet. At the double ding that indicated our altitude, I got up and quickly started preparing a hot towel service while Stephan made his usual announcements.
He leaned in close against my back, nearly embracing me as he spoke in my ear. But he had helped in coach last time, so we both knew it was my turn to help in back. He just kissed the top of my head, shaking his. Good luck up here. I sighed, exasperated. For once, I actually wanted to work back there.
It would give me a little break from Mr. Beautiful up front. Cavendish barely glanced at me now as I handed out hot towels, then collected them.
Why did that bother me so much? I took drink orders, and served the first round of drinks quickly. The couple on the last row of first class seemed to be heavy drinkers, but the others just had water and looked close to falling asleep.
I took a cart out, offering cheese, crackers, and an olive basil dip. It took me less than five minutes to serve the entire cabin. Cavendish took a small plate of cheese with water, and the couple in back took some, but the other two declined and were sleeping before I was even back in the galley.
I had read them all wrong. I had thought for sure they were just getting started. Cavendish was suddenly the only passenger awake in my cabin. It felt strangely as though we were alone. The curtain was closed securely on main cabin, and the lights were dimmed to near darkness throughout the entire plane. He was working quietly on his laptop, looking alert and nowhere close to sleep.
Would he work straight through the night? I wondered. He likely worked around the clock. Our flight time was four hours and forty-three minutes, and it was now the middle of the night. I approached him, leaning down to speak to him quietly, conscious of the other sleeping passengers, though they were all at the back of first class, and he was nearly at the front. I raised my brows in question.
What can I help you with?
It seemed unprofessional to sit down next to him, but he had asked, and he was the only one likely to see me do it.
Everyone else is beyond caring. Loved it and was disconcerted by it. It was nothing I could put my finger on, but something about his tone made it sound almost intimate.
I took a deep breath and finally just sat down beside him. I angled toward him slightly, my hands in my lap, tugging my skirt down and smoothing the dark gray material nervously. I just blinked for a moment, stunned. I asked myself, even as the words left my mouth. I watched with an avid fascination as one of his elegant hands reached towards mine, long fingers circling my left wrist lightly. I looked back at his face, and he was smiling now. My chest was rising and falling so heavily that I caught the motion at the edge of my vision.
My chest was ample, too much so, making me look disproportionate to my own critical eye. And suddenly, I was all too conscious of my heavy breasts, rising and falling conspicuously. My nipples were tightening up in a pleasurable way as my breath caught. He made a deep humming noise in his throat, then pulled his hand quickly back.
He cleared his throat softly. I bit my lip and shook my head. His gaze went to my mouth at the motion. Is this really happening? I thought, dazed. What time will you be waking up? Unusually so. It seemed to be swaying me from my normal ways. I was used to gently turning men down before they could directly ask me out. The tactic had always served me well. It saved me awkwardness, and saved their pride. Cavendish, though. When he asked me a question, I felt almost compelled to answer it truthfully.
We have an early flight to Las Vegas on Saturday morning. He was apparently going to order me out. Why was I having such a hard time getting the words out to tell him no? I shook my head finally, galvanized back into my normal behavior. He was silent for a moment before he tried another tact. That was not exactly what I had in mind. He probably only dated useless socialites who had never had to work a day in their lives.
I wanted him to continue with his explanation now, sure it would kill every ounce of the unwilling interest I felt for him. His gaze was hot suddenly, his finger running again along my thin tie. But I promise I can make you interested. I was so done with the conversation. I felt slightly ill, but more aroused, and the combination was troubling to me. We have a girl that works in back who seems more your style.
Or whatever the the hell it is you were suggesting. I sat back in the seat, glaring at the hand that held me captive. But I am very, very attracted to you, and I would very much like to do something about it. I was taking deep breaths, counting, and just trying to get my anxiety under control, when he swept in after me.
I opened my mouth to tell him no again when he kissed me. I just stood there, every part of my body stiff except for my lips, which had softened automatically at the touch of his pretty mouth.
It was so unfair, that he had this too, this impossibly intoxicating kiss. His tongue swept into my mouth and I moaned quietly in spite of myself. But I was obeying him even as I questioned myself, sucking carefully and then harder. He groaned and pressed against me slowly. I felt him keenly, my body more sensitive than I could ever remember.
His erection pressed into my stomach very obviously and I pulled back at the realization. I swallowed hard. Touch all the places there that you want to be touched on your own body. I was watching his mouth, and he licked his lips, nodding at me to go on. I ran a hand down the muscles of his abdomen. He was all corded muscles, everywhere I felt.
I stroked his arms, and they were far bigger and more muscular than I would have guessed. He just looked so elegant at first glance, it was hard to believe anyone so elegant could also be so built. He had to work out for hours everyday to achieve this kind of a build. It was so intimidating. And so unbelievably hot.
He unbuttoned several of the buttons along his chest and stomach. But it was so natural to just do as he asked. It felt good. I tried to fit both hands into his shirt, and he pulled one out gently.
I stroked his hard, hot skin. I felt no hair, and wondered if he waxed it. It was so smooth. He kissed the hand that he had grabbed, placing it firmly back onto his shoulder. I watched my own hand wander down his body, going straight to his groin. I gripped him through his slacks suddenly, and he groaned, wrenching my hand away quickly.
He grinned at me, but it was a pained grin, all white teeth. Not yet. The first time I want you in my bed. He buttoned his shirt quickly and straightened his clothing, watching me. He pulled his phone out. I shook myself mentally. What was I doing? I did not want to get mixed up with him.
I knew it absolutely. I shook my head at him. He looked genuinely surprised at my answer, and then amused. That made me mad. I backed up until my butt bumped against the aircraft door. He put his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the counter. He ran a tongue over his teeth.
The thought of someone saying no to him is so foreign that it just amuses him. His voice was rich with mirth when he spoke again.
Is that neutral enough? His eyes were on my chest as it rose and fell in agitation. I finally looked down, mortified to see that my hardened nipples were showing clearly even through the three layers covering them.
My brain short-circuited for a moment, my face going a little slack. My whole body tensed at his comment, and I knew it was more desire than dismay that shocked a tremor through my body. Or how well suited you are to it. I can show you. I would love to show you. He obviously knew what he was doing, knew which buttons to push, knew how to control me sexually. He seemed to read my mind, or more likely, my expression. He grinned. And the submission. He touched it to my cheek, running it lightly down to my chin, then to my neck.
I shivered as he reached my collar bone. There was a tiny pocket on my vest, right over my right breast, and he slid the card into that pocket. I would love to hear from you. Anytime, night or day.
I was still standing there, taking deep, calming breaths, when Stephan joined me a good thirty minutes later. He was eyeing me curiously as he shut the curtain. It always made me smile, which was why he used it. I nodded. Beautiful fiasco, but just not right then. Or even that week. Too innocently. My eyes narrowed as I looked at him. But he only did that bob when the answer was a yes. Did he like ask you out or anything? I have a good feeling about him.
I pointed a finger at him. Everyone in the world does not need to date. He gave me a tight hug. It was just his way of being affectionate. It was how he showed love and sought comfort. It was not my way. Not with anyone but him.
I hugged him back. The rest of the flight passed as slowly as I had expected it to. I liked to stay constantly busy. These flights were all about killing time. Even Mr. Cavendish was dozing when I checked on my cabin. I watched him sleep for a long time. Watching such a restless person at rest was fascinating.
He was almost too pretty in his sleep, with no tension in his face. His long, thick, dark lashes making dark shadows on his face even in the near darkness. I could have watched him sleep all night.
And I wanted to touch him, badly. A stray lock of hair had fallen across one of his cheeks. I wanted to brush it away, and rub it in my fingers.
The moment had passed, and I was determined to move on. I shook myself out of my ridiculous reverie as I realized it was time to prep the cabin for landing.
I found myself watching him again as we took our seats to land. His gaze found me quickly, the sleep leaving his eyes as he met my stare and blinked. I schooled my face into neutral lines as he stared back at me. Eventually, I broke the stare, looking at Stephan instead.
He was studying me as well, his look strange. Unnerving The jet bridge at JFK-New York was different than the one in McCarran-Las Vegas, so the passengers departed out of the first door, having to make their way through the first class cabin. I nodded politely at Mr. Cavendish as I handed him his suit jacket. He leaned in closer, speaking directly into my ear. Stephan raised his brows at me as I came back to stand beside him to see off the other passengers.
Being around that man made me feel…strange. And I had no frame of reference with which to learn those rules. I told myself firmly that I was only relieved that I had told James Cavendish no. He was just too much for me. He was too experienced, too jaded, too rich. And all of that would have been enough to dissuade me even if I was interested in dating, which I certainly was not.
I never had been. I had my own demons to deal with, and that sort of thing was the last thing I should be interested in. But still… in spite of myself, I did find it fascinating. And frightening. And exciting. Like putting me over his knee… I knew from countless visits to a shrink that the things that horrified people in childhood could also excite us as adults. The thought was sobering. I worked really hard not to be a victim of my childhood.
That made it all the more important that I stay away from someone like James Cavendish. It took some convincing, but I felt I had adequately convinced myself of this as we got our luggage down, and then waited for the rest of the crew to join us.
Stephan and I walked in the front of our little inflight parade as we made our way briskly through JFK. Shall we grab one on our way out? I shot him a puzzled frown. Cavendish waiting at the coffee counter. He gave us an enigmatic smile, nodding cordially to Stephan. My head whipped around to eye Stephan suspiciously.
He was nodding back at James Cavendish, smiling. He pursed his lips. I nodded stiffly as we made our way past Mr. I was going for polite, but cold. I thought I pulled it off well. He had long ago mastered the art of playing dumb. Tell me what you did. Did you give him my number? Stephan could skate around the truth like a pro, but he would never outright lie to me. The crew van to the hotel was full of excited chatter about the plans for the evening.
Apparently, everyone was planning to go out for drinks together at the bar on the corner near our hotel. Karaoke night.
I cringed a little at the thought. It sounded a little too loud and embarrassing for my taste, or my mood. But I would be a good sport. Also, I knew Stephan liked one of the bartenders at that bar.
We went there for either lunch or dinner almost every week, when we came to town. Stephan was ninety percent sure that the bartender was flirting with him, and not just a friendly guy.
But it took him a long time to work up to actually asking a guy out. But this made it much harder for him to date. He said online dating just felt wrong for him. He was a little old-fashioned about the strangest things. Melissa was describing to the van at large what she was planning to wear that night, and what she was planning to sing for her karaoke numbers.
He thought I was going to try to duck out. I looked at him. I decided to let him off the hook. But you have to swear not to make me sing or dance. It was a family trait. Still, I considered having a few drinks with the crew. I was just so damned tense.
Maybe I would indulge. Just let myself relax for a few hours. His eyes widened. I shrugged. He put his arm along the back of my seat, giving my shoulder a squeeze. We both gave her neutral smiles. I tried to always give people a chance, but so far Melissa had not impressed me.
I just found her untrustworthy, though I had nothing concrete so far to prove that. Although, she did openly admit that her goal in life was to find a rich man to take care of her. That seemed pretty damned shady to me. But my favorite is Buttercup. I heard you call her that the other day.
I love stories! She was laying it on a little thick today. I shot a glance at the two pilots who were watching our interaction from the front row of seats in the huge van. I was guessing that she liked one of them, from the affected way she was acting. The First Officer was younger and better looking than the Captain. Jeff, I recalled his name. He had dark brown hair, and attractive brown eyes.
He was tall, with a rangy build. She reaffirmed my guess almost as I thought it, sending the captain a positively beaming smile. He gave her what I thought was a slightly greasy smile. He had Peter laughingly refusing to sing and steering the conversation in the direction he chose with no effort whatsoever. Beautiful I awoke to the sound of my alarm with even less enthusiasm than usual.
I had tossed and turned for four hours. I had failed. I would be dead on my feet by late afternoon, I guessed. Our rooms adjoined, as they usually did when we were in this hotel. We came here often, and knew the front desk staff well enough to arrange our rooms how we preferred. We just kept the door between our rooms open.
My only response was a mannerless grunt. He laughed. I made a raspberry noise at him, and he laughed harder. A moment later he came into my room, already in his gym clothes and carrying a cup of coffee from my favorite cafe on the corner. The sight cheered me instantly. He smiled at me, wiggling his brows.
Large mocha with soy, no whip, and an extra shot of espresso. I grinned. We worked out for an hour. I stuck to the elliptical for the full hour, but Stephan flitted around from the bike, to the treadmill, and spent a half an hour lifting weights. It was his usual routine, and I watched him, feeling good as I listened to music on my phone and worked out.
Stephan had been right. I had been so tempted to skip a workout today, but it had ended up being just what I needed. I felt worlds better when we finished up. We grabbed a quick sandwich for lunch.
It was a beautiful late spring day in New York City, and I enjoyed our walk along the bustling street. He nodded. Picnic style. Instead, we settled for finding an empty bench to sit on and people watch while we ate. We had nothing to hide from each other. It was one of the reasons we were damn near inseparable. Reitman emerges as a modern-day Frank Capra , capturing the nation's anxieties and culture of resilience.
But ultimately, it's really an expertly done character study that's a dramatic change of pace from director Jason Reitman's previous two films. It is a brutal, desolate film — but also a superb existential rom-com, and the most entertaining lesson in contemporary socio-economics that you could hope for. If it were, it would be hard to laugh in these last days of Nor is it a tragedy. It's an observant look at how a man does a job.
The timing in the Clooney-Farmiga scenes is like splendid tennis. Kendrick, her ponytail swinging like an ax, grabs every scene she's in," but wrote that the film "is an assertively, and unapologetically, tidy package, from its use of romance to instill some drama Reitman needlessly overuses.
But the stakes remain frustratingly low and it's one of those contemporary middlebrow projects that asks us to root for a genial, shallow individual as he learns to be a little less the man he was.
There is no attempt to braid these two threads together, and that's where the movie feels unsatisfying. The filmmakers have peeked into the abyss and averted their eyes As a moviegoer, this film provides a satisfying experience where one can take a step back to ponder some of the finer points in our daily lives, but don't expect to find all the answers here.