They married three years ago after a whirlwind romance, and every time Mary thought back to those hectic days, her heart leapt with joy. She still remembered the moment at the crowded pub, when she tried to get the bartender's attention. All she wanted was two glasses of wine for herself and her friend Alice. But, the men seemed to get all the attention, and she was constantly being overlooked.

Until Michael came to her rescue.

"You seem a bit lost here."

She turned towards the voice, and almost fainted when she looked at the handsome face staring back at her. An amused smile curled his lips, and the penetrating eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Yeah, I'm trying to get some drinks for me and my friend. The moron behind the bar seems more interested in his male customers than anybody else."

"Tut tut. Could be misunderstood what you're saying here."

"Ach, I don't think so. In my line of work, two thirds of my male colleagues are gay, and quite a few of them are very close friends of mine. All I want is a drink for me and my friend. He should know better as a waiter, which is not unlike what I'm doing."

"And what might that be?" Michael looked at Mary with genuine interest.

"Airline, if you must know, but right now I'm more interested in getting my drinks."

Three months later they'd married in the old village church. And the honeymoon, well, it had been sheer bliss.

Now, three years later, Mary was as happy as ever. Tomorrow, she was scheduled to fly to Madrid staying over for a couple of days, which was good timing, because Michael would be away to Paris for a business meeting. They were due back on Friday and then off to their cottage in the country for the weekend.

When Mary checked in for her flight the next day, she was told there'd been a change, and she was now to fly to Paris rather than Madrid. She would be back almost at the same time on Friday.

Mary could have jumped for joy. The same flight as Michael was on! How strange was that?

She was to work in the back of the plane, so she never saw him boarding. Once airborne, she made her way up to first class unable to wait any longer.

She pulled the partition curtain to one side and stopped in her tracks.

There was Michael, her Michael, with his masculine hand on the thigh. A hand she knew so very well. The only problem was ... the hand was on the thigh of the man sitting next to him.