"From time to time."
No fooling, lady. You've been in London four times since '88, by actual count, setting up phony third-party pass-through deals.
"Just business, huh?" He grinned again, then looked up at the liquor service being unveiled in the galley. The turbulence had subsided slightly and the attendants were trying to restore normality, at least in first class. "What do you say to a drink?"
She beckoned the approaching steward, hoping to outflank this obnoxious American across the aisle. "Vodka and tonic, please."
"Same as the lady's having, pal." He gave the young Englishman a wink and a thumbs-up sign, then turned back. "By the way, I'm booked in at the Holiday Inn over by Marble Arch. Great room service. Almost like home. You staying around there?"
"No." She watched the steward pour her drink.
"Sorry to hear that. I was wondering, maybe we . . . Do these 'business' trips of yours include taking some time off? Let you in on a secret, just between you and me. I know this little club in Soho where they have live—" he winked, "I got a membership. Tell you one thing, there's nothing like it in Chicago."
"I'm afraid I'll be busy."
"Too bad." He drew on his drink, then continued. "Long stay this trip?"
"If you'll excuse me, Mr. —"