Curious in a way he had never really been curious about the many beautiful women he had dated over the years. What wasthatabout? She’d walked towards him in the terminal and something inside him had recognised a potent attractiveness that was utterly unembellished and desperate to remain hidden. The graceful sway of her body had momentarily thrown him. Was that the first time? he wondered. Or had thatawarenessalways been there, lurking just beneath the surface?
As fast as that thought entered his head, he banished it back to the hinterland. Had that one and only disastrous relationship, into which he had idiotically flung himself in the wake of his parents’ death, severed something in him? Had that vital curiosity that propelled relationships been killed after his one youthful misadventure?
Yes, he concluded, and a very good thing too. Like Max, he had learned from a young age that emotional investment was destructive, that it left room for nothing else. He’d had a double dose of pain. Losing his parents and making the wrong choice in a woman a million years ago. The first had been infinitely worse than the second, but both had taught him that to turn away from the unrewarding labyrinth of emotional investment was to be master of your own universe. In his eyes, never losing control was a source of strength that enabled him to rise above the haphazard business of getting wrapped up in emotions.
He decided that he was curious about Ellie because he wasn’t involved with her on any level other than the purely professional, and that could only be a good thing. As far as he was concerned, knowing the people who worked for him bred loyalty. He needed loyalty from Ellie because he couldn’t envisage such a smooth working relationship with anyone else.
‘How is your mother doing?’ He nodded in the direction of one of the circulating airport employees and within five minutes coffee had been brought to them, along with an array of pastries. His keen eyes spotted her automatically begin to reach for her iPad and he decided to forestall any work talk, at least until they boarded the plane. He reached for the dainty cup of coffee in front of him and sat back and sipped, looking at her over the rim of his cup.
‘I’m assuming that, since you’re sitting next to me, there was no cause for concern?’
‘She...she seemed fine. Better than I thought I’d find her.’
‘What were you expecting to find?’ He lowered his eyes, shielding his expression, then once again looked at her, this time thoughtfully. ‘I’m not prying, Ellie. I’m conversing. Relax.’
She was as stiff as a board. He watched the slow blush, a delicate tinge of colour staining her cheeks. Yes, he thought, she was startlingly pretty. Where did that sex appeal come from? It was unexpected in someone so demure. Except, he mused,demureshe certainly wasn’t once you scratched the surface.
His eyes drifted lazily over her full, perfectly shaped mouth, over the short, straight nose, the sprinkling of freckles which seemed curiously delicate for someone with dark hair. He shifted, suddenly edgy, and glanced away. But he couldn’t stop himself from picking up where he had left off with his visual exploration. Her hair was neat and shiny and straight, and he would bet his house that it smelled of flowers. Aside from what looked like some lip gloss, war paint was notably absent. There was a cool intelligence in her eyes that he thought could be damned sexy...
He thought about what she had told him about herself, those little snippets of information, and his curiosity ratcheted up a few notches.
Quite frankly, it was invigorating.
What was wrong in having a little enjoyment? It was calledpassing the time of day.It wasn’t going anywhere. There wouldn’t be the usual chase followed by the inevitable boredom.
Within that framework, he felt a surge of intense freedom. He should have been sitting here with Naomi. In fact, he was relieved that he wasn’t. He was especially relieved to be leaving the country, because she had continued to text him despite his lack of response, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that she might just try and confront him in an effort to‘patch this silly nonsense up’, as she had intimated in one of her messages. The last thing he needed was to be accosted from behind by an ex who wasn’t interested in reading the signposts.
‘Were you worried that your mother might not want to carry on living?’
‘No!’ Ellie was shocked at the suggestion, although it mirrored the fear she had felt all those years ago when her mother had sought refuge in the bottle. She’d never verbalised it and no one else had either. It had been a forbidding, frightening thought that had eaten away at her until she had come to realise that her mother would not go down that road.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, softly. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. When my parents were killed,’ he found himself telling her, ‘there was some lightweight counselling on offer, largely targeted at my sister, who was much younger. They insisted on a few sessions with me and that was the question they laboured the most.’
‘I can’t imagine you lying on a couch talking to a counsellor.’ Ellie smiled.
‘There was no couch in evidence. I think movies have helped create that myth...’ He liked the way she smiled—a shy,catch me if you cantype of smile. He’d planned on using his time in the first-class lounge to work. It was what he always did. But this beat work hands down. Her fingers stopped instinctively straying to the sanctuary of her tablet, which was in the computer case she had taken out of her pull-along. It sat between them on the little circular table, next to the pastries and their cups, an officious reminder that chit chat shouldn’t be happening.
‘I went to one session,’ he drawled, ‘to encourage Izzy to follow suit. But then I headed off to university, where I found far more pleasurable ways of dealing with the situation. Wine, women and song can prove excellent home remedies.’ The platitude rolled easily from his tongue as he continued to appreciate an atmosphere that was strangely...compelling.
Brought back down to earth by that provocative statement, Ellie’s eyes skittered towards the tablet again, and James wasn’t surprised when she reached for it, straightened, tucked her hair behind her ears and cleared her throat in a telling signal that time was being called on all informal conversation.
So be it. For the time being.
He was scarcely aware of the drift of his eyes over the crisp, impractical shirt that was tucked into the crisp, impractical skirt. Both were so determined to conceal what lay underneath, but neither could quite hide the jut of her breasts or the slenderness of her waist.
He shifted again, restless, and suddenly needing to move.
‘Work.’ He slapped his thighs and stood up, abruptly bringing all straying thoughts back to heel. ‘Let’s work on the Ronson deal. It’s picking up pace and maybe we can close on it before the flight gets called...’
He’d been bang on the money about the clothes...
The cool air-conditioning on the plane had insulated her from the reality of the scorching heat that assailed her eight hours later, when the plane touched down at Grantley Adams Airport.
The first-class passengers were off the plane first, and as soon as the heavy door was opened the heat poured in like treacle. She immediately began to perspire.
‘Let me,’ James murmured, lifting down her pull-along from the overhead locker. ‘How did you find the flight?’
‘Very relaxing,’ Ellie said truthfully, largely because, after half an hour of work-related conversation, James had devoted himself to his backlog of emails and due diligence reports. And because their seats were so spacious, separated by a partition, which he had conveniently chosen to shut so that he could focus exclusively on what he was doing.
