And if he didn’t—well, if he didn’t, and he still insisted on delivering her back to her ever-loving brother—she still would have a memory to look back on in the long, loveless years ahead.
One way or another, she needed Plan A to work. Otherwise she’d have to resort to Plan B. She hadn’t got this far without having a backup plan.
Plan B was way less fun but could prove just as effective. Make a scene at the airport on their departure. Find security and plead for help. Accuse Theo of kidnapping and trafficking her and maybe worse. Making sure that he was the object of the authorities’ attention. Her own ID borrowing would no doubt be an issue when that came out, but if it delayed the legal process, that was good. That worked for her.
But she didn’t want to have to resort to Plan B. She didn’t want to throw Theo to the wolves. She knew how the media worked. They would tear him apart based on a false accusation.
Ordinarily she hated women who made false accusations. It brought all women down, minimising genuine grievances. But right now, when she was desperate, what other choice did she have?
So, Plan A was it. She just had to pray that it worked.
‘It’s time,’ she heard Theo call from downstairs. She bounded down the stairs and met Theo at the front door. He looked her up and down and for a moment he appeared dumbstruck. And then he said, ‘You look amazing.’ Had his voice gone down an octave? Whatever, the sound seemed to vibrate into her bones.
‘Thank you,’ she said, her eyes drinking him in. He was wearing suit pants and a crisp white shirt that clung to his torso in the best possible way. Even better, the shirt was unbuttoned at the neck exposing a triangle of olive skin dusted with black hairs. ‘So do you.’
They remained there for moments, seconds, before he seemed to remember that they were supposed to be leaving. He cleared his throat. ‘We should go,’ he said.
The minutes it took them to drive the slow route to the restaurant no longer felt like a penalty. Instead, it felt delicious. Isabella’s senses were on high alert. Today they’d broken the barrier between hunter and hunted. Today they’d found common ground.
Happy ground.
And now, her senses buzzed at his proximity, at his clean masculine scent. She would be happy if this ride never ended. Except there was the anticipation of the after, and the prospect of that was even more delicious. And after today, after witnessing his joy at one of the island’s simple pleasures, after witnessing Theo unwinding, there was a chance it might even work.
She sucked in a breath, heavily laden with the heat and scent of Theo. Was he wearing after-shave or was it his own signature scent that wove its way into and beguiled her senses?
And curiosity powered her conversation. ‘What’s the name of the after-shave you’re wearing?’ Because if she never met him again, she wanted to be able to buy it and be reminded of his scent and this time in her life.
‘I’m not wearing after-shave.’
Damn. So much for buying a bottle. But she found a smile. ‘I like it.’
‘I said I’m not wearing any.’
‘I heard.’
She sensed his head swivel towards her. She just kept smiling and turned her head out her window.
Around them, the palm trees swayed, while the waves crashed into the coral reefs surrounding the lagoon, the background music of the island restored to normal settings now the cyclone was moving away. Isabella had fallen asleep to the island’s music night after night. She knew she would never forget this sound.
She turned back to him. ‘You’re so lucky the cyclone closed the airport.’
‘Am I?’
‘Of course. How else would you have seen anything of the island. But now, at least you’ve seen some of the sights.’
He grunted as he pulled into the restaurant’s car park. ‘I consider myself blessed in that case.’
She smiled to herself. He didn’t sound it. It was fun teasing him.
The head waiter showed them to their table—table thirty—at the back of the restaurant.
‘What are the chances?’ Isabella said as she sat down.
‘I requested it,’ he told her as he pulled out his chair, ‘Just to ensure you couldn’t easily be spotted by any walk-ins.’
Isabella screwed up her face. ‘Your job seems to suck all the joy out of life. Are you ever able to relax?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Between jobs.’
