‘I hijacked it for an hour and a half...’
‘Your parents must have been worried to death. How dangerous!’ But hadn’t she always known that he had that devil-may-care side to him? It was part of what made him such a formidable opponent in the business arena.
‘Not dangerous,’ Leandro murmured in a low drawl that sent shivers rippling up and down her spine, ‘just challenging. And if I know anything about myself it’s that I can never back away from a challenge...’
Why did she feel that the remark went beyond the remembered thrill of flying solo at the age of sixteen? Why did she feel such a shiver of fierce, dark excitement? It terrified her, and not for the first time since she had confessed to her engagement to Oliver she wished desperately that the man she was committed to marrying was more than just a means to a very necessary end. More than ever she wished that she could hold on to him as a barrier against the effect Leandro seemed to be having on her.
‘But surely even if you’d flown with someone before you would have been scared...?’ Her heart was thumping inside her and every nerve-ending in her body felt primed, on red-hot alert.
‘Of course I wasn’t scared,’ Leandro said with a casual shrug and the same half-smile that made her feel so unsteady. ‘I was a teenager. Since when do teenagers feel fear? And besides,’ he admitted, ‘I’d had a few flying lessons with one of the ranch hands. I only felt afraid when I landed the plane and spotted my parents waiting for me.’
He threw back his head and laughed.
God, it was heady having her attention focused so completely on him. It made him feel like the teenager he no longer was. He was quite accustomed to having women hanging on to his every word, but this woman...
‘What did they say?’
‘Grounded for life.’ He grinned. ‘Of course it was impossible for them to stick to that threat. Grounded for three days and then a course of flying lessons, so that if I ever felt inclined to take the plane up again they would at least know I would be able to fully handle the controls...a win-win situation, as it turned out...’ He smiled fondly at the memory. ‘We’re going to be landing in a few minutes...’
Emily hadn’t even noticed that the plane had been dipping lower, but now she broke free of his gaze to peer down into velvety darkness. She could just about make out twinkling of lights as they looped down. They hadn’t removed their seat belts and she clutched the arm of her chair until her knuckles were white. Anyone would have imagined that she had never flown before, and of course she had. Many times when she had been younger. But never in something as tiny as this.
They bumped to a shuddering stop and then they were out in the warm Caribbean night, with the sounds of tropical insects all around them. It was a little disorientating. The island was small and there was none of the usual chaos of a proper airport.
She didn’t resist when he cupped her elbow with his hand to guide her towards the little terminal, which was empty except for a few employees. Behind them their bags were being brought on a trolley. The sound of the soft, lilting accents around her was as foreign as the sounds of the insects and the fragrant warmth of the night.
This might be a horrendous work-related trip during which she would be closeted with a man who got to her whether she admitted it to herself or not, but she still felt the stirrings of excitement at being out of London, on exotically foreign soil.
Without looking at him, she reached to undo the ponytail and shook her hair free, before scooping it all up once again in a fluid gesture, back into a ponytail—a high one.
Against the darkness surrounding them and the smooth, deep mahogany skin of the airport workers who had surrounded them, and were laughing and chatting as they wheeled their bags through, her paleness was intensely eye-catching. He would go as far as to say erotic.
And from nowhere sprang the disturbing thought that this was not merely a challenge...this was danger.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE WOMAN WAS ENGAGED!
Over the next two days that was the only thing that acted as a brake on an imagination that was now firing on all cylinders. That brief moment of companionship on the island hopper—when she had let her guard down, when he had felt as though he was seeing yet another tantalising glimpse of the woman she really was under the mask—had disappeared.
Frustratingly, she had retreated behind her professional façade, and he had had no time to try and work his way beneath it because much of the time they were in the company of other people.
On the island he was nothing short of a minor celebrity. The locals loved him. He had been single-handedly responsible for creating a huge number of jobs. He paid very well. He had sent several of them on courses abroad. Everyone was looking forward to a boom in tourism, thanks to his innovative hotel. His influence had trickled its way into all sectors of the economy.
As soon as they’d arrived they’d been told the great news by the manager in charge of the project that a television crew from one of the major channels in America would be coming for a few days, to cover the opening of the hotel and analyse what it meant for the economy.
Emily felt as though she had entered a strange new world where she had suddenly been elevated to celebrity status purely because everyone seemed to think that she came as part of a package deal with Leandro.
They’d been wined and dined by the great and the good on the island. The local paper had snapped pictures of them. And in the ensuing hectic whirlwind of social activity she had thankfully been able to shakily put her working hat back on and keep it firmly in place.
Her swimsuit had remained at the back of a drawer, and if she had attended dinners and luncheons in attire that was a little over-formal for the surroundings, then at least she felt comfortable in her clothes, and she had firmly resisted the pleas of several of the local businessmen’s wives to go shopping for more ‘Caribbean-style stuff’. By which she had deduced they meant sarongs, flip-flops, transparent floaty dresses and other bits and pieces which she knew would have made her feel even more vulnerable than she already did.
Now, tonight, for the first time since they had arrived on the island, they would be dining alone in the hotel restaurant, sampling the standard of the cuisine. A selection of taster plates would be brought for them, along with suitable wines.
‘Perhaps you and Antoine should do that on your own?’ she had suggested the night before. ‘I mean, he is the head chef. Wouldn’t it be more appropriate if you had him there with you?’
‘He’ll be behind the scenes,’ Leandro had pointed out, in a tone of voice that had suggested he knew very well that she was trying to avoid his company. ‘Do you suggest he cooks, then quickly changes out of his chef clothes and scampers over to my table so that he can pretend that he’s tasting his own food for the first time?’
Emily looked at her reflection in the mirror and felt a shiver of nervous tension ripple through her. She had been given one of the luxury cabanas which sat nestled amidst palm trees and cleverly landscaped lawns that were bursting with colour. She had been told to evaluate it in as detached a manner as possible and get back to him with any suggestions for improvement.
There were none. The cabana was the last word in luxury, from the cool bamboo furniture to the sophisticated adjoining wet room. There was also a thoughtfully positioned full-length mirror, to accommodate women who wanted to make sure that they looked perfect when they stepped foot outside the cabana, and it was this mirror which now reflected back to her an image that was stunningly different from the one she had spent the past year and a half cultivating.
The sun had given her skin a pale gold hue and brought out a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Against the tan her eyes appeared bluer, her lashes thicker and her hair lighter.
Instead of the habitual bun, which she had continued to wear even out here, she had decided to leave her hair loose, and it fell over her shoulders and halfway down her back in a display of wild abandon. The heat and humidity had done something to it—brought out curls and waves she’d never known she had.
Returned to the wardrobe were her neat ensembles. She had brought out one of her two less formal dresses—a turquoise wraparound that showed off lots of leg and bare arms. It was nothing anyone could possibly consider daring, and yet as she did a half-twirl in front of the mirror she felt daring.
* * *
Leandro, having a drink in the bar, was only aware of Emily’s entrance because the little group of men he was chatting to all fell silent. Drink in hand, he turned around slowly and for a few seconds his mind went completely blank. He took a fortifying gulp of rum and water and forced himself to smile and move towards her, murmuring a few words to the guys around him by way of taking his leave.
‘The television crew will be arriving tomorrow,’ he said, dragging his eyes away from her with difficulty. ‘Lots of promotional shots which will benefit us and benefit the community here at large.’