moment, and when he spoke his voice was heavy. ‘You know, I can’t promise you anything, Lara. Not even whether or not I’ll see you again.’
‘I know that.’ Her eyes were very bright, but her voice was steady. ‘And neither should you. This has all been a very strange experience—perhaps it’s best that we put it down to just that…an experience.’
She was moving away from him, and unexpectedly he felt a wrench. He reached out his arms to her, but she shook her head and turned away. If he touched her she would dissolve with the tears which were threatening to fill her eyes—and why leave him with that as an enduring vision?
‘I’d better get going,’ she said brightly. ‘Can’t keep Khalim waiting, can we?’
But he kissed her on the airfield, in full view of Khalim and servants and flight attendants and all. He brought his lips down on hers in a hard, almost punishing kiss, as if he wanted to physically imprint himself on her and leave her with a memory of him which no one else would ever be able to match.
But he hadn’t needed to kiss her to do that.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE first thing Lara saw on her return to England was her face—only for a moment she didn’t quite recognise it, for it was magnified to sixty-eight times its normal size, the blue eyes staring moodily down at her from a giant hoarding as her taxi drove out of Heathrow.
For a minute she blinked, disconcerted.
She had forgotten all about the job—the means she had used to get to Darian in the first place, which had ended up, ironically, with her winning the contract.
It was strange to see your features so enlarged. She looked all eyes—their sapphire-blue colour blinding—but there was a haunted, almost distracted quality to her smile, and she knew why.
It was the very first shot, and it had been taken just after he had put the shawl around her shoulders, when she had been disarmed by the soft and solicitous gesture. She was wearing the chiffon dress and holding the phone to her ear, and there was a dazed, almost dreamy expression on her face. It looked like the expression of a woman in love, but that was crazy. You couldn’t fall in love that quickly could you?
She supposed that depended on what your definition of love was. Maybe she should settle for having been blown away by the man—a feeling which had subsequently grown. Now she was back in England and he was over in Maraban she was missing him already.
‘That ain’t you, is it?’ asked the taxi driver, cocking his head at the poster and then turning slightly to snatch a glance at her.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Cor! Nice work if you can get it!’ he enthused, and he screwed his nose up. ‘Pay much, does it?’
It paid well, though not half as well as most people imagined. But in the end she had been the one who paid, and she had paid with her heart.
There was a light on in the apartment when she arrived home, and she didn’t even have the energy or the inclination to fish around in her bag for her keys, just jammed her thumb on the bell and kept it there.
‘What the bloody hell….?’ An irate Jake flung the door open, his face immediately dissolving into an expression of concern when he saw her. ‘Lara!’ he exclaimed softly. ‘Darling, are you all right? What in heaven’s name has happened to you?’
‘Oh, Jake!’ And she dropped her bag onto the floor and collapsed, sobbing, into his arms.
It wasn’t until she was settled on the sofa, a fire lit and a huge mug of steaming tea beside her, along with the remains of a box of tissues, that she felt ready to face his anxious questions. But the whole set-up sounded mad—in fact, it was mad—and nobody had told her what to say. Or what not to say. It was Darian’s secret to tell. His story, not hers. And Jake was a darling, but what if he happened to let it slip to someone? She knew what the outcome of that would be. The press would have an absolute field-day, and Darian and Khalim’s lives would be made hell.
‘It’s a broken heart, Jake,’ she said. ‘It’s that simple.’
Jake was shaking his head. ‘And it’s that Darian Wildman who broke it? The one who, I hasten to add, was so foul-tempered to me! Want me to punch him for you, darling?’
Lara almost choked on her tea and laughed; it was a relief to find that she still could. ‘You?’ she questioned, with more emphasis than she had intended. ‘Punch Darian? I don’t think so, but thank you all the same!’
‘I’ll have you know that I came top in boxing in my year at drama school!’ The famous blue eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘But it’s good to see you smiling. Now, sit there and put your feet up. I’m going to make us some supper.’
‘Jake, you’d make someone a wonderful wife,’ she sighed.
He turned round and raised his brows and for a moment looked so…so imperious that Lara suddenly got a good idea why he always featured in the ‘Top Ten Most Wanted Men’ lists which were periodically featured in newspapers and magazines.
‘Don’t push it, Lara!’ he warned.
It felt weird to be back in England.
She tried rationalising it—telling herself that she had been in Maraban hardly any time at all, and certainly not as long as the time she had gone on a safari in Africa and ended up staying three months.