‘You can back out any time.’
Like that was going to happen. Phoebe’s head hurt. It was too early for this. She stifled a yawn.
‘What time is it?’
‘Ten.’
Hmm. Maybe not that early. But still, five hours of sleep on top of the broken night before was not going to have her firing on all cylinders.
A smile flashed across his face. ‘Are you always this irascible?’
‘Before coffee and short of sleep, always.’ Not to m
ention being caught by him probably looking like something that had been attacked by a pair of pinking shears.
She didn’t need a cup of coffee; she needed a tankerful. Flicking the kettle on she lifted her hand to run it through her hair. Oh, heavens. She still sported the eye mask. How attractive. She yanked it off and dropped it on the table.
‘Interesting nightwear.’
Phoebe glanced down at the two scarlet hearts. ‘A friend gave it to me on a hen night.’
‘It suits you. As does the rest of your outfit.’
His gaze slowly slid down her body and Phoebe felt herself growing as scarlet as the eye mask. She poured the beans into the grinder and switched it on. The noise rattled her brain and Phoebe winced. But at least it might stop her from wondering what he wore in bed. Anything at all would be rather a shame. He’d look amazing sprawled out over her sheets, tanned skin against soft white linen, his eyes darkening with desire…
Phoebe swallowed and gave herself a mental slap. She really needed to wake up.
Coffee finally made, Phoebe leaned against the opposite counter and regarded him cautiously. ‘So?’
Alex set his cup down and folded his arms over his chest. ‘It occurred to me that we hadn’t talked about the venue of my party.’
What was he? A mind reader? ‘Find out party location’ was the only item left on her ‘to do’ list. ‘I assumed it’s somewhere in London. I was going to call you later.’
Alex shook his head in mock despair and gave her a smile that made her stomach lurch. ‘Didn’t I warn you about the dangers of making assumptions?’
‘You did. So enlighten me.’ She blew on her coffee and took a fortifying sip. ‘Where is it?’
‘Ilha das Palmeiras.’
Hmm. Phoebe riffled through all the bars, restaurants and clubs that she knew of, but it didn’t ring any bells. ‘I might need a bit more to go on than that. Where’s Ilha das Palmeiras?’
‘It’s an island in the mid-Atlantic.’
An island in the mid-Atlantic? Phoebe blinked in confusion. He wanted her to go to an island in the mid-Atlantic? Today? For a party? She needed way more caffeine.
‘The current temperature is in the mid twenties,’ Alex was saying, ‘but it gets chilly at night, so you might want to pack something warm.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We need to leave in the next half an hour so I suggest you go and get ready.’
Go and get ready? Phoebe could barely get her head around the implications of what he’d told her. It appeared that not only had he set her a challenge way outside her remit, he also intended her to complete it miles out of her comfort zone.
Devious didn’t even begin to describe the workings of his mind, she decided darkly. Machiavelli himself would bow down in awe.
She should have guessed he’d pull a trick like this. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d deliberately kept the location of the party from her just so he could spring it on her when she was least expecting it. Because in her line of work surprises were never welcome and he must know that.
‘Chop chop,’ he said mildly, looking at her as if surprised to see her still standing there.
Phoebe huffed, shot him a filthy look and stormed out.
Alex took his coffee into the sitting room and, not for the first time since he’d laid eyes on her scantily clad form, wondered if taking Phoebe with him to the island was really such a wise idea.