I look beyond him, through the window, as we lift up over Manhattan. The city is picture-perfect beneath us, sheaths of glass and shimmering metal forcing their way upwards, the land such a tiny archipelago it’s almost impossible to understand how it can bear the weight of such construction.
‘I used to hate flying,’ I confide in him. ‘As a kid, I was scared to death.’
I feel his gaze on me. ‘And now?’
I slide my eyes to his, a smile curving on my face. ‘I grew out of it.’
‘A fear of flying is perfectly normal. It’s the unknown that’s frightening. Once you understand the mechanics it takes a lot of the mystery out of it and makes it feel less like you’re trusting yourself to fate and more like jumping on a bus.’
‘You don’t fly commercial?’
He shakes his head. ‘Do you?’
‘Always.’
He frowns. ‘Really?’
I can’t help it; I laugh. ‘You realise ninety-nine per cent of people only fly commercial?’
‘I just presumed...’
‘Nah. Jets like this are bad for the environment.’ I lean closer so our faces are only an inch apart. ‘Look at all this space. You could fit a football team or three in here.’
‘And have them ogling you? Never.’
It’s just a joke but it almost sounds like that would bother him, as though he’d be jealous. The very idea makes my heart contort painfully, because Theo isn’t a jealous kind of guy and if I ever doubted that I only need to remember that he’s offered to set me up with someone ‘suitable’. Hardly the action of a man who feels even a hint of possessiveness.
‘I like the convenience of this,’ he says with a lift of his shoulders.
I consider that for a moment. ‘My assistant booked me on a flight at a moment’s notice. I got a seat in first class. That’s not remotely inconvenient.’
‘It’s lucky, though. Lucky there happened to be a seat spare, otherwise you may well have been waiting until tomorrow.’
I lift my brows heavenwards. ‘Not when you were waiting in the wings...’
‘True.’ He grins. ‘Consider me your knight in shining aluminium.’
‘See? Now you’ve gone and reminded me that airplanes are made of the same metal as a soda can and I feel a lot less safe,’ I joke.
‘Seriously, the management of our planes puts commercial airlines to shame. They’re refitted every six months, our pilots are all ex-military and their Continuing Professional Development is rigorous. If you’re ever going to not be afraid of flying, it’s when you’re on a Hart jet.’
His confidence and passion scatter goosebumps across my skin. ‘I’m not afraid any more. I told you, I grew out of it. I fly a lot for work, so I had to.’
He puts his hand over mine, his fingers stroking my flesh, his eyes heavy on my face. ‘What’s in Paris?’
I’m grateful for the conversation change. ‘I have to meet with the production manager of our Angel Pie line—it’s new,’ I explain quickly, because he won’t have heard of it yet. ‘We’re launching in winter, all things going to plan. But the packaging is proving difficult to nail and some of the colours just aren’t quite right.’
‘You sound stressed?’
I nod. ‘It’s my baby,’ I explain thoughtfully. ‘I came up with the concept for the brand four years ago, and it’s been a lot of work since then. A lot of capital too. It’s a gamble.’
‘But you’re confident?’
I grimace. ‘Can you ever be completely confident? I’ve done my market research. There’s a huge void. Plus, the line capitalises on the global trend for embracing sustainable, ethical products. But yeah, I mean it’s risky to target teenagers because they don’t think in terms of their future health generally, and they’re cash strapped.’ I bite down on my lip thoughtfully.
‘It’s make-up aimed at teens?’
‘Teens and pre-teens. We’ve got a couple of awesome celebrities lined up to engage that market, YouTubers, influencers, that kind of thing.’ I wave a hand through the air and my bangles jingle against my watch. ‘And it’s not just make-up; it’s moisturiser, sunscreen, lip glosses.’