And, standing in a busy airport, she felt naked, emotionally vulnerable. As if he knew her or could easily discover her secrets. That he knew that, beneath her insouciant exterior and her ‘I’ve got this handled’attitude, she was floundering and second-guessing everything she did.
And, sometimes, who she was.
Damn, he was still heading her way, his eyes still locked on her face. Why couldn’t she look away from him? What was wrong with her?
As he approached, Lex realised his eyes were a topaz-brown colour, a gorgeous mixture of gold and amber tinged with hints of green. Lex, feeling off-balance and more than a little shocked—he was now just a few feet from her—felt her sign fall to the floor. His cologne, a masculine combination of sandalwood, lime and something herby, drifted over to her, along with the hint of expensive soap. He’d showered recently because the tips of his wavy hair were wet, but he hadn’t bothered to shave, as thick stubble covered his lower face.
Up close he was even more impressive than he was from a distance and Lex tightened the grip on her coffee cup.
Be cool, Lex. Don’t do, or say, anything stupid.
Lex tipped her head back to look up into his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak.
‘I’m Cole Thorpe...’
But, before he could finish his sentence, a loud jangle emanated from the back pocket of her jeans, causing her to jump. The ring sounded like a foghorn—she’d made it that loud so she could hear it ring from every corner of the house—and Lex squeezed her plastic coffee cup so hard that the lid popped off. She watched, horrified, as a long stream of cold coffee flew into that hard face and down that wide, cashmere-covered chest.
Oh.
Oh,help!
Cole was used to walking off his private jet and straight into a car that would whisk him away to his next destination, a seamless transition that he’d made five hundred times or more. His arrival in Cape Town had been anything but standard.
And, so far, deeply annoying.
Had his long-term virtual PA been in charge of his travel arrangements, he would already be in a car, halfway to Thorpe Industries, Cape Town. But, because Gary was on paternity leave, Cole was making do with another virtual assistant he’d found through some agency. So far she was proving to be a shade up from useless. In capitals. And by the end of the day, if he remembered, she’d be gone and he’d be onto temporary assistant number four. He had too many balls in the air for inefficiency and needed someone who could make his life easier, not harder. And, really, what was so difficult about making sure he had a ride from the airport to Thorpe Industries’ Cape Town headquarters?
After hanging around in the airport for fifteen minutes—a complete waste of time—he’d reached someone at Thorpe Industries who’d told him that the driver’s instructions were to wait at International Arrivals. She had a sign, he was told, but you couldn’t miss her...
His driver was a woman, and would probably be dressed in black. She also had red hair. Once he started looking for her, Cole found her almost immediately, only to find her eyes already on him. For the first time, his feet felt glued to the floor and his lungs didn’t seem to be taking in enough air.
She was tall, maybe five-eight in those clunky, ugly boots, but to say that she had red hair would be like saying the sun was yellow. It was a deeply unimaginative description for such an unusual shade. Long and curly, it wasn’t red, orange or auburn, but a cacophony of colours, reminding him of the fallen maple leaves that carpeted the ground at the end of autumn in the Bukhansan National Park in South Korea. And those freckles...
They ranged from pinpricks to tiny dots, each one perfect. Hers wasn’t just a spray across her nose, or on her cheeks, but her entire face was covered in a Milky Way of cinnamon-coloured tiny stars.
Heart-stopping stunning.
Her hair and her freckles captured his attention—how could they not? Her body was slim but curvy, and she had dark-red, perfectly arched eyebrows over bright eyes—green or blue?—and a wide, sexy mouth. Without her freckles and red hair, she’d be another attractive woman, but her unusual colouring made her stand out from the crowd. And that wasn’t easy in a busy airport.
She was also, apparently and weirdly, his driver. Cole looked down at the sign she held in her hand—it was upside down—and winced internally. She was the first woman he’d been attracted to in months—the last six months had been hectic and his sex life had dropped way down his list of priorities—and she worked as a driver for Thorpe Industries.
He didn’t play where he worked. Ever.
Tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, he swung his bag up so that it hung off his shoulder and started to wind his way through the crowds to the redhead. She watched him approach, her eyes wary. Then her lips parted and her tongue appeared between strong, very white teeth. He was old enough and experienced enough to know that his immediate, and intensely inconvenient, attraction to her was reciprocated.
After everything that had happened these past few months, this was not what he needed.
Slowing down, Cole told himself to take a breath, to gain control. He was tired, stressed, overworked and he was overreacting. She was just another woman, nobody special. He didn’t believe in special and he didn’t have time for an affair. He had a hedge fund to manage, a company he didn’t want to sell and a life to resume.
He’d be in and out of Cape Town in a week...maybe two.
Forcing his feet to move, Cole walked towards his driver, telling his stomach to unknot, his throat to loosen and his lungs to take a breath. He couldn’t let her know that he found her compelling, let her suspect that it felt as if she’d slid her hand through his ribs and held his heart in a tight grip.
Normally very cool and completely collected, Cole had never been sideswiped by attraction before, and he was stumbling around in unknown territory. But he only had a few feet to pull himself together...
Three, two, one...
He took his final steps up to her and introduced himself, only to be interrupted by the sound of a foghorn piercing a dark, stormy night. He braked, the redhead squeezed her takeaway container of coffee and a stream of the cold, sticky liquid hit his cheek and lips and slid off his chin to fall to his chest and then the floor.