Beyond the window the light was fading, and the sky was the same leaden grey as the Atlantic Ocean far beneath them. With infinite weariness, Tamsin looked down at the magazine on her knee and read the same paragraph for the hundredth time. ‘Next season’s key trend will be camouflage’, it said.
How appropriate, she thought, stifling a yawn with her hand.
‘You’re tired.’
She jumped as Alejandro’s voice broke the thick silence that had lain between them for ages now. ‘Get some sleep,’ he said coolly. ‘You know where the bedroom is.’
He had shown her when they had first boarded the jet, and she’d been utterly taken aback by such insane luxury. She’d like nothing more than to curl up now on the large bed—which was ridiculously out of proportion with the scaled-down proportions of the plane—and go to sleep, but Alejandro’s faintly scornful tone made it impossible to admit that.
Straightening her spine, she blinked rapidly. ‘I’m fine. It’s your bed, you have it.’
‘I have reading to catch up on. Business.’
His cold superiority made invisible hackles rise on the back of her neck. ‘Yep. Me too,’ she said briskly, picking up her laptop and flipping it open. ‘Lots to be getting on with.’ The sideways glance she shot him was filled with loathing, but her voice was deliberately sweet. ‘After all, the sooner I make a start on this, the sooner I can go home again, and I think we’d agree that would be best all round.’
At least there was one thing they could agree on, Alejandro thought sourly, leaning forward to lower the blind on the window and block out the reflection of her face in the glass. As the darkness had deepened outside her reflection had gradually come to life, like a Polaroid photograph developing, and he had found his eyes were constantly drawn to it, noticing the way she chewed her bottom lip when she was reading, and how her fingers stroked the hair behind her ears.
All of which was completely irrelevant to the company he was currently thinking of buying, he thought scathingly, returning his attention to the share report.
Business was a game like any other, Alejandro had discovered. You had to observe the tactics of your opponents, recognise their strengths and exploit their weaknesses. You had to know when to hold back, and when to surge forward and press your advantage home. And you had to be able to do it without emotion.
He was good at all that.
Unconsciously now he found himself turning towards Tamsin, and felt an instant dropping sensation in his chest. She was sitting perfectly straight, her legs tucked up to one side of her on the wide leather seat, the laptop balanced on her thigh. The screen was blank, and her head was bent forward slightly so her long fringe fell down over her face.
She was asleep.
In one fluid movement Alejandro got out of his seat and crossed the narrow space between them, removing the computer from her knee and putting it on the table in front of her. Then, slipping one arm behind her neck, he slid the other beneath her knees and scooped her up, holding her against his chest.
Her head fell back, rolling against his arm and giving him a perfect view of her small face with its wide cheekbones and full, generous mouth. His heart gave a painful kick as he looked down at her. For six years he had painted her in his mind as a sort of cross between Lolita and Lady Macbeth, but it was impossible to reconcile that image with the soft, fragile girl in his arms. As he watched, her lips parted slightly and she gave a small, breathy sigh of contentment, and then tucked her head into his body.
With a low curse he turned abruptly and carried her to the back of the plane, kicking the door to the bedroom open and depositing her quickly on the bed. A cashmere blanket lay folded neatly at its foot, and he shook it out and laid it over her, briskly, his hands not making any contact with her body at all.
And then he left, as swiftly and as brutally as he had come, slamming the door shut behind him.
Tamsin’s eyes snapped open the moment he was out of the small room.
A few seconds ago she’d been so tired she’d felt as if her eyelids had lead weights attached to them, but now she was wide, wide awake. Her heart was thumping against her ribs like a caged animal, and every cell of her body seemed to vibrate and thrum with painfully heightened awareness. It was as if someone had just injected her with concentrated caffeine.
Being in his arms for those few moments had done that to her.
She pushed back the blanket he had laid over her so perfunctorily and sat up, running her tongue over her dry lips and looking around her in something like desperation. When she’d felt his arms around her, felt the hardness of his broad chest against her, she’d thought for a dizzy, disorientated moment that she was dreaming and had given herself up to the bliss of being close to him …
Oh, no. She’d sighed, hadn’t she? She’d actually sort of moaned with pleasure.
Springing up from the bed, she paced restlessly around it. She’d known it was going to be difficult, being thrown into such close contact with him, but she hadn’t even come close to realising how hard. They were only halfway there, for crying out loud, and already she’d managed to make an almighty fool of herself—not once but twice.
Panic rose within her as she thought of the hours that stretched ahead, but there was no escape, and nothing to be done except try to keep her mind off Alejandro D’Arienzo altogether. Work was the answer, but her laptop was in the cabin, and there was no way she was going back out there to get it—although if she could just find some paper and a pen she could make a start on some sketches now. Her gaze fell on a little drawer set into the sleek cabinetry beside the bed, and she ran her fingers along it, trying to locate the concealed catch.
It sprang open, immediately revealing a blank notepad. Tamsin gave a little hiss of triumph as she took it out, looking underneath to see if she could see a pen.
There was one. Right there in the bottom of the drawer, half-buried beneath a lot of small, silver packets.
With a trembling hand she reached out and scooped them up, staring at them as a sick feeling spread through the pit of her stomach and an assortment of unwelcome images filled her head: Alejandro, his skin dark against the white sheets, his hair falling over his face as he lifted his mouth from the pouting, scarlet lips of a sultry beauty and reached over to the drawer for condoms.
The door handle turned with a muffled click. Tamsin gave a gasp of horror and slammed the drawer shut, stuffing the condoms into the back pocket of her jeans and spinning around as the door opened and Alejandro appeared.
‘I thought I heard something. So, you’re awake.’
‘Of course,’ she said as casually as possible, holding up the pad. ‘As I said before, I’ve got work to do. I haven’t got time to sleep.’ She ran her shaking hands through her hair in the manner of someone who was perfectly relaxed and didn’t have her pockets stuffed with condoms.
Alejandro advanced into the room. Apart from the fractional lift of his eyebrows his face was as expressionless as ever, but his eyes glittered with sardonic amusement. ‘I see,’ he said quietly. ‘You were doing a pretty good impression of it before.’
‘That wasn’t sleep. That was a power nap.’ Even to Tamsin’s own ears her voice sounded ridiculously shaky, but she couldn’t help it. It was the effect of being in this small space with him. This small, intimate space, with the huge bed stretching between them like a taunt, and the images conjured up by her own pitifully overactive brain refusing to go quietly. She turned away, hoping that it would help her keep her composure. ‘I won’t need proper sleep for ages now,’ she said airily.
‘Oh,