‘It’s not ideal, but they’ll wait for me.’
Of course they would, she thought faintly. Who wouldn’t wait for this man?
‘So,’ he said patiently, ‘now will you tell me why you were in Paris?’
Sidonie looked at him and unbidden a lump came to her throat for her wayward. selfish mother and her poor Tante Josephine who was so worried. She swallowed it down.
‘I was here to meet with a solicitor to deal with my mother’s affairs. She passed away in Paris a couple of months ago. She’d been living with my aunt; she’s from here originally.’ She corrected herself. ‘Was from here, I mean. She moved back after my father died.’
Alexio uncrossed his arms and his expression sobered. ‘That’s rough—to lose both parents in such a short space of time. I lost my mother too—five months ago.’
Sidonie’s chest tightened. A moment of empathy. Union. ‘I’m sorry... It’s hard, isn’t it?’
His mouth twisted. ‘I have to admit that we weren’t that close—but, yes, it was still a shock.’
That feeling intensified in Sidonie’s chest. She revealed huskily, ‘I did love my mum, and I know she loved me, but we weren’t that close either. She was very...self-absorbed.’
Suddenly the plane lurched into movement and Sidonie’s hands went to grab the armrests automatically as she looked out of the window. ‘Oh, God, we’re moving.’
A dry voice came from her left. ‘That’s generally what a plane does before it takes off.’
‘Very funny,’ muttered Sidonie, and their recent conversation was wiped from her mind as she battled with the habitual fear of flying she faced.
‘Hey, are you okay? You look terrible.’
‘No,’ Sidonie got out painfully, knowing she’d probably gone ashen. Her eyes were closed. ‘I’m not okay, but I will be if you just leave me alone. Ignore me.’
‘You’re scared of flying? And you’re taking two flights to Dublin? Why didn’t you just take a direct flight?’ Now he sounded censorious.
‘Because,’ Sidonie gritted out, ‘it worked out cheaper to do it this way, and the direct flights were all full anyway. It was short notice.’
The familiar nausea started to rise and she clamped her mouth shut, feeling cold and clammy. She tried not to think back to the huge breakfast her Tante Josephine had insisted on them both having before they’d left on their respective journeys. It sat heavily in her belly now.
The plane was moving in earnest; this was always the worst part—and the take-off. And the landing. And sometimes in between if there was turbulence.
‘Did something happen to make you scared?’
Sidonie wished he would just ignore her, but bit out, ‘What? You mean apart from the fact that I’m miles above the earth, surrounded by nothing but a bit of tin and fibreglass or whatever planes are made of?’
‘They’re actually made mainly of aluminium, although sometimes a composite of metals is used, and in newer technology they’re looking at carbon fibre. My brother designs and builds cars, so we’re actually looking into new technologies together.’
Sidonie cracked open one eye and cast Alexio a baleful glance. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because your fears are irrational. You do know that air travel is the safest form of travel in the world?’
Sidonie opened both eyes now and tried to avoid seeing outside the plane. She looked at Alexio. That didn’t really help, she had to admit.
She said somewhat churlishly, ‘I suppose that the likelihood of the plane going down while its owner is on board is not very high.’
He looked smug. ‘See?’
Then he leant closer, making her pulse jump out of control.
‘And did you know that of all the seats on the plane these are the safest ones to be in—in the event of a crash?’
Sidonie’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’
She saw humour dancing in those golden depths and clamped her eyes shut again while something swooped precariously in her belly.
‘Very funny.’
Then the plane jerked and Sidonie’s hands tightened on the armrests. She heard a deep sigh from beside her and then felt her left hand being taken by a much bigger one. Instantly she was short of breath which she could ill afford to lose.
‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked, very aware of how tiny her hand felt in his.
‘If it’s all right with you, I’d prefer it if you abused me rather than my armrests.’
Sidonie opened her eyes again and glanced left. Alexio was looking stern, but with a twitch of a smile playing around his mouth. Lord, oh, Lord. She said, a little breathlessly, ‘I think somehow that your armrests can withstand my feeble attempts to bend them out of shape.’
‘Nevertheless,’ Alexio replied easily, ‘I won’t let it be said that I couldn’t offer support to a valued customer in her hour of need.’
CHAPTER TWO
SOMETHING HOT AND shivery went through Sidonie’s body. He was flirting with her. She felt as if she was teetering on the edge of a huge canyon, with the exhilaration of the fall reaching out to beckon her into the unknown. He was so utterly gorgeous, and so charming when he turned it on. It was smooth, practised. And she was no match for a man like him.
With her body screaming resistance, Sidonie pulled her hand free from his grip and smiled tightly. ‘I’ll be fine. But, thanks.’
His eyes flashed for a second, as if he were taken aback or surprised. The regret in Sidonie’s body was like a sharp pang.
She clasped her hands in her lap, well out of reach, and turned her head, closing her eyes so that she didn’t have to look out of the window. Her battle with fear as the plane took off was being eclipsed by her need not to show it to the man beside her.
More than once she wished that he’d take her hand again. His palm had felt ever so slightly callused. The hands of a working man, not a pampered man.
‘You can open your eyes now. The seatbelt sign is about to go off.’
Sidonie took a deep breath and opened her eyes, releasing her hands from their death grip on each other. Alexio was looking at her. She had the impression that he’d been looking at her the whole time. She felt clammy. Hot.
He held out his hand then, and said, ‘I believe you already know who I am, but I don’t know who you are...’
He wasn’t backing off. Butterflies erupted in Sidonie’s belly again. She couldn’t ignore him. She put her hand in his, unable to help a small smile which was only in part to do with the trauma of take-off being over.
‘Sidonie Fitzgerald—pleased to meet you.’
He clasped her hand and once again an electric current seemed to thrum through her blood.
‘Sidonie...’ he mused. ‘It sounds French.’
‘It is. My mother chose it. I told you she was French.’
‘That’s right...you did.’
He was still holding her hand and Sidonie felt as if she was overheating. ‘Did they just turn the heating up?’
‘You do look hot. Maybe you should take your sweatshirt off.’
He finally released her hand and it tingled. Faintly, Sidonie said, ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine...’ She had no intention of baring herself to this man’s far too