‘Do you have Miss Duval’s passport?’ Bastien asked her.
Rummaging through her bag, Simone located it and handed it over to him.
‘Merci. That will be all.’
Ana glared at him for the pointed dismissal and turned to Simone. ‘I’ll give you a call later.’
Simone nodded and hugged her again. ‘Hang on to him, Ana. He’s absolutely magnifique!’ she whispered feverishly.
‘Let’s go. I don’t want us to miss our flight slot.’ Bastien’s impatient tone matched his stride across the tarmac.
She hurried up the steps, acutely aware of the shortness of her dress.
Once inside, she just stopped and gaped.
She’d flown in a few private planes with her job, but nothing had come close to the level of luxury accosting her senses now.
Royal blue carpeting stretched as far as the eye could see. Cream club chairs flanked both sides of the aircraft, separated by smooth marble tables on which stood exquisite flower displays and stylish lamps. The shades had been half pulled down over the windows to limit the glare of the late-afternoon sun and the atmosphere inside the craft was one of superb and seriously lavish comfort.
Ana would have been excited at being in such surroundings but for the darts of apprehension racing up and down her spine as once again the sensation of stepping into danger engulfed her.
A stewardess approached, a smile on her face as she greeted them and relieved her of Bastien’s jacket. Weirdly, she felt exposed both inside and out without it. Pushing the feeling away, she murmured her thanks.
Bastien guided her into a chair and sat opposite her, his long legs stretched out on either side of her, imprisoning hers. She clamped her thighs together immediately, her senses screeching their awareness of him.
She thought of changing seats, then impatiently dismissed the idea. As long as he was close there would be no getting away from the discordant emotions bubbling underneath her skin. He’d always had that effect on her. Same as she knew she had an unsettling effect on him. Besides, she refused to let him intimidate her.
She glanced out of the window, feigning interest in the cargo trucks moving around a short distance away. But all too soon they were in the air, with clouds blocking her view of the landscape and taking away her reason for ignoring Bastien.
Steeling herself, she glanced at him.
He lounged in his chair, completely relaxed, eyes fixed on her, an unopened briefcase in front of him. Flushing, she wondered how long he’d been staring at her.
‘Do I make you nervous?’
The laugh forced from her throat sounded false. ‘Of course not. What gave you that idea?’
‘You’re skittish around me. I wonder why,’ he said, almost conversationally.
‘I’m not skittish—just annoyed that I’m tied to you for the next three weeks.’
‘We all have a cross to bear, I suppose.’
She raised her chin. ‘You’re obviously as displeased about this as I am, so why did you vouch for me with the judge? Why not just elect one of your subordinates?’
‘And make them liable should you decide to flee?’
‘You have a very low opinion of me.’ She didn’t know why that hurt so much. ‘Why is that, Bastien? What have I ever done to make you think so little of me?’
‘I think we both know the answer to that.’
Her face flamed. ‘What happened on the yacht—’
‘You mean when you tried to use your body to change my mind about firing you?’
‘That wasn’t what I was doing...’ She floundered and stopped as the memory tripped to life.
The moment she’d turned on the boat and seen Bastien standing on the deck, watching her, every nerve in her body had sprung to life.
The boy she’d known had grown into a breathtaking specimen of a man, with a commanding presence that had reached across the distance and held her captive. The smile she hadn’t even been aware she’d given had slowly died as a deep, decadent awareness had arced between them. There’d been nothing boyish about the look in his eyes when he’d reached her.
‘What are you doing here?’ Fierce, flaying words—whispered through incredibly sensual lips.
It had taken her a minute to gather her senses. ‘Hello to you too, Bastien.’
His mouth had compressed. ‘Answer me.’
‘I’m working—or at least I will be when you allow the crew to return. You’ve sent them away because...?’ She turned away, because she couldn’t look into those grey eyes without her midriff fluttering madly as if she was in the midst of a fever.
‘You shouldn’t have been given this commission.’
A lance of unsettling anger made her whirl about. He stood right behind her, so close her hair slid across his jaw. ‘Why not? Because you still have a chip on your shoulder about our past?’
His nostrils flared. ‘No. Because the brief called for someone conservative—not someone who...’
His deliberate pause, the drift of his eyes over her scantily clad body had sent flares of awareness and dark arousal all over her.
Her body’s reaction shamed her, but she didn’t give him the benefit of knowing he unsettled her.
Using her best catwalk pose, she planted her hands on her hips and cocked one hip. ‘Someone who makes men want to drown their women in your diamonds? You don’t want someone who makes wives, girlfriends and women who know what they want hit the speed dial for their nearest jeweller the moment the ads are aired? I’m sorry—I thought you were in this business to make money?’
Her smirk and her taunts were purely for self-preservation. The combination of magnetism, mild derision and lust she could see in his eyes deeply unsettled her.
As did his arctic smile.
‘My vision for the product you’re promoting isn’t quite what you have in mind.’
‘Really?’ The tilt of her head had been well-practised for the camera. ‘I read a survey recently. Next to pure silk, women voted diamonds as the sexiest thing to wear against their skin. So perhaps your vision needs to be a little less...Victorian and more sexy.’
He raised an eyebrow and slowly stalked her, not stopping until she was backed against the railing that overlooked the lower deck. Silence cloaked the upper deck, the rest of the crew having been dispatched somewhere below deck. Above them, stars glittered in the sultry evening. All around her Bastien’s scent and imposing presence sent her heart-rate soaring.
‘Are you telling me how to do my job, Miss Duval?’ He caged her in, hands on either side of her, and treated her to narrow-eyed scrutiny.
‘Just a little friendly advice. Sex sells—or haven’t you heard.’
‘And you’re an expert in that field?’
She gasped, then tried to rein in her temper. ‘I’m an expert at what I do. If you weren’t sure who your target audience were perhaps you should’ve stuck to heading banks and building hotels.’
His icy imprecation rumbled along her nerves. ‘You haven’t stopped needing to play with fire, ma petite.’
‘And you haven’t stopped staring down your nose at me like I’m some inconvenience you can’t wait to be rid of. Would it hurt you to be nice for once in your life?’