if it was her or himself he was angry with. He definitely wanted her. She intrigued him. She didn’t seem to care who he was or what he offered her—and that made him think of something else, something he’d not let himself consider before. “Were you in love with him?”
Anna spluttered. He loved ruffling her cool, though he hoped the answer was no. For some reason, he needed it to be no.
“That’s none of your business! We hardly know each other, Mr. Jackson,” she said, her entire body stiff with outrage. Her long fingers gripped the arm of the seat. Her nails were manicured and neat, and there was a pale line on her left ring finger where her engagement ring had once sat. He imagined those elegant fingers playing his body like a fine instrument, and nearly groaned.
Since when was he interested in prim little schoolteachers anyway? Not that Anna was a schoolteacher—she was far too well bred and rich to have an actual job—but she reminded him of one. The kind of teacher who wore buttoned-up suits to work and lacy knickers beneath. Whether she realized it or not, the woman seethed with pent-up sexuality.
Whoever got her to let her hair down and give in to her sensual nature would be one lucky man. He pictured Anna in a bed, her naked body lying against red sheets, those full kissable lips open and eager as he lowered himself onto her and captured her mouth with his own.
Suddenly, flying was getting damned uncomfortable. Leo forced himself to think of something unsexy—like Graziana Ricci’s collagen-plumped lips smeared in cherry-red lipstick—and hoped his body would take the hint.
“How can we possibly get to know each other,” he said, “if you keep retreating behind that starched formality every time I ask you a question?”
“We don’t need to know each other. I’m taking you to Amanti so you can decide whether or not you want to build a hotel there. Beyond that, I’m sure we’ll never see each other again. Now, if you will please take us to Amanti, we can get on with the tour.”
Leo shot her a glance. She was prickly as hell and completely fascinating. “You don’t like it when your plans get changed, do you? You’re very much a list girl.”
Her head whipped around. “A list girl? What, pray tell, is that?”
“You make lists. You like a long list of things to do and then you check them off one by one. There’s no room for spontaneity on your lists.” He made a checkmark in the air. “Woke up early, check. Ate breakfast, check.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being organized, Mr. Jackson,” she said. He could hear the starch in her voice, the outrage she tried to keep hidden. She was trying to keep him at a distance, and he wouldn’t allow it.
“If you call me Mr. Jackson one more time,” he growled, “I’ll keep flying until we reach Sicily.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Her arms folded over her prim grey suit, her chin thrusting forward in challenge. Clearly, Anna Constantinides didn’t know him very well. No matter how successful he’d become, he’d never shaken that raw, edgy side of his personality that liked to push barriers to their limit. No doubt it came from trying to fit into the Jackson household when he’d been young and motherless and uncertain of his place in their lives. He’d pushed and rebelled, certain his father would throw him out, but Bobby had never wavered in his acceptance once he’d stepped up and admitted paternity.
“I would, in fact,” Leo replied. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”
Her jaw clenched tight and he felt suddenly wrong for phrasing it that way. She had everything to lose, or so she thought. A trip to Sicily with him would be devastating in Anna’s world. Because she was already the focus of attention and she couldn’t fathom drawing yet more. Never mind that if she were only to behave as if she didn’t care, the media would soon leave her alone. He knew from experience that they liked nothing better than a victim—and Anna was a perfect victim right now.
“I don’t want to go to Sicily, Leo. I want to go to Amanti.”
“Tell the truth, Anna. You don’t want to do that, either. But you’ve committed to it and so you want to get there without giving the media anything else to speculate about.”
She made a frustrated noise. “Yes. This is precisely the truth. If I could run to Sicily or Egypt or Timbuktu and not have to endure another moment of this shame, I would do it. But I can’t run, Leo. I have to carry on as always and wait for the scandal to pass.”
It was perhaps the most honest thing she’d said yet. But he wanted more. “Tell me this, then. If you could have an affair, no consequences, no one the wiser, would you do so?”
She didn’t say anything for the longest time. “I… I…”
But whatever she was about to say was lost as a light on the instrument panel flashed on. A tight knot formed in Leo’s stomach as he turned his focus to the plane. He’d checked everything before they’d left Santa Maria, and everything had been fine. He wouldn’t have taken off otherwise.
But something had changed in the half hour since.
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