was sure that the smoky grey sweater that hugged the firm lines of his chest and skimmed the narrow waist and hips could only be of the finest, softest cashmere available. Everything about him said Money, with a capital M.
And in spite of the supremely civilised nature of his appearance, something about him seemed to whisper of a wilder spirit, an untamed, elemental part of his character that didn’t fit with the ultra-modern surroundings.
‘Why?’
He shrugged indolent shoulders, unconsciously drawing attention to their width and strength.
‘To while away a little time. To ease the boredom of waiting with some conversation.’
A tiny hint of a smile curled that devastating mouth up at one corner and the onyx eyes gleamed for a second with a hint of mocking amusement.
‘Is that such a terrible idea?’
‘N-no…’
This was even worse! Her tongue seemed to be tangling up on itself, refusing to get the words out in any coherent form, and she was stumbling over the simplest of answers. And it was not a sensation she was used to.
She didn’t normally have this sort of trouble in talking to strangers. She was trained to talk to them, after all! Trained to handle almost any sort of eventuality or problem. So why did this one man affect her like this?
‘I’m expecting my flight to be called at any minute.’
‘I doubt it.’
His glance towards the huge plate-glass windows was wry, his mouth taking on an expressive twist as he surveyed the scene outside.
‘The snow is definitely getting worse and the wind’s picking up. It’s blowing a blizzard out there. No pilot worth his salt is going to even think of taking off in conditions like this. You’ll be lucky if you’re only delayed by a couple of hours.’
‘Only delayed,’ Lydia echoed bleakly. ‘As opposed to what?’
‘To your flight being cancelled completely and the airport being shut down for today. I think you’d better consider that possibility…’ he added, seeing the way her face fell. ‘From what I can see, it can only get worse, not better.’
And what would she do then? Lydia was forced to wonder. If the airport closed, she had nowhere to go; nothing to go back to. Today was to have been the start of her new life, a whole new beginning.
‘Would having a drink with me be such a bad thing?’ The thread of irony was definitely darker now, making her shiver faintly just to hear it.
‘No…’
But still she couldn’t make herself say yes, please sit down, introduce herself. All the normal politeness and pleasantries seemed to have fled from her mind, leaving it shockingly blank as a wiped blackboard.
‘Just what is it that you’re afraid of?’
Silkily spoken though they were, she knew the words were meant to sting and they did. Sharply.
‘Do you really think that I’m about to pounce on you in front of all these other passengers—not to mention the airport staff? Perhaps you fear that, driven mad by your stunning beauty, I will ravish you without mercy.’
‘Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.’
She struggled to ignore the sudden twist of her heart, the judder in her pulse as the impact of that ‘stunning beauty’ hit home. His tone had been ironical but something deep in those spectacular eyes had told her that the words had been more seriously meant.
‘Please don’t be silly. It’s just that…that I really don’t see exactly why you should want to. What would you get from talking to a complete stranger who is due to head out of here on a plane at any minute? I mean…why me?’ she ended on an uncharacteristically plaintive note.
The wordless sound he made with his tongue was sharp, impatient, speaking eloquently of the irritation and temper he was struggling to rein back. It was also totally un-English making her wonder just what his nationality might be. That accent certainly wasn’t Italian or Spanish. It was far more exotic than that, in spite of impeccable pronunciation and a natural ease of grammar. There was an arrogance and pride in both his profile and his bearing that made her think fleetingly of long-ago kings or Bedouin warriors, but such fanciful thoughts flew from her head when he spoke again.
‘You are clearly not a fool,’ he declared with a sudden harshness that brought a gasp of shock to her lips. ‘So why do you behave as if you were? You know very well what is between us—what has been there from the moment I first laid eyes on you and you on me.’
‘No, I don’t!’
Sitting down kept her too far beneath him, making her position too vulnerable for her liking. In a rush she started to her feet, only to find that instead of making things easier she had in fact made them much, much worse.
Face to face like this, on the same level at last, she was supremely conscious of the difference in their builds. At five feet ten inches, she had always considered herself overly tall for a woman, but this man had the rare ability to make her feel small.
His head and shoulders topped hers by several inches, and she found that unless she looked upwards at an awkward angle she was forced to focus on the dangerous sensuality of his mouth. His beautiful mouth and the smooth olive skin that surrounded it, faintly shadowed by several hours’ growth of beard. Immediately her thoughts jumped to imagine just what it would feel like to have that mouth on hers, to press her own lips against the satin warmth of his face.
She was now so close to him that the clean, faintly musky scent of his body tantalised her senses. It was impossible not to inhale secretly, sparking a reaction like the internal prickle of pins and needles.
‘I don’t!’ she repeated, less certainly this time. ‘What do you mean what there is between us? I don’t know what you are talking about.’
Black eyes flashed as he turned a look of pure scorn on her flushed face.
‘You know only too well what I’m talking about,’ he tossed back at her in a low, dangerous voice. ‘We both know what is happening between us, even if you are too craven to admit to it and give it a name.’
Unexpectedly he leaned forwards, reaching out with one long, tanned hand. The tip of his finger touched her cheek very lightly and then moved slowly and caressingly downwards, etching a trail of fire along her skin.
‘And it is a very simple word,’ he murmured beguilingly. ‘Short, to the point, and so easy to say if you only have the courage to trust in yourself.’
His eyes held her, keeping her transfixed, unable to move, unable to blink. And what she read in that steady, ebony gaze, the fierce flames that burned in the darkness of his pupils, gave her the answer she both wanted and dreaded.
Sex.
The word flared in Lydia’s mind, etched in letters of white-hot flame, so that she was sure that this disturbing stranger must be able to look deep into her eyes and read it clearly there.
Sex.
Pure
