a way that made her want to watch him for a very long time. ‘Why?’ he asked, as if her question was absurd in the extreme.
‘I get the feeling... Is this your bedroom?’ she blurted.
‘Sí. It’s the quietest place on the airplane, thanks to great soundproofing. You won’t be disturbed here.’
But he was disturbing her with his scent, his body and the banked heat emanating from his eyes.
‘I really just want to grab one thing—’
‘You have shadows under your eyes, Elise. Shadows that weren’t there last night despite the events of the past couple of days. I need you on top of your game by the time we land. So rest. I insist.’ He went to the bed and pulled down the covers. Grasping one pillow, he fluffed it.
The sight of his manly bronze fingers against the white sheet was so shockingly erotic, Elise felt a clenching between her thighs. Locking her knees, she held her breath as he strolled back to her. His forefinger traced the skin beneath her eyes for several heartbeats before he dropped his hand.
‘There’s a buzzer next to the bed that summons an attendant. Use it when you wake up if you need anything. Lunch will be delivered to you if you wish, or you can come downstairs.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’
He was gone in quick, silent strides. The breath expelled from her lungs in a rush, her heart hammering as if she’d run a marathon.
Walking to the chaise, she sat and dragged a hand down her face. Heaven help her, whatever this fevered sensation was that came over her whenever Alejandro was near, she needed to find a solution to it, and quickly, before she made a fool of herself. Or worse, confirmed his ‘like mother, like daughter’ indictment.
The thought sent a cold shiver through her, dispelling a little of the hot tingles shooting through her body.
Rising, she went to the closet and picked up the extra bag she’d packed last night.
She hadn’t touched her art supplies in years. Elise wasn’t exactly sure why she’d packed it, or why she imagined she’d find solace in her art now when her every attempt in the last few years had felt forced and stilted. But ever since divulging the existence of her art degree to Alejandro, she’d felt a growing need to revisit her discarded dream. To see if, this time, it would speak to her.
Kicking off her shoes, she settled on the bed and set up the collapsible easel before her.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she scrolled through the pages of her sketchbook, revisiting abandoned stories. What if she could never reclaim this lifeline? Her manga creations were what had sustained her through her teenage years. Would they sustain her now? She turned the pages back and read through old sketches, trying to pull herself back into the story.
Half an hour later, her fingers were still poised over a blank sheet. A thread of fear feathered her nape. Had she lost her muse for ever?
Elise forced herself to breathe. Eyes shut, she traced the pencil over the blank sheet. She knew the subject of her sketch the moment her fingers began to move.
Almost trancelike, she sketched Alejandro’s profile. Proud and regal, the image of him staring out of his office window at the view of Lake Michigan felt so real, her fingers trembled as she traced the fine lines, lingering with almost sinful delight over the curve of his lips. He was out of bounds to her for many reasons. But there was no reason she couldn’t have this.
Except this was a dangerous pastime, one she couldn’t afford to indulge in unless she wanted to invite a whole new set of problems for herself. She finished Alejandro’s sketch and returned to her manga story. The first image appeared within minutes.
Relief punched through her as the next image unfolded, followed by another.
Elise worked until her muscles grew stiff and her eyes began to droop. Setting aside the papers and easel with a deep sense of awe and accomplishment, she released the clip from her hair, and slid down into the comfortable bed. The ironic thought that the man she was so desperate to keep her guard up around was the same one who’d turned out to be her creative muse was the last she had as the hum of the plane lulled her into a floating sleep.
Only to be awaked by a wildly jarring movement.
Blinking, she sat up. The shades on the windows had been pulled halfway down, and a soft lamp turned low, leaving the room in a golden glow.
In the chaise, Alejandro sat nursing a cognac.
‘Uh...hi,’ she murmured.
Intense eyes drifted to her as he took a sip. ‘I left the light on so you wouldn’t think I’m sitting here in the dark watching you sleep like some sort of creep,’ he drawled.
His presence was inducing a myriad of feelings, but creepiness wasn’t one of them.
She licked her lower lip and surreptitiously smoothed her hair. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘Five hours. I imagine you would’ve slept for longer had we not flown into turbulence. The pilot tells me it’ll go on for a while. I thought you might appreciate a friendly face in case you’re a timid flyer,’ he mocked gently.
Her gaze darted to the windows, although there wasn’t much to see. She shrugged. ‘I’m the no-point-in-panicking-until-there’s-something-to-really-panic-about type of flyer.’
He smiled into his drink. ‘How fatalistic of you.’ Rising, he crossed to the bar and poured a mineral water. Elise tried to avert her gaze as he headed for her, but her eyes refused to cooperate. Breathless once more, she watched him advance with a lithe, powerful prowl.
As he held out the water the plane bounced again, spilling it onto her outstretched hand. Alejandro placed the glass on the bedside table, grabbed a tissue and dabbed drops from her hand, his eyes on her face the whole time.
‘Not as many shadows. I trust you slept better than you did last night?’
The deep timbre of his voice vibrated through her. ‘Yes. Thanks for offering me your bed.’
Nice, Elise. Fighting not to cringe or blush, she started to reach for the water.
The plane bounced again.
Glancing at the distance between the top of Alejandro’s head and the low ceiling, she smirked. ‘Maybe you should sit down before your head makes a hole in the ceiling and you doom us all?’
His mouth twitched as he perched at the foot of the bed. ‘You seem in a better mood, too.’ His gaze flicked to the zipped-up portfolio case that held her drawings. ‘Does this have something to do with it?’
She tensed slightly, unable to stem the ingrained wariness about her art. When his eyes reflected nothing but genuine interest, she nodded. ‘It hasn’t for a while but it helped today, yes.’
He nodded, his gaze resting speculatively on the case. When it flicked back to her, her heart tripped.
‘Are you going to make me beg to see them, Elise?’ he murmured.
Her fingers toyed with a corner of the sheet, her nerves jumping
