him. ‘I send your biography to the media and prospective clients on a daily basis.’ And with that single unthinking sentence she reminded him of the true nature of their relationship. The atmosphere shifted instantly.
‘Of course you do,’ he said smoothly, ‘and that is why I want you with me in Zubran. Because you know all these things.’ Once again he was cool and distant as he pulled out his phone and checked an email. ‘I’ve been waiting to hear from Dan.’
Dan was his pilot and Emma often spoke to him about Lucas’s travel arrangements. ‘Is the airport even open?’
‘Yes. They’ve cleared the runway and there is no more snow forecast so we shouldn’t have any trouble with our flight.’ He scrolled down, checking his other emails. ‘The helicopter will pick us up from here in an hour. I assume you have your passport with you?’
The shift from personal to professional was startling but she went along with it. What was surprising was not that he’d suddenly stopped telling her about his past, but that he’d ever told her in the first place. He’d given her another glimpse of a private, secret part of himself. And she was gradually building up a picture of a very different man from the one the public saw.
She knew so much more about him than she had yesterday. And she suspected he would rather that wasn’t the case.
She was going to forget it, she vowed, and just get on with the job. That would be best for everyone.
‘I have my passport, of course.’ There had been many occasions when she’d flown with him on short business trips to Europe and a few times to the US. She’d enjoyed the variety and as long as the trip hadn’t eaten into her precious weekends, she’d never objected. ‘The one thing I don’t have is clothes. And I assume there isn’t time for me to go home and pack.’
‘No. We have to leave immediately and anyway, the roads are impassable. You’re fine for the journey.’ His eyes lingered on her sweater then lifted to her face. ‘You can travel in what you’re wearing and you can go shopping tomorrow before the meeting.’
‘I have to wait until tomorrow?’
‘Seven-hour flight, four-hour time difference—’ he shrugged ‘—it will be evening when we arrive and you’re already exhausted which is hardly surprising given the amount of sleep you didn’t get last night.’
Presumably she wasn’t supposed to react to that. Presumably she was expected to treat what had happened with the same matter of fact casualness as he did.
So that was what she did. ‘Is there somewhere to shop close by?’
‘Avery will be able to advise you on the best place.’
‘Avery owns her own highly successful company.’ Emma thought about the pictures she’d seen of the glamorous businesswoman. ‘She’s very nice and we’ve bonded over your guest list, but I suspect she and I may have a very different idea of what constitutes the “best” place.’ It was all too easy to imagine how her sister would react if she blew a sizeable chunk of her precious salary on a dress she’d probably only ever be able to wear once in her life.
‘I’m paying,’ Lucas drawled, ‘so the budget is irrelevant.’
‘You most certainly are not paying.’ Emma shot to her feet, deeply offended that he could even think she would agree to that. ‘Just in case you hadn’t already noticed, I am not Tara.’
‘Let me stop you there before you embarrass yourself,’ he interjected softly, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs, as supremely relaxed as she was ridiculously tense. ‘I am offering to buy you clothes because you don’t have any with you and because I’m asking you to dress for an event you’re required to attend in your role as my PA, not because we had sex. I am in no way being contradictory. I am completely clear about the nature of our relationship, Emma. It’s professional.’
And for a moment she’d forgotten that. And he knew she’d forgotten it. Feeling intensely foolish, Emma sat down again. And this was the problem, she thought helplessly. For her, the personal and the professional were now well and truly mixed up. It was impossible to separate them. When he’d mentioned buying her clothes, she’d assumed it was personal. ‘Well, thanks for clearing that up, but I don’t need you to buy me clothes for work either. I can buy my own clothes.’
He watched her steadily, a cynical gleam in his blue eyes as he acknowledged her tension and the reason for it. And along with the cynicism there was a tiredness that came, not from lack of sleep but from life. ‘Right now, I think whether or not I buy you a dress is the least of our problems, don’t you?’
He thought she couldn’t do this.
Determined to prove him wrong, Emma lifted her chin and stood up. ‘I don’t have any problems. Do you?’
* * *
Zubran was an oil-rich state on the Persian Gulf. She’d expected sand. What she hadn’t expected was the fascinating mix of red-gold sand dunes, mountains and stunning coastline that she saw from the air as they came in to land. The scenery provided a welcome distraction from dwelling on the change in her relationship with Lucas.
And really, there was nothing to think about.
She worked for him. If she wanted to carry on working for him, she had to pull herself together.
It helped that, from the moment they’d boarded the company jet, he’d been very much his old self. As focused as ever, he’d worked for the entire flight, pausing only to drink one cup of strong black coffee while, seated across from him on one of the ridiculously luxurious deep leather seats, Emma fretted and worried.
It was just a couple of days, she told herself. A couple of days during which she had to behave in a professional way and switch off any other thoughts. After that, once they were back in the office, everything would be easier.
‘Fasten your seat belt,’ he murmured, ‘we’re landing.’
She wondered how he knew that, given that he hadn’t even looked up from his work. ‘I know. I’ve been looking at the scenery. I expected desert.’
‘Zubran is famous for its coastline. The country has a long seafaring heritage and the diving here is incredible which is why I incorporated an underwater theme in the design of the hotel.’
Emma watched as a graceful catamaran danced over the waves beneath them as they came in to land. ‘How far is the hotel from the airport?’
‘Half an hour along the coast. The Ferraras never build hotels in cities. They’re all about fresh air and healthy living.’ Finally he glanced up, but only to exchange a few words with the flight attendants who had found themselves seriously underutilized on this particular flight.
As soon as they landed, he was out of his seat, impatient to get on. ‘Let’s go and see if my hotel is still standing.’
The short walk from the aircraft to the sleek limousine waiting for them on the tarmac was enough to tell her that a shopping trip needed to be high on her list of priorities. The sweater that had provided woefully inadequate protection against a British winter now felt as thick and heavy as a fur coat. She was grateful for the fierce air conditioning that turned the interior of the car into the equivalent of a mobile fridge as they sped along a straight road that led from the
