I won’t allow us to get too far off track,’ he grated mockingly.
The pilot’s voice interrupted them, to say they were starting their final descent and would be touching down in precisely fifteen minutes.
Isobel watched as Marco reached to pick up the rest of the papers he’d been working on earlier.
When his eyes had slipped down over her body she’d felt so hot inside that she could hardly breathe. And she felt foolish now…foolish for imagining for one moment that he was flirting with her.
In reality he was probably laughing at her. The little plain mouse who melted when he smiled at her.
The thought made her burn with embarrassment—because she had melted.
Acknowledging that fact even for a moment made her feel very ill at ease, and angrily she tried to dismiss it.
She was here to get a story, and she was totally focused.
As Marco put his work away into his briefcase the plane hit an air pocket, and a few sheets from a report slid across the polished surface of the table and fell onto the floor at her feet.
She bent to pick them up for him, and couldn’t resist glancing at the pages as she did. Unfortunately they were all in Italian, but she managed to catch the printed heading: ‘Porzione’.
She looked over at Marco as she handed it back to him. ‘What is that?’
‘Nothing that needs to concern you,’ he said, tucking it safely away into his briefcase.
Which almost certainly meant it would concern her, she thought sardonically. It was probably some poor unfortunate company that he was about to gobble up and spit out.
‘Don’t forget to fasten your safety belt,’ he said as he settled back into his seat.
‘No, I won’t. Thanks.’ She buckled up, and then glanced away from him out of the window.
Sitting opposite him like this was completely unnerving; there was just something about him that put all of her sensory nerve-endings on high alert.
Porzione—she tried to focus on practicalities, telling herself that she should remember the name and look it up on the internet later. OK, she wasn’t supposed to write about his business dealings, but that didn’t stop her doing a little research and maybe adding a line here and there about his ruthless takeover deals.
She tried to focus on that, and on the bright blue of the sky, on the sound of the engines as the powerful jet geared up for landing—on anything except that moment of attraction she had felt for Marco a little while ago.
It was her imagination, she told herself fiercely. She would never fall under the spell of a man who was a known heartbreaker. And she didn’t buy all that stuff that people spouted about desire overruling common sense. Maybe that happened to other people, but it wasn’t going to happen to her. She was far too practical for that; she always weighed everything up logically. Probably because she’d seen from her own childhood just what could happen if you fell for the wrong man.
Isobel’s mother had never really recovered from her divorce. She’d suffered from depression for a long time afterwards, with Isobel taking on the role of carer at some points. Once in a weak moment she’d even confessed to Isobel that she was still in love with her ex-husband.
How could you love someone who had treated you so badly? That confession had shocked Isobel beyond words. And she had always vowed that she would never allow a man to get her into that state, and that she would always be in control of her emotions.
She had pretty much kept to that vow. As a student at university she’d had a few boyfriends, but she’d always kept them at a distance—never allowing anyone to get too close and never getting into the whole casual sex scene. Instead she had thrown herself into her work. Coming from a single parent family, money had been tight. She’d had just one shot at getting her degree, and she’d been determined not to mess it up by getting sidetracked by a man.
After graduating she’d met Rob, and even though she’d liked him straight away she’d still kept her heart in reserve. Building her career had seemed more important. The thing about Rob was that he had seemed so safe and uncomplicated. He’d stayed around in the background, and little by little he had worked his way into her life. He’d gently told her that he didn’t mind waiting until she was ready to make love, and that he respected her and admired her. He had even said that he held the same moral codes as her. That he knew all about heartbreak as his mother had walked out on him when he was young.
She’d felt sympathy for him when he told her that. And she’d started to trust him. Looking back, she supposed he’d become almost like a best friend. When he’d kissed her there had been no explosions of passion, but he’d made her laugh and he’d made her feel safe. And when he’d proposed to her it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to say yes.
But Rob hadn’t been the safe, reliable guy she had believed him to be. All those things he’d told her about fidelity being important had been lies. And when she’d caught him in his lies he had turned nasty—had told her that she’d driven him to it, that she was frigid.
Just thinking about it now brought a fresh dart of pain. It only went to show that no matter how careful you were there were no guarantees against heartache.
She closed her eyes for a few moments. At least she had found out her mistake before she had married him.
They were slowly starting to lose altitude, and the plane was juddering as currents of air hit it.
She’d been right all along: the best thing was to concentrate on a career, on being independent.
She opened her eyes and to her consternation found herself looking directly into Marco’s dark, steady gaze. Immediately she felt the tug of some unfamiliar emotion twisting and turning deep inside her.
What was that? she wondered angrily. Because it wasn’t desire. Even if he did have the sexiest eyes of any man she had ever met.
Hastily she looked away from him. Thoughts like that did not help this situation, she told herself angrily.
They were going through light, swirling clouds now. Then suddenly she could see the vivid sparkle of the Mediterranean beneath her, and ahead the shadowy outlines of the coast.
There were mountains rising sharply, and large swathes of forest.
Lower and lower they came, the engines whining softly, until Isobel thought that they might land in the sea. But just as she was starting to panic they skimmed in over a white beach and she saw a runway ahead.
A few minutes later they had touched down smoothly. And with a roar of the brakes they taxied to a halt.
‘We are a bit early, but there should be a car outside to pick us up in five minutes,’ Marco said casually as he unfastened his seat belt and stood up.
Isobel also got to her feet, and then wished she hadn’t as she suddenly found herself too close to him in the confined space.
As he reached for his briefcase she sidestepped him so that she could open the overhead compartment and get her bag.
‘Wait—I’ll
