Modern Romance March 2019 5-8. Dani Collins
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She shook her head, bemused by his comment. ‘I don’t...’ Her voice faded as he took her arm and propelled her towards the open doors and onto the metal platform in the open air. ‘My jacket!’ she protested.
She didn’t need it. The heat after the air-conditioned atmosphere of the flight hit her. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes against the sun. The men carrying the buggy were on the tarmac waiting; so were several other people. Oh, hell, she realised, a reception committee! All it lacked was a brass band and some sexy baton-twirlers.
This was more awful than any of the scenarios she had dreamt of.
‘I’d assumed low profile,’ he hissed through clenched teeth.
She felt his low chuckle, low heartless chuckle, and then his fingers tightened around her shoulder in warning, as though he had expected her to turn and run back into the plane. Serve him right if I did, she thought viciously.
‘You might have warned me there would be...’
She had half turned and was tilting her head back when his hand moved from her shoulder to the back of her head, his long fingers curling into her hair and his thumb coming to rest on the angle of her jaw, making her forget what she was about to say.
He bent forward, the gleam of intent in his dark eyes telling her what was about to happen a split second before it did.
He was going to kiss her.
Then he did, and she stopped thinking.
His mouth was warm, his kiss managed to be slow and sensitive and yet possessive, a statement saying, ‘She’s mine,’ to anyone watching.
Flora wasn’t watching, she was feeling. It was as if her nerve endings had been exposed as she fell bonelessly into the kiss and him; resisting never even crossed her mind.
The hot stream of desire coursing like wine though her body was both terrifying and the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.
His arms were like steel, holding her close, moulding her to his hard body, very hard. Knowing he was aroused—that he wanted her—only escalated her excitement, her madness.
And then it was over. The anticlimax had the physical impact of an icy plunge pool after a sauna. She couldn’t breathe, normality still felt a long way off and her brain was blank.
‘You all right?’ he asked as she swayed.
Bit too late to be concerned now, she thought as she glared her dislike up at him. Even in the open she was conscious of the electrical charge that still surrounded them. ‘I don’t like heights,’ she retorted, swaying coltishly away from his steadying hand. The one that planted itself firmly in the small of her back was impossible to evade.
‘All about first impressions, cara,’ he whispered, running his lips up the curve of her neck. ‘There are people here who will be reporting back to my grandfather.’
She was dimly aware in the distance of Jamie making his own first impressions as he kicked off—loudly!
‘Jamie...’
He nodded and speared his free hand through his hair, wondering as he did at what point he had actually thought he was in control.
He was acting like some sort of hormonal teenager...or his father.
Short of hugging an iceberg, nothing could have exerted a more blood-cooling effect than the second possibility.
Flora listened as he responded to a question from someone standing inside the plane with what sounded like orders issued in his native tongue. She used the moments to gather her wits.
‘Sorry about that,’ he murmured as the person vanished.
‘For kissing me?’ she said, managing to sound cool, even slightly amused.
Was he sorry?
He ought to be. She was, it turned out, exactly the sort of woman he’d spent his life avoiding, the sort of woman of whom he could imagine men becoming reliant on the sound of her voice to start the day.
He wasn’t one of those men. He had no emotional connection, it was just sex...or it had the potential to be.
‘You’d be insulted if I said yes.’
Flora met his dark, hypnotic gaze and was lost. Great big holes appeared in the composure she had managed to gather around herself. Lowering her gaze was the only protective option left and that wasn’t as easy as it should have been. By the time her eyes were safely fixed on her toes her skin was covered by a fine sheen of perspiration.
‘I’m sure you enjoy performing to your adoring audience but, like I said, I’m not good with heights.’
‘Come on. Watch your step.’
His hand stayed an inch clear of her elbow as she walked straight-backed down the steps, close enough to steady her should it be required and far enough away to avoid having another of her displays of pig-headed independence.
* * *
The meet-and-greet, the VIP fast route—actually everything that happened between walking down the metal stairs and getting into the middle one of the half-dozen cars that seemed to be reserved for their party—was a bit of a blur.
Was this what it felt like to be a celebrity? If so, Flora couldn’t for the life of her work out why so many people wanted this dubious status.
She knew she’d been introduced to people she’d never seen before, and wouldn’t know again, even though their names were drifting like flotsam through her head. She knew she’d smiled in what she hoped were appropriate moments.
Ivo spoke to the driver for a few moments before the screen separating them slid silently into place. He leaned back in his seat.
‘That went well.’
Flora held out a toy, zooming it in to tickle the baby’s tummy and nuzzle his cheek to distract him.
Ivo’s proximity was bothering her too much. She really hoped this was a short journey. ‘I think your idea of well and mine might be pretty far apart.’
‘The kiss?’ Head against the deeply padded leather rest, he turned his head.
‘Yes, the kiss.’ She had decided to treat it just like any other line that had been crossed. Making a big thing of it would make it big thing or, and that was what she was afraid of, make him realise that it had been a big thing for her—nothing short of a revelation.
He had tapped into a passion inside her. A hunger that she hadn’t known existed. Even when she had imagined herself in love with Callum she had never considered herself a particularly sexual person. If she had been she might have been less appreciative of what she had idealistically assumed was his consideration. She’d realised later, of course, that he simply hadn’t been into her that much.
‘You want me to ask next time?’
‘A little warning would have been appreciated, and maybe a breath mint.’
She was just feeling pleased with herself for keeping things light when he laughed; the deep vibrant sound sent illicit shivers down her spine. Then he touched her cheek and the contact seemed both natural and intimate. His eyes dropped to her lips. ‘You tasted like strawberries.’
She fought the magnetic pull with a shocked little gasp to break the contact, before flopping back in her seat, breathing hard.
‘So, what happens now?’ she said, putting all the cool and practical at her command in her voice.
‘Try catching up on some sleep.’
Her eyes went to the baby. ‘I couldn’t.’
‘It might help some of those frown lines smooth out.’
‘I