As the plane taxied to the terminal, the lights flickered on. She was determined to keep her dignity. Definitely not make a fool of herself by asking him on a date. Given he’d put his cap back on and was angled away from her, she already knew what the answer would be.
So she would make a quick escape now. But the second the plane stopped he was out of his seat, his satchel slung over his shoulder. He clearly wanted a quick exit, too. Only he then picked upherduffel bag.
‘I can manage it,’ Lily said.
‘I know.’ He’d tugged his cap low again and didn’t let go of her bag. She followed him down to the door. He tilted his head to one side, then the other, stretching the sides of his neck.
‘That shouldn’t have happened,’ he muttered.
Lily dropped her gaze, stupidly hurt that he regretted it.
He cleared his throat. ‘I’m so—’
‘Don’t apologise,’ she interrupted swiftly. She’d liked it.Too much.
‘But—’
‘Please.’ She slammed her cap on her head. It was perfect to avoid looking into his eyes. She stepped forward to disembark ahead of him. ‘It’s no big deal.’
But she was stung. That had been the most amazing—admittedly insane, but most amazing—moment of her life.Sexlife, notentirelife. And at the time she’d been pretty sure he’d been into it so his backpedalling now was both mortifying and annoying. She heard him draw breath but swiftly moved the second the door opened. She didn’t want to listen—didn’t want this to be madeworse.
There was no air bridge, just a steep staircase down to the tarmac and a painted line leading to the terminal. The grey drizzle dampened her already deflated mood.
‘But—’
‘Just forget about it.’ She hurried to the bottom of the stairs.
‘Forget?’ Right behind her, his low voice turned harsh. ‘How thehellam I ever going to forget that?’
Chapter Three
STARTLED BY HISraw admission—gratified—Lily almost slipped on the tarmac.
‘Careful.’ His hand clamped just above her elbow and he steadied her with a too-firm grip.
She was so flustered she could melt marshmallows on her flaming cheeks. Because she was hardly about to forget it, either. She risked a glance up, confused by the leashed lethality of both his tone and touch and the underlying need that remained in each. The dull light hit his stubbled face. Lily blinked but it took her too long to process the piercing blue of his eyes. Thefamiliarityof those piercing cornflower-blue eyes. She froze. Right in the middle of the tarmac.
No. Her jaw dropped but no sound emerged. It wasn’t possible. It was absolutelynotpossible that the man who’d travelled with her was—
A doppelganger. A lookalike. Anyone buthim.
‘Keep moving,’ he clipped roughly, dropping her arm to reposition his cap while she gaped in appalled astonishment.
His hair was uncharacteristically mussed becauseshe’dtwisted her fingers in it while he’d kissed up the inside of her thigh. And again while he’dscrewedher into a brainless, blissful mess.Thiswas such a mess.
‘Come on. Do you want someone to see us?’ His authoritative order shocked complete realisation into her.
Heclearly didn’t want to be seen and definitely not withher. Because he wasn’t some on-board courier who dealt withpaperwork. He was Massimo Hearnshawe, the squillionaire CEO of Hearnshawe Auto Group. He was the man in charge of not just the elite motor racing team, but the enormous luxury car manufacturing company plus all the other add-on businesses within the massive conglomerate. There were layers and layers of management between them, but at the end of the day, this man was ultimately herboss. He owned everything. He had more money in his personal bank account than several small countries combined. As a result, he was the most eligible bachelor connected to P1 Global—in pretty much the world, actually. And that was before factoring in his stunning looks. He had more than that blessed body; he had the face of a freaking angelic aftershave model. She’dfeltthe angularity and symmetry of that chiselled jaw. Now she saw it in the early-morning light and yeah, cue the heavenly choirs.
But she also knew while Massimo Hearnshawe looked hot, he was actually ice-cold. Ruthlessly ambitious, legend had it he’d changed the locks on his own grandfather. The poor old guy had been out at his birthday lunch and come back to find he couldn’t get into the company headquarters he’d presided over for forty-three years. Massimo had taken overeverything. But since he’d been in charge, the company had thrived and the racing arm had become competitive again for the first time in decades. She knew the man was famously private, allowing the public only the smallest glimpse into his rarefied world. He was barely seen in the garage on race weekends, preferring to watch from the privacy of his corporate suite—safely beyond the reach of the great unwashed and overly sycophantic. He was racing royalty—and driver Emiliano Costa’s cousin. No wonder he’d been able to go along with all that stupid motoring innuendo. And this was absolutely the worst thing that could possibly have happened.
‘Seriously, Lily. Let’s go.’
That order shocked her into stillness all over again. ‘How do you know my name?’
Because she’d never told him who she was, not in the entire time they were on that plane. He’d certainly never mentioned his, either.
He actually winced. ‘We’ll talk inside.’
