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Except, it seemed, drive her absolutely crazy in the few minutes he had left with her tonight.
“All right,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to settle for taking you to breakfast in the morning.” He reached past her to press the up button on the elevator, and though there was plenty of room, he made sure that his hand brushed against her side as he did so.
She bit back a gasp, telling herself the sudden shock of heat radiating from his touch was only because he was hot and not because he heated her up. She didn’t believe it, but then, she didn’t have to. She just had to pretend.
Fake it till you make it.
That was the motto she’d learned growing up. She might not be much of a liar, but she was a hell of an actress. Growing up the daughter—and accomplice—of the most renowned jewel thief in the world, she’d had to be.
Fake it till you make it.
And that was the same motto she’d lived by when Marc had kicked her out six years ago. For weeks, months, she’d been so morose that most days it had taken every ounce of energy she had just to climb out of bed. But her father was dying and she’d needed to be there for him even if she couldn’t be there for herself. Which was why she’d pasted on a smile and pretended that everything was okay even as she was shattering into so many pieces she didn’t think she’d ever put them back together again.
But she had put the pieces back together, she reminded herself as she stepped onto the elevator. And gorgeous smile or not, sexy eyebrow raise or not, she wasn’t going to give Marc Durand the chance to change that. He’d broken her once—or, more accurately, they’d broken each other.
This time around, she’d forego the pleasure. And in doing so also forego the pain. In her mind, it was more than an equal trade-off.
Eleven
He didn’t know what was going on with Isa, but whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Marc glanced around the Snow River Diamond Mine, owned and operated exclusively by and for Bijoux, and did his best not to scowl with displeasure. Not at the mine, or at the questions Isa was asking, but at the way she had spent the entire day barely acknowledging that he existed. After yesterday, he’d hoped things would be different between them.
Oh, he was the first to admit that yesterday had not gotten off to a good start—how could it have when he’d rolled out of bed with Isa only to tell her that he’d slept with her to banish the ghosts of their shared past? And then he’d blackmailed her into helping him. Definitely not a good move in anyone’s book. She’d been furious and had every right to her anger.
But on the plane, she’d seemed to soften. She’d remembered the fact that he was a nervous flyer and had tried to comfort him through the turbulence. She’d even smiled at him, let him touch her as they’d gotten off the plane. As the day had worn on, he’d seen her move from being an angry ex-lover to a consummate professional determined to do her job—even if doing that job meant helping the man causing her anger.
Her kindness had made him feel terrible, had made him determined to apologize for the way he’d treated her—and to make it up to her. She’d let him apologize, had even seemed to take it in the spirit he’d intended it. But then, when he’d wanted to take her to dinner as a kind of peace offering—and to continue the conversation they’d started earlier in the day—she’d frozen him out. Had, in fact, gone so far as to all but slam the door of her hotel room in his face. And since he’d made it a policy never to lie to himself, he had to admit that the rejection had stung.
Which was absurd. He was okay with her rejection piquing his pride, okay with it annoying him. But to actually be hurt by it? That he didn’t understand. Because he didn’t love Isa anymore, hadn’t loved her in a long time. He’d made certain of that.
Sure, he wanted her, but what red-blooded man wouldn’t? She was gorgeous, smart, kind, with a killer body and a wicked sense of humor. But just because he desired her, just because he respected the professional life she’d built for herself, didn’t mean he was falling for her again. And it sure as hell didn’t mean that he loved her.
She was doing him a huge favor and being absolutely incredible about it, but that didn’t mean he would ever be stupid enough to fully trust her again. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for her, no matter how much his body craved hers.
He watched as she charmed his general manager, a grizzly old man by the name of Pete Jenkins. Until now, Marc had pretty much considered Pete completely uncharmable, but somehow Isa had managed it within an hour of meeting him. A couple smiles, a few well-placed questions and she had the diamond industry veteran eating out of her hand.
Marc would be lying if he said the knowledge didn’t make him wary—especially since it hadn’t taken much more effort on her part to have Marc wrapped around her finger all those years ago. But his wariness wasn’t enough to make him keep his distance, especially when she once again gave him a wide berth as she said her goodbyes and made her way back to the helicopter that would take them to the airport, where his plane waited.
He almost hurried to catch up with her, almost grabbed her hand and spun her around so they could have it out right there, and to hell with who was around to witness it. He probably would have done just that—had actually started up the path to the helipad after her—when Pete called his name.
Tamping down the ann
oyance that was quickly turning to fury, Marc turned back to his GM with the closest thing to a smile he could muster. “What’s up, Pete?”
“I was wondering if you’d had time to look at the expansion plans yet? We’ve got about eighteen months before the surface dries up, but we’ve got to get started building the underground tunnels if we don’t want the mine to come to a screeching halt in the not so distant future.”
“I have looked at the plans,” Marc told him. “And there are a few things I’m not happy with, so I sent the architects back to take a second try. They’re supposed to have them ready for me in a couple weeks—I figured we’d talk about it then.”
Pete scratched his chin, nodding thoughtfully. “It’s the block caving measurements, right?”
Marc nodded, not the least bit surprised that Pete had picked up on the same problem he had. “The spacing is way off for this mine. It would work over at Ekaori or some of the other mines, but the veins of kimberlite are very different in this part of the Northwest Territory.”
“The pattern they wanted to dig for those tunnels was going to end up costing a lot more than it needed to.”
“It was. My geologist and I were also concerned about the maze of them based on the mineral composite of the land. Things are different up here than they are at Ekaori. The last thing I want is a cave-in—you know worker safety is the most important thing to me.”
“I do. It’s why I wanted to speak with you. I figured we’d be on the same page, but it never hurts to check.”
“No,” Marc agreed. “It never hurts to check.”
