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Cat looked out of the porthole as the plane taxied on to the runway, then stopped. There were a few moments while they just sat and waited. Her eyes met Nicholas’s and the feeling of tension inside her escalated wildly.
‘Do you like flying?’ he asked nonchalantly.
‘I don’t dislike it.’ The feelings inside her were nothing to do with flying and everything to do with him. ‘It gets you places quickly … It’s a means to an end, isn’t it?’
He smiled at that. ‘It is indeed.’
Was it her imagination or was his reply loaded with some other meaning?
The engine noise suddenly whooshed into powerful life as the jet thundered down the runway at a speed that made Cat’s stomach feel as if it had been left behind. Outside the window Cat could see that London was already looking like toy-town, the grid pattern of the roads and the parks getting smaller as they climbed higher. Then they straightened out and a few moments later the seat belt sign went out.
Nicholas unfastened his belt and stood up. ‘Would you like a drink?’ He moved towards a fridge at the far side of the cabin and looked around at her enquiringly.
‘Just water, please,’ she said briskly. ‘I want to keep a clear head.’
He smiled at that.
‘Have I said something amusing?’
‘No. I just wondered if you ever did anything other than keep a clear head and think about business.’
She tried to ignore the remark, but it rankled. ‘That’s rich, coming from you!’
‘How’s that?’
‘Well, you must never think of anything other than making money! How else would you achieve all this?’ She spread her hands, indicating the luxurious aircraft.
‘I work hard when necessary and I’m focused. But I also play hard.’
‘I’ll bet.’ Cat couldn’t resist the retort. ‘Money mogul by day and playboy by night.’ Nicholas laughed at that.
He had a nice laugh, she thought. It was warm and provocative and infinitely sexy. Their eyes met as he passed her the glass of water.
‘Is that how you see me?’
She shrugged and looked away from him, feeling most uncomfortable now. What on earth had possessed her to say such a thing? ‘How you live your life is none of my business.’
‘No, it’s not,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘But you’ve obviously made some sweeping assessments anyway. I noticed this about you when we first met.’ He sat down again in the seat opposite. ‘Noticed what, exactly?’
‘I suppose you would call it an inbuilt wariness.’ He took a sip of his drink and watched her skin tinge with colour.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said stiffly.
‘No?’ The amusement was still there in the darkness of his eyes. ‘My mistake, then.’
It rankled that she amused him. ‘Well, you are obviously a playboy,’ she muttered in annoyance. ‘You are—what—thirty and unmarried?’
‘Thirty-three and divorced,’ he cut across her wryly.
She was surprised by the disclosure. She hadn’t realized he was divorced.
‘You see, you don’t know me at all. And before you hazard a guess, it was my wife who was—now, how is it you English put it?—playing away.’
She frowned; he was right that she had made a lot of assumptions about him.
‘On the first night we met you accused me of wanting to cheat on my partner,’ he reminded her with a grin. ‘You assumed, in fact, that it was a mode of behaviour that I would regularly put into practice.’
‘I did apologise for saying that.’ She shifted uncomfortably.
