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‘Are you following me?’ she rapped out.
He looked so alarmed at the prospect that her brief attack of paranoia subsided as abruptly as it had arisen. He was an accountant, for goodness’ sake! He wore a suit, and an expensively tailored one at that. All the tabloid journalists Rosalind knew—and she knew some of them on a first-name basis by now—dressed for comfort and climbing walls rather than for impressing their quarry with their sartorial elegance.
They didn’t travel first class, either, and in the unlikely event of managing to persuade his tight-fisted employer to spring for a ticket no self-respecting hack would have piously waved away the free booze every time it was offered, as she had noticed Mr James do.
‘I think you’ll find I was the first person to check in for the connection and I was certainly on board this plane first,’ he pointed out with the stiffness of outraged innocence. ‘How could I possibly be following you?’
Quite. Remembering what her mother had told her about the underdeveloped nature of Tioman, Rosalind conceded that of course anyone who travelled first class would inevitably stay at the island’s most luxurious hotel. She tried to smooth his ruffled dignity with a mischievous, melting look.
‘Mmm. How indeed? Maybe I’m the one following you...’
He blinked rapidly, blurring the expression in his dark eyes. Rosalind noticed a small tick in hi
s left temple and realised that her provocative reply had only made him even more uncomfortable. He jerked his face away from her scrutiny, glancing out of his window just as the nose of the plane lifted, his fingers gripping the armrest as the ground fell sharply away beneath them and they shuddered across the heatwaves rising from the city.
Rosalind looked at the white knuckles. Maybe it wasn’t her teasing banter that had made him poker up so suddenly.
‘Flown much in small planes, have you?’ she asked with studied casualness, determined not to make the same mistake she had on the flight from Auckland.
He wrenched his gaze reluctantly away from the window and gave her a wary, sidelong look as if he still didn’t know quite what to make of her. Did he expect her to pounce on him and start ripping his clothes off? Or perhaps he was afraid to admit his vulnerability because he thought she would mock his fears. She smiled kindly, encouragingly, determined to make up for embarrassing him with her absurd suspicions.
His eyes narrowed on her eager, enquiring expression.
‘Not a great deal, no,’ he admitted slowly, surprising her, for she had half expected a snub.
Rosalind beamed at him and adopted a bracing tone. ‘Well, don’t worry; the ride’ll smooth out when we get up a little higher. And we’ll leave the up-draughts behind once we get over the sea. The flight’s not much more than an hour long. We’ll be there in no time. If your ears start to hurt, suck one of these.’ She whipped out a few boiled lollies from the fistful she had pocketed on their previous flight and held them out to him. ‘Sorry if they’ve melted a bit but they’re still in their wrapping so you won’t get sticky.’
He accepted the peace offering, picking out the paper-sealed toothpick with the airline logo which had been hidden amongst the sweets and gravely handing it back.
‘Surely you want to keep your souvenir, Miss Marlow?’
She grinned sheepishly as she dropped the toothpick into the breast pocket of her shirt. ‘It’s the bargain-hunter in me, I’m afraid. I just can’t pass up a free offer. I can never leave a hotel room without making a clean sweep of the teabags and coffee sachets and the soap and little bottles of shampoo. Things like that are built into the room rate, you know, and they can be very handy when you’re living on a budget.’
His eyebrows rose steeply. She was beginning to get rather fond of them. They were his most expressive feature.
‘A very poorly balanced budget, Miss Marlow, that affords first-class travel but leaves you insufficient funds to buy the small essentials of life.’
She grinned at his professional criticism. ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t afford them; it’s only that I’d rather spend the money on other things. Actually, this whole trip is a gift. Normally I’m strictly a second-class traveller. And my name is Rosalind by the way. Most people call me Roz.’
No dawn of recognition crossed his expression, no glimmer of licentious speculation intruded into the clear dark gaze.
‘Luke James.’
There was a pause, almost as if he expected her to recognise him. Maybe he was famous in accounting circles.
She prodded him further. ‘I’m an actress.’
‘I’m afraid I’m not much of a movie-goer,’ he began politely.
‘I work mostly in the theatre.’
‘Or a theatre-goer either.’
‘I did have a leading part in a BBC costume drama a few years ago—’
‘I don’t own a television set,’ he said without regret.
‘Oh. Well, I’ve done a number of radio plays—’
