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‘I wanted to wake you but he wouldn’t let me.’
‘You do not snore... Drool a little...?’
‘When did you become a double act?’ A smile appeared in Tilda’s eyes as she looked from one to the other and some of the tension slid from her shoulders. She was actually starting to feel a bit ridiculous for getting worked up about a searing, hot, hungry look when it had been a product of her sleeping subconscious.
It was connected to reality by her guilt, which was irrational. A person could not be held responsible for their subconscious, it was not real, but thenot realhad left the echo of it low in her belly in an ache of carnal yearning.
In the real world she was not yearning she was... A tiny pucker appeared between her feathery dark brows. She felt creased and crumpled, much like the old dish rag her dress probably resembled by now—a dish rag that had been slept in.
Rubbing away the frown between her eyes, she lifted her heavy, silky hair off her neck. The plan had been to tie it back before they landed.
Why was she worrying? There was no one to impress except... Actually, there was no need to impress Ezio, which was just as well; outside the office she wouldn’t have known where to begin.
And she definitely wasn’t going try and look stupid making the effort. Mouth set firm, she unclipped her belt and rose to her feet, shaking out the silky strands of hair as she did so.
She felt Ezio’s eyes on her and turned her head, catchingsomethingin his eyes—a trick of the light, maybe. It was only there for a split second. Imagination or not, she was wide awake now, all her senses tingling, her stomach somersaulting.
‘Am I holding everyone up? Sorry, I didn’t sleep much last night.’
‘I hope he wasn’t a nuisance?’ she said anxiously.
‘I would tell him if he was,’ Ezio responded with a deadpan look that broke into a grin as he added, ‘Relax, he was fine. He ate a great deal... I had forgotten that teenage boys are never full. But fortunately, under the circumstances, he was not sick at all.’
‘You don’t know what you missed. There is achefon board.’
‘I’m sure you’ll tell me what I missed.’ Tilda put a hand to the back of her neck and rotated her shoulders to alleviate the burning ache of tension that had already taken up residence between her shoulder blades.
Push through the pain, she thought ruefully as she picked up her bag. ‘I meant to change.’
Ezio’s glance travelled from her feet to the top of her shiny head before he casually claimed her bag.
‘I’m fine.’ Her grip tightened on the handle and her jaw squared, the resistance only lasting a second before it occurred to her that disputing everything would leave her with little energy for the fights that really mattered. The ones that she was starting to think were inevitable.
‘Thank you.’ She forced the words out as she relinquished her bag.
He tipped his dark, glossy head in sardonic acknowledgment. ‘You look fine like that.’ The throw away remark was delivered with no particular expression, and his eyes were hidden by the fringe of his lashes, but the tension she sensed in him made her stomach lurch.
She hurried to fill the static silence before it became impenetrable. ‘I feel a bit creased and...’ She broke off as his eyes met hers.
‘You look beautiful. Accept a compliment with grace, Tilda.’
She fought the temptation to look back over her shoulder and carried on walking, making damn sure she didn’t stumble. Because it wasn’t the compliment, it was the source it came from, that had her feeling very unsteady.
Her reaction to his formidable physical presence was a problem, but all she had to do was sit tight and wait... She knew his schedule—Ezio rarely spent more than three days a month in the Athens office, and on those occasions he sometimes flew back the same day.
She noticed that Sam seemed quite subdued as they went through the tedious but VIP-accelerated airport formalities. Her anxiety was mixed with guilt. This was happening because she wanted to prioritise Sam, but yet again it was Ezio who occupied her thoughts...and not in a way she had ever imagined.
The problem was she was imagining too much.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked, lightly throwing an arm around her brother’s shoulders.
Just ahead a senior official of some sort had attached himself to Ezio’s side. She knew his attentive attitude would not be to Ezio’s taste, but what he liked or did not like was not for her to worry about. She found herself hoping uncharitably that the man was boring the pants off Ezio.
‘Fine. Actually, if you must know, I’m regretting the last burger...’ Sam admitted, pressing his stomach. ‘But I mean, a chef and food on tap... I asked and no one said no.’ He gave a‘go figure’eye-roll of wonder. ‘It was like a dream.’
Tilda’s lips twitched. Sam dreamt of an endless supply of fried food and she dreamt of... Well, who was she to criticise?
‘It didn’t occur to you to say no?’
