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He wanted to rile her—mess her up a bit. Find out what lay beneath her dreary wardrobe, the awful glasses and her prim, carefully chosen words. Find out why she’d lied at dinner the other night. Herreal story.
‘Would either of you care for a drink?’
Isobella opened her eyes and addressed the air hostess. ‘No, thanks.’ Not that the woman was remotely interested in her or her beverage requirements. The dazzling redhead only had eyes for Alex.
‘And you, Dr Zaphirides?’
Isobella blinked. She knew hisname ? Had she taken the time to look it up on the passenger list? She watched as the redhead batted her eyelids at Alex.Oh, please!
Alex noticed Isobella’s irritation, and injected all his energy into the smile he gave the hostess. ‘Coffee, thank you.’
Isobella watched as his dimples deepened and his attraction quotient rose into the stratosphere.Great!
‘Coming right up, sir.’
Isobella shook her head at Red’s flirty gaze and exaggerated hip wiggle. She was going to have to put up with this for a week. Women fawning all over him. Spending the morning with him at the airport had been a big enough trial.
The check-in counter woman had looked at him as if she could spread him on her toast, the teenage girl behind the coffee shop counter had stared at him as if he’d just stepped out of an Austen novel, and a grandmotherly cleaner had winked at him and given him an if-I-was-twenty-years-younger leer.
Although, to be fair, Alex hadn’t seemed to notice any of it. He’d been polite and gentlemanly to all, including her. Maybe he was so used to being ogled that it didn’t register any more? Or maybe he was truly unaware of his effect on women?
That was a new one for her. She’d spent her formative years surrounded by very good-looking men. All of them more than aware of their power. None of them, unfortunately, aware of their insufferable arrogance.
Although there was an arrogance about Alex too. But it was different. It wasn’t based on his physical attributes or other frivolous, conceited notions. It seemed to come from deep inside. A confidence that seemed to define his every movement. Was it the knowledge that he was a world-class researcher doing vital work? Or was it just an innate sense of self?
The hostess leant over Isobella as if she didn’t exist, and placed Alex’s coffee on his tray. ‘Blow on it, sir, it’s hot.’
Alex threw another smile the hostess’s way. ‘Just the way I like it.’
Red’s laughter tinkled lightly around them, making Isobella want to reach for her sick bag. Did Carla flirt with her passengers like this? The stewardess moved on to the seats behind them, and Isobella was grateful for the reprieve from the heavy scent she must have bathed in before coming on duty.
The plane shuddered a little as it hit some turbulence, and Isobella grabbed for the arms of her seat, brushing Alex’s arm in the process. She hated the stomach-dropping sensation of the split-second freefall and took some deep breaths.
‘You okay?’
‘Fine,’ she said tersely.
‘That’s it!’ Alex exclaimed, looking at her white-knuckled grip. ‘You’re a nervous flyer. That’s why you didn’t want to come.’
‘No.’ Isobella had been flying first class on her own from the age of fourteen. She’d racked up enough frequent flyer points to put even the most career-obsessed businessman to shame.
‘Public speaking brings you out in hives?’
‘No.’ She’d pranced on catwalks with next to nothing on in front of total strangers and hundreds of cameras for a living. Opening her mouth fully clothed was a walk in the park.
‘Boats, then?’
Isobella hesitated. ‘No.’
‘Ah-hah!’ He honed in quickly on her slight pause. ‘It is. Do you get seasick, or is it some sort of phobia?’
She plucked the in-flight magazine out of the pocket in front of her. ‘It’s not boats. I’m just not that…keen…on the ocean.’
Which was true. She wasn’t looking forward to travelling to Piccolo Island. But of course there was the other terrifying thing about being away with Alex—like her completely stupid crush.
‘Afraid of drowning? Sharks? AFleckeri coming to get you?’ Alex murmured.
Her fingers tightened on the page. She’d have to be the unluckiest woman in the world to fall victim to aFleckeri twice. No, her fear wasn’t rational. She knew that. But those few seconds when she’d been in the water, with the tentacles wrapped around her, those moments of intense paralysing agony, were burned into her psyche as indelibly as the brands on her torso.
