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‘Where were we?’ Alex murmured, after the stewardess had moved off.
Isobella sat up straighter in the chair, steeling herself to deliver a stern lecture. Fortunately the head stewardess made the ‘prepare for descent’ announcement—asking passengers to fasten seatbelts, place trays up, return seats to the upright position.
‘Landing, I do believe,’ Isobella said coolly.
‘Isobella, I think we were in the middle of something.’
‘No, Alex.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘We weren’t.’
Alex saw determination solidify her gaze, as hard as year-old toffee, before she turned away from him and reclaimed her in-flight magazine. She wanted to be left alone. That much was clear. She wanted him to butt out and leave her to her lonely lab geek life. This was none of his business, and she redefined complicated.
He didn’t do complicated. He liked simple. Easy. Carefree. And, no matter how unappealing they all sounded right now, he’d grant her wish. He’d leave her alone, stop interfering, get the hell back to Melbourne and his uncomplicated life.
But he did make a mental note to visit the Brisbane lab more frequently.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ISOBELLApeered down her microscope at the latest tentacular material from aFleckeri Mike and Theresa had sent to the lab yesterday. Her mind wandered to Alex standing on the beach the morning after the cyclone, his white shirt flapping in the breeze. He’d looked so sexy, so vital and male.
Damn it!One month down the track and Isobella finally admitted what she’d known almost from her first day back. She was going to have to resign. She was in love with her boss and being back at the lab was a daily torturous reminder of it.
In love with Dr Alexander Zaphirides.
How stupid!
He was everywhere. Not just in her head. He was on her e-mail and her phone line, and in the conversations she overheard from her colleagues. It was his lab. Every piece of equipment, every piece of paper had his name on it. Everywhere there were constant reminders of him.
She couldn’t think. She couldn’t sleep. She was distracted, and flitted from being irritable one moment to being day-dreamy the next. Her productivity had slipped. She’d stare at a specimen for ages before remembering what she was supposed to be doing with it. Her data entry was slow. She forgot where she put things and planning her day was hopeless. Her colleagues were noticing.
And then, when she’d finally get it together, Alex would ring. With his sinful voice. Oh, sure, it was always about work, but he’d manage to slip in something seemingly innocent about Piccolo, and then suddenly she’d be back there—back to that night, with him inside her, chasing the storm and her fears away, whispering to her, his voice stroking her body like an extra hand.
And if that wasn’t enough he was redefining her role—using Reg’s absence to get her out of the lab to do more field work. She’d been out and done follow-ups on several oldFleckeri cases in the Brisbane region twice already, and he’d sent her an e-mail yesterday with an airline ticket in the attachment for another follow-up.
She knew what he was doing. He was determined to get her out of the lab. Out of her comfort zone. If only he knew that it didn’t matter any more. The lab was no longer her refuge. Everything in it reminded her of him. Her haven was no longer. Nowhere was safe from thoughts of Alex.
She waited till everyone had left for the evening and dialled Alex’s direct line. The temptation to e-mail him her resignation had been strong, but she knew she owed him a more personal explanation.
She glanced at the time. Six o’clock. She knew he’d be there. He was an even bigger workaholic than she was. She mentally ran through her speech as her foot tapped an agitated rhythm on the floor, waiting for him to pick up.
‘Hello?’
Isobella’s prepared speech died in her throat at the decidedly normal, decidedly girlie voice that answered the phone.
‘Er…hello? Who’s this?’ Isobella asked, frowning at the phone. Surely she hadn’t rung the wrong extension? She knew Alex’s number by heart.
‘It’s Sonya Nikolaidis.’
Isobella froze, her hand tightening convulsively around the receiver. She heard Alex in the background, asking who it was. She stared at the phone for a second before dropping it back in its cradle as if it had burnt her.
Alex and Sonya?
She swallowed, feeling sick. And stupid. And foolish. She’d been mooning over him like a teenager. Unable to forget their time and what had happened. Reliving it again and again like a pathetic lovesick sap. While he’d been back in the game. How many women had he slept with this past four weeks? How many nibbles on his line?
