it. ‘It’s an inevitable assumption. But, no, I don’t trawl the internet looking for women.’
Of course he didn’t, she mused. He probably had women tripping over themselves to appear on his arm. He clearly hadn’t entered into the bidding war because he’d been over-whelmed by her curves.
‘A friend of mine e-mailed me the link. I was going to Nice anyway. I was curious.’
Bizarre. It was bizarre enough to be true. She hardly knew him. It might be exactly the sort of thing he would do. How did she know?
‘Just out of interest, how much did I fetch?’
He smiled suddenly at her, and her breath caught. ‘Do you want it in dollars, euros or pounds? It’s a global market out there, you know.’
She couldn’t help smiling back. ‘An estimate will do.’
‘Around six figures.’
Emily nearly knocked over her glass.
‘Are you mad?’
His jaw tightened. ‘Very possibly.’
A tiny trickle of ice shivered down her spine at his tone. He wasn’t joking. Emily stared at him as he raked a hand through his hair and yanked open the top button of his shirt. On a plane with a madman, however gorgeous, was not top of her list of ideal scenarios and if he’d said ‘yes’ instead of ‘possibly’ she’d be reaching for the nearest parachute. ‘At least it’s tax deductible.’
‘There is that,’ he agreed.
‘Why are you going to Nice?’
‘Meetings in Monte Carlo.’
She tilted her head. ‘Convenient.’
‘You don’t believe me.’
Emily shot him an assessing glance. ‘I’m not sure.’
He clutched his chest as if in pain. ‘I’m wounded.’
‘I’m devastated that you’re wounded.’
‘You should be. Your sister accepted my reasons without question.’
Did she? Emily’s eyes narrowed. ‘My sister’s brain has been pulverised by motherhood,’ she said darkly.
‘You’re more wary?’
‘Maybe,’ she murmured, wrenching her eyes from his and looking down at where her fingers were playing with the ends of the scarf tied round her head.
That particular avenue of conversation was not one she wanted to pursue. Weaving the strands between her fingers, she found herself wondering whether it was true. She’d spent hours analysing her relationship with Tom and what had gone wrong, but she hadn’t looked at the effects it had left behind.
She probably had become more wary since breaking up with him, she acknowledged, her brow creasing. Five years with the same man was a long time, even if the last year had been pretty rocky, and her dating skills were rusty. Plus, she thought she’d known her ex-fiancé inside out, and it turned out she hadn’t known him at all.
Perhaps Anna was right. Perhaps she did need closure. It wasn’t normal for a girl of twenty-eight to hang up her dating shoes. She did need to get Out There.
At least her reaction to Luke proved that she was still capable of feeling sexual desire. Emily stole a peek at him from beneath her lashes just to make sure that it was still there. He was reading a report with amazing speed, underlining sections, writing notes, his long fingers flicking though the pages, almost caressing the paper. Oh, yes, sexual desire was definitely still there, if the bolt of fire that spread through her was any proof. Her gaze slid up to where a wedge of chest was exposed by the open collar of his shirt. Her focus zoomed in on the fine dark hairs that emerged from the bottom of the V, and she had to ball her hands into fists to stop her fingers whipping up and ripping open another couple of buttons.
‘I can’t concentrate on my report if you keep staring at me like that.’
Emily froze. Oh, God. He was watching her watching him! Had she been caught in the act? How excruciating. She tentatively lifted her gaze further, fully expecting to see a mocking glint in his eyes, but he was still looking down. That was even worse: he’d been able to feel her eyes devouring him. She went crimson and clapped her hands to her cheeks, turning an involuntary groan of shame into a lengthy cough.
‘Would you like some water?’ he enquired mildly, still apparently absorbed.
She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll get it.’ Standing up and moving around would do her good. It might even give her body the opportunity to redistribute her blood away from her face. ‘I wouldn’t want your concentration to be disturbed any further,’ she added, levering herself out of the seat.
She wandered across the cream carpet towards the drinks cabinet where Luke had poured her champagne when they’d boarded. What a way to travel. No interminable check-in queues, no stuffing your case into an overfilled overhead locker and yourself into an uncomfortable seat. And a travelling companion that looked like Luke. Her skin prickled and she went warm.
‘Would you like anything?’ she asked, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge and filling a glass. She pressed the cold bottle against her cheek and felt it cool her overheated body.
Sticking a hand in the back pocket of her jeans, she took a sip and bent down to look out of the window at the great expanse of azure sky.
‘No, thanks. And you’re disturbing me.’
Emily blinked, instantly aware that her skin had prickled, was still tingling, because his eyes had been burning into her back. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said calmly. ‘You’re watching me.’
A pause, and then, ‘Like I said, you’re disturbing me.’
CHAPTER TWO
EMILY went still while her body temperature rocketed. Had he really just said that? Did it mean what she thought it meant? She straightened and turned, eyes wide, not quite sure what to say next.
Luke wasn’t in his seat. He’d moved to the fax machine and was shuffling the pages into the feeder. What with the hum of the engines and the thickness of the carpet she hadn’t heard him move.
She took a deep breath. ‘Am I?’ she said.
Luke didn’t break from what he was doing. ‘Are you what?’
‘Disturbing you?’
‘Not at all,’ he said, whipping round and flashing her a brief smile. ‘Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything you like.’
What?
Then she shrugged. She must have misunderstood, she decided, following his movements over the rim of her glass as he strode back to the chair. He picked up his own glass and tossed the contents down his throat. Emily slid back into her seat and watched him as he leaned and twisted over to pull out another report. The muscles in his torso were clearly defined beneath his shirt. He pushed up his sleeves to reveal strong, tanned forearms and her mouth went dry.
Emily didn’t generally have a thing about forearms, but Luke’s were—well, they were making her reconsider. Tanned, muscled, lightly sprinkled with rough hair. She felt a fierce urge to run her hands over them. Her eyes fell to the long brown fingers idly twirling the pen as he concentrated on the report. Compared to the speed with which he’d read the last document, this one seemed hard going. In fact, he hadn’t turned the page once, and he hadn’t underlined a single word or made any notes whatsoever. If pressed, she’d have sworn he was distracted.
She would do the decent thing and rescue him from his torturous report by dazzling him with her conversational skills. But before she could make a start on finding out what made this enticingly enigmatic man tick, Luke shot to his feet and went to pour himself some more water.