out of line. Totally out of control.
Totally out of character.
Rewind and erase. That was the only way out. Forget his every thought and word and action since she’d turned around in that cafeteria with that pouting glower setting her unique face on passionate fire.
But time travel and rewriting history aside, he just had to resolve the flaming mess he’d made. The poor kid would go into shock the moment he told her who he was.
OK, fine, so she wasn’t a kid any more. And she’d never been ‘poor’. Or a kid, for that matter. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a pink-haired holy terror. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be shocked now. She hadn’t seen him since that fateful day fourteen years ago when he’d come so close to...
Anyway, she’d probably forgotten he existed. Now, when she found out who exactly it was who’d been coming onto her, hot and heavy, who’d had his hands, his lips all over her—Dios, would she believe he hadn’t recognized her?
Breathe. Snap out of it. He couldn’t take refuge in shock any longer. His hands were still around her. Limp and nerveless but still there. He had to remove them, had to look at her some time. At last he did. And what he saw in her eyes...
Blood surged to his head, smearing his vision red.
No need to worry about confronting her with his identity.
She knew who he was.
She’d known all along!
* * *
This was better than anything she’d expected.
Vidal had gone from white to green to blue. And now purple.
He realized who she was. Realized she was way ahead of him in the recognition department. And he didn’t like it. Whoo boy, didn’t he ever.
Let him taste crushing embarrassment for a change.
Savor his humiliation later. Run and leave him stewing in it. “Oh, thanks, Ashley.” She stood up, making one last contact with his arm as he drew it away, and almost collapsed down again. Her hand trembled as she took the handbag, her other hand on Ashley’s arm more for support than for steering her away, too. It wasn’t that easy to distract Ashley from gaping at Vidal. She tried harder. “And I hope you kissed that lady for me. It would have been a nightmare if it had gotten lost. What would I have done without... identification?”
She wished she could turn to see her jibe’s effect. She couldn’t. She could barely keep upright, stop herself from collapsing in demented giggling. She didn’t need to look, though. Fury emanated from him, coming faster, hotter, bombarding her, sinking into her flesh, giving her a pretty good idea of how he was feeling.
“Someone would have reported it to airport security sooner or later,” Ashley said, resisting Cassandra’s efforts to move her, her eyes darting from her to Vidal, full of avid questions.
“All personnel of the Jet Hospital heading to Casablanca, Morocco, please, board now at boarding gate number 19.”
The announcement was a summons from the heavens. A perfect escape. “See? Even if they had, I probably wouldn’t have had time to collect it.”
“Of course you would have. They wouldn’t have taken off without you!” Ashley’s astonished glance all but asked about her walking away from Vidal without a glance. Vidal, the man whose lips had been buried in her neck just minutes ago. Lips that must have sucked dry all her energy and bravado, right along with her sanity.
She had to run. Now. “Let’s hurry. No reason to keep everyone waiting.”
She’d taken only one step when his voice broke over her. “Everyone can wait while you introduce me to your friend, don’t you think...Cassandra?”
His voice. Glacial. Hair-raising. Oh, lord. She hadn’t thought this through, hadn’t thought how this would end. How he’d retaliate. What if he got abusive?
Well, let him try. Then he’d really get exactly what was coming to him.
Puffing out her chest, she turned. And swayed. His eyes slammed into her again, not with instant desire and enveloping heat, but with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. An incensed Vidal, suppressed violence crackling from his every pore, his formidable body a foot away from hers, trapping her against the wall more effectively than if he’d crushed her to it...
Intimidating. She hated to admit it, but he’d been intimidating then and he was far more so now. She hated, too, to find herself wanting to deny any knowledge of his identity. Oh, no. She’d see this through.
“Oh, we really don’t have time for that now, Vidal.”
He rose. The world shrank. “But we do, querida. As much time as we need.”
The change in him was spectacular. No passion now. No humanity. This man looked every atom the soulless narcissist she knew he was.
Those eyes will never feast on you again, make you soar.
Oh, stop it!
This was Vidal. He’d been faking it all. Handing her a line. And even if he hadn’t been, he was the only man in the species she’d condemned beyond redemption.
“Vidal?” That was Ashley, squeaking. “You’re Dr Santiago? Our mission leader?”
“No!”
“Yes.”
It took a heartbeat for his calm answer to Ashley to sink in. Then it hit. This time, when her heart stopped, it felt as if it would stop forever.
* * *
Vidal saw Cassandra’s reaction, felt it. He’d been counting her breaths, her blinks, the times she’d licked her lips—those lips... Focus. Focus. Not on what he’d thought, felt. On who—what she was. What she’d done. What she was thinking, feeling.
This was news to her. She hadn’t known he was her mission leader.
How come? Could it be...? Hmm.
Maybe this situation wasn’t a total disaster after all.
Before any of them could utter another word, the security guards entered the lounge, deeming Ashley had had enough time to deliver the bag and should leave.
Ashley shrugged her disappointment. “We’ll meet properly on board the Jet, Dr Santiago,” she said. “I’m your mission logistician, by the way.”
It took him a moment to notice Ashley’s extended hand. He shook it with a calm nod, calmness that was totally artificial, and saw her widen her eyes meaningfully into Cassandra’s shocked ones, giving the message, Later. Oh, yes, he’d love to be there “later,” when Cassandra explained this whole mess to her colleague.
The moment the door closed behind Ashley, Cassandra sat down again. Fell down, more like. Savage satisfaction frothed inside him. Good. She was as flabbergasted as he was. But she couldn’t be as enraged. All he wanted was to pull her up, haul her into his arms and crush her to his... No, no. He had to stop this, squash it. This was Arthur’s daughter. He couldn’t think of her that way. Off limits. She was off limits.
“Ha ha!”
His eyes narrowed on her. Saw shock receding, challenge replacing it. What now?
She rose to her feet again, hooked her handbag on her shoulder, tossed her magnificent hair. His body, his head tightened. Dammit. Damn her!
“Good one, Vidal. You almost had me there for a moment.”
“Which moment would that be? The one before or the one after Ashley set me straight? The one before, I definitely had you—”
She interrupted him, voice and eyes sharp, color high. “Let’s not play any more games. You know what I mean. Now if you’re