Her Desert Dream

Too nervous to eat lunch, and with the terrifying take-off well behind her, she was suddenly ravenous and the temptation to scoff the lot was almost overwhelming. Instead, since overindulgence would involve sweating it all off later, she managed to restrain herself, act like the lady she was supposed to be and simply tasted a little of everything to show her appreciation, concentrating on each stunning mouthful so that it felt as if she was eating far more, before settling down with her book.

Kal paused at the door to the saloon.

Rose, her hair a pale gold shimmer that she’d let down to hang over her shoulder, feet tucked up beneath her, absorbed in a book, was so far removed from her iconic image that she looked like a completely different woman.

Softer. The girl next door rather than a princess, because that was what she’d be if she’d been born into his culture.

Was the effect diminished?

Not one bit. It just came at him from a different direction. Now she looked not only luscious but available.

Double trouble.

As he settled in the chair opposite her she raised her eyes from her book, regarding him from beneath long lashes.

‘Did you enjoy your visit to the cockpit?’

An almost imperceptible edge to her voice belied the softer look.

‘It was most informative. Thank you,’ he responded, equally cool. A little chill was just the thing to douse the heat generated by that mouth. Maybe.

‘Did your old friend offer you the controls?’ she added, as if reading his mind, and suddenly it all became clear. It wasn’t the fact that he’d left her side without permission that bothered her.

The stewardess must have told her that he was a pilot and she thought he’d been laughing at her fear of flying.

‘I hoped you wouldn’t notice that little bump back there,’ he said, offering her the chance to laugh right back at him.

There was a flicker of something deep in her eyes and the suspicion of an appreciative dimple appeared just above the left hand corner of her mouth.

‘That was you? I thought it was turbulence.’

‘Did you?’ She was lying outrageously—the flight had been rock steady since they’d reached cruising altitude—but he was enjoying her teasing too much to be offended. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve flown anything this big. I’m a little rusty.’

She was struggling not to laugh now. ‘It’s not something you do seriously, then?’

‘No one in my family does anything seriously.’ It was the standard response, the one that journalists expected, and if it didn’t apply to him, who actually cared? But, seeing a frown buckle the smooth, wide space between her eyes, the question that was forming, he cut her short with, ‘My father bought himself a plane,’ he said. ‘I wanted to be able to fly it so I took lessons.’

‘Oh.’ The frown remained. ‘But you said “this big”,’ she said, with a gesture that indicated the aircraft around them.

‘You start small,’ he confirmed. ‘It’s addictive, though. You keep wanting more.’

‘But you’ve managed to break the habit.’

‘Not entirely. Maybe you’d like a tour of the flight deck?’ he asked. She clearly had no idea who he was and that suited him. If she discovered that he was the CEO of a major corporation she’d want to know what he was doing playing bodyguard. ‘It sometimes helps ease the fear if you understand exactly what’s happening. How things work.’

She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’ll pass.’ Then, perhaps thinking she’d been less than gracious, she said, ‘I do understand that my fear is totally irrational. If I didn’t, I’d never get on one of these things.’ Her smile was self-deprecating. ‘But while, for the convenience of air travel, I can steel myself to suffer thirty seconds or so of blind panic, I also know that taking a pilot’s eye view, seeing for myself exactly how much nothing there is out there, will only make things worse.’

‘It’s really just the take-off that bothers you?’ he asked.

‘So far,’ she warned. ‘But any attempt to analyse my fear is likely to give me ideas. And, before you say it, I know that flying is safer than crossing the road. That I’ve more chance of being hurt going to work—’ She caught herself, for a fraction of second floundered. ‘So I’ve heard,’ she added quickly, as if he might dispute that what she did involved effort.

While opening the new wing of a hospital, attending charity lunches, appearing at the occasional gala might seem like a fairy tale existence to the outsider, he’d seen the effort Lucy put into her own charity and knew the appearance of effortless grace was all illusion.

But there was something about the way she’d stopped herself from saying more that suggested…He didn’t know what it suggested.

‘You’ve done your research.’

‘No need. People will insist on telling you these things,’ she said pointedly.

Signalling that the exchange was, as far as she was concerned, at an end, she returned to her book.

‘There’s just one more thing…’

She lifted her head, waited.

‘I’m sure that Lucy explained that once we arrive in Ramal Hamrah we’ll be travelling on to Bab el Sama by helicopter but—’

‘Helicopter?’

The word came out as little more than a squeak.

‘—but if it’s going to be a problem, I could organise alternative transport,’ he finished.

Lydia had been doing a pretty good job of keeping her cool, all things considered. She’d kept her head down, her nose firmly in her book even when Kal had settled himself opposite her. Stretched out those long, long legs. Crossed his ankles.

He’d removed his jacket, loosened his tie, undone the top button of his shirt.

What was it about a man’s throat that was so enticing? she wondered. Invited touch…

She swallowed.

This was so not like her. She could flirt with the best, but that was no more than a verbal game that she could control. It was easy when only the brain was engaged…

Concentrate!

Stick to the plan. Speak when spoken to, keep the answers brief, don’t let slip giveaways like ‘going to work’, for heaven’s sake!

She’d managed to cover it but, unless she kept a firm rein on her tongue, sooner or later she’d say something that couldn’t be explained away.

Lady Rose was charming but reserved, she reminded herself.

Reserved.

She made a mental note of the word, underlined it for emphasis.

It was too late to recall the ‘helicopter’ squeak, however, and she experienced a hollow feeling that had nothing to do with hunger as Kal, suddenly thoughtful, said, ‘You’ve never flown in one?’

She had never been in a helicopter, but it was perfectly possible that Lady Rose hopped about all over the place in one in order to fulfil her many engagements. Quite possibly with her good friend Princess Lucy.