In The Arms Of The Sheikh

There was an anguished screech. ‘Oh, no.’

Natasha’s grin widened. Izzy Dare was her very best friend.

‘Flattering,’ she remarked. ‘Aren’t you talking to me any more, Izzy? What have I done?’

But Izzy was too full of remorse to laugh. ‘I was trying to leave a message with the desk clerk. I never meant to wake you up.’

‘You didn’t.’

Natasha swirled a pie chart round on the screen. Both red and blue maybe? After all, cold and aggressive were often an advantage in business. Heartless, she might be, but she was very successful.

It was a long time since she had cared what people said about her. Anything was fine, as long as they also said she got the job done. And they did.

She stopped playing with her pie chart. ‘What can I do for you, Izzy?’

But Izzy was still worried. ‘You’re sure I didn’t wake you? But I thought New York was five hours behind London. What on earth is the time there?’

Natasha detached her eyes from the screen and cast a rapid look at her discreetly expensive platinum watch.

‘Just after five.’

‘And you’re up?’ Izzy was horrified.

‘Lambert Research never sleeps,’ said Natasha smugly.

‘But why?’

‘Breakfast meeting with the Head Honcho. They slipped it in at the last moment, so I’m reworking the presentation.’

‘Is he nice?’ said Izzy, temporarily sidetracked.

‘Who?’

‘The Head Honcho.’

Natasha choked at the thought. ‘David Frankel is a short, fat workaholic with a nasty sideline in groping if you let him get too close,’ she announced. ‘He’s also focused as a needle.’

‘Sounds horrid.’

‘That’s why he’s Head Honcho,’ said Natasha peacefully. ‘Powerful men are horrid. It’s part of their job description.’

Izzy protested.

Natasha was indifferent. ‘No sweat. I work with powerful men all the time. They cause a lot of work and I wouldn’t want to date one. But apart from that, they’re fine. Tell me what you want.’

Izzy sounded uncomfortable. ‘About the weekend—’

‘Oh, yes. I’m really, really looking forward to it. A girls’ getaway is just what I need. Especially after the week I’ve had.’

There was a microsecond’s pause, which would have been perceptible if Natasha hadn’t been tapping away adjusting the pie chart again.

This time she made it change to lime-green. The screen pulsed with virulent colour. Natasha put her head on one side. Young and exciting? Or too frivolous?

‘So what about the weekend?’

‘There’s been a change of plan.’

Natasha sighed. ‘That’s a shame. Okay, let’s take a rain check.’

‘No, not that sort of change. A—er—different venue.’

‘Okay,’ said Natasha without much interest. ‘Where?’

‘Well…’ Izzy sounded uncharacteristically embarrassed ‘…it’s a private house now. I’ve sort of borrowed it.’

‘Fine. Give me the address.’

Izzy did. ‘And there’s something else—’

At last Izzy’s hesitation got through. Natasha stopped playing with the mouse. ‘Okay, Izzy. Spit it out. What’s the problem? The place is falling down? There’s no central heating? It’s so deep in the country, I’ll have to hire a helicopter to get there?’

‘You would too, wouldn’t you?’ Izzy sounded odd.

‘Whatever it takes,’ said Natasha briskly. ‘All for one and one for all. You’re my best friend and I haven’t seen you for six months.’ Her fingers twitched. She left the mouse where it was. But it was an effort. ‘Am I going to have to find me a pilot?’

‘No. By car, it’s an hour tops from the airport.’

‘Then there isn’t a problem.’

‘Okay, get back to your work, and I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re still on the overnight flight?’

‘Yup.’

‘That’s good. Gives us the whole day to talk before the others get here.’

Natasha frowned. She turned her back on her laptop. This sounded serious. ‘You in trouble, Izzy?’

Her friend gave the ghost of a laugh. ‘No, no, it’s just that—’ Izzy stopped. Then she went on in a high, unnatural voice, ‘Serenata Place is a bit difficult to find.’ It was as if she wanted to say something else and couldn’t screw her courage up. ‘I’ll email you a map,’ she said with desperate brightness.

Natasha’s frown deepened. She had never heard Izzy sound like that before. Well, not since—

She pulled her mind away from the dark memories. The bad time was three years past. Gone. She and Izzy had got out of the jungle alive and well and so had everyone else. All was well that ended well, in fact. The nightmares would go too, in time.

But that didn’t explain why Izzy sounded so stiff and false.

She said sharply, ‘What’s wrong, Izzy?’

Izzy made an odd sound, half laugh, half sob.