Flight of Fantasy

Flight of Fantasy
Valerie Parv

Dynamic, unfeeling and iron-willed…Slade Benedict was all those things–but given that he was also Eden Lyle's boss, she found it impossible to protest when he commandeered her holiday plans.But what she hadn't counted on was the disturbing attraction between them. Eden knew she must keep him at arm's length–not only to protect herself but also to keep him from discovering the secret of her past….

“You are jealous, aren’t you?” Slade mocked (#u932432b8-5fcf-5c7a-82f2-6309399f4d53)About the Author (#u9c14dc0e-af7d-59c4-9edb-ebf611d1644f)Title Page (#uee88e98e-f5a1-5c59-8966-bdf5d6342227)CHAPTER ONE (#udf4b4b64-efe1-5e02-ba28-7ec21bebad31)CHAPTER TWO (#u64a7b191-b780-5c0e-b63e-175e5776839c)CHAPTER THREE (#u3b1cbc22-8706-5558-8afa-3187fcf2e9e6)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“You are jealous, aren’t you?” Slade mocked

“Of course not,” Eden replied, shaking her head. “But I resent you having one rule for yourself and another for me.”

“Then I must disabuse you of any such notion. For the duration of this trip, you’re my wife and I shall act accordingly.”

A tremor swept through Eden. “H-how do you mean?”

“I mean that the only woman I shall favor with my kisses will be you.”

Valerle Parv was a successful journalist and nonfiction writer until she began writing for Harlequin Mills & Boon in 1982. Born in Shropshire, England, she grew up in Australia and now lives with her cartoonist husband and their cat—the office manager—in Sydney, New South Wales. She is a keen futurist, a Star Trek enthusiast, and her interests include traveling, restoring dollhouses and entertaining friends. Writing romance novels affirms her belief in love and happy endings.

Flight of Fantasy

Valerie Parv

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE

EDEN LYLE cupped a band over her free ear, straining to hear the telephone over the hubbub in the airport departure lounge. Suddenly her unfocused gaze was caught and held by an arresting figure striding purposefully through the throng.

‘It can’t be,’ she murmured.

‘Can’t be who?’ came the ungrammatical response down the line.

Eden dragged her attention back to her call. ‘I thought I saw my boss a moment ago.’

Fiona’s chuckle crackled between them. ‘What would Slade Benedict be doing at Hobart Airport? I thought he was back at your office breaking in his new production assistant.’

‘You mean his new male assistant,’ Eden said with heavy emphasis. Her shoulder-length ash-brown hair fell forward, hiding the hurt which sprang into her amethyst eyes. It was hard to accept that Slade had brought in a man from outside his corporate communications company to fill the job she had worked towards for months.

‘Hey, I thought this trip was supposed to cheer you up. Forget chauvinistic Mr Benedict.’

Eden’s sigh travelled down the phone. ‘You’re right as usual.’ Both of them knew how much Eden needed this break. Nothing had gone right lately, and now the pattern seemed set to continue. Only one flight was leaving Hobart this morning. Was Slade planning to be on it? ‘What is he doing here?’ she voiced her misgivings.

‘He might be meeting someone off the Melbourne flight,’ Fiona reasoned, trying to defuse the tension in Eden’s voice.

Although she murmured agreement, Eden’s eyes remained fixed on the man. It probably wasn’t Slade at all. The fact that he stood a head taller than the people around him and his wide shoulders strained the impeccable lines of a designer business suit didn’t mean it was her boss. Lots of men were tall and broad.

But they didn’t all move with the lithe grace of a predator stalking its terrain, she thought. The easy confidence of the man’s movements was disburbingly familiar, as was his gesture when he lifted a long-fingered hand to brush a strand of charcoal hair back behind one ear.

‘Eden, are you still there?’

At Fiona’s sharp tone, she made an effort to concentrate on the call which she had initiated, after all. ‘Yes, I’m still here. I wanted to be sure that Mum has settled down all right. Just lately, I’ve had the feeling that something’s bothering her, but she can’t or won’t tell me what it is.’

Fiona sighed. ‘Whatever it is, she’ll tell you when she’s ready. Now stop worrying. Shepherd House is the best place she could possibly be. I know, I worked there myself for a time and they have tons of expertise in genetic problems like your mother’s. Believe me, they’ll take excellent care of Peggy.’

‘I don’t want her to be unhappy. I know we haven’t always been as close as I’d like but...’

‘But she’d be even less happy if you don’t take this holiday,’ Fiona insisted. ‘Do you think she doesn’t know what a burden she’s become to you? Maybe that’s what she’s been trying to tell you.’

‘She isn’t a burden,’ Eden denied hotly. ‘Although she’s a little difficult at times, she’s still my mother and I want the best for her.’

‘As I’m sure she appreciates. But if the roles were reversed wouldn’t you want to give your daughter a break if you could?’

‘I suppose so.’ Eden hadn’t considered it from her mother’s point of view. Given Peggy’s sometimes over-possessive behaviour, it had come as a surprise when she insisted that a small legacy be used to pay for a spell in a nursing home while Eden took a much needed holiday. Fiona had reduced her fees to the bare minimum, but paying her to look after Peggy during the day left nothing over for holidays, far less pay for full-time care while Eden went away.

‘You’ve been so good to us, Fiona,’ she said, her voice catching.

‘Get away with you.’ Fiona’s Scottish brogue coloured her voice, betraying her emotions. ‘Your mother was a pleasure to look after.’

‘We’ll miss you,’ Eden added. ‘Don’t forget to send us a postcard from Scotland.’

‘I’ll miss you, too.’ The nurse was taking a holiday of her own to visit relatives in her birthplace. ‘Send me a card yourself, if you aren’t too involved with some gorgeous Queensland hunk.’

‘Fat chance,’ Eden laughed, but felt a pang as she hung up the phone. She had tried romance only once, with a man she’d met through work. Joshua Robinson had seemed like the ideal man for her, tender yet strong, and lots of fun to be with.

Their dates had been limited to the times she could afford to pay Fiona for after-hours care for her mother. Joshua didn’t seem to mind, telling her how much he admired what she was doing for Peggy. ‘There aren’t many girls like you, Eden,’ he had told her admiringly.

He was right in a sense. Not many girls had her problems to cope with. When Joshua found out what they were, the relationship had come to a sudden end.

Anguish darkened her eyes. Telling herself she was better off without him didn’t help. The memories of the good times were too powerful. She’d been so sure of him.

Just goes to show how little I know about love, she told herself, trying for flippancy and failing miserably. Darn it, Joshua’s rejection still hurt. He had no right to offer her a shining view of a shared future then make it conditional on her being perfect. Even assuring Joshua that her mother’s illness always skipped a generation hadn’t helped.

He didn’t love her enough to accept her as she was. There it was in a nutshell. Maybe all men were like Joshua and her father, who had left the family while Eden was still a teenager, before her mother’s illness became apparent. He had missed the worst of Peggy’s gradual decline, which had only recently led to her requiring full-time nursing. If he couldn’t cope with Peggy’s possessive nature before she became ill he wouldn’t have fared much better afterwards, Eden acknowledged.

Men! If they all required perfection from their women, she was probably better off without them. And that definitely included Slade Benedict, she resolved.

Nevertheless, she found herself scanning the crowd for a broad-shouldered man, telling herself it was only to prove that he was a total stranger. To her mild chagrin, there was no sign of him.

There was another surprise in store for her at the check-in counter when she handed over her suitcase and received her boarding pass. ‘There must be some mistake,’ she said to the attendant. ‘According to this, I’ve been allocated a seat in first class.’

The man glanced at the pass and back to his computer screen, punching keys with deft fingers. ‘No mistake, Miss Lyle. Everything’s in order. Enjoy your flight.’

‘But...’

Behind her, the queue was lengthening and people stirred restively. A suitcase was dumped on to the check-point beside her, giving her little option but to move away from the counter, clutching the pass.

She should be pleased to have been moved up into first class. The fare was more than double what she’d paid for her excursion ticket and she’d been charged no more. All the same, uneasiness etched a frown into the alabaster skin of her forehead, drawing curious glances from the people who eddied around her.

There was also admiration in the looks. Her romantic, softly curving figure was set off to perfection in a new turquoise-spotted dress with matching white crop-topped jacket, a pert spotted hanky spilling from the breast pocket.