your luck hasn't changed by one iota, Kate thought with satisfaction as she drank her coffee.
She had never known time pass so slowly. Usually when she was waiting for her flight to be called, she wandered about exploring the airport, browsing round the bookstall, letting the excitement, the anticipation of the trip build up. She liked watching her fellow passengers too, and sketching them sometimes in the little book she invariably carried in her shoulder bag for the purpose. It was with her now, but she doubted whether she was capable of drawing even a line.
This time she was the one being watched, she realised, and envied too. The lucky lady with Matt Lincoln. She just prayed she wouldn't be seen by anyone who would recognise her.
It was almost a relief to find herself on board the aircraft. Almost but not quite. She fumbled with the seatbelt, thinking, That's it—no turning back now.'
As the plane began to taxi, she closed her eyes, sinking back into her seat.
'Nervous?' asked Matt.
'Yes,' she said. But not of flying, she added silently. She was acutely, frighteningly aware of every inch of the strong lean body relaxed in the adjoining seat, so close that it was difficult to move without brushing against him.
'Don't be afraid,' he said. He picked up her hand, clutching tensely at the armrest, and touched it with his lips. Kate had to bite her tongue to stop herself from crying out, from flinching away from him. He was frowning a little, his face concerned. 'They'll be serving drinks soon.' He gave her a faint smile. 'I recommend a stiff belt, or even two.'
She nodded wanly. Nine hours to St Lucia, she thought, and then the change-over to the smaller plane which ferried people between the islands, and every minute spent with her senses screaming at this unwanted proximity. How was she going to bear it?
But bear it she did, helped by the fact that he made no further attempt to touch her after that brief caress. The stewardess brought magazines, and she read them as well as one of the paperbacks she'd brought with her. Meals were served, and although she wasn't hungry, she made herself eat, telling herself that she needed to keep her strength up. Matt read too, mostly files he took from his bag, bulging with typewritten sheets and press cuttings. He smiled at her occasionally, and asked if she was all right, and they chatted over the food, but apart from that she could have been travelling alone, she discovered with relief.
At last, inevitably, she fell asleep, wandering through a confusion of small troubled dreams until she heard Matt's voice telling her it was time to fasten her seatbelt again.
She opened her eyes slowly and reluctantly, and found to her horror that she had slipped sideways as she slept, and that her head was on his shoulder and she was being supported by his arm round her, She almost shot upright, stammering something, feeling colour blaze in her cheeks. She couldn't cope with the seatbelt and he leaned across and fastened it for her, giving her a sardonic look as he did so.
No doubt he was wondering why she was making so much fuss about a doze on an aircraft when tonight she would be sharing his bed, Kate thought with a touch of hysteria.
She stumbled down the steps of the plane into warm darkness.
'Take it easy.' His hand was on her arm steadying her, and she wanted to scream, 'Don't touch me!'
She felt weird, disorientated and close to cracking as she waited for their luggage to be retrieved.
'Come on.' Matt joined her carrying the cases. 'There's a taxi waiting.'
She gave him a startled look. 'A taxi—is that what you call the plane?'
'No,' he said. 'I mean a taxi—a thing with four wheels and a driver. We're spending the night here and taking the morning plane to St Antoine.'
Kate stared at him. She'd been counting on the extra journey, however long it took, to eat into the night, postponing the first inevitable confrontation between them.
She drew a breath. 'You didn't tell
She had never known time pass so slowly. Usually when she was waiting for her flight to be called, she wandered about exploring the airport, browsing round the bookstall, letting the excitement, the anticipation of the trip build up. She liked watching her fellow passengers too, and sketching them sometimes in the little book she invariably carried in her shoulder bag for the purpose. It was with her now, but she doubted whether she was capable of drawing even a line.
This time she was the one being watched, she realised, and envied too. The lucky lady with Matt Lincoln. She just prayed she wouldn't be seen by anyone who would recognise her.
It was almost a relief to find herself on board the aircraft. Almost but not quite. She fumbled with the seatbelt, thinking, That's it—no turning back now.'
As the plane began to taxi, she closed her eyes, sinking back into her seat.
'Nervous?' asked Matt.
'Yes,' she said. But not of flying, she added silently. She was acutely, frighteningly aware of every inch of the strong lean body relaxed in the adjoining seat, so close that it was difficult to move without brushing against him.
'Don't be afraid,' he said. He picked up her hand, clutching tensely at the armrest, and touched it with his lips. Kate had to bite her tongue to stop herself from crying out, from flinching away from him. He was frowning a little, his face concerned. 'They'll be serving drinks soon.' He gave her a faint smile. 'I recommend a stiff belt, or even two.'
She nodded wanly. Nine hours to St Lucia, she thought, and then the change-over to the smaller plane which ferried people between the islands, and every minute spent with her senses screaming at this unwanted proximity. How was she going to bear it?
But bear it she did, helped by the fact that he made no further attempt to touch her after that brief caress. The stewardess brought magazines, and she read them as well as one of the paperbacks she'd brought with her. Meals were served, and although she wasn't hungry, she made herself eat, telling herself that she needed to keep her strength up. Matt read too, mostly files he took from his bag, bulging with typewritten sheets and press cuttings. He smiled at her occasionally, and asked if she was all right, and they chatted over the food, but apart from that she could have been travelling alone, she discovered with relief.
At last, inevitably, she fell asleep, wandering through a confusion of small troubled dreams until she heard Matt's voice telling her it was time to fasten her seatbelt again.
She opened her eyes slowly and reluctantly, and found to her horror that she had slipped sideways as she slept, and that her head was on his shoulder and she was being supported by his arm round her, She almost shot upright, stammering something, feeling colour blaze in her cheeks. She couldn't cope with the seatbelt and he leaned across and fastened it for her, giving her a sardonic look as he did so.
No doubt he was wondering why she was making so much fuss about a doze on an aircraft when tonight she would be sharing his bed, Kate thought with a touch of hysteria.
She stumbled down the steps of the plane into warm darkness.
'Take it easy.' His hand was on her arm steadying her, and she wanted to scream, 'Don't touch me!'
She felt weird, disorientated and close to cracking as she waited for their luggage to be retrieved.
'Come on.' Matt joined her carrying the cases. 'There's a taxi waiting.'
She gave him a startled look. 'A taxi—is that what you call the plane?'
'No,' he said. 'I mean a taxi—a thing with four wheels and a driver. We're spending the night here and taking the morning plane to St Antoine.'
Kate stared at him. She'd been counting on the extra journey, however long it took, to eat into the night, postponing the first inevitable confrontation between them.
She drew a breath. 'You didn't tell
Similar Books
Return to Winter: Russia, China, and the New Cold War Against America
Douglas E. Schoen, Melik Kaylan
