And that was what she was desperately trying to extinguish by showing up at the airport in her impossibly inappropriate gear. She wanted to remind him that his duty was to forget that little interlude when she had shed her starchy veneer and, possibly for the first time ever, had actually communicated with him with heart-felt sincerity.
Surely, she should know that a healthy dose of curiosity had got him where he was now? If he hadn’t been curious enough to explore outside of the confines of his family dynasty then he would never have discovered the gold mines that lay in the fascinating world of artificial intelligence and all things of a techy nature. He had taught himself coding as a hobby at university and, by the time he’d emerged with his first class degree in Engineering from Cambridge, he’d been equipped not only to help his brother handle the juggernaut of the company he had brought back from the brink, but to develop his own multi-million-pound empire—just as Max had branched out to dabble in the world of boutique hotels and the infrastructure that went with it.
He was curious now, and it had briefly occurred to him, when he had watched her walking towards him pulling those cases, her body language advertising in no uncertain terms the fact that she wasn’t here of her own choosing, that he had been curious about her for a while.
Curious in a way he had never really been curious about the many beautiful women he had dated over the years. What was that about? She’d walked towards him in the terminal and something inside him had recognised a potent attractiveness that was utterly unembellished and desperate to remain hidden. The graceful sway of her body had momentarily thrown him. Was that the first time? he wondered. Or had that awareness always been there, lurking just beneath the surface?
As fast as that thought entered his head, he banished it back to the hinterland. Had that one and only disastrous relationship, into which he had idiotically flung himself in the wake of his parents’ death, severed something in him? Had that vital curiosity that propelled relationships been killed after his one youthful misadventure?
Yes, he concluded, and a very good thing too. Like Max, he had learned from a young age that emotional investment was destructive, that it left room for nothing else. He’d had a double dose of pain. Losing his parents and making the wrong choice in a woman a million years ago. The first had been infinitely worse than the second, but both had taught him that to turn away from the unrewarding labyrinth of emotional investment was to be master of your own universe. In his eyes, never losing control was a source of strength that enabled him to rise above the haphazard business of getting wrapped up in emotions.
He decided that he was curious about Ellie because he wasn’t involved with her on any level other than the purely professional, and that could only be a good thing. As far as he was concerned, knowing the people who worked for him bred loyalty. He needed loyalty from Ellie because he couldn’t envisage such a smooth working relationship with anyone else.
‘How is your mother doing?’ He nodded in the direction of one of the circulating airport employees and within five minutes coffee had been brought to them, along with an array of pastries. His keen eyes spotted her automatically begin to reach for her iPad and he decided to forestall any work talk, at least until they boarded the plane. He reached for the dainty cup of coffee in front of him and sat back and sipped, looking at her over the rim of his cup.
‘I’m assuming that, since you’re sitting next to me, there was no cause for concern?’
‘She...she seemed fine. Better than I thought I’d find her.’
‘What were you expecting to find?’ He lowered his eyes, shielding his expression, then once again looked at her, this time thoughtfully. ‘I’m not prying, Ellie. I’m conversing. Relax.’
She was as stiff as a board. He watched the slow blush, a delicate tinge of colour staining her cheeks. Yes, he thought, she was startlingly pretty. Where did that sex appeal come from? It was unexpected in someone so demure. Except, he mused, demure she certainly wasn’t once you scratched the surface.
His eyes drifted lazily over her full, perfectly shaped mouth, over the short, straight nose, the sprinkling of freckles which seemed curiously delicate for someone with dark hair. He shifted, suddenly edgy, and glanced away. But he couldn’t stop himself from picking up where he had left off with his visual exploration. Her hair was neat and shiny and straight, and he would bet his house that it smelled of flowers. Aside from what looked like some lip gloss, war paint was notably absent. There was a cool intelligence in her eyes that he thought could be damned sexy...
He thought about what she had told him about herself, those little snippets of information, and his curiosity ratcheted up a few notches.
Quite frankly, it was invigorating.
What was wrong in having a little enjoyment? It was called passing the time of day. It wasn’t going anywhere. There wouldn’t be the usual chase followed by the inevitable boredom.
Within that framework, he felt a surge of intense freedom. He should have been sitting here with Naomi. In fact, he was relieved that he wasn’t. He was especially relieved to be leaving the country, because she had continued to text him despite his lack of response, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that she might just try and confront him in an effort to ‘patch this silly nonsense up’, as she had intimated in one of her messages. The last thing he needed was to be accosted from behind by an ex who wasn’t interested in reading the signposts.
‘Were you worried that your mother might not want to carry on living?’
‘No!’ Ellie was shocked at the suggestion, although it mirrored the fear she had felt all those years ago when her mother had sought refuge in the bottle. She’d never verbalised it and no one else had either. It had been a forbidding, frightening thought that had eaten away at her until she had come to realise that her mother would not go down that road.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, softly. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. When my parents were killed,’ he found himself telling her, ‘there was some lightweight counselling on offer, largely targeted at my sister, who was much younger. They insisted on a few sessions with me and that was the question they laboured the most.’
‘I can’t imagine you lying on a couch talking to a counsellor.’ Ellie smiled.
‘There was no couch in evidence. I think movies have helped create that myth...’ He liked the way she smiled—a shy, catch me if you can type of smile. He’d planned on using his time in the first-class lounge to work. It was what he always did. But this beat work hands down. Her fingers stopped instinctively straying to the sanctuary of her tablet, which was in the computer case she had taken out of her pull-along. It sat between them on the little circular table, next to the pastries and their cups, an officious reminder that chit chat shouldn’t be happening.
‘I went to one session,’ he drawled, ‘to encourage Izzy to follow suit. But then I headed off to university, where I found far more pleasurable ways of dealing with the situation. Wine, women and song can prove excellent home remedies.’ The platitude rolled easily from his tongue as he continued to appreciate an atmosphere that was strangely...compelling.
Brought back down to earth by that provocative statement, Ellie’s eyes skittered towards the tablet again, and James wasn’t surprised when she reached for it, straightened, tucked her hair behind her ears and cleared her throat in a telling signal that time was being called on all informal conversation.
So be it. For the time being.
He was scarcely aware of the drift of his eyes over the crisp, impractical shirt that was tucked into the crisp, impractical skirt. Both were so determined to conceal what lay underneath, but neither could quite hide the jut of her breasts or the slenderness of her waist.
He shifted again, restless, and suddenly needing to move.
‘Work.’ He slapped his thighs and stood up, abruptly bringing all straying thoughts back to heel. ‘Let’s work on the Ronson deal. It�
��s picking up pace and maybe we can close on it before the flight gets called...’
* * *
He’d been bang on the money about the clothes...
The cool air-conditioning on the plane had insulated her from the reality of the scorching heat that assailed her eight hours later, when the plane touched down at Grantley Adams Airport.
The first-class passengers were off the plane first, and as soon as the heavy door was opened the heat poured in like treacle. She immediately began to perspire.
‘Let me,’ James murmured, lifting down her pull-along from the overhead locker. ‘How did you find the flight?’
‘Very relaxing,’ Ellie said truthfully, largely because, after half an hour of work-related conversation, James had devoted himself to his backlog of emails and due diligence reports. And because their seats were so spacious, separated by a partition, which he had conveniently chosen to shut so that he could focus exclusively on what he was doing.
She had had the entire flight to herself and she had relished her moment in this unfamiliar world of the uber-rich and famous. It was a world of unashamed luxury where a click of a finger brought you anything you wanted, from champagne to chocolate bars. Her seat was so vast that she’d been able to read her book with her legs tucked underneath her, and the press of a button had turned it into a comfortable bed.
This was how the half a percent lived and this was how James Stowe had always lived. He’d been born into money and, whilst there might have been a brief hiccup within that gilded existence, he had spent his life protected against the harsh realities that most people faced on a daily basis. Even the leggy supermodels he dated, household names who graced the covers of so many magazines, were cosseted and moneyed, thanks to their profession.
She thought of Naomi, with her casual acceptance that attention from everyone around her was her given right. No wonder she had taken it badly when she and James had broken up!
His background couldn’t have been more different from Ellie’s, and she thought that that might be why she found him so mesmerising...why something in her was stubbornly drawn to him even though she valiantly fought it. He was a shiny bauble. Who could blame her if she was occasionally dazzled by him?
‘Slept much?’ he enquired, and Ellie looked at him from under lowered lashes. He looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and raring to go.
‘Not at all. Gosh, it’s hot.’ This was a different world. The hot sun beat down over a flawless blue sky. Even the airport staff scurrying around outside seemed to move at a slower pace, taking their time.
‘Tights might not have been such a good idea.’
Ellie flushed. Of course he was right, but she had been so keen to return to the safety of being his PA, and re-establishing her hands-off approach, that she just hadn’t stopped to think. Yes, she’d known that it was going to be hot, but she hadn’t expected this level of stultifying heat.
‘I’ve never been to this part of the world before.’
‘I’ve only been a handful of times. It’s worth exploring, so don’t think that you’ve got to bury yourself behind your computer and work twenty-four-seven. A personal driver will be available at all times.’
Ellie interpreted that statement to mean that she would be able to explore on her own, and that went some way to reducing her levels of simmering anxiety.
They moved quickly through customs and were treated like visiting royalty. Once outside the terminal, they were ushered to a long, sleek car which was waiting, doors open, for their arrival.
Thrust into scenery that was nothing like any she’d seen before, Ellie forgot her nerves. She forgot that he was sitting right next to her. She even forgot that her clothes had now stuck to her like cling film. The blast of the tropics was so beautiful that she wanted to drink everything in on the short drive from the airport to the hotel—a scant half an hour, if that. Everything was so different. The foliage, the open fruit and vegetable stalls they passed, manned by one or two people sitting on tin chairs and fanning themselves, the blue, blue skies and the shimmer of heat over everything. She felt hot even inside the cool, air-conditioned car.
It was almost a shame when the car swerved into the hotel courtyard. She’d seen pictures of the place on the website, and in the flesh it was exactly the same but with people milling around in brightly coloured clothes, stepping into waiting taxis, holding hands and having fun.
Her choice of clothing, worn to remind her that this was not a holiday, worn to remind him that this was a business trip, felt ridiculous now. It felt prickly and constricting, and for a few wild seconds she felt so out of her depth that she had to stifle a gasp.
She could smell the ocean as she stepped through the archway into the candy-pink hotel, with its bank of coconut trees fanning out over neatly manicured grounds at the front.
‘What would you like me to do for the rest of the day?’ she asked, turning to him and managing not quite to focus on him as he led the way towards the marble reception desk.
‘Relax. Go sit by the pool. If you’re tired, you can order room service or you can join me in the restaurant. Your choice. At any rate, we meet the guys tomorrow morning.’
‘Here?’ The thought of room service filled her with delight. She was tired, and spending what remained of the day in her room would give her time to adjust to these new surroundings. It would also give her time to scrutinise her wardrobe and reflect on some of her ill-advised sartorial choices.
‘Bridgetown.’ He checked them in, then turned to her. ‘I don’t know about you, but I need a shower.’
‘It’s so hot,’ she agreed.
‘You won’t be able to wear...’ he nodded to her outfit and raised his eyebrows ‘...any of your suits while we’re over here.’
‘I... I hadn’t expected this amount of humidity. Of course, I’ll make sure to dress appropriately.’
‘Good, because tomorrow we’ll be on a Catamaran for the day.’
‘A Catamaran?’
‘A twin-hulled sailing boat. My idea. We’re dealing with three young guys who live on an island. Seemed a good idea to have the first business meeting on a boat. Besides, I wanted to see the spec.’
‘The spec?’ Ellie hadn’t had to think too hard about the actual venue for the meetings they would be having with the young businessmen. She’d assumed the usual. A conference room in the hotel...a restaurant...maybe one of their houses for an informal dinner. And all with the usual array of lawyers on the side, quills at the ready.
She’d bought an outfit earmarked for each of those scenarios, and a couple of more casual items for exploring the island on her own.
‘You remember the super-yacht? We now have it moored in Monaco,’ James drawled, not looking at her as he pinged the button to call the lift. ‘It’s insanely luxurious, but a super-yacht is a super-yacht at the end of the day. Where’s the hands-on experience? It has its own speedboat on board if Max or I want to do something a little more adventurous, but at the end of the day it’s largely a passive experience. I want to see what a Catamaran has to offer as a hands-on situation. A fleet of them might prove a good investment.’
The brushed steel doors of the lift purred open and they stepped inside. Ellie looked at him and burst out laughing, and he grinned, a slow, lazy smile that sent a bolt of raw awareness racing through her body with the ferocity of an electric shock.
‘Can I hear the dulcet voice of reason about to make its appearance?’ he purred, lounging against the mirrored panel and staring at her while the smile still played on his lips.
‘Someone has to be reasonable on your behalf,’ she said primly, but there was a responding smile in her voice and her lips were twitching.
‘Why?’
‘Because...’ He could be so utterly charming that it was easy to have your breath taken away. She was barely aware of the door opening as she followed him out of the li
ft onto an airy wooden corridor with broad windows overlooking unimpeded views of the sea. ‘Because it’s crazy to come over here to get hold of a start-up and end up distracted by a fleet of Catamarans.’
‘Have you ever known any of my deals to fail?’
‘No, but...’
They’d reached her suite without her even realising and now he leant against the door and stared down at her.
‘Max was the sensible one,’ he murmured, and Ellie’s eyes widened as the gap she was trying hard to establish between them started to crumble. ‘He took on the responsibility for grabbing the reins and making sure the ship was steered into calm waters. I will be grateful for ever that he allowed me the opportunity to live a little, even if I have ended up as part of the sprawling Stowe dynasty.’
He fished a key card out of his pocket, unlocked the door and pushed it open while Ellie stared at him and struggled to come up with a suitable reply to what he had just said.
A sharing of confidences? Or just a passing remark about something that he didn’t consider particularly newsworthy? How fragile was the working relationship between them if it could drift off course with a few random, non-work-related remarks?
But, of course, she was the one who was obsessed with maintaining distance between them. She was the one who was stupidly affected by him because her body remained at odds with her head. She was smart enough to know that nothing in her life had prepared her for a guy like James Stowe. She was certainly smart enough to know that there was a vast difference between being compatible on the work front and compatible on any other front.
‘I’m guessing that you won’t be joining me for dinner later?’
‘I don’t think that that’s part of my job description while I’m here, is it?’
Ellie had meant to sound light-hearted. Instead she was embarrassed and dismayed at the ungracious, unnecessarily sarcastic tone of her voice.
Claiming His Cinderella Secretary Page 5
