Take Me Now

by Nancy Jardine

  Aela had said she was afraid of nothing. And it seemed she was. Capable, very capable. He told himself he could shed the guilt and not even think about putting her in harm’s way again. Quiet seething consumed him; a totally different kind of fuming from the day before. Retreating into his paper, he didn’t see a single word in front of him. That stubborn trait of his shut his mind down. Analysis of this sort wasn’t his style.

  “Mmm…Chris.”

  Aela’s expression looked quite dreamy when he chanced a glance.

  Only the one.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What a nice guy.”

  Aela felt her grin spreading. She’d noticed the tightening of Nairn’s fingers on the paper he was gripping like grim death and realized how he’d misconstrued her statement.

  “Very skilled Chris was: made my evening so memorable.”

  A vein pulsed at Nairn’s neck indicating just how tense he was; demonstrating just how much he was trying to control his temper. But perhaps it was something else? She wasn’t entirely sure.

  “And I’m fine today, just in case you were about to inquire, sir.”

  Nairn’s preoccupation with a particular article seemed intense so she judiciously tucked into her breakfast. The short exchange served its purpose, though. He mentioned nothing about her leaving his employment.

  A tense silence reigned all the way to the office which suited her just fine. Navigating the traffic was enough to think about in the morning rush hour.

  Later that morning she was glad she’d splurged on a range of new clothing since plans changed yet again.

  “Miss Cameron!” Nairn’s bellow through the open office doors rivalled the chiming of Big Ben. “In here, please.”

  Count to ten…and then again.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she summoned a polite smile and picked up a sharpened pencil. Fingering the point, she mentally assessed which part of Nairn’s already bruised torso could take a nice little jab. He was being a pig again. He’d taken to hollering her into his office, disregarding the indicator on the telephone system.

  She decided not to challenge why he was dispensing with it in favour of bawling her name and focused instead on ignoring his bad temper. Since breakfast, it hadn’t diminished. When he didn’t even bother to look away from his current work, she refused to get riled as she walked up to his desk. The fingers of his left hand stabbed away at his keyboard, his abrupt instruction drifting up to her from his bent head.

  “Book a hotel in Muscat for two nights, Wednesday and Thursday.”

  Aela couldn’t help her enthusiastic response. “Muscat, Oman? How lovely. Another place I’ve never been to.”

  Her attempt to lighten their interaction went down like a kite without wind, his acerbic rejoinder distinctly unfriendly when his expressionless mask faced her.

  “Did I say you would be going too, Miss Cameron?”

  Professional faux pas! Her throat was suddenly dry, her face hot, a weak smile pursed her lips, but she’d not be baited any further by his continued blank stare. “Got it. Book for how many? Just one room…or a suite for your…harem?”

  Nairn flashed a dark sardonic glance before dipping back to his keyboard. “I do prefer a suite, Miss Cameron.”

  “We’re talking Wednesday of next week?” When Nairn made no move to give further information she persisted. “The date, please?”

  Not as polite as it should be but Nairn’s attitude wasn’t well-mannered either, barely making eye-contact for more than a nanosecond. And horrible at that.

  “I’m talking tomorrow, Miss Cameron. For possibly two nights. Which part of that didn’t you understand?”

  “Tomorrow? You’re joking!” Scepticism tumbled out. “Come on, Nairn. You’re not fit for such a long-haul flight.”

  One look at Nairn’s tight jaws was more than enough; she knew a little backtracking might just be the order of the day. “Okay! If you say you’re friggin’ fit, you’re fit. It’s your broken ribs that’ll be on that seat for hours.”

  His intent focus was on the desk in front of him; a pen slid around and around the fingers of his left hand as though he was about to blow a fuse…or maybe he was just readying the pen for a direct hit at her? She knew not to expect any kind of agreement, but wouldn’t be cowed by his attitude.

  Less than four weeks to work. A furious mental count was done. Only three weeks and one day? She could manage to keep going for such a short time, but her lip wouldn’t stay buttoned for the duration. Far too much to expect. “Know any good hotels in Muscat, with palatial rooms and multiple beds, sir?”

  Nairn’s head rose slowly as he rattled off the hotel where the business meeting was taking place: a hotel he’d used before.

  “Any other details I should know about, sir? Anything else I need to organize for your trip?”

  Nairn’s reply was toneless; devoid of eye contact since he stared out of the window.

  Prince Hasson, a potentate who was developing a coastal resort area in his Arabian Gulf state, intended to order a fleet of two-seater jet-skis, and had heard of the new version Gale Breakers had recently brought onto the market. Prince Khalid – their current customer – had recommended Gale Breakers. It was far too good an opportunity to defer till later, Nairn declared, no matter what his present health requirements might be. He was going regardless.

  Aela jotted notes during his monologue, her concentration jolted when his phone rang.

  “I must see what John Reid is talking about, Miss Cameron. Let’s go.”

  She trailed after Nairn like the proverbial collie dog. What wasn’t part of the job were the collisions he created, caused by his inability to stride properly, though that hadn’t happened the previous day. She’d bumped into his back too often when his abrupt halts to reposition the walking aid had startled her. It seemed he expected her to have some sixth sense about his hitches, but she didn’t. “For cripes sake, sir. Give me some more warning, please, or I’ll be mowing you down like a bloody combine-harvester.”

  She was tight as a drum as she shouldered her body free of his to punch the lift button.

  He’d set up an embargo: neither of them would go anywhere around the building without the presence of the other. At first hearing, she had balked at the infringement to her autonomy but had then relented when she realized just how fearful he was over her safety. Her use of the staircase had been categorically banned.

  She forced the day to get better knowing she had to do something about their frosty relations or she’d burst a blood vessel. Nairn mellowed a little when she enthused about Chris’s fabulous porter-cum-escort services, but the news from the stockroom was disconcerting.

  Stock control had taken delivery of breathable drysuits for diving activities at the newest Lanwater Whitecap site in Ireland, due to begin operating the following week. John Reid showed them all one hundred drysuits were of the same XXL size, instead of a range of sizes.

  “I’m going to throttle the bastard who tampered with this order!” Nairn’s anger blasted off him, as surging and violent as the waves could be in the Northern Atlantic at his dive site.

  Again a petty mistake – but who had changed the order at the last minute, by telephone, was unclear. The manufacturer had been used before so they’d had no problem with changes made to the original order. Nairn seethed, and grumped as they returned to his office suite, Aela finding a hasty retreat her best option. Minimizing physical contact with him for the next few hours, her office desk was a haven.

  Late in the afternoon he surprised her. Buzzing her through, his tone was affable. Mmm…Suspicious. Her immediate reaction was to be on her guard. “Do you need time to go shopping, Miss Cameron?”

  “Shopping?” She was mystified. “Why would I need to shop?”

  “For going to Oman. Perhaps you need…toothpaste…or something.” Nairn’s tone sounded laid-back.

  “I’m going to Oman? With you?” Her questions were cautious, her mind reeling, replaying their earlier
conversation.

  “Yes, of course, I’ll need my PA.”

  “But you…” His enigmatic smile made her decide not to complete the sentence, realizing that he’d been winding her up. However, she wouldn’t be trapped again. “Should I book myself a room at your hotel, sir?”

  “You booked a two-bedroom suite, didn’t you?” At her nod he continued, “You’ll use one of them, Miss Cameron, and I’ll make good use of the other.”

  She felt he was being obtuse, still not giving a proper answer. She remained dogged about their travel arrangements. “Do I need to pick up anyone else for the flight? Maybe a female friend to tide you over, till you meet up with your ever-so-ready-harem?”

  Her face was as innocent as she could make it, though that wasn’t saying much since subterfuge wasn’t really in her make up. Subtlety wasn’t either.

  One eyebrow raised itself just a hint as Nairn met her gaze, neither of them giving an inch. Eventually he spoke, a low hum purring around her ears, the merest hint of a grin escaping him. A cheeky twinkle lightened the blue of his irises. “No, Miss Cameron. It will be just the two of us, and, of course, my discrete flight staff. Since you’re determined to stay employed by me, you’ll come too.”

  The frost melted. A little. No surprise, though, when he got in the last word. “Naturally we’ll be busy on the flight.”

  His attitude for the rest of the afternoon and evening was professional. He was polite, yet under the surface tension simmered again, a bubbling and brooding combustible heat that Aela found more and more difficult to suppress. She avoided glances, avoided unnecessary touches. Sort-of. Nairn didn’t. Collisions seemed to have become part of his norm.

  She didn’t think he was trying hard enough. The deliberate clash in the hallway of his apartment as they were headed to their own bedrooms later that night was too coincidental. He lost his balance and was tipping over. Her frantic clutch got him upright, but his yelp of agony was again alarming.

  Nope. Nairn wasn’t healthy enough yet. She went to bed feeling a bit confused about his strategies. While she was increasingly frustrated as hell.

  Drawn up in the mercurial tornado that was Nairn, they were flying to Muscat a little after seven a.m. the next morning.

  In her role as PA they worked through the first four hours, during which Nairn’s fear for her welfare seemed to have diminished. Aela guessed this was because the perpetrator of the incidents was unable to do anything personally to them. Adamant on being present during extremely thorough flight checks, the flight staff was miffed, but Nairn was a good customer.

  She relaxed, because although she’d been brave enough the day before, she, too, was concerned over their joint wellbeing. After lunch, a pained looking Nairn prepared to spread out the laptops and business papers again. “Not going to happen, Nairn Malcolm.” Insistent as she reached for his pain-killers, she shook two into her palm. “Rest time.”

  Nairn grumbled through a mouthful of pills. “I never rest on flights, Miss Cameron.”

  Her reply was sweetness and light. “No, but you’re not normally sporting all these injuries. I’ve already rubbed my sore little butt down with anti-inflammatory gel, so I’m doing fine.”

  Firm tones brought his wandering gaze back to her face, the sexy groan she ignored.

  “My face is up here, sir. I can’t conduct the business talks myself, so, if you don’t want it to turn into a fiasco, a little rest might be in order.”

  Little resistance from her workaholic employer surprised her, beyond muttering for the first few minutes after his chair was reclined. The jet didn’t have a dinky little bedroom – a disappointment on embarking – but Nairn had cheered her up with a sexy twinkle, and by saying that he tended to charter longer flights with little bedrooms on board.

  Aela’s dream was wonderful. Lips feathered around her mouth, captured her lower lip and nuzzled it, caught her too rapid breaths and absorbed them. The kiss deepened. She moaned. Fingers slid over her neck. She felt herself quiver and shudder. Delicious.

  An arm gently nudged her awake. Her reluctant eyes opened to focus as she squelched the lingering tingles. The table in front of her was spread with paperwork.

  “You’ve had your rest, Aela.” She heard Nairn crow. “Back to work now.” Her eyes took time to adjust as he moved back out of her vicinity and booted up his laptop.

  Jittery. That’s how she felt because the sensations in her dream had been so real. She stole a glance at Nairn’s lips. Glistening? Had he been kissing her? Nairn smirked like a horny teenager who’d got laid for the first time. Mmm…

  Another couple of hours sped past. Satellite communications were a delight, usually, but she wondered if maybe reading a dull in-flight magazine would have been a better bet. Business was the order of the day. Unremitting business. Yet contrarily their interaction was enjoyable.

  Towards the end of the flight Nairn turned to her, his face warped into to a tight mask, their comfortable mood totally zapped. “Miss Cameron?”

  Looking up from the information she was scanning, she found him staring at his mobile phone as if it had just bitten him.

  “My father wants you to get in touch with him since you haven’t returned his calls.”

  “Pardon me?” She was confused. Why was he so upset over Ruaridh trying to reach her?

  Nairn’s tone was contemptuous. “Ruaridh’s sent text messages you’ve not responded to, so he’s requested I ask you to call him.”

  He pocketed his phone and proceeded to ignore her, indicating he didn’t want anything further to do with the communication.

  She’d switched her phone off before takeoff. A quick call to Ruaridh confirmed he’d managed to track down the son of her great-grandfather’s sister on a nearby island. “Oh, lovely, Ruaridh. Yes, I’ll meet you the minute we’re back on Lanera.”

  The rest of the flight was almost silent. Nairn in a black mood, she decided not to encroach on him. She couldn’t understand his attitude at all. Ruaridh was a lovely man.

  Aela was moderately familiar with high class hotels but the one they’d booked into stole her breath. It had been built as a palace for an Arabian Prince but now functioned as a regular hotel, except during special conference times once or twice a year, when important dignitaries descended there to thrash out political and international issues.

  Arriving at dusk was the absolute best way to appreciate the initial impact of the splendid building. A startling white, it sat against huge dark and craggy mountains that soared up behind. Strategic floodlighting created an incredible setting; romantic and enthralling. Huge palms were planted in columns like majestic sentinels guarding the entrance, swaying in the soft breeze beside the fountains and shallow ponds which fronted the whole exterior.

  Magical.

  The heart of the hexagonal tiered block was a huge marble atrium with areas discretely sectioned off by lush planting and Moorish screens. The upper floor walkways circled around the heights of the atrium and led to the accommodation areas behind. Many floors up the domed ceiling was made of delicate stained glass, the star-lit sky just visible, twinkling here and there in places – but she had no time to peruse it further than a cursory glance.

  She checked them in since Nairn was in serious flag mode, still by her side, but in an awkward prop against the marble desk. In minutes, they were whisked up to their luxury suite by an efficient desk clerk, a bellhop trailing behind with their luggage on the most ornate gilded cart she’d ever seen.

  “There’s just time for a quick clean up before the initial meeting downstairs at nine p.m.” Nairn prompted her as he negotiated his way behind the desk clerk who displayed the first bedroom, the décor redolent of traditional Omani architecture with its fret-worked panels and patterning on the blue and white walls. “This one has your name on it.”

  An attempt at levity? She thought maybe, but Nairn’s voice sounded so tired.

  “Do you need me tonight?” she asked, not sure what was expected of her since it
was eight-twenty p.m. local time.

  “Of course, I do!” Nairn looked perplexed by her question. She could read his expressions quite well now: he most likely had intended to brief her earlier but their communication breakdown had put the scuppers on that. “We’re having an initial drink in the Piano Bar where we’ll begin the consultation before eating in the main dining room. I’ll expect you to take any necessary details.”

  “Then business attire will be suitable for me?”

  Having seen the hotel patrons in the foyer, business attire was not the order of the day for the women she’d glimpsed.

  Nairn’s eyebrows rose as though he’d never even considered what she should be dressed in. “I suppose it will have to do, unless you happen to have a little black number in the suitcase you magically filled last night?”

  Her thoughts were pretty mutinous in view of the fact that her spending spree had been on business related apparel. Nairn followed the bellhop into the second bedroom where his bag, packed by Richard and full of altered clothing to accommodate his casts, was deposited. Clearing her throat and beckoning the desk clerk, she pressed a discrete tip into his hand, saving Nairn the embarrassment of fumbling around. She did likewise with the bellhop who beamed at her.

  Excusing herself she declared she’d be ready in half an hour, but not before. Slipping out of the suite she rode the lift back down to the mezzanine shopping level. The tinkling sounds of a soft harp being plucked down in the foyer filled the interior and created a peaceful ambience, soothing and unhurried, but Aela had no time at all to appreciate the excellence of it as she sped into the small corridor housing several expensive boutiques. Pulling out her credit card she swooped along the racks.

  Ten minutes later she was back up in the suite and into the shower in record time. At one minute past the expected time to meet Nairn she was in their elegant salon: he wasn’t there but his vehement cursing informed her he was having difficulty getting dressed.