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The seat divide was up, and Romain had leant back into his own reclined seat, pulling her with him onto his chest. The sudden memory of how he’d felt underneath her cheek made a flush spread through her body.
‘I…’ She couldn’t speak.
Romain watched her flounder. She looked sleepy and tousled and flushed and so…gorgeous that he had to shift minutely in his seat. He’d suffered the ignominy of his body reacting against the will he’d tried to impose on it for the past three hours or so, and right now he felt he needed to take a very long, very cold shower. When Sorcha’s head had kept drooping in jerks as she’d slept, he’d put down his papers, unbuckled their belts and pulled her into him. Again, he’d been surprised at how her soft curves had seemed to melt into his body, as if made for him. Her evocative scent had drifted up from silky black hair.
Their seats were towards the front, and somewhat screened from the rest of the cabin. And it was that fact now that seemed to be uppermost on Sorcha’s mind as her hair swung around her shoulders in an arc and she cast a nervous look backwards.
‘No one saw,’ he offered helpfully, feeling absurdly annoyed.
She sat back and folded her arms. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I must’ve been more tired than I realised.’
She could see him shrug out of the corner of her eye as he flipped his seat upright, ‘The pleasure was all mine.’
She burned. Her insides were on fire. She couldn’t even escape and go to the toilet as they were about to land. Buckling her belt again, she busied herself putting her book away—but not before it had fallen out of her hands and into Romain’s lap. He picked it up before she had a chance to snatch it back.
‘Man and His Symbols…Carl Jung…’ That imperious brow quirked again.
Sorcha was unaware of the plane touching down, announcing their arrival in New York.
‘Yes,’ she said tightly, holding out a hand for the book.
He gave it back after a long moment, making sure that their fingers brushed, and drawled, ‘I have to admit I’m more a fan of his old adversary, Freud.’
Her fingers burned. The book was hers again. She held it to her chest and said waspishly, ‘Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?’
‘Tell me,’ he said equably, which should have had alarm bells ringing in her head, ‘would this have anything to do with what Val was talking about the other night?’
She looked at him open-mouthed. And promptly shut it again. She knew if she didn’t tell him he’d only ask Val. And if she didn’t tell him she risked turning it into something bigger, more…
She sighed inwardly, then outwardly shrugged. She hated having to tell him. ‘I recently graduated from NYU. I got a degree in psychology.’
He said nothing for a long moment, those eyes assessing, making her nervous. ‘Val said you got a first?’
She nodded, amazed at his memory.
‘Well done.’
Completely nonplussed, trying to think about what this could reveal, Sorcha just muttered something unintelligible. Too much was happening. Too much of herself was being revealed, and she felt very, very exposed. She did not want him knowing anything about her, and now he knew about the outreach centre, her degree, her fear of flying, her attraction…what next?
The hubbub and chatter that surrounded them as people got out of seats and collected bags gave Sorcha an excuse to get away. And she did, with barely disguised panic.
The next evening Sorcha stood huddled against the wind in her parka jacket on the top of the Empire State Building. This was where they were working for the night. The observation deck was theirs till six in the morning. These were the only shots they had to do in New York.
‘So, where’s Mr Tall, Dark and Gorgeous tonight?’
Sorcha felt a defensive retort about to spring from her lips and bit it back. Dominic was not the person she should allow to wind her up. So she shrugged nonchalantly, as though she didn’t care, and said, ‘I have no idea. Why are you so worried anyway?’
Dominic’s face contorted into an ugly scowl. ‘Because whenever he’s around I feel like he’s watching me, waiting for me to make some kind of false move.’
Sorcha had to bite back a wry smile. She didn’t blame Dominic. Romain did have that ability, and she was glad that it wasn’t just her on the receiving end. And, as brilliant a photographer as Dominic was, there was the element of a loose cannon about him.
The truth was, she’d been wondering the same thing herself, her senses on high alert. It was odd that he wasn’t here, especially as tonight was the first time the other model was involved—her counterpart, her lover. This was where they were to meet for the first time, and she would have imagined that with Romain’s apparent love of control he’d be watching Zane like a hawk to make sure he performed.
Sorcha knew Zane well. He was one of the most recognisable male models in the world, and had just broken out to act in a movie. He was a nice guy, easy to get on with. She heard a kerfuffle in the corner. Dominic was having a mini-tantrum about something. She could hear snatches of heated conversation, and he had a mobile clamped to his ear.
‘You need to come up here now, because Claire is saying she needs approval for Zane’s costume…and if we don’t start shooting in the next half hour we’re going to jeopardise Simon getting his dawn shots…’
Sorcha’s heart started to thump. Silly. It mightn’t even be him. Since he was now back in New York, she didn’t doubt that he’d have made plans to take some current mistress out to dinner. Wasn’t that exactly how men like Romain operated? Ruthless and controlling in business, the quintessential playboy socially—a string of women around the world.
Sorcha couldn’t kid herself and think that what had happened between them had meant anything more than a bit of diverting fun for him, and that was why it couldn’t happen again. He’d been playing with her—a game of showing her that he was in control.
But some minutes later, as Lucy was touching up her make-up, she saw the observation deck doors open and Romain walk out. The New York night was chilly, and he wore a long black coat that made him look impossibly tall and dark. She hadn’t seen him all day and butterflies erupted in her stomach.
He focused on Dominic and Zane and went straight to them. Consulted with Claire. And then, with the issue apparently resolved, and a curt, ‘Don’t disturb me again unless it’s really urgent,’ he walked back out, not looking her way even momentarily.
It felt like a slap in the face—which was ridiculous when it wasn’t even directed at her. She saw the lift doors close, concealing him from view. It was obvious he hadn’t appreciated Dominic’s autocratic demand at all.
‘He didn’t look happy to be taken away from his date!’
Sorcha looked at Lucy, and ice invaded her veins. ‘What?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘Well, that’s where I bet he was…Why would he want to supervise us up here when he could be taking some beautiful woman out to dinner?’ Lucy sighed dreamily.
Sorcha longed to be the gossiping kind just once, so she could ask her if what she’d said was based on fact. But she wasn’t, so she didn’t. And for the whole night, when Romain didn’t reappear, Sorcha couldn’t stop imagining him looking into sultry blue, or brown, or green eyes, telling her—whoever—that next time they wouldn’t be interrupted, with all the passionate conviction he’d used with her, and which she stupidly, treacherously, couldn’t get out of her head…
CHAPTER NINE (#u96210df4-c053-5fd1-be0c-16231f16d7ef)
THE following night they were heading off to India. The next leg of the journey. Sorcha made sure to be one of the first on the plane this time, and chose one of the single seats. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Last night had made her feel out of control…she’d found herself missing him! As though the set had become a more sinister place without him. Everything had seemed lacklustre…They were barely days into the job and this man was winding her around his little finger with little more than his magnetic presence and one kiss. The thought of which made her squirm in her seat.
She’d tried to see Katie for lunch earlier, but it hadn’t worked out with timing. Romain was insisting that they all stay in the same hotels along the way, in order to bond, so she hadn’t seen her friend once. And she missed Katie’s practical, down-to-earth maternal advice. Although maybe it was just as well that they hadn’t met, as when she’d told Katie about taking the job her friend had seemed to think that it was a good thing. She’d probably have encouraged her to jump into bed with Romain, and that was the kind of advice that Sorcha did not want to hear.
She plucked her eye mask out of her bag and put it on. At least this way she wouldn’t even see if he got on the plane. Because she didn’t care. Liar. She ignored the mocking voice. And then…as if to mock her further…her heart quickened and she felt herself tremble slightly. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck when an all too familiar scent teased her nostrils. He was here. And she knew it without even seeing him arrive. Sorcha knew without a doubt that she was in deep trouble.
Their shooting location in India was the beautiful City of Lakes—Udaipur. It was called the most romantic city in Rajasthan, and Sorcha had to agree, taking everything in the following day as they went by boat from the shore to the Lake Palace. It rose like an eye-wateringly majestic white dream from some Arabian Nights fantasy in the middle of Lake Pichola. She loved the arid heat, the hazy blue sky and the myriad colours everywhere—some so bright that it almost hurt to look at them.
Romain sat beside her on the small seat of the boat, his thigh disturbingly close to hers. In long khaki combat shorts, much like hers, he was managing to look all at once casual and devastatingly attractive. His dark T-shirt clung to hard, defined pectoral muscles that were a wicked enticement to touch and feel. She swallowed.
She’d managed to avoid him on the plane by sleeping most of the journey, and then all the way to the plush, opulent hotel they were staying in on the shores of the lake. But for now she couldn’t. She and Romain were in one boat, Simon and Dominic in another. The four were on their way to the Lake Palace to do a recce for tomorrow’s shoot. The rest of the crew had the day off, to recover, get over jet lag, and they would too—once this was over.
But she couldn’t stop sneaking a furtive glance. Against the backdrop of the ancient Indian buildings he looked like some regal god. And for some reason she felt compelled to speak, her mouth working independently of her brain—because what came out was not what she wanted to say at all.
‘You were busy in New York.’
She could see his brows pull together and cursed herself. What on earth was wrong with her?
‘Is that a question or a statement?’ He didn’t wait for her answer. ‘Actually, yes, I was busy. I’m working on a few projects at the same time, and I knew New York would be the last place I’d have any time to spend on them…Tell me, Sorcha, did you miss me?’
She wanted to snort disdainfully, wanted to laugh. Wanted to say something cutting. She opened her mouth, but at that moment all she could see was his eyes. They were luminous in the hazy sunlight, glittering a fierce grey with something so…provocative in their depths that she couldn’t say a word. She wondered with awful futility how he had this power to hold her in such a spell…to make her think of things she’d never considered before.
She was helpless, lost in that look. She wanted to blurt out how she’d been tortured with pictures of him on date after date…even though she knew in reality it had only been one night.
‘I worked late that night, and then I had to take Maud out to dinner. I missed you.’
She couldn’t breathe as something awfully exultant moved through her. How was it that he could read her mind? To her utter horror she heard her voice come out shakily, forming words she’d had no intention of saying. ‘It didn’t seem like that on the Empire State Building.’
A flash of something intense crossed his face, distracting her from her monumental gaffe, and then, as if she’d imagined it, he took her hand, lifting it, bringing her palm to his mouth, where he pressed a kiss to the heated middle. Her fingers curled instinctively, as if to hold the kiss, and all rational thought fled.
‘I told you that next time we wouldn’t be interrupted, and I meant it.’
Sorcha felt her insides quiver, the blood thicken in her veins. How did he know just what to say to make her forget everything he stood for? Everything he represented to her?
The launch arrived at the Lake Palace, and as it gently hit the small jetty wall Sorcha seemed to come to her senses. But still felt cocooned in some sort of dreamlike haze. Simon and Dominic stood waiting for them. Sorcha clambered off the boat and followed the men around. The breathtaking scenery distracted her momentarily from her churning thoughts and emotions. She gazed in wonder at the beauty of the palace, which had once been built for royalty but was now a five-star hotel.
Finished with discussing the main schedule of shots with the other men, Romain turned to look for Sorcha. She’d disappeared. He walked over to the edge of the terrace, where a complicated lattice design in marble formed a wall. And there she was, just on the level below, down a few steps. He felt that annoyingly familiar punch to the gut. With her hair free, in tousled waves down her back, she stood on the terrace below talking to one of the hotel staff. He was pointing something out to her on a carving, and she was bending down, putting on her glasses to take a closer look.
He knew she wouldn’t be faking an interest. And when she turned to look up and smile widely at the man he jealously felt bowled over by her natural beauty. She was dressed simply in shorts, which showed a smooth length of pale, slim leg, and a plain white T-shirt which clung to her breasts far too provocatively for his liking. He vowed to take her, and soon. He couldn’t wait much longer, and the sooner he burned himself free of this desire, the sooner he could get back to normal.
Because, as much as he relished the feeling of boredom being gone, he also conversely wanted it back. In these uncharted waters of insatiable desire he felt rudderless. He wasn’t used to a woman making him feel like this, and the only other time that had happened he’d been too young to know how to deal with it, or the consequences. Not so any more. This time he was equipped. He would take her and then move on to someone more suitable, safer. This was just a temporary madness.
At that moment, as if Sorcha sensed him watching, she turned and looked up. The smile slid from her face and was replaced with a flare in her eyes. Her mouth opened slightly. She wanted him too. He knew it like an immutable truth that stirred in his blood. Though he knew she’d deny it again if he pushed her.
And that was why he found himself tugging her back from getting on the boat as they watched Simon and Dominic go off ahead of them. Now they were alone. No crew around.
Sorcha looked up into Romain’s expressionless face. She was very aware of the fact that they were now alone. On a stunningly beautiful idyllic white marbled palace island. Dominic and Simon’s boat was chugging away in the distance. Their boatman was looking at them expectantly.
‘Have lunch with me here.’
Sorcha’s immediate and first reaction was to shake her head and say no. A strong suspicion assailed her, making her quite sure that he was only asking so he could keep her close, could make sure she stayed out of trouble. Romain saw her hesitation. He smiled, and it looked dangerous and far too seductive.
‘Don’t worry—I won’t ravish you. And you have to eat, don’t you?’
She opened her mouth, and to her utter horror and chagrin her stomach made a sound like water going down a very big, echoing drain. She promptly shut her mouth and blushed.
‘That settles it.’ He took her arm and shepherded her back up the steps and into the main open-air foyer of the hotel.
The feeling of unreality lingered as they were shown to a secluded table in the corner of the magnificent restaurant. There were no walls, only columns, open to the warm air, the hazy blue of the sky and the lapping waters of the lake, intricately carved with complicated mosaics which were echoed in the roof above. It was truly the most breathtaking place Sorcha had ever been in her life.
A waiter materialised and she heard Romain order a bottle of champagne. She stopped him with a brief, light touch on his hand. He looked at her quizzically.
‘I’m sorry but do you mind if we don’t have champagne? It’s just that it gives me a headache…’
She sent a small, hesitant smile to the waiter and then back to Romain, who felt slightly winded.
‘If you don’t mind…what I’d actually really like is a beer.’
He lifted a brow and felt totally nonplussed. It had been pure reflex to order champagne—his first step in any seduction. And she wanted beer? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even drunk a beer, and yet in that instant it seemed to him to be the most desirable drink in the world.
He nodded to the waiter. ‘Two beers, please.’
Sorcha felt embarrassed as the waiter scurried away. ‘Oh, you don’t have to have one just because of me…That is,’ she qualified, feeling awkward, ‘you don’t exactly look like a beer drinking man.’
He sat back. His face was all lean angles, making him look austere.
‘Tell me, what do I look like?’
Like a man who knows how to make love to a woman…
Sorcha’s insides liquefied, and she couldn’t believe how a bubble of sensuality seemed to have enveloped them.
She had to control herself with effort. ‘You look like a vintage champagne type. Or a thousand-euro-a-bottle of wine type.’
He had actually paid that much and more for wine in the past, and it seemed almost crass now. ‘Forgive me. I should have consulted with you before ordering. Though, after seeing you put away half a glass of champagne in one go in New York, I was under the impression that you liked it.’
Sorcha had the grace to smile. ‘I actually hate the stuff. I wouldn’t have had a glass at all, only for Katie giving me one. Maud likes us to look like we’re having a good time at events like that…drinking champagne promotes the stereotype.’
‘And you weren’t having a good time?’ he asked easily.
The beers arrived. Romain held his bottle up and Sorcha clinked hers to his. Without breaking eye contact, they both took a long swallow.
Romain closed his eyes for a second. ‘I’d forgotten how good it tastes—especially in this climate…’ He opened them again, catching Sorcha looking at him with glittering big blue eyes. His body tightened. ‘Go on, you were going to tell me why you weren’t having a good time…’
She was? She had to be careful. To her consternation, she was finding that he was all too easy to talk to. It would be very easy to let something slip out that she wasn’t ready to talk about.
She shrugged minutely. ‘Well, you saw what it was like. A room full of movers and shakers. We were there primarily as adornments. People look at us and think: Models—ergo stupid. It’s all about seeing and being seen.’
She looked out to the lake. ‘In the early days it was all fabulously exciting to be in the same room as the Mayor of New York, or the biggest, newest film star, but really…your illusions get stripped away pretty quickly. Coming from somewhere like Ireland, I think I have a pretty good inbuilt detector for anyone who isn’t genuine. And about one per cent of that crowd are genuine…’
What she said brought back a niggling sense of déjà vu, but before he could dwell on it, pin it down, the waiter returned and took their order. Romain ordered more beers, and Sorcha was surprised to see they’d already been talking for some time. Her eyes took in his relaxed stance, his T-shirt straining across the muscles of his chest. She remembered seeing him emerge from the sea in Ireland. He smiled and she couldn’t breathe. The brown column of his throat looked all too touchable.
It felt as if a silken cord of intimacy was wrapping itself around Sorcha.
She spoke to fill the silence which seemed far too heavy and potent for her, seizing on the first thing that came into her head.
‘I was here before…’ She answered his questioning look, ‘On a backpacking trip with my friend Katie, when we were twenty-one. We’d been on a shoot in Delhi, and decided to do a little travelling before going home. We stayed at a tiny hostel just across the water there somewhere. We used to sit in our window, drinking beers. We’d dream about being over here, having a sumptuous meal, fine wine…’
She couldn’t stop a sudden giggle from rising, and Romain watched her. She didn’t realise how infectious her grin was. She knew part of it was a slightly hysterical reaction to being here in the first place, sharing such an intimate space with this man. At how fast things were moving, changing…
‘I’m sorry—it’s just that if Katie could see me now, she’d be so horrified…’ The giggle crept higher, and Sorcha bit her lip to stop it erupting. But when she saw a twitch on Romain’s mouth she couldn’t help it spilling out.
‘The fact that I’m here in shorts and a T-shirt, fulfilling our fantasy…and drinking beer…’ A tear escaped from her eye and she had to wipe it away, laughing in earnest now. ‘She’d kill me!’
A grin broke out on Romain’s face, and that sobered her up quicker than anything—the sheer masculine perfection of his features.
Her giggles died away with a little hiccup. ‘Sorry…it’s just if you’d seen the place we were staying…If Katie was here, she’d be dignity personified…not like me, swilling beer and corrupting your fine palate. Maybe you should have brought her,’ she said lightly, too lightly.
Romain shook his head. ‘I’m not interested in her.’
Sorcha’s heart pounded uncomfortably into the silence.
