Simone’s over-bright blue eyes widened. ‘But the pictures outside the court... And the paps were outside the flat, asking me if I knew how long you two had been a couple. I mean, c’est très romantique, non?’
Dread crept up Ana’s spine. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Bastien watching her, eyes narrowed. ‘Simone, what did you say to the reporters?’ she whispered urgently.
‘I said it was the best news ever and that I wished you much happiness... Mon Dieu, are you all right?’
Ana swallowed the sickening bile that had risen in her throat. She reached blindly to reassure Simone and felt her wrist being taken in a firm hold. Heat sizzled up her arm, electrifying her senses and reminding her of her weakness when it came to Bastien.
She pulled at her wrist. He held on tighter.
‘What’s going on here?’ Steel underlined his voice.
‘Nothing,’ Ana interjected quickly, before Simone got a chance to spread her unwelcome news.
Bastien had barely tolerated being linked to her professionally. A romantic link would be even more abhorrent to him.
‘I was just thanking Simone for helping me out.’ Ana stared hard at Simone, who stood gaping at Bastien like a stunned fish.
‘Do you have Miss Duval’s passport?’ Bastien asked her.
Rummaging through her bag, Simone located it and handed it over to him.
‘Merci. That will be all.’
Ana glared at him for the pointed dismissal and turned to Simone. ‘I’ll give you a call later.’
Simone nodded and hugged her again. ‘Hang on to him, Ana. He’s absolutely magnifique!’ she whispered feverishly.
‘Let’s go. I don’t want us to miss our flight slot.’ Bastien’s impatient tone matched his stride across the tarmac.
She hurried up the steps, acutely aware of the shortness of her dress.
Once inside, she just stopped and gaped.
She’d flown in a few private planes with her job, but nothing had come close to the level of luxury accosting her senses now.
Royal blue carpeting stretched as far as the eye could see. Cream club chairs flanked both sides of the aircraft, separated by smooth marble tables on which stood exquisite flower displays and stylish lamps. The shades had been half pulled down over the windows to limit the glare of the late-afternoon sun and the atmosphere inside the craft was one of superb and seriously lavish comfort.
Ana would have been excited at being in such surroundings but for the darts of apprehension racing up and down her spine as once again the sensation of stepping into danger engulfed her.
A stewardess approached, a smile on her face as she greeted them and relieved her of Bastien’s jacket. Weirdly, she felt exposed both inside and out without it. Pushing the feeling away, she murmured her thanks.
Bastien guided her into a chair and sat opposite her, his long legs stretched out on either side of her, imprisoning hers. She clamped her thighs together immediately, her senses screeching their awareness of him.
She thought of changing seats, then impatiently dismissed the idea. As long as he was close there would be no getting away from the discordant emotions bubbling underneath her skin. He’d always had that effect on her. Same as she knew she had an unsettling effect on him. Besides, she refused to let him intimidate her.
She glanced out of the window, feigning interest in the cargo trucks moving around a short distance away. But all too soon they were in the air, with clouds blocking her view of the landscape and taking away her reason for ignoring Bastien.
Steeling herself, she glanced at him.
He lounged in his chair, completely relaxed, eyes fixed on her, an unopened briefcase in front of him. Flushing, she wondered how long he’d been staring at her.
‘Do I make you nervous?’
The laugh forced from her throat sounded false. ‘Of course not. What gave you that idea?’
‘You’re skittish around me. I wonder why,’ he said, almost conversationally.
‘I’m not skittish—just annoyed that I’m tied to you for the next three weeks.’