* * *
Liam watched Ava walk away, knew he only had a few minutes to conjure up a scenario for a hypothetical first date. Chill. He was CEO of a multinational company. He’d been in the army for eight years. How hard could this be? All he had to do was pick a restaurant—an impressive restaurant, not a random one.
He’d narrowed it down to a shortlist by the time she returned. He held out the phone. ‘Take your pick. London’s most exclusive restaurants.’
She glanced down and shook her head. ‘It won’t work. How come no one spotted us? Given someone spotted us on the London Eye. Plus would you really have taken me to a glitzy restaurant when I was grieving?’
Liam sighed. ‘No. You’re right.’
‘It’s all in the detail. That’s what makes a story feel authentic. That’s why you have to really think about it.’
Problem was he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to take Ava on a real first date, a date where the attraction was allowed, in the open, a date where they could flirt and banter and encourage the spark of attraction to ignite into a flare. Because even now Liam could sense the bubbling undercurrent of awareness that seethed between them, urged and tempted, beckoned him to...to where? Nowhere he wanted to go. Liam pressed his lips together. This was a purely hypothetical situation, a business exercise, no different from a military campaign or a security detail for a client.
‘If we couldn’t go to a restaurant maybe I’d have cooked you a meal. With candles.’ That flickered and glinted and highlighted the corn colour of her hair. The strum of music in the background, a chilled bottle of wine on the table. Fresh flowers as a centrepiece. Her hand brushing his as pulled out her chair. Discomfort edged his gut at the sheer realness of the image and it was an effort not to squirm on the aircraft seat. After all, the last woman he had cooked dinner for had been Jess and he’d never felt like this, however hard he’d tried, and he had tried. Had convinced himself that the love would grow, that he could make himself love her. But every ‘romantic’ dinner had been a construct, an attempt to make something out of nothing. And all the candles had illuminated were the awkwardness and falsity.
Pulling himself to the present, he looked at Ava. ‘Would that work?’
‘I’m not sure. It doesn’t ring true. Would you really ask someone to your house on a first date?’ She leaned forward, placed a hand on his arm. ‘This is hard for you, isn’t it?’ Ava said gently. ‘I’m sorry. If you haven’t dated since Jess this must bring back memories.’
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Give me a minute.’ This was important—this was the way to defeat AJ Mason, salvage his reputation and win the Beaumont contract. Liam forced his brain into gear. ‘How does this sound? A moonlit picnic in Hyde Park. A thick tweed picnic blanket, a hamper from an exclusive emporium, chilled white wine in crystal flutes all under the stars. We sat and talked and looked at the stars and discussed constellations and...’
‘It was magical,’ she said softly.
And for a moment it was; he was there. Could see himself laying the blanket on the grass. Could see them eating, feeding each other bits of food, then lying back and gazing up at the stars, side by side, so close that a tendril of her corn-blonde hair tickled his cheek.
There was a silence and now their gazes meshed and, dammit, instead of the neutral air of the cabin he could feel the fresh evening breeze, smell the scent of evening flowers almost taste the food. ‘De
tail is important,’ he said. Aware of the husk in his voice.
‘Yes.’
Did we kiss? The words so nearly fell from his lips and he swallowed them down just as Ava gave a small shaky laugh.
‘Actually detail is important and that scenario won’t work. Because two months ago it would have been December.’
Liam groaned. ‘Dammit. I thought I had it down perfectly.’
‘You did.’ Her voice was soft. ‘But it’s back to the drawing board.’
‘Not for long.’ To his own consternation he already had the exact answer, his mind inexplicably now fizzing with dating ideas. ‘This is it.’
‘Go ahead.’ Her eyes were wide now, her lips slightly parted.
‘I would take you in a horse-drawn carriage through the park. We’d have a cosy blanket and sit side by side. There would be mince pies and mulled wine and we’d hear the clip clop of the horses’ hooves...’
‘And the jingle of the sleigh bells and smell the tang of snow in the air and watch the winter scenery go by whilst we talked and...’
Did we kiss? Again he swallowed the words, saying instead, ‘Does that work?’
‘Yes.’ Why did he have the feeling Ava had answered his unspoken question? Enough. Stop. Relief swept through him as the pilot’s voice came over the Tannoy. ‘We’ll be landing in ten, Liam.’
* * *
Ava’s head whirled as they disembarked from the plane and it had nothing to do with the dusky Italian breeze and everything to do with whatever the hell had just happened. For a moment she’d been sure he’d kiss her; hell, for a moment she’d wanted him to kiss her. Had been so caught up in the imaginary magical moment that a real spell had been cast.
The breeze was welcome, and with any luck it would blow her mind back to order. Liam headed towards a car. ‘Pierre is going to give us a lift. He is Elena the housekeeper’s husband.’
The idea of a chaperone allowed her to gather a polite, friendly persona together for the ten-minute journey. As she chatted to the middle-aged flamboyant Frenchman the tension seeped from her shoulders.