He swung away from the curb. “The trick’s recognizing it. I’ve arranged for a car and driver to meet us at Heathrow. He’ll take you to the house so you can settle in. He’ll be at your disposal through the day if you want to sightsee or shop.”
“Will he?” Imagine that. “Well, that’s considerate of you.”
“I’ll have more free time tomorrow, but today’s packed.” He glanced at her. “I should be done by six this evening. We have dinner reservations at eight. Does that suit you?”
“Perfectly.”
“Good. My assistant faxed over several points of interest. I have the file in my briefcase. You can take a look during the flight to help you plan what you’d like to do today.”
“That’s a lovely thought, and I’ll do just that. But you needn’t worry that I’ll have trouble entertaining myself.”
He glanced over. She wore a trim jacket and slacks of slate blue, and had matched them with a soft, faintly shimmering blouse the color of roses drenched in cream. The choice was more than stylish. It was cleverly, completely female.
“No, I don’t imagine you will.”
Inexplicably miffed that she wouldn’t be wandering aimlessly, missing him, waiting for him, he fell into silence.
More like a business arrangement than a . . . what the hell was it, anyway? An assignation? He didn’t care for the word. But he didn’t suppose “romance” fit the situation either. Neither of them was the starry-eyed type. They wanted what they wanted. Better to be up front and systematic about it.
But it irritated him nonetheless.
They arrived at Waterford’s airport on schedule. And it was there Darcy got her first taste of what a man who walked in wealth could command. Their luggage was whisked away, and they were guided through security with a great deal of “This way, Mr. Magee” and “I hope you enjoy your trip, Mr. Magee.”
Remembering the hassles and glitches in her recent travel to Paris, Darcy reaffirmed her determination to travel first class or not to travel at all. But even her imagining of top drawer took a bump when Trevor led her out on the tarmac toward a sleek little plane.
“Is this yours?”
“The company’s,” he told her, taking her arm for the short trip up the steps. “I do a lot of traveling, so it’s more convenient to have my own transportation.”
She stepped inside and had to struggle not to gasp. “I bet it is.”
The seats were done in rich navy leather and were sized generously. Crystal vases were tucked into silver holders on the cream-colored walls between the windows. Each held a dewy bouquet of fresh yellow rosebuds. Her feet sank into the carpet.
A uniformed flight attendant with a polite smile and flawless skin greeted her by name, then asked if she would care for a mimosa before takeoff.
Champagne for breakfast, she thought. Just imagine that. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
“Coffee for me, Monica. Want a tour?” he asked Darcy.
“I would, yes.” Hoping she wasn’t gawking, Darcy set down her purse.
“Galley’s through here.”
She peeked in and saw that the efficient Monica already had coffee brewing and was popping the cork on a bottle of champagne. The small space seemed to use every inch resourcefully, and stainless-steel surfaces gleamed.
“Cockpit.” Trevor gestured through the already open door. The man sitting at a panel of complicated-looking controls swiveled in his chair. “Ready when you are, Mr.Magee. Good morning, Miss Gallagher. You can look forward to a short but smooth flight into Heathrow.”
“Thank you. Do you fly this plane all by yourself? With no copilot?”
“It’s a one-man operation,” he told her. “But I don’t need a copilot when Mr. Magee’s on board.”
“Is that so? Do you fly, then, Trevor?”
“Occasionally. Give us ten minutes, Donald, then clear with the tower.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We have a lot of interests in Europe,” Trevor began as he led Darcy back through the main cabin. “We use this equipment primarily for the short-range flights over here.”
“And for the longer flights?”
“We have larger equipment.” He opened a door. Inside was an office complete with what looked to be a trim antique desk, a computer console, a wall screen for viewing videos, and a bed. She caught a glimpse of the bath through a side door. Everything gleamed.
“All the creature comforts and the business ones as well.”
“You do better with the second if you have the first. Celtic’s relatively young at six years, but it’s growing, and it’s profitable.”
“Ah, so the London business has to do with Celtic Records, then.”
“For the most part, yes. If you need something and don’t see it, just ask.”
She turned back to him. “I see everything I need.”
He lifted a hand to toy with the ends of her hair. “Good. Let’s get started.”
“Haven’t we already?” she murmured as they walked back to their seats.
Darcy settled in, accepted the glinting flute holding her mimosa, and prepared to have the time of her life.
The pilot was a man of his word. The flight was short and smooth. As far as Darcy was concerned, she could have flown for hours and been thrilled. She’d made casual small talk until she’d realized Trevor was distracted. About his upcoming meetings, she imagined, and left him to his planning while she looked over the list of suggestions from his assistant.
God, yes, she wanted to see it. All of it. Hyde Park and Harrods, Buckingham Palace and Chelsea. She wanted to experience the wild traffic of the streets and the grand shade of the great parks.
The trip through Heathrow was hardly more complex than the airport at home. Money paves the way, she thought as they slid through customs. Still, she hadn’t expected the car and driver he’d arranged for her to be a limo and a chauffeur. Words stuttered into her throat and were ruthlessly swallowed down again until she could smile up at Trevor easily.
“Are we dropping you at your meeting, then?”
“No, opposite directions. I’ll see you this evening.”
&n
bsp; “Good luck with your work.” She started to take the driver’s offered hand, to slip into the limo as she’d practiced doing in her mind. Smoothly, gracefully, as if she’d done it all her life.
But Trevor took her arm, said her name, and had her looking back up at him, lips just curved.
Then she was yanked up on her toes, her hands clutching at his shoulders for balance, her mouth gloriously assaulted. The swift change of mood from coolheaded businessman to hot-blooded lover was so swift, so complete, so erotic.
Before the moan could slither from heart to throat to lips, he released her. After one smoldering look, he nodded in what might have been satisfaction.
“Enjoy your day,” he told her, and left her standing, nearly swaying, beside the discreetly blank-eyed driver and the open limo door.
She managed to slide in. The fact was, her bones were so loose it felt as though she was pouring herself into the rarefied air inside the limo, scented with roses and leather.
It took every ounce of will to click herself back, to absorb and appreciate her first ride in a long, quiet car. She trailed her fingers along the seat. Butter-smooth and the color of storm clouds. Like his eyes just moments before, she thought.
The driver seemed to be a full block away behind the smoked-glass privacy screen. Determined to remember every detail, Darcy noted the television, the crystal glasses, the shimmer of lights along the roof, and the window in it. She relaxed to the romantic sweep of classical music already playing over the stereo. And as she started to stretch out her legs and purr, she finally spotted the slim box on the seat beside her.
It was wrapped in gold with a silver ribbon. She snatched at it, then, wincing, glanced toward the driver.A woman of the world would hardly dive into a gift. She’d be so used to them as to nearly be bored.
Chuckling to herself, Darcy opened the small envelope.
Welcome to London. Trev.
“Doesn’t miss a trick, does he?” Darcy said to herself. “Well, good for me.” Assured that the driver wasn’t paying attention, she picked at the tape with her fingernail. She didn’t want to tear the paper. Wallowing in anticipation, she tucked both the ribbon and the gift wrap, carefully folded, into her purse, then took a breath, held it.
Opened the long velvet box.
“Oh, Mother of God.” She yelped it, forgot about the driver, about sophistication. About everything but the outrageous sparkle currently dazzling her eyes.
Gaping, she held the bracelet up, letting the glinting stones stream down like water. It was slim, and might have been delicate if not for all those bold colors. Surely that was emerald and ruby and sapphire and all framed by diamonds as brilliant as the sun.
Never in her life had she touched anything so beautiful, so fine, so ridiculously expensive. She really shouldn’t accept it. She’d only just try it on. See how it looked. How it felt.
It looked gorgeous and felt even better.
As she turned her wrist, watched it wink, felt that almost liquid slide of gold over her skin, she decided she’d rather cut off her hand than give the bracelet back.
Her conscience would just have to adjust.
She spent so much time admiring the bracelet she nearly missed the thrill of the drive through London.When she snapped back she had to struggle with the urge to roll down the window and lean out. To take in everything all at once.
What to see first, she wondered, what to do? It was all so much to squeeze