Tomorrow's Bride(6)

'And of course-----' the sugary sweetness, the blatant sarcasm, owing so  much to sheer terror, were very much misguided, and she regretted them  almost immediately '-it is mere coincidence that you happen to find  yourself in the seat next to mine.'

'No.' His voice lowered conspiratorially as the plane's engines fired.  'I had to bribe Air France- what do you think?' She had been forced to  incline her head to catch his words and now pulled back, stung and  humiliated, her blazing cheeks indicating how much.

If I were to tell you what I really think... But this time the words  were held back and she even found herself smiling ruefully, wondering  why she had made it so easy for him... The smile faded; she must be  careful-it would be dangerous to allow herself to mellow.                       
       
           



       

Resolutely she turned her face towards the runway lights now flashing  past, her mind focusing instead on the dream, back last night with a  vengeance, torturing her with all its blatant erotic images. Sighing  shakily with more than a hint of anguish, she pressed her eyes closed,  willing sleep...

'Can I persuade you to have a drink?' Naturally, he would choose the  exact minute when she might have drifted off, but he was impervious to  her look of reproof, and when she saw the attendant with the drinks  trolley waiting for the order there was no choice but to try to look  bright and intelligent.

'What? Oh, no, thanks.'

'Oh, go on.' His manner was benign, very nearly indulgent. 'To show  you're not going to continue with this silly pretence that you don't  remember me. After all, it's not so very long since we were-----'

'All right.' It seemed sensible to cut him off before he became  specific, especially with the stewardess finding the conversation so  intriguing, and apart from that she had had time to reflect on her  behaviour the other night. What had seemed clever then, under the  influence of shock and more champagne than was good for her, was, in the  cold light of morning, merely childish. 'I admit, I knew you at once.  You haven't changed all that much.' And only for the better, a  treacherous internal voice was determined to observe.

'Thanks,' he said drily. 'Am I right, then, in presuming that an armistice has been declared?'

Her slender raised eyebrow must have been taken for agreement; she heard  him order wine as she reached for her handbag. 'You must let me pay,'  she said touchily.

'Forget it. You're not costing me a sou.' Something about the offhand way he spoke was wounding. 'It'll all go on my expenses.'

'And of course we all know how lavish they can be.'

'Well-----' he gave her a slanted sideways glance

'-if you're talking about the Strasbourg set-up, you'll know more about  those than I do. And if you insist-----' now there was a touch of  impatience in his tone '-you can pay next time.'

There is not going to be a next time, she thought as she sipped the cool  white wine appreciatively. Then the import of what he had said  percolated. 'And why should I know more about these things than you do?  Surely someone in your position...?'

'My position?' When he turned to her there was more in his expression  than in the words themselves, enough certainly to make her heart behave  in a silly rushing way that she could only deplore. 'But tell me, Leigh,  what exactly is "my position" as you see it?'

For a long time there was silence while she considered, then at last had  to confess that she had no idea. Such had been the panic caused by his  reappearance that she had not actually faced that aspect directly.  Possibly she might have picked up the impression-something to do with  the odd remark she had heard in the office, one or two hints from  Kyle-that he had landed a job with the Irish representatives at  Strasbourg. He was not an MEP himself-if he had been she was certain to  have known-but... 'I'm... I'm not sure,' she confessed at last. 'Legal  adviser in some capacity, I suppose.'

'That could be claimed for anyone employed in the legal profession, but  I'm certainly not 'working for any section in the parliament.'

'Oh.' It took her a moment or two to absorb the implications of this. 'Then what?'

'I've been doing some private lobbying on behalf of one of the major aid agencies.'

'Oh...' It was hard to work out why this should be such a shock-not a  disappointment, but... 'So... am I to conclude you're still working in  that field?'

'No.' His frown suggested that her slowness was an irritant. 'I've got  my own international law practice, but because I've had experience I  decided to do some of the initial approaching myself.'

This time there was no hiding from herself the fact that she was  disappointed. It wasn't-surely it couldn't be-that somewhere, deep at  the back of her mind, she had been cherishing the thought that his  arrival in Strasbourg had been triggered off... No. Of course it wasn't  that. What a relief to be able to dismiss the thought for the utter  nonsense that it was.

The arrival of the stewardess with coffee and sandwiches was a  diversion, and, although she and Patrick refused, the tall, willowy  blonde seemed most reluctant to move on; it was only the obvious  impatience of another passenger which dragged her from his side. Leigh,  observing the little by-play, was quickly forced to adjust her  expression of cynical amusement when he turned to make a routine enquiry  about the wine.                       
       
           



       

'Fine, yes, it's fine.' But her mind wasn't on that; she was intrigued  by what he had told her, and she heard her voice before she thought to  curb her curiosity. 'So... international law. Does that mean you're  living...?'

'Right here in Paris.' He gestured to the city lights over which they  had just begun to descend. 'Been here about eighteen months now. But  what about you? Are you here on business, or is it pleasure?'

'Both.' She sipped her wine, trying to decide just how far she ought to  take him into her confidence. 'In fact for the last few months I've been  spending as much of my time in Paris as in Strasbourg. You see, Kyle  has extensive business interests and I'm trying to dovetail the two  spheres. At first I was a bit reluctant to take on the additional  responsibilities, but now I find I'm enjoying it. There's even the  chance that the experience might come in useful if ever I decide to  change jobs.'

'Oh, is there a chance of that?'

'No.' She shook her head. 'Not right now, anyway, but there are times  when the political scene can be... well, I suppose boring would be the  most honest description.'

'Mmm.' At least he hadn't jumped in with, I told you so. Then, 'Well, sounds like you have a busy life.'

'Well----' she felt bound to defend her boss '-it would have been, but  Kyle arranged for me to have a secretary. Anna relieves me of much of  the routine grind, otherwise I don't think I could cope.'

'And the pleasure?'

'What?' She stared, embarrassed by the unexpected warmth in her skin, totally thrown by the interjection.

The intense gaze missed nothing. 'You said you were here for business and pleasure. I'm asking about the pleasure.'

'Oh.' Sudden clarity was quickly followed by a sense of relief. 'Oh,  that! A friend has just come to Paris to live. We shared a flat for a  few months when I first came to Strasbourg and I'm planning to meet up  with her again. She's married now, with a baby, so there will be lots to  talk about.'

By this time they were collecting their things together, and then-it  seemed automatic-they shared a trolley as they walked to the barrier  with their luggage.

'I suppose you do have someone coming to pick you up?'

When the forceful dark eyes swept over her, from the top of her gleaming  head to the toes of her highly polished black boots, she felt  confident, childishly so, that he would find little to criticise. She  was wearing tight navy trousers topped by a Cossack-style blouse in a  rich peony-coloured silk, with a very English hacking-jacket in heathery  checks slung over her shoulders...

He was studying her, while she, with a throb in her stomach as then-  eyes met, did exactly the same to him. He was the archetypal jet-setting  lawyer. She tried to be dismissive and failed miserably. He was the  land of man women of any age would look at twice and then keep on  looking. When she had known him all those years ago she had grown used  to seeing him in more casual gear, but now he was equally at ease in the  dark business suit, snowy shirt and striped tie. Everything about him  was immaculate, not a bit like Kyle, who seemed to have a permanently  crumpled look...

Suddenly aware that Patrick was still watching her, now with a faintly  amused look, she began, without knowing why, to shake her head.  Instantly she found herself wondering if he had noticed that she had  discarded the riotous hairdo in favour of the sleek look, the heavy  swaths of dark hair now held back from her face by two antique silver  and tortoiseshell combs which had once belonged to her  great-grandmother. But then his question was being repeated, and she  felt heat wash over her in an overwhelming wave...