To do what, she had no idea. Her love life post-Alan was non-existent and, whenever her mother gently asked her about that, she was always quick to point out that she didn’t need a guy.
The unspoken message was: why would I? Just look at Dad...look at Alan... Men are trouble...
She had told her mother bits and pieces about Gabriel as well, which cemented that unspoken message.
But things seemed to be progressing and so, when Alice had sat her down and told her that she wouldn’t be able to make it the following weekend because of work, she was pleasantly surprised by her mother’s reaction.
‘That’s absolutely fine,’ Pamela had said with a smile. ‘I need to know how to be a little more independent.’
Which, Alice thought, meant that the very costly professional whose services she was paying for was actually beginning to make a difference.
So, yes, she was looking forward to Paris.
They had spent the past week working flat out on every single aspect of the deal that could go wrong. In between, there had been the usual high-volume work load. She had been rushed off her feet and had enjoyed every minute of it.
And Gabriel’s so-called flu had disappeared as quickly as it had come, although he hadn’t failed to remind her that she was probably the one who had given it to him, which had made her lips twitch with amusement.
They had arranged to meet at the airport and now, waiting for her taxi to arrive, Alice once again ticked off the mental checklist in her head.
All necessary work documents, including her work laptop, would be in hand luggage. She had her mobile phone and all the necessary work clothes packed.
They would be going for four days and she had managed to fit everything into one average-sized suitcase with room to spare.
Outside, the weather was cool but sunny, and she gave in to a heady feeling of complete freedom. The feeling was so unusual that for a second or two she felt a painful pang that this was something she should have more of; that this was something most girls her age would take absolutely for granted and yet here she was, savouring it like a tasty morsel that would vanish all too soon.
Tasty morsel! She would be in the company of Gabriel most of the time!
Like a runaway train, her mind zoomed off at speed to the memory of him in his bathrobe—the sight of that bare chest, those strong, muscled legs, the way he had been prone on his king-sized bed, macho, dominant and oozing raw sex appeal.
She uneasily shoved aside the unacceptable thought that part of her excitement might have to do with just being with him for four uninterrupted days in Paris, of all places.
Her phoned beeped with the taxi announcing itself outside and, ready for the short trip to Heathrow, Alice focused on practical issues.
Her mother was fine. She hadn’t forgotten anything. Another big deal was brewing on the sidelines and she had thought to read up on the company in question and download relevant facts that Gabriel might find useful.
She made it to the airport to find Gabriel already there and waiting at the designated spot by the first-class check-in counter.
He eyed her case sceptically.
‘Is that all the luggage you’ve brought with you?’ Annoyingly, she had been on his mind more than usual. He didn’t know what he expected when she joined him at the airport but, unsurprisingly, she was in her usual work uniform of nondescript grey suit, a lighter one to accommodate the milder weather, and her neat black patent leather pumps.
‘We’ll only be gone for four days.’ Alice’s eyes skirted around him. He was elegantly casual in some cream trousers and a cream jumper under which he was wearing a striped shirt. He looked expensive, sophisticated and drop-dead gorgeous, the sort of man who wouldn’t be travelling anything other than first class.
‘I’ve dated women who have packed more than you have for an overnight stay in a hotel,’ Gabriel remarked drily. He was discovering that he enjoyed the way she blushed, enjoyed the way her eyes never quite met his whenever she felt that something he said might have been a little too provocative.
He checked her in, holding up her passport so that he could examine the unflattering picture of her, and then they headed to the first-class lounge.
Excitement rippled through her.
‘I’ve never been to Paris,’ she confided, impressed with the first-class lounge with its comfortable seating, waiter service and upmarket lounge-bar feel.
Gabriel tilted his head to one side, pleasantly surprised, because she so rarely said anything to him of a personal nature.
In any other woman, that would have been a definite plus point. In her, he found it weirdly irritating. It was as if the more she failed to tell him, the more he wanted to find out.
‘Never?’