Finding Isadora(123)

She glanced at his empty glass. “Not a problem you’ve been suffering from, I see.”

Had to admit, there was a definite appeal to a woman who wasn’t afraid to use her tongue. Banter was a good start. Maybe she’d soften up and think of a friendlier use for that tongue. “Drink up. It’ll help your headache.”

She frowned. “I don’t have—” Then she winced. “Well, maybe the beginning of one.”

The flight attendant arrived with the champagne bottle and a big smile. “So sorry, I certainly don’t want to neglect you.” She filled his glass.

“Ta, Carmen.” The flashy brunette had told him her name when he’d first got on the plane and she’d recognized him.

She cocked a brow at the prof. “You don’t care for it, Ms. Fallon? Can I get you something else?”

“No, it’s fine. I was just on the phone.” She held up her closed mobile. “Which is off now, and I’m about to enjoy the champagne.”

“Good on you,” Carmen said, then gave him a wink before she moved on.

Yeah, Carmen had gushed all over him when he came on board. She’d made it clear she was available for a little action. Her, and about a hundred other girls in the two years since his first book hit the bestseller lists and he’d become a familiar face on TV talk shows. Not to mention, been voted one of the country’s ten sexiest bachelors.

The “sexy bachelor” angle had featured prominently in the promo plan his agent and publicist had developed, a fact that at first he’d found humorous but had soon worn thin. This business of women flinging themselves at him had gotten a little old. Truth was, it wasn’t all that flattering when females swarmed all over a bloke just because he was famous and supposed to be sexy. Celebrity had its disadvantages.

Truth was, the prof interested him more than Carmen. She was a turn-on, with an appealing face that wasn’t caked in makeup, a slim, shapely bod, and boobs that looked to be all her own. Plus, she intrigued him. The woman presented a challenge. Though she clearly wasn’t immune to the physical spark between them, she sure wasn’t throwing herself at him.

Could he win her over before she found out who he was?

He held out his glass to her. “Bottoms up, safe trip, don’t let the buggers get you down.” He’d have said “bastards” but figured it might piss her off.

A chuckle spluttered out of her and her eyes warmed. Those eyes reminded him of the water in a billabong: shades of reddish brown brightened by specks of blue and green, like the reflections of red rocks and trees in blue waters. As with a billabong, a bloke could stare into their depths and lose himself. Especially now, when her amusement made them sparkle as if sunshine dappled the still water.

She clicked her glass to his. “The buggers?”

“Whoever’s got you sighing like a high wind through the gum trees.”

Her lips twisted, more in rue than amusement. “My sister. Actually, all my sisters.” Her eyes widened and he sensed the information had slipped out, laughter creating a chink in her reserve. She glanced away and raised the glass to her lips.

“Ah. Families. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t shoot ‘em. Easiest to just avoid them.” That was his current strategy with his own family.

“True.” She gazed into her glass. “But it’s not always possible.”

“No?”

She glanced up, eyes narrowing. “I really do need to work.”

Why was she so intent on keeping him at a distance? He was about to ask when he felt a hand brush his right forearm.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Carmen purred, not sounding sorry at all. “We’re readying for take-off. I need you to fold up your tables. You can hang on to your glasses and I’ll be by with more champagne once we’re in the air.”

He heard a quick swallow on his other side, then the prof extended her glass past him. “I’m finished. You can take this, thanks,” she said coolly. He gathered she hadn’t exactly warmed to their flight attendant.

“I’ll keep mine,” he said.

When Carmen had gone, he turned to his seatmate. “You know what they say about all work and no play.”

Her lips pressed together, their fullness folded in to make a thin line. When she released them, they were plump and a deep, natural pink. Ripe for kissing.

But her voice was chilly. “Believe me, I do. They make Theresa a dull girl. Which I am. So, you might as well get over yourself and let me get on with my work. I’m sure Carmen will be more than happy to let you chat her up.”

Interesting. Damien figured he was pretty damned observant for a guy—a writer had to be—and she’d just delivered a whack of information. Not only her name, but the fact that folks thought she was too serious and didn’t hold back from telling her. Now, what was that bit about Carmen? Did he detect a hint of jealousy?

This was going to be one interesting flight.

He decided to let Professor Theresa Fallon win this round. When they were in the air, having drinks and appetizers, she’d have to put the exams away.

“Okay,” he said easily. “You get on with your work then.”

Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have work to do himself. This wasn’t a vacation. He’d finished a week-long book tour in Australia, had a couple days at home in Sydney to get turned around, and was now headed off for a month’s tour in the U.S. and Canada. With him, he had the galleys for Gale Force, which had to be back to his publisher in a week. And of course, there was Scorched Earth, the book he was currently writing. Or had been, until a plot point had hung him up.