'You distracted me when I should have been glad-handing journalists, although I have to say that the sheer effort of keeping you out of my head gave me a real edge over dinner last night. Those bankers didn't know what had hit them.'

'You did seem a little high last night. If you don't mind me saying so.'

'Billion dollar deals tend to have that effect. Make me want to sing, to dance...'

'Zahir!'

'You see. You say my name and I can't even decide what I want for lunch. Distracting.'

'If that's the case, then it would probably be a good thing if I left you to it and went for a walk,' she said, getting to her feet.

And he got himself another driver for tomorrow.

'Stay where you are, Diana.' Before she could open her mouth to protest, he added, 'Out of sight is not out of mind.'

'This is outrageous.' She glared at him. 'You expect me to sit here and "distract" the man, while you pull your tyc.o.o.n act and take him to the cleaners?'

'Did I say that?'

'What else could you possibly mean?' she demanded. And she had the doubtful pleasure of seeing the impa.s.sive mask slip, feeling the heat from eyes that were-momentarily-anything but cool. 'You're quite mad, you know,' she said, subsiding into her chair, not in obedience to his command but because her legs refused to keep her upright. 'I'm not some femme fatale.'

'No?' Then, after a moment's thought, 'No.'

Dammit, he wasn't supposed to agree with her! And this was definitely not the moment for him to smile. If that lip moved, sheikh or not, he was cats' meat...

Maybe he recognised the danger because he managed to restrain himself, confine himself to an apparently careless shrug.

'In that case, why are you making such a fuss?'

CHAPTER SIX.

MAKING a fool of herself, more like.

Diana swallowed but her mouth was suddenly dry and she picked up her gla.s.s with a hand that was visibly shaking and took a mouthful of water.

She'd known, right from the beginning, that Sheikh Zahir wasn't going to be a conventional pa.s.senger. He might not have lived up to her Lawrence of Arabia fantasy, but it was obvious, from the moment that boy had cannoned into him, from that first meeting of eyes through the rear-view mirror, that he was going to be trouble.

For her.

And the kind of disturbance that even now was churning beneath her waistband confirmed her worst fears.

Inappropriate? This wasn't just inappropriate. This was plain stupid and Sadie would have an absolute fit if she had the slightest idea of just how unprofessionally she had behaved right from the very beginning.

Chatting to him as if he were someone she'd met in a bus queue. Dragging him off to The Toy Warehouse and giving him the down-and-dirty gossip on the frog and princess scandal. Sharing canapes with him on a riverside bench when he should have been working the media.

Sharing an earth-shattering, world-changing kiss with a man whose 'partner' was inside the gallery, taking the strain.

All mouth, no brains, that was her.

There was absolutely no way there could be a personal connection between them other than some brief s.e.xual dalliance which would obviously be a meaningless fling for him-and she felt a moment of pity for the beautiful princess-while it could only be damaging to her, professionally and personally. Even supposing she was the kind of woman who 'flung' around with a man who was attached, no matter how loosely, to another woman.

Who 'flung' full stop.

One fling had got her into enough trouble to last a lifetime.

And if he had anything else in mind, well he was the dumb one. He was a sheikh. She was a chauffeur. He was so far out of her orbit that he might as well be on Mars and it didn't need the brains of Einstein to figure out how that equation would work out.

It wasn't even as if she was fancy-free, at liberty to indulge herself, take the risk, no matter how self-destructively. She had responsibilities. A five-year-old son she would always put first, not out of duty, but out of love.

Why, oh, why, couldn't her big chance have come on the day when the car had been booked to drive some grey, middle-aged executive whose only interest was the movement of the FTSE or the NASDAQ?

Someone who wouldn't even have noticed she existed.

'Tomorrow,' she began, determined to put a stop to this before one of them did something really stupid. Something that she, at least, would regret-and she already had enough of those to last her a lifetime. Before she forgot all of the above and began to believe what his eyes seemed to be saying. 'Tomorrow,' she repeated, with determination...

'Tomorrow I'm flying to Paris,' he said, cutting her short before she could tell him that tomorrow he'd have another driver. If not Jack, someone else would have to take over from her, although what on earth she'd tell Sadie...

Somehow she didn't think, 'He looked at me and I came over all inappropriate...' would go down at all well. She'd be lucky to keep the school run. But she'd have to take that risk. Better to lose her job than fall back into a pit it had taken her months, years, to climb out of.

'Want to come?' he said, jerking her back to the here and now.

'To Paris. With you?'

'The alternative is being at James's beck and call.'

'Oh.'

What was that about being careful what you wished for? Although, if it meant she could keep this job for another day...

'Well, great!'

He wasn't fooled for a minute. 'He's not a soft touch like me, Diana. You'd probably be advised to bring a packed lunch,' he said. And then he smiled.

Not the mask smile. Not the meaningless one that had so annoyed her when he'd used it to reduce a careless shop a.s.sistant to slavery. But the one that spoke directly to her, that said, 'We are connected, you and I. Deny it all you want, but you know the truth.'

It took her good intentions, all her common sense and heated them to dust, blew them away, leaving her momentarily struggling for breath.

'I brought a packed lunch today,' she said. 'I was going to sit on the harbour wall and share it with the seagulls.'

'Were you? Well, the day is a long way from over. Maybe we could do that later.'

We...

'It won't be long,' Jeff said, rejoining them before she could say anything. Just as well. For the second time that day she was lost for words. That had to be a record...'Do you want to clear up any final details on the contract while we're waiting?'

'I'm really quite happy with it,' Zahir replied, 'but, Metcalfe had a few queries.' He held out his hand for the folder she'd put on the table in front of her. She handed them over without a word and Zahir extracted a single sheet of paper from the file and offered it to the other man. 'If we can iron out these few details, keep her happy, you can have your office print up the final version and I'll sign it before I leave.'

Jeff glanced at the figures, then, thoughtfully, at her. She gripped her lower lip between her teeth to keep it tightly closed.

'There's no kidding you, is there?' he said with a wry grin in her direction. 'If I conceded the first three without an argument, will you consider splitting the difference on the management fee?'

Zahir rescued her, holding up a hand as if to silence her. 'Don't be hard on the man, Diana. That's fair.' Then, offering the hand to Jeff, 'We have a deal.'

If Diana had felt any concern about Zahir's intentions, Jeff's broad smile quickly rea.s.sured her.

'I'll fly out to Nadira next week to set things in motion, Zahir,' he said. Then, turning to her, 'Will I see you there, Diana?'

She'd just picked up her gla.s.s and taken a swallow of water, so Zahir answered for her.

'I'm hoping Diana will accept my invitation to familiarize herself with the resort in the very near future. If you're there at the same time we'll be glad to repay your hospitality.'

She choked and the water took the only available exit and shot out of her nose.

Gasping, shaking her head, completely unable to speak, she leapt to her feet and rushed off in the direction of the washroom.

Now what was he playing at?

Since she had no possible way of knowing, she concentrated on the practicalities of mopping the water from the front of her shirt while she regained her breath and her composure. Took her time about refastening the unravelling mess of her hair. Groped in her pocket for lipstick and came up empty. Remembered, too late, that she'd left it in her jacket pocket. Just as well; her lips had got her into enough trouble already without drawing unnecessary attention to them.

Finally, unable to put it off any longer, she returned to the terrace, where the two men were deep in a conversation involving boats.

Zahir looked up. 'Okay?'

'Fine. Thank you,' she said primly.

His only response was one of those quiet smiles that undid all the hard work of the last five minutes. At least with regard to breathing and composure.

It was all very well saying that he'd be in Paris tomorrow-and no, she couldn't possibly go with him-but she had the rest of today to get through before then.

And no escape.

The rest of lunch, however, proved uneventful since Zahir was more interested in what Jeff had to say than in winding her up. And, like an idiot, she actually found herself missing their dangerous exchanges.

Just how stupid could one woman get?

Afterwards, the two men set off to tour the marina and it was Jeff, not Zahir, who glanced back and said, 'Can we tempt you to join us, or are you more interested in the shops than boats?'

Freddy, Diana thought, would have been in his element amongst the boats. He loved going on river trips. And that was what they'd do this half-term. A jaunt up to Greenwich on the river to look at the Cutty Sark and the Maritime Museum. They could even take a ride on a narrow boat along the Regent's Ca.n.a.l to the Zoo.

She realised that they were waiting for her answer.

Or had she been waiting for Zahir to add his voice to the invitation? Encourage her to join them?

'The shops have it, every time,' she replied quickly, taking the wiser course and putting as much distance between them as possible.

The way things were going, he was bound to say something, give her one of those ironic looks that would leave her with an uncontrollable desire to push him into the harbour-and how would she explain that to Sadie?

'How long have I got?'

'How long do you need?' Zahir replied. Then, with a smile that suggested he knew exactly what was going on in her head, said, 'An hour should do it.'

She collected her wallet from the glove box, stuffed it into her trouser pocket and set off for the town centre. Although the possibility that she'd be able to afford anything in the small, exotic boutiques they'd pa.s.sed on their way down to the quay was totally nil, she'd enjoy the window-shopping. She might be short of spare cash, but she could dream.

But Sweethaven, she discovered, had more to offer than just designer boutiques and when she saw a real old-fashioned bookshop she pushed open the door and went inside.

She browsed for something for her father. Found a paperback thriller that she knew he'd love. Then she spotted a circular stand containing the small children's books that she'd loved as a child and, as she spun it, looking for something that Freddy would enjoy, she found herself face to face with a familiar t.i.tle in the fairy tale series.

She took it down, flipping through it, smiling at the remembered pictures, including the Prince, no longer a frog but respectably b.u.t.toned up to the neck in a fancy uniform as he stood beside the astonished princess.

On an impulse she picked it up, found another with every kind of nautical knot for Freddy, before realising that time was running out and hurrying back to the quayside car park. Zahir and Jeff were already there.

'I'm sorry...' she began as Jeff shook hands with Zahir, raised a hand to her and returned to his office.

'No problem. We've only just got here. Did you find anything exciting?' Then, seeing the name on the paper carrier she was holding, 'Books?'

She'd been going to give The Princess and the Frog to him, just to make him laugh. Quite suddenly, it didn't seem such a bright idea. 'They're children's books,' she said.

'Oh? Whose children?'

Tell him...

Tell him and see that look? The speculative You've-got-a-kid? look. The one that says, Whoa! Easy...

While she stood there, frozen, he took the carrier from her, opened it and took out the thriller and held it up. 'This is what you give children to read?'

She s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him. 'That's for my dad.'

He took another look in the bag and this time came up with the book of knots that she'd bought for Freddy. 'He's a sailor?'

'He was a taxi-driver. He had a stroke.'

That set him back. 'I'm sorry, Diana.'

'He's not an invalid.'

'But he can't drive?'

'No.'

He gave her a long measuring look, then took out the last book. And that made him smile. 'Oh, I get it. You wanted to check your version against the original.'

She shook her head. 'I was close enough, but when I saw it I thought of Ameerah,' she said, fingers crossed. 'Maybe she'd like it to go with her snow globe?'