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‘You left me no choice. You wouldn’t leave,’ she snapped. ‘And I didn’t ask you to come to my apartment, any more than I asked you to come here. Don’t sit—’ she added but it was too late. Trip had dropped down into the seat beside her.
She glared at him.
‘What do you think you’re doing? Did you not get the message?’
He shrugged and, despite her shock and rising irritation, her eyes tracked the movement of his shoulder and arm muscles.
‘I get so many emails,’ he said, misunderstanding her on purpose. ‘But I did hear on the grapevine that we were heading in the same direction and, as you know, I’m trying to be more responsible and measured, so taking one private jet instead of two seemed like a no-brainer.’
Lily blinked. Her mind was racing. How did he know which direction she was heading? She hadn’t told anyone that she was going to London except...
She felt her jaw tighten remembering how accommodating her mother had been earlier, letting her use the car and borrow the plane.
‘Is that what you said to my mother?’
His blue eyes rested on her face and she saw that he looked neither remorseful nor guilty—or any of the other countless emotions he should be feeling for his behaviour, past and present. ‘After you said you were leaving New York, I called her to get a few more details. Such a charming woman. Compassionate too. She’s very concerned about you.’ His gaze rested intently on her face. ‘Apparently you haven’t been yourself.’
A lump formed in her throat and for a moment she didn’t trust herself to speak. How could her mother betray her like that?
Obviously she’d been devastated when she’d heard that Trip was missing, presumed dead. Equally obviously she was glad he was alive, because that was how any normal person would react.
But there were other emotions too.
Guilt, because up until the moment he’d disappeared she’d been wishing all kinds of ills would fall upon him. And fury. A dull, pounding fury that he should be so reckless, so thoughtless, so utterly solipsistic. So yes, she hadn’t been herself.
‘I was worried about you,’ she said flatly. ‘Everyone was.’
‘Yeah, it’s really upsetting when the stock market has a major wobble.’ He stretched out his legs so that his thigh brushed against hers, not once but twice so that she knew it wasn’t an accident. Gritting her teeth, she jerked her leg away.
‘That’s not why most people were worried. It’s because they care about you.’
There was a small, prickling silence that made her skin sting. ‘And were you one of those people? The ones that cared about me.’
She looked up, caught the glitter in his eyes and felt her cheeks start to burn even though she certainly shouldn’t be feeling anything.
‘Is that why you haven’t been yourself?’
He shifted against the armrest but his gaze didn’t move from her face, the slow burn of those astonishingly blue eyes of his tearing into her, seeing more than she wanted him to see.
Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep, fortifying breath. ‘I’m not having this conversation with you, Trip. No, don’t speak. I don’t want to hear another word. I don’t need to know what weaselly things you said to my mother so you could hitch a ride. You’ve had your fun and now you need to leave.’
‘Can I speak now?’ Trip sat back in his seat. ‘Because I think you should know that isn’t going to be possible. In fact, it’s pretty much impossible given that I don’t have wings or a parachute and we appear to have taken off.’
‘What?’
Her head snapped round to the window and she stared through the glass in horror. Teterboro had disappeared. In its place was an endless, darkening blue sky.
She swallowed hard, then turned to face him. ‘You did that on purpose. You knew the plane was taking off and you distracted me.’
He shrugged. ‘I would have said something sooner, but you told me not to speak. I suppose we could ask the pilot to turn the plane around. It’s a bit diva-ish, but if that’s what you want to do. I’ll let you do the talking—’
And say what? she thought savagely. Her head was starting to pound, and she wanted to scream. But it wouldn’t alter things. There was no way she was going to ask the pilot to turn the plane around and Trip knew it.
She watched as he turned his head imperiously and one of the female stewards appeared at his elbow with almost comical speed. ‘I’d like two glasses of champagne.’
‘I don’t want a glass of champagne,’ she said through gritted teeth as the woman evaporated as swiftly as she’d appeared.
He raised one dark eyebrow. ‘What’s a celebration without champagne?’
