His Irresistible Darling - Sarah Randall Page 0,103
my dignity, so I’d say we’re on first name terms, wouldn’t you? She raised her eyebrow and smiled.
Heidi nodded and returned her smile as she retreated towards the back of the jet.
Ana returned her stare out of the small window to look at the darkening sky, not that she could see much. It was quite a change from the weather in Rome.
After a few hair-raising moments of bad turbulence the plane finally landed and taxied to its stand.
She gathered her belongings and wrapped her new cashmere wrap around her shoulders, thankful for the gift from Alix. As she approached the doorway she was hit by a blast of frigid Yorkshire air and falling snow which was starting to stick to the ground. She snuggled into her wrap and stepped out, hoping to God that Alix had chosen warm, practical clothes for her. She laughed to herself; if you couldn’t trust a fashion designer to pick clothes for you, who could you trust!? Despite her fierce independence, even she wouldn’t have turned down a chivalrous offer of a coat from a gentleman round about now. If only.
“Welcome to Yorkshire Anastacia, have a lovely stay and thank you again for the tickets to London Fashion Week. My daughter will love it. We’ll wave to you.”
“No worries and you’re very welcome. I’ll see you soon Heidi. Safe flying.” She said, giving a quick hug.
It had been lovely and warm in Rome, even in December. She didn’t like cold weather and neither did her favourite Jimmy Choo’s.
“Stay, George.”
Matt recklessly abandoned the heap of metal affectionately known by all at the stud farm as ‘the hummer’ and rushed into the arrivals hall. He was late. He hated being late for anything; the upshot of being rapped over the knuckles with a ruler by the nuns at his strict Catholic school. Being late was a sign of tardiness. Still, on the plus side, he had to smile at the thought of keeping Miss Tall and Snooty waiting around the arrivals hall and having to mill about with the locals. Ah well, every cloud…
The airport was packed with people arriving home. But then what did you expect a few days before Christmas?
He stood back and held open the doors for an elderly couple struggling to push their heavy cases on a trolley and he felt compelled to help them into a waiting taxi. He didn’t even mutter a curse when one of the heavy cases dropped onto his foot and instead smiled through gritted teeth and wished them a Merry Christmas as they went on their way. At least Mrs Henderson would be proud.
He dodged around groups of festive travellers and flinched at the sight of what looked like a young father abandoning his travel bag as he dropped to his knees, his welcoming arms sweeping up two young children in a hearty embrace that made them giggle in delight before returning them to their feet to take their smiling mother’s face in both of his hands to kiss her. Matt forced his eyes away from the newly reunited family and absently rubbed at his chest to try to ease the now familiar ache that witnessing such tender scenes still caused, muttering apologies as he bumped into yet another embracing couple. While scanning faces in the crowd a flash of red caught his eye.
He approached her from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. “Come on, this way.”
She spun around and Matt momentarily forgot his own name.
The picture he’d drooled over earlier did not do her justice. No clever photo editing would ever be needed.
At her blank look he finally recovered and added, “Quickly, I’m double-parked.”
“Oh, hi there. Can I help you? Did you want an autograph?” she asked, dropping her bag to the floor and holding out her hand to him.
She was English, not American as he’d mistakenly assumed, although he could detect a hint of an American influence on her accent.
Matt was vaguely aware that she’d asked him a question and was still waiting for a reply, holding her hand out and narrowing her eyes at him like he was an idiot and finally dropped her hand back to her side. Her smile dropped.
Say something you idiot, he berated himself. “This way.” He motioned randomly with his hand somewhere directly behind his shoulder before bending to pick up her bag so they could get moving.
“Sorry, who are you?” she enquired, bending with him to take a surprisingly strong grip on her bag handle.