Secret Surrender. Laura Martin

      Drew raised one dark, disbelieving brow. ‘No?’

      ‘No!’ Her cheeks felt hot. She surreptitiously placed long, manicured fingers against her skin and hoped to goodness he hadn’t noticed her flush of embarrassment.

      ‘Not a subject you wish to discuss, I see.’ Drew glanced across with an infuriating smile at Christy’s uncomfortable expression. ‘So why’s that? Either Conrad’s an abject failure in bed, or the poor devil hasn’t been given the opportunity to prove himself one way or the other. Which is it, Christy? I find I’m really quite intrigued.’

      ‘You’re a coarse rat, aren’t you?’ she shot back angrily, turning towards him. ‘And downright disgusting! And if you imagine for one second that I would even begin to reveal parts of my personal life to you, you’re——’

      ‘You’ve revealed more than aspects of your personal life to me—or has that rather passionate moment in time slipped from your memory?’ he asked, with deliberate bluntness.

      So, just a few minutes into the weekend and he had already decided to throw that at her! She stared sideways as the Ferrari overtook a black taxi cab and forced herself to keep cool. ‘I cut all memory of that great mistake from my mind the moment I left the hotel bedroom!’ she informed him icily. ‘As far as I’m concerned it was a totally forgettable experience!’

      Drew turned and cast observant blue eyes over Christy’s flushed, angry face. ‘So why are you so uptight, then? Tell me that.’

      Forty-eight hours of this? Christy thought angrily. I’m going to go mad at least a dozen times over! ‘I’m not uptight!’ she snapped haughtily. ‘And… and——’ she steeled herself ‘—and if you think that the fact that we had brief, unmeaning sex once three years ago has any bearing now on how I feel, then your ego is bigger than I estimated! Look, I’ll make it plain now, shall I, Mr Michaels?’ she added with force. ‘I’m here because I’ve signed a contract for this series and under the terms of that ludicrous piece of paper I have to undertake to interview you. I am a professional and, as much as I would prefer to be doing other things, such as spring-cleaning my house, shopping for mundane items, or even washing my hair, I will endeavour to carry out the terms of my contract to the full. However, in no area of small print does it say that I have to like the people I interview. I will of course be civil at all times——’

      ‘Civil?’ He laughed out loud, filling the confined interior of the car with an infectious sound that in any other circumstances would have been incredibly pleasing.

      Christy turned her head away, annoyed beyond belief that he should be so genuinely amused, so unperturbed by what she had just said. She hadn’t wanted to refer to that time, but to allow him to think for just one moment that what had happened then did in any way mean anything to her…

      She took a deep breath, refusing to acknowledge for even a second that Drew Michaels looked more gorgeous than ever, when his eyes crinkled with laughter and his mouth broadened to reveal strong, incredibly white teeth.

      ‘Well, I must say,’ he continued when his mirth had subsided a little, ‘that I’m looking forward to seeing you when you’re really angry. Will a mere man survive the wrath of Christy King, do you suppose?’

      ‘I will of course be civil,’ she continued determinedly, keeping her gaze fixed out of the sidewindow, ‘but you will be sorely disappointed if you hope for any sort of atmosphere, other than——’

      ‘OK. OK, I get the picture.’ Drew changed through the gears and turned off a busy main road. ‘You’re spending time with me under sufferance and if I expect the same sort of response as last time——’

      ‘You’re going to be sorely disappointed!’ Christy finished for him in crisp tones. ‘I never make the same mistake twice, Mr Michaels; you want to remember that.’

      ‘You don’t consider this a mistake, then—agreeing to spend two days solely in my company?’ he enquired tauntingly.

      She felt a lurch of trepidation and knew instantly that it was a mistake, and a very big one at that. God, she had been an absolute fool to imagine for one moment that she could get the better of this man. ‘Wwhy should I?’ she managed carelessly. ‘As I made plain before, I’m here to do——’

      ‘Yes. I know.’ He turned and curved his lips into a contemptuous smile. ‘You’re here to do a job.’

      ‘Where exactly are we going?’

      They had been travelling for some miles. The question of her destination hadn’t occurred to her before now—she had been too busy fuming over all that he had said. But earlier this morning it had been the first thing she had promised herself she would ask.

      ‘Wait and see.’ He reached forward and pressed the car’s CD player into action.

      ‘And if I don’t wish to?’ Christy replied stiffly, trying her best to be heard above the thumping, incessant beat of heavy rock, which was reverberating throughout the car’s suddenly claustrophobic interior. ‘I would like to know where we’re going now.’

      ‘Well, you’ll just have to wait to find out, because right at this moment I don’t care to enlighten you.’ He glanced carelessly across and threw her a glittering look. ‘Let’s just keep it as a surprise, shall we?’

      As the miles passed, Christy became more and more intrigued as to where Drew Michaels was driving them both. All the reasonable, most likely possibilities were knocked off her mental list one by one, and as the Ferrari began to make its way along a dusty track she had to fight against her natural curiosity and feign complete and utter uninterest. After Drew’s last remark, she had decided that unless speech was absolutely necessary she would play dumb all the way. Besides, battling against the music would have been almost impossible anyway. And after all, what did it matter where they were going? she thought irritably. If he wanted to play silly little games then that was up to him…

      The light aircraft looked too small and too fragile. Christy sat staring at it through the windscreen of the parked Ferrari and wondered if Drew Michaels was enjoying the effects of producing this, his trump card.

      ‘Come along, Miss King, time to get out. I have your bag and your equipment.’

      She swallowed with difficulty, aware that her throat had suddenly turned as dry as a desert, and immediately began to rummage in her handbag. ‘I…I just need to fix my face.’ With shaking hands she fumbled for the soft coral lipstick she had chosen to wear with her outfit and attempted to look as if she meant what she said.

      Drew heaved an exasperated sigh. ‘Your lips look perfect, your face looks perfect, in fact your whole body looks absolutely gorgeous, as you very well know. Now forget your face and hurry up! I want to get going before the weather changes. The forecast isn’t too good for later on today…’

      Christy listened to the last sentence with a sinking heart, immediately visualising the prospect of flying goodness knew where in a flimsy light aircraft with thunder and lightning and wind and turbulence and all the other awful possibilities that always sprang to mind whenever the prospect of flying loomed into view.

      Did he know how much she detested it? she wondered, as she doggedly began powdering her nose. Was he really planning to take her up in the sky in that thing, simply to get his own back, to make her suffer?

      The small round compact mirror reflected her sudden pale complexion. Christy snapped it shut and glanced up into his face, her large violet eyes wide with sudden anxiety. What to do? Refuse point-blank without an explanation? Tell him? She shook her head involuntarily. And give him the ammunition to parade that weakness in front of her? She glanced over to the stationary aircraft. If only it hadn’t been so small. Getting into jumbo jets had taken her two years of determined self-will and discipline; only recently had she started to feel any amount of confidence about trusting herself to the skies. But in this thing?

      ‘Am I allowed to know where you plan to take me now?’ she asked in a voice that