The Millionaire Tycoon's English Rose

accident.

‘No, just Sandro. He’s jumping out of a plane, but I have to be there to talk to the people on the ground- negotiations, sponsorship, etcetera.’

‘The two of you are as insane as each other.’

‘Well, we told you that,’ she said patiently. ‘It’s the whole point. Anyway, like you said, you have no opinions one way or the other.’

‘I never said anything as daft as that.’

‘Yes, you did. You also said it was none of your business.’

After a moment he managed to say, ‘On second thoughts, I can bear, with fortitude, the sight of Sandro risking his neck.’

She chuckled, understanding perfectly.

‘Never mind about Sandro,’ she said.

‘I don’t. I don’t think about him from one hour to the next.’ Then he added thoughtlessly, ‘Mind you, I might wish he were less good-looking.’

‘Is he good-looking?’ she demanded with suspicious eagerness. ‘Oh, do tell me, because I’ve always wondered. Is he really, really handsome?’

Francesco ground his teeth. ‘I walked right into that, didn’t I?’ he asked.

‘Well, you were a little incautious,’ she teased. ‘Go on, tell me.’

‘No way. You know exactly what he looks like, because you got someone to tell you with the first meeting.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Yes, I do, because it’s what you did with me.’

There was a slight pause before she said, ‘What I did with you, and what I do with other people-well, they’re not the same thing at all.’

‘Are you going to tell me what that means?’ he asked cautiously.

‘With you, it mattered. Is it far to this place?’

‘Not long now,’ he said, accepting her change of subject. He needed time to think. Things were moving with dizzying speed.

After an hour’s drive they reached the little airfield, already busy with several private planes. At the offices they were met by a small crowd. Amid the introductions Francesco gained an impression of a local journalist, a businessman considering becoming a backer and several charities who stood to gain from sponsorship.

‘Did you fix all this?’ Francesco asked.

‘Of course. This is my side of things.’

‘I’m impressed. But I always knew you were efficient.’

He concealed his relief that she had no thoughts of flying, and even allowed himself a moment of complacency at his own tact.

The pilot appeared with Sandro, already dressed up and strapped into his parachute. Behind him came another man, similarly dressed. This was Sandro’s skydiving partner.

‘We take off,’ Sandro said, ‘climb to about thirteen thousand feet and circle the airport twice before jumping.’

‘How far do you fall before opening the parachute?’ Celia wanted to know.

‘Down to about two and a half thousand feet,’ Sandro replied.

‘As low as that?’ Francesco queried in surprise.

‘Well, the whole point is to freefall as far as possible,’ the pilot said. ‘The parachute is just to break the fall at the last minute.’

‘Otherwise you’d be killed,’ Sandro observed cheerfully.

‘Which would seriously spoil your enjoyment of the next jump,’ Celia supplied, and they punched the air together.

The journalists thoroughly enjoyed this exchange, Francesco noted sourly.

‘Will you look after my dog for me?’ Sandro asked Celia.

‘Sure.’ She took the harness, but then found herself rather encumbered with two animals and her bag.

‘Give Jacko to me,’ Francesco said.

‘Good idea. You and he seem to be on each other’s wavelength.’

‘Now you’re just being fanciful,’ he said, half fondly, half in exasperation.

‘No, I’m not. He heard what you said about having his security snatched away, and he knows you understand him.’

Outwardly he dismissed her words. And yet it seemed to him that Jacko moved towards him willingly and sat close to his leg, as though contented.

I’m getting over-imaginative, he thought.

‘What’s happening now?’ Celia asked.

‘They’re walking away towards the aircraft. It’s just a tiny one, barely enough for the three of them-nearly there-someone’s taking a last look at the parachutes-the pilot’s climbing aboard and reaching back to help Sandro.’

Then he heard something that froze his blood. It was the softest possible sound, but it raised ghastly spectres, howling death and despair at him.

It was a sigh of envy.

He gave a sharp glance at Celia, hoping he’d imagined it, but there was no mistaking the way her head was thrown back, as though she could see up into the sky, or the look of ecstasy on her face.

Envy. Delight. Determination. All the things that would make a rational man bang his head against the nearest brick wall. And when he’d done that he would shoot himself, or jump off a cliff, whichever seemed most likely to promote health, happiness and sanity.

What he would not do was involve himself with this woman a second time. He would never again put it in her power to break his heart with her outrageous, wilful, insane, dotty-headed enthusiasms. That was out, finished, done with.

‘Are you all right?’ Celia asked, reaching for him in alarm.

‘Of course I am,’ he snapped. ‘Why?’

‘You’re trembling.’

‘No, just a bit chilly.’

‘It’s windy. They should have a good flight. What are they doing now?’

‘They’ve just closed the plane door-now they’re starting to move-gathering speed.’

‘I can hear the engine. They’ve left the ground, haven’t they?’

‘Yes, the plane is climbing-climbing-almost out of sight-’

‘But it’s coming back soon?’ she asked anxiously, almost like a child fearful of being denied a treat.

‘It’s coming back now, circling the airfield-it’s almost out of sight-lucky it’s a clear day-I can just make it out…’

His voice trailed off. When she could bear the silence no longer Celia squealed, ‘Well?’

‘I think Sandro and his partner are jumping now-yes, there they go!’

Way above him in the blue he could just make out the two men, leaving the aircraft together and going into freefall.

‘What are they doing?’ she cried, in the anguish of unbearable tension. ‘Have they opened their parachutes yet?’

‘No, they’re still holding on to each other-coming lower-lower-I can see them clearly now-they’re going to have to open up any minute-aren’t they?’

The hair-raising possibility of a last-minute disaster was there in his voice, and in the gasps from the crowd that turned to cheers as the men released each other and two parachutes opened, letting them glide gracefully earthwards.

‘They’ve landed,’ Francesco said. ‘They’re both safe.’

‘Wonderful!’ Celia rejoiced. ‘Now we’ve really got something spectacular to offer.’