She turned suddenly, sensing him, perhaps. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to cancel your next meeting. I didn’t think things th—’
‘It’s okay. It can be fixed.’
She was fingering the strap of her bag and then her eyes widened. ‘At least the traffic’s not too bad.’
The driver braked suddenly and they pitched forward in perfect unison. She caught his eye, started to giggle and then he was chuckling too. He motioned through the window. ‘We’d have been quicker on bicycles.’
She pulled a face. ‘I’d never cycle in London—it’s far too dangerous!’
‘So many stationary cars! Very dangerous!’
She mock-scowled. ‘It is dangerous. They’re putting in cycle lanes but London’s a long way behind Amsterdam.’
She was right about that. She was obviously familiar with his city. He shifted in his seat. ‘So... I’m intrigued! You have a Dutch name but no trace of an accent...’
‘Ash and I grew up in London.’
‘Where’s your family from, originally?’ He checked himself. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, that is.’
‘My father’s family is from Texel.’
‘I have a beach house there...’ His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to share that, or the story about his childhood visit to the planetarium at Franeker, but there was something about her that drew him in, made words fall from his mouth. He’d have to be more careful.
‘We used to spend our summers there.’ Her smile was a little wistful. ‘It’s a lovely place.’
‘And your mother’s family—where are they from?’
‘England.’ She faltered. ‘Actually, I wonder if talking about my family is altogether appropriate.’ She pressed her lips together, blushed a little. ‘You’re about to go into a business meeting with my brother.’
He cursed silently. He hadn’t meant to make her feel uncomfortable. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I was only making conversation.’
She dropped her gaze to her hands, twisting the ring she wore on her thumb. Loose strands of hair grazed the soft hollows beneath her cheekbones. She was undeniably lovely. Looking at her face, seeing the way the light danced in her eyes when she was talking, was so much better than staring out of the window.
‘Can I ask you about yourself, then?’
She looked up and shot him a little smile. ‘What do you want to know...?’
‘I’m wondering what you do when you’re not running diplomatic errands.’
Her eyes clouded momentarily and then her expression settled. ‘I’m a writer.’
A muscle in his jaw twitched involuntarily. She didn’t seem to have the sharp elbows of a newshound, but he’d have to be careful—for Bram’s sake. He drew a steadying breath and managed an interested smile. ‘Of books? Or are you a journalist?’
‘I write magazine articles and features. Blog posts. A bit of copywriting.’ She smiled. ‘There’s no sign of a book yet...’
He pressed a finger to his temple. ‘What sort of features?’
‘A mixture.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘Popular culture, art, design, interiors...that kind of thing.’
Relief loosened his joints. The arts were a million miles from the gutter where the paparazzi and their cronies hung about. ‘So, what are you working on at the moment?’
She angled herself towards him on the seat, pulling one leg up under the other. ‘Have you heard of Dilly and Daisy?’
Her eyes were wide and full of light. It was hard not to get lost in them.
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Okay, well, the D&D brand is all about sustainable fashion; it’s how they made their name. But now they’re moving into homeware—so that’s furnishing fabrics, cushions, cookware...’
‘Wow!’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘I had no idea that’s what homeware was...’
Her eyes narrowed momentarily, and then she burst out laughing, rocking forward, hands over her mouth, and it was as if all the tiny tensions orbiting around them had suddenly vanished. Then he was laughing too, right from the bottom of his belly; he couldn’t remember laughing like that for the longest time.
When she’d finally gathered herself, her eyes were still glistening with smiles. She put her hand on his arm. ‘I can’t believe I was actually explaining homeware! I’m so sorry. It must be nerves...’
Her eyes held his through an endless moment, a moment he couldn’t shake himself out of, and then she seemed to notice that her hand was still resting on his arm and she pulled it away quickly, her cheeks colouring.
He looked down, felt his heart thumping. It had been a spontaneous gesture—a friendly touch, nothing more—but then it had turned into something else and he’d felt that cosmic pull, like planets drawing together. Dangerous! Admiring Mia’s eyes and the way she smiled was one thing, but it had to stop there. He’d been sucked into the vortex before and he was never going there again.
She was tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears. ‘Anyway, I’m doing a piece about them—how they started, their design influences, how they see things progressing... I interviewed them yesterday.’ She shrugged a little. ‘But I suppose you know how that goes. You must get mobbed by tech writers all the time.’
She had to be joking. Putting himself into the hands of a journalist was the last thing he’d ever do. ‘No. I don’t do interviews.’ He tried to keep his gaze level. ‘MolTec has a PR department; no one needs to talk to me.’
It was a relief to be out in the fresh air and sunshine. Accompanying Theo to Greenwich hadn’t exactly been part of her plan, but when he’d said, ‘I’ll order us a car,’ she hadn’t wanted to object. He had changed his plans for Ash, after all.
And the car had been nice and roomy, and the journey had been fun—at least up to the moment when she’d put her hand on his arm. She hadn’t meant anything by it but there’d been that long moment, something in his eyes that had made her senses swim. She’d felt disorientated, unsure of the signals she was
