Page 11 of The Tycoon's Shock Heir

‘Please don’t worry about me,’ he said, fastening the last button on his jacket. ‘I’m a big boy. I can take what they dish up and swallow it whole.’

He winked. He smiled. He put one hand on her shoulder. Her delicate, silken-skinned shoulder. He stepped a little closer and watched as her eyes did that widening thing that women always did—usually just before he leaned in for his first kiss...

And wouldn’t a kiss be the perfect way to start his evening with Ruby? Those gorgeous lips, that ivory skin, her lustrous hair... Hadn’t he been tempted from the moment he’d seen her? Hadn’t she shown that she was tempted too?

This could turn into the perfect night after all.

Oh, yes, he thought, and the stirring and hardening in his groin were now very obviously happening. There was only one thing left to do.

‘But it must hurt your mother—reading that,’ she said, turning her head.

He paused in mid-air, correcting himself and exiting the move swiftly. He’d been rebuffed. Well, well, well...

‘What my mother feels is no concern of yours or anyone else’s,’ he heard himself say. ‘I wish people would leave well alone.’

Colour rose like a scarlet tide over her cheeks and he instantly regretted his sharp tone.

Damn, that had been too harsh. Ruby didn’t seem like the gossipy type. And she was only being kind. And, worst of all, she was right. He knew his mother had been hurt by the press, and he knew he had no one to blame for that but himself.

But why couldn’t people worry about their own lives instead of raking all over his?

He reached out a hand—an involuntary gesture—but she muttered an apology under her breath and was already making her way back through the cabin. He watched her walk carefully, the red satin billowing out above her calves, swishing gently with each step, until he was almost hypnotised by the sight.

And then the plane bumped and dropped. And she stumbled. She reached out to grab at the nearest chair and held on to it for two long seconds. He could tell she was holding herself in pain. She didn’t utter a sound.

He rushed to her.

‘Are you OK?’

‘Perfectly, thanks,’ she said, keeping her eyes ahead and fixing that smile in place as she started to walk again.

‘I saw you stumble there. Is it your injury? I know that’s why you’re not dancing at the moment. Is everything OK?’

She raised her eyebrows and flicked him an as if you care glance. He deserved that.

‘I’m fine, thanks. I’m going to sit down now, if that’s OK.’

‘Ruby—hold up.’

She sat carefully in the seat, straightening her spine, and her bright smile popped back into place. He recognised that—smiling through pain. Everybody had a mask.

He sat in the seat opposite her. She tucked her knees to the left and pressed them together, sitting even straighter—a clearer Keep Back message he’d never seen.

‘What is it? Hip? Knee?’

‘It’s no big deal. It’s nearly healed.’

‘What happened?’

‘A fall. That’s all.’

‘Must have been some fall to have taken almost six months to heal.’

The bright smile was fixed in place. At least it looked like a smile, but it felt more as if she was pushing him back with a deadly weapon.

‘You know, I’ve had my fair share of injuries too,’ he said, when she didn’t reply. ‘I played rugby for years. I know that you might never have guessed, thanks to my boyish good looks, but I was a blindside flanker at St Andrew’s—when I was at university.’

He tilted his head and showed her the mashed ear that had formed after too many injuries. Luckily that and his broken nose were his only obvious disfigurements, but he’d lost count of the fractures and tears tucked beneath his clothes.

‘Blindside flanker...’ She looked away, sounding totally, politely uninterested. ‘Sounds like rhyming slang.’

‘I was about to be capped for England,’ he said, grinning through her cheeky little retort.

‘Really?’

At least that merited a second glance. He smiled, nodded, raised his eyebrows. Got you this time, he thought.

‘About to be? So what happened?’

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