Addison Fox - The Manhattan Encounter

Isabella Magnini was a job, nothing more. He’d take care of her and see his responsibilities through and move on. It was what he did and it was how he lived his life. He’d built a structured, orderly world around himself that he controlled.

And he’d be damned if a frightened woman who’d discovered the potential to unleash hell changed any of that.

* * *

Isabella stayed where she’d been told and watched Liam through the sliding doors of one of Heathrow Airport’s many concourses. As he’d confirmed with his brother, he’d made good on his plan of hiring an armed escort to take them to the airport and was now thanking the man for his services.

The exchange was brief but it gave her the opportunity to observe him in action. The late morning rain coated the air a misty gray yet he stood out against it, as bright and vibrant as the sun.

The long, trim lines of his body captivated her, but it was something beyond the physical—something far more ephemeral—that drew her in as she traced his form with her eyes.

Competence shone from him in the simplest of actions. His quick handshake with their guard. The flash of his hand as he snagged his rolling suitcase. Even the quick flick of his wrist as he brushed drops of rain from his hair.

All of it bespoke of a man comfortable with himself and his surroundings, secure in who he was.

Was that what made leaders? No, she quickly amended, that’s what made conquerors.

The idea took root and she let it simmer as Liam walked closer, evaluating him through that new lens. Their elevator kiss the day before had certainly reinforced the notion and the events since—the quick, competent change in plans, the work with his brother back at headquarters, even the possessive order to stand inside the doors and wait for him when they’d arrived at the airport.

Here was a man used to giving orders he expected would be followed.

So why was she letting the simple fact that their elevator kiss meant nothing to him chafe at her like sandpaper on skin?

The thought had kept up a steady tattoo in her brain for the better part of the last day, even in the face of the very real—and shockingly present—danger she was in. Even worse, she’d spent a near-sleepless night focused on that while he looked fit and ready to conquer the day.

“Ready?”

She nodded and knew full well his question was meant to indicate their walk to security, so why did she feel something more? Something deeper at the question?

Was she ready?

She’d hidden from life for so long—had willingly buried herself in work and nothing else—that she’d missed out on so much. Her twenties, certainly, and if she kept it up her thirties would end up a blur as well. A blur of lab notes and beakers, computer analyses and charts and graphs that might calculate any number of things but couldn’t assuage how lonely she was.

She was ready for something more and now that the life she hadn’t put much stock in was in danger, she knew that more keenly than ever.

Liam took her suitcase in his free hand and gestured her forward with a tilt of the head. “We’ll wait in the captain’s lounge after we check in.”

She reached for the handle but he was already out of range and she took a few quick steps to catch up, her heels clicking on the tile. “What difference does it make once we pass through security?”

“I don’t want you out in the open.”

She knew the lounge he spoke of—it was a premium environment for premium fliers—but she’d never been there. “Isn’t that the whole point of going through security?”

He stopped and turned, the blue of his gaze penetrating as he waited for her to catch up. If she wasn’t mistaken—and her ability to read social cues meant her chances were only about fifty-fifty on being right—he looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I don’t like to fly. The quiet of the lounge helps me calm down before a flight.”

“Oh.”

He turned on his heel with the bags and continued on toward the snaking security line, his gait stiff.

A small smile she couldn’t quite hold back sprang to her lips and the spiral of tension holding her stomach in a tight fist loosened ever-so-slightly. Maybe the conquering hero had an Achilles’ heel or two after all.

To a mere mortal such as herself, it was an oddly comforting thought.

* * *

Whatever momentary lapse in judgment had caused her to think Liam human fled the moment they sat down in the captain’s lounge to await their flight. At least eight women had given him the once-over with their eyes in the one-hundred-yard jaunt from security to the club and the elegant hostess manning the front desk—who was old enough to be his mother—had flirted like a blushing school girl.

“Would you like something?” Liam settled their bags under their table and stopped to wait for her answer.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She snagged her tablet—the one she used for fun—from the depths of her purse and snapped open the cover.

“It’s a long flight and the food here’s better.”

“Please help yourself. I’ll wait for the plane.”

A strange expression flitted through his gaze before he seemed to think better of responding and headed for a wall-length counter filled with every sort of food imaginable.

The moment his gaze was averted, she appraised the counter full of food and knew she’d been hasty. Fresh fruit. Cookies. Even hot sandwiches filled the wall and her stomach let up an unladylike growl in indignation of being ignored.

She nearly gave in and followed him when a tall, statuesque woman sidling up to the counter filled her line of vision. The woman’s gaze was predatory and her wide mouth spread into a welcoming grin as she moved next to Liam. Isabella was too far away to hear the conversation but there was no way she was mistaken on the woman’s body language.

No, sir-ee.

Every line in the woman’s slender frame screamed out an invitation. And judging by the appreciative grin on Liam’s face, he didn’t mistake the offer.

Isabella refocused on her tablet and ignored the unfolding flirtation. She was Liam Steele’s client, nothing more. She had a problem and it was his job to fix it.

End of story.

The words on the screen jumbled in front of her eyes as her vision swam with the memories of their kiss and she blinked to refocus. Slowly, the chapter heading came back into view and she threw herself into the story of a roving space pirate and the female cantina owner determined to help him put his sketchy past behind him.

She’d been enjoying the story up to now, the author a personal favorite. In her mind’s eye, she’d fleshed out the big bad space pirate as a cross between Harrison Ford and Channing Tatum. How insulting, then, when he morphed in her mind to bear a striking resemblance to Liam.

Couldn’t her books even be off-limits?

With a resigned sigh—and a willingness to eat a portion of crow along with a fresh sandwich from the serving bar—she glanced up into Liam’s warm gaze.

“Problem?”

“Of course not. I just decided I was hungry after all. I’ll just go up and get something.”

“Then it’s a good thing I got you a sandwich and a banana.” He pulled a plate from behind his back, the promised sandwich filled to the brim with fresh-cut turkey, what appeared to be slices of pear and a wedge of soft cheese.

She took the proffered sandwich and fought the petty urge to go up and get something different. Good heavens, what was wrong with her? Her mother might have spent most of Isabella’s childhood thoroughly disengaged but even she’d managed to raise a child who was well-mannered and gracious.

Not to mention thankful when someone did something nice.

After she swallowed a bite, she set down her plate and turned to face Liam. “Thank you. The sandwich is delicious.”