Flight Of Fantasy

by Parv, Valerie

  “You are jealous, aren’t you?” Slade mocked

  About the Author

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  Copyright

  “You are jealous, aren’t you?” Slade mocked

  “Of course not,” Eden replied, shaking her head. “But I resent you having one rule for yourself and another for me.”

  “Then I must disabuse you of any such notion. For the duration of this trip, you’re my wife and I shall act accordingly.”

  A tremor swept through Eden. “H-how do you mean?”

  “I mean that the only woman I shall favor with my kisses will be you.”

  Valerle Parv was a successful journalist and nonfiction writer until she began writing for Harlequin Mills & Boon in 1982. Born in Shropshire, England, she grew up in Australia and now lives with her cartoonist husband and their cat—the office manager—in Sydney, New South Wales. She is a keen futurist, a Star Trek enthusiast, and her interests include traveling, restoring dollhouses and entertaining friends. Writing romance novels affirms her belief in love and happy endings.

  Flight of Fantasy

  Valerie Parv

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  CHAPTER ONE

  EDEN LYLE cupped a band over her free ear, straining to hear the telephone over the hubbub in the airport departure lounge. Suddenly her unfocused gaze was caught and held by an arresting figure striding purposefully through the throng.

  ‘It can’t be,’ she murmured.

  ‘Can’t be who?’ came the ungrammatical response down the line.

  Eden dragged her attention back to her call. ‘I thought I saw my boss a moment ago.’

  Fiona’s chuckle crackled between them. ‘What would Slade Benedict be doing at Hobart Airport? I thought he was back at your office breaking in his new production assistant.’

  ‘You mean his new male assistant,’ Eden said with heavy emphasis. Her shoulder-length ash-brown hair fell forward, hiding the hurt which sprang into her amethyst eyes. It was hard to accept that Slade had brought in a man from outside his corporate communications company to fill the job she had worked towards for months.

  ‘Hey, I thought this trip was supposed to cheer you up. Forget chauvinistic Mr Benedict.’

  Eden’s sigh travelled down the phone. ‘You’re right as usual.’ Both of them knew how much Eden needed this break. Nothing had gone right lately, and now the pattern seemed set to continue. Only one flight was leaving Hobart this morning. Was Slade planning to be on it? ‘What is he doing here?’ she voiced her misgivings.

  ‘He might be meeting someone off the Melbourne flight,’ Fiona reasoned, trying to defuse the tension in Eden’s voice.

  Although she murmured agreement, Eden’s eyes remained fixed on the man. It probably wasn’t Slade at all. The fact that he stood a head taller than the people around him and his wide shoulders strained the impeccable lines of a designer business suit didn’t mean it was her boss. Lots of men were tall and broad.

  But they didn’t all move with the lithe grace of a predator stalking its terrain, she thought. The easy confidence of the man’s movements was disburbingly familiar, as was his gesture when he lifted a long-fingered hand to brush a strand of charcoal hair back behind one ear.

  ‘Eden, are you still there?’

  At Fiona’s sharp tone, she made an effort to concentrate on the call which she had initiated, after all. ‘Yes, I’m still here. I wanted to be sure that Mum has settled down all right. Just lately, I’ve had the feeling that something’s bothering her, but she can’t or won’t tell me what it is.’

  Fiona sighed. ‘Whatever it is, she’ll tell you when she’s ready. Now stop worrying. Shepherd House is the best place she could possibly be. I know, I worked there myself for a time and they have tons of expertise in genetic problems like your mother’s. Believe me, they’ll take excellent care of Peggy.’

  ‘I don’t want her to be unhappy. I know we haven’t always been as close as I’d like but...’

  ‘But she’d be even less happy if you don’t take this holiday,’ Fiona insisted. ‘Do you think she doesn’t know what a burden she’s become to you? Maybe that’s what she’s been trying to tell you.’

  ‘She isn’t a burden,’ Eden denied hotly. ‘Although she’s a little difficult at times, she’s still my mother and I want the best for her.’

  ‘As I’m sure she appreciates. But if the roles were reversed wouldn’t you want to give your daughter a break if you could?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Eden hadn’t considered it from her mother’s point of view. Given Peggy’s sometimes over-possessive behaviour, it had come as a surprise when she insisted that a small legacy be used to pay for a spell in a nursing home while Eden took a much needed holiday. Fiona had reduced her fees to the bare minimum, but paying her to look after Peggy during the day left nothing over for holidays, far less pay for full-time care while Eden went away.

  ‘You’ve been so good to us, Fiona,’ she said, her voice catching.

  ‘Get away with you.’ Fiona’s Scottish brogue coloured her voice, betraying her emotions. ‘Your mother was a pleasure to look after.’

  ‘We’ll miss you,’ Eden added. ‘Don’t forget to send us a postcard from Scotland.’

  ‘I’ll miss you, too.’ The nurse was taking a holiday of her own to visit relatives in her birthplace. ‘Send me a card yourself, if you aren’t too involved with some gorgeous Queensland hunk.’

  ‘Fat chance,’ Eden laughed, but felt a pang as she hung up the phone. She had tried romance only once, with a man she’d met through work. Joshua Robinson had seemed like the ideal man for her, tender yet strong, and lots of fun to be with.

  Their dates had been limited to the times she could afford to pay Fiona for after-hours care for her mother. Joshua didn’t seem to mind, telling her how much he admired what she was doing for Peggy. ‘There aren’t many girls like you, Eden,’ he had told her admiringly.

  He was right in a sense. Not many girls had her problems to cope with. When Joshua found out what they were, the relationship had come to a sudden end.

  Anguish darkened her eyes. Telling herself she was better off without him didn’t help. The memories of the good times were too powerful. She’d been so sure of him.

  Just goes to show how little I know about love, she told herself, trying for flippancy and failing miserably. Darn it, Joshua’s rejection still hurt. He had no right to offer her a shining view of a shared future then make it conditional on her being perfect. Even assuring Joshua that her mother’s illness always skipped a generation hadn’t helped.

  He didn’t love her enough to accept her as she was. There it was in a nutshell. Maybe all men were like Joshua and her father, who had left the family while Eden was still a teenager, before her mother’s illness became apparent. He had missed the worst of Peggy’s gradual decline, which had only recently led to her requiring full-time nursing. If he couldn’t cope with Peggy’s possessive nature before she became ill he wouldn’t have fared much better afterwards, Eden acknowledged.

  Men! If they all required perfection from their women, she was probably better off without them. And that definitely included Slade Benedict, she resolved.

  Nevertheless, she found herself scanning the crowd for a broad-shouldered man, telling herself it wa
s only to prove that he was a total stranger. To her mild chagrin, there was no sign of him.

  There was another surprise in store for her at the check-in counter when she handed over her suitcase and received her boarding pass. ‘There must be some mistake,’ she said to the attendant. ‘According to this, I’ve been allocated a seat in first class.’

  The man glanced at the pass and back to his computer screen, punching keys with deft fingers. ‘No mistake, Miss Lyle. Everything’s in order. Enjoy your flight.’

  ‘But...’

  Behind her, the queue was lengthening and people stirred restively. A suitcase was dumped on to the check-point beside her, giving her little option but to move away from the counter, clutching the pass.

  She should be pleased to have been moved up into first class. The fare was more than double what she’d paid for her excursion ticket and she’d been charged no more. All the same, uneasiness etched a frown into the alabaster skin of her forehead, drawing curious glances from the people who eddied around her.

  There was also admiration in the looks. Her romantic, softly curving figure was set off to perfection in a new turquoise-spotted dress with matching white crop-topped jacket, a pert spotted hanky spilling from the breast pocket.

  She had been reluctant to spend the money for the outfit but now felt relieved. At least she wouldn’t look out of place among the first-class passengers. That was it! The economy section must have been overbooked, forcing the airline to upgrade some of the passengers. It was probably this very outfit which had prompted them to choose her.

  Relieved that she had solved the puzzle, she spun around, intending to return to the counter and thank the obliging clerk, only to cannon into a broad, masculine body.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasped as steely fingers clamped around her upper arms to steady her. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

  ‘As it happens, you’re just the woman I’m looking for.’

  A gasp tore from her throat as she recognised the voice and looked up into a pair of all too familiar grey-green eyes. She was so close that she could see the tracery of yellow lines which went from the pupils to the outer edges of his irises like the spokes of a wheel. The effect was mesmerising.

  The thought that she was the woman he was looking for left her momentarily speechless, until she realised he meant it in a business sense. Fool, she chided herself. Why else would a man like him want her? ‘Slade... I mean, Mr Benedict...’ she muttered when she finally summoned her voice.

  ‘Slade will do in the circumstances,’ he demurred.

  In what circumstances? Had she left something vital undone at the office?

  He still held her in a steadying grip, his long fingers firm around her arms. The heat travelled through her skin as if it had been touched by a branding iron. Without putting up an unseemly struggle she couldn’t twist free, so she willed herself to calmness. ‘I’m leaving in half an hour for the Sunshine Coast.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do?’ As the words tumbled out she cursed her own stupidity. Of course he knew. He had approved her request for leave. She was annoyed by her own responses. He might be all-powerful over his employees but he had no right to detain her now, when her time was her own.

  ‘You said you were looking for me?’ she prompted, her tone cool to indicate that she didn’t welcome his intrusion.

  He glanced at the boarding pass she still clutched in nerveless fingers. As if she hadn’t spoken, he nodded tautly. ‘You’ve checked in already? Good. Let’s go somewhere we can talk.’

  Releasing her at last, he turned away as if fully expecting her to follow him. Her annoyance grew and she stood her ground. ‘Did I leave something unfinished at the office?’

  The question caught him by surprise. ‘Not that I know of.’ But at least he stood still, regarding her with ill-concealed impatience.

  ‘Then why do we need to talk? If it’s about the promotion, I’ve already apologised for what I said.’

  He looked puzzled, then annoyed. But he couldn’t have forgotten her foolish outburst after she learned that he had appointed a man from outside the company to fill the production vacancy.

  She had been counting on the promotion to provide a much needed salary increase to give her mother a few extra luxuries. To have the job go to a man who didn’t even work for Benedict Communications had come as a bitter blow. She had said as much to her co-worker when the decision was announced.

  ‘Our male chauvinist boss strikes again,’ Denise, the researcher who worked with Eden, had responded as they helped themselves to coffee from the dispenser.

  Spooning sugar into her cup, Eden had regarded Denise with disbelief. ‘You don’t think he overlooked me because I’m female?’

  Denise shrugged. ‘What other reason can there be? You have all the necessary qualifications. You’ve filled in as an assistant producer when someone’s ill or on holiday, and you have the seniority. As far as I can tell, your only flaw is your sex.’

  ‘But that sort of discrimination is illegal.’

  ‘Tell that to our fearless leader. You’ll notice there’s a dearth of female talent in the top echelons of his empire.’

  Eden sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘I hadn’t noticed, but you’re right.’

  “Therefore, Slade Benedict is allergic to putting women into top jobs.’

  ‘He certainly isn’t allergic to women,’ Eden pointed out. In the social columns, Slade was regularly paired with some famous beauty or other.

  ‘Too true, but in the bedroom, not the boardroom.’

  Denise’s irreverence was already making Eden feel better. ‘Slade Benedict prefers his women in the bedroom rather than the boardroom.’ She savoured the phrase. Since she couldn’t change her sex, it was less hurtful than being denied promotion because she wasn’t good enough.

  ‘It would be enlightening to know on what grounds you base your assessment,’ came a chilly voice close behind her.

  Denise’s appalled expression told Eden not only that Slade was there, but that he had heard every word.

  ‘I—er—none, really,’ she dissembled.

  She half turned to find him leaning against the wall with apparent indolence, his arms crossed over his broad chest. The seeming casualness of the pose was belied by the challenging fire which flashed in his grey eyes.

  He was waiting for her to back her accusation of his sexism with facts, but she had none. Backing down wouldn’t help either, instinct told her. She had got herself into this so there was nothing for it but to brazen it out.

  ‘We were discussing the lack of females in the top ranks of the firm,’ she said, unconsciously straightening to her full five feet seven inches. It still left her a good four inches short of meeting him eyeball to eyeball.

  Grudging respect flitted across his face before his gaze hardened. ‘Whom I appoint to my management team is hardly your concern, Miss Lyle. I presume this has something to do with your missing out on the production appointment?’

  She felt the ground giving way beneath her but had come too far to retreat now. ‘Yes, it does. My qualifications are the equal of those of the man you appointed to the job.’

  ‘So you’ve decided that I rejected you because you’re a woman.’ His blatantly appraising gaze left her in no doubt that he was well aware of the fact, and she felt heat rising into her face. The assessment was so flagrantly sexual that her anger flared. How dared he treat her so disrespectfully?

  She opened her mouth to protest but the wind was taken out of her sails when he cut across her. ‘I see you object to being judged on the basis of your sex. Yet that’s precisely what you were doing to me a moment ago, was it not?’

  It was true, she had been judging him, not on the facts but on pure hearsay. ‘You’re right and I apologise,’ she said unreservedly.

  ‘Accepted,’ he said evenly. ‘I approved your application for leave this morning, you’ll be glad to hear.’

  ‘I hope it isn’t an inco
nvenient time for me to go,’ she said, seizing on the change of subject. ‘I’m taking a package holiday to the Sunshine Coast and the choice of departure dates is limited.’

  ‘Good, good,’ he dismissed the trivial details impatiently, then fixed her with a penetrating look. ‘Use the time to think things through and you’ll realise I made the right decision about the promotion. You’re a capable, enthusiastic researcher but it takes a lot more to make an assistant producer. Maturity and judgement for a start. Maybe in a year or two you’ll have attained them.’

  He strode off towards the executive offices, leaving Denise staring open-mouthed after him. She hadn’t dared to speak after he joined them, and now gave Eden a shocked look. ‘I’m sorry it was my smart remark which got you into trouble.’

  ‘It isn’t your fault. I didn’t have to repeat it,’ she said with great fairness. She was still smarting from the frankly sexual way he had appraised her. Or was it her own instinctive reaction which shocked her?

  Even while raging at his behaviour, some part of her had responded to it with chemical vibrancy. It was as if he had flipped a switch to ‘on’ deep inside her, setting hundreds of nerve-endings pulsating in sympathetic resonance.

  He had turned her on. The evocative phrase was the only one which fitted her reaction, yet she refused to believe she could feel anything but fury towards him. He hadn’t denied promoting men rather than women to the top jobs in his company. If anything, his behaviour had confirmed his view of women as sex objects.

  She had gone home that night and taken out her impotent rage on the housework, polishing floors with the same savage intensity that she would have liked to apply to removing the smug expression from his handsome features.

  If he knew how he had affected her, he had given no sign of it, accepting her apology at face value and treating her much the same as always. Which was to say with businesslike coolness, until she left to go on holiday. And now he wanted to go somewhere to talk? ‘I can’t,’ she denied. ‘My plane...’