Antarctic Affair

CHAPTER ONE

Miami airport was heaving with people.
Georgina stood silently for a moment while the crowds swirled around her,
trying to work out the direction of the check-in counters. She stared at the
display monitor through her fashionable black-rimmed spectacles that she’d
ordered just last week from Calvin Klein, squinting to read the gate number. It
looked like sixteen. She headed off, pulling her large Louis Vuitton suitcase
behind her. Thank heavens for expandable handles. Her over-packed handbag, made
by the same designer of course, was fastened on top, along with her precious
laptop. It would have been so much easier if she could have checked her luggage
straight through from London to Santiago, but on a whim she’d decided to spend
a night in Miami.

It was going to be a long flight to the
Chilean capital and she wished now she hadn’t worn her new sued high-heeled
boots, gorgeous as they were, without breaking them in first. They were
pinching her toes and probably giving her blisters. She had dressed carefully
this morning in a silvery-grey designer suit which pinched her in all the wrong
places. It was probably not the most sensible travel attire, but then first
impressions were everything. Her ample bosom, as she jokingly called it, had
been nicely contained when she’d been parading up and down the aisle in
Selfridges but with all the heaving and lugging of this heavy case filled with conservative
attire she’d probably never use, she felt dangerously close to bursting out at
any given moment.

A sharp feminine voice rose above the
general chatter in the airport lounge and interrupted her thoughts.

“Bastardo! I cannot believe you’re doing
this to me. To us!”

Georgina glanced behind her.
 
An angry, predatory-looking woman with dark,
cropped hair was standing with her hands on her hips, arguing with the tall man
in front of her. Georgina couldn’t see his face. The woman, however, looked
stunning in a white Armani business suit, which provided a striking contrast to
her olive complexion.

The man tried to pacify her. He had a
deep voice and spoke softly, “Look Cristina, I really don’t think now is the
time.”

“That’s just the problem! It’s never the
right time with you, is it?”

“Cristina...” He shook his head in
exasperation.

“So you are going to walk away, like
that, and it’s over. Is that what you’re telling me?”

The man sighed, “Cristina, we’ve been
through this before. You know how I feel.”

“No, caro. I don’t. You never tell me
how you feel. Why don’t you tell me now?” The woman’s voice rose a few
decibels.

Heavens, Georgina thought. Miss Armani
was getting more and more hysterical by the second. She knew she shouldn’t
watch, but it was hard not to.

The man didn’t answer. Instead he took
the brunette firmly by the arm and steered her over to the side of the room.

“Take your hands off me!” she demanded
loudly. A few more heads turned in their direction.

“Calm down, Cristina,” the man’s voice
was brusque and Georgina could tell by his stance that he was getting
angry.
 

She watched, fascinated, while the woman
let off a torrent of abuse, all in Italian, and then burst spectacularly into
tears. Finally she heard the man say, “Are you quite finished?” He handed her a
napkin from a nearby table and she noisily blew her nose. The man’s voice
dropped and Georgina struggled to hear what he was saying. He looked to be
comforting her though. He put a hand on her shoulder, and wiped a stray hair
from out of her eyes. In the next instant the woman threw her arms around the
man’s neck and hugged him passionately.

Georgina shook her head in amazement.
She was exhausted just watching. Thank God she had Charles. Calm, reasonable
Charles. She looked down at the diamond, glittering on her finger and thought
fondly of the man she was about to marry. He was perfect for her. Motivated,
intelligent and most important of all - stable. His ambition even outshone
hers. Yes, it was going to be a very successful union.

She closed her eyes and relived the
moment he’d proposed. They’d been at Los
Barriles
, a
trendy Spanish restaurant in the heart of London. He’d dropped the ring in her
champagne and she looked up when she heard the dull clunk as it hit the bottom
of the glass. Okay, so it was a bit cheesy, but then Charles wasn’t known for
his creativity. Charles was a businessman, through and through. Her Charles was
reliable, steadfast and heir to one of the most successful publishing empires
in London. She was one lucky girl. She slipped the ring off her finger,
remembering that her fingers always swelled on long haul flights and popped it
securely into the zipper purse sewn into her hand bag. It was quite safe there,
she never let the bag out of her sight.

The queue had diminished and Georgina
gratefully checked in her luggage. At least she didn’t have to lug that heavy
thing with her anymore, at least not until she got to Santiago. There she was
sure they’d have a tour bus or something to transport them to the hotel where
she would meet the expedition leader and the rest of the group, including the
photographer she was supposed to interview. Feeling a bit better about life in
general, she looked around for the glamorous girl and her boyfriend but they
were nowhere to be seen.

Georgina wondered round the departure
lounge, sipping a double espresso from a paper cup. She wished she could sit
down, but every chair in the place was taken. You’d think someone would stand
up and give her his seat, but no one offered despite her loud sighing and
pointed stares. Chivalry was indeed dead. She tried looking out of the wide
airport windows, but aeroplanes didn’t interest her and her thoughts kept
returning to the project at hand.

The timing on this one had been really
bad. Unfortunately with Muriel, the only other senior features writer, having
sprained her ankle the week before there was no other option.

Eric, her Editor’s voice echoed in her
ears. “Georgina you know there isn’t anyone else who can pull off a cover
feature on Taj Andrews. I need you.”

Talk about a guilt trip. But Georgina
couldn’t say no. The magazine was her life and she was in line for the upcoming
Assistant Editor position so she didn’t want to disappoint Eric. She had to
prove she was reliable, that she could handle an assignment like this. The
piece on Taj Andrews was a coup for the magazine. Eric had put his heart and
soul into setting it up. Apparently the enigmatic photographer didn’t give many
interviews. If she managed to pull off a best selling cover story, her position
would be assured. Charles would be so proud. And Eric was right, there was no
one else who they could send. The engagement party could wait a few weeks and
Charles would just have to manage without her at the book launch. It was almost
as if they had an unspoken agreement, her and Charles. Work first, relationship
second. It had always been that way between them.
 
On their first date Charles had spent an hour
on the phone doing business. He had been deeply apologetic and had certainly
made up for it afterwards, but the deal could not wait and work had come first.
 
A precedent had been set that day.

The flight to Santiago was called and
Georgina was one of the first in line. Once seated, she took out her laptop and
opened up her schedule. She hated wasting time and was planning on using the
flight to read through the biography on the photographer she was interviewing.
Muriel had emailed all the relevant documentation to her that morning which
she’d downloaded before she’d left the hotel, she just hadn’t had time to read
it yet.

“Excuse me, I think you’re in my seat,”
a male voice interrupted her thoughts.

She looked up. It was him, the man with
the hysterical girlfriend! She was sure of it. Her eyes took in the leather biker
jacket, the broad shoulders, the tanned, rugged face with more than a hint of
stubble, and locked with a pair of unwavering aquamarine eyes staring intently
back at her. Georgina was struck by the unusual colour, so vivid, like the
ocean. She couldn’t help but be mesmerised.

“Bastardo,” Georgina mumbled more to
herself than the stranger.

“Excuse me?” The man looked at her
oddly.

“Never mind.”
 
Georgina said hastily. What was she saying?
Get a grip, girl.

He was regarding her with interest. She
finally pulled herself together and cleared her throat.

“Um… this is row 19. What seat number are
you?”

The man checked his ticket.

“19b. This is me. You’re the window.”

“Oh, sorry. I must have misread the
ticket.” She closed her filofax and gathered up her laptop. She’d have to take
his word for it, ‘cos her ticket stump was now lying buried at the bottom of
her carry-on bag which was stuffed under her, or rather his seat.

“I can take the window if you like,” the
man said jokingly.
 

Georgina smiled briefly. The window was
the better seat, of course. She shifted over and opened her laptop again.

The man stashed his bag in the
compartment above and eased his tall frame into the chair beside her. His legs
are too long for the space, Georgina thought to herself as she watched him try
to get comfortable. She wondered briefly what had happened with Miss Armani.

She pulled down the screen over the
window, shutting out the bright sunlight.

The man glanced up. He frowned,
obviously annoyed at the sudden lack of view. Georgina pointed at her laptop
and smiled apologetically. “The glare on the screen...”

He nodded.

Georgina got back to work. Yes, he was
disarmingly attractive, but she had work to do. She couldn’t help but cast a
sideways glance at him from beneath her eyelashes. His eyes were shut and he
appeared to be resting. She studied him for a second. He really was magnificent
up close. He was tanned all over, with brown unruly hair, streaked with gold
that curled softly over his temples and ears. He had a strong jaw, a straight,
aquiline nose and a sensual mouth that she found hard not to stare at. There was
a certain unconventionality to him, the way he dressed, his wild hair, even the
way he sat. It was casual, but in a confident, devil-may-care kind of way. The
man definitely made her nervous, but she had no idea why. She felt awkward,
perhaps because she’d witnessed the scene between him and his girlfriend at the
airport. She felt like she knew something about him she wasn’t supposed to,
something personal. She decided she would just have to ignore him for the
duration of the flight else she wouldn’t get any work done.