In Bed With a Stranger by India Grey Read Free Book Online Page B

smile that dimpled her cheeks and told him that she’d had enough of serious stuff. Through the window the sunlight had lost its dazzling golden glare and deepened to the colour of good cognac. Kit was no artist, or photographer, but looking at Sophie as she leaned her chin on her cupped hand he wished he were.
    ‘So when are we seeing her? Juliet, I mean.’
    ‘Tomorrow evening.’ He grimaced. ‘She did invite us to stay with her, but I politely declined. I’ve booked us into a hotel in Marrakech, and we’ll drive out there for dinner.’
    ‘How was it—talking to her?’
    Kit thought. Hearing her voice had been strange, but in an abstract way. It didn’t affect him any more. Sophie had healed so much of the damage she had done to him.
    ‘It was brief and to the point, as I hope seeing her will be. This isn’t about her, or rebuilding a relationship. I just want answers.’
    ‘About your father?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Reaching to pick up his glass, Kit was aware again of the burning numbness in his fingers. It came and went, but there was no doubt he’d felt it for the first time on this last tour, since he’d found out that Ralph Fitzroy wasn’t his father. Maybe finding out who he was would stop the feeling that he was dissolving.
    He was saved from having to say any more by the appearance of the colour-coordinated stewardess, bearing plates of canapés.
    ‘Captain McAllister hopes you’re enjoying the flight, and
asked me to tell you that we’ll be landing at Marrakech-Menara in just over an hour.’
    In the seat opposite Sophie arched her back and unfolded the leg that she’d had tucked up beneath her on the seat. Her bare foot brushed his knee.
    ‘Thanks,’ Kit said blandly to the stewardess as lust lashed through him. ‘Can you ask him if he can go any faster?’

CHAPTER FOUR
    T HEY stepped down from the plane into a rose and indigo evening. Sophie almost hadn’t wanted the flight to end, but it was impossible not to feel excited when she’d looked out of the window and seen Marrakech below. ‘The Red City’, they called it, and in the light of the dying sun it was easy to see why.
    A porter went ahead of them into the terminal building with their luggage while Nick waited on the tarmac to say goodbye. He and Kit shook hands, agreeing that Kit would be in touch to arrange a return flight, then he turned to Sophie.
    ‘Enjoy Morocco.’ He grinned.
    ‘ I will.’ She already was. The air was as warm and thick as soup, and as spicily fragrant. She breathed it in and impulsively reached up and gave him a quick hug. ‘Thank you for bringing us.’
    In the airport building Kit went to change money and she looked around, her pulse quickening as she listened to the unfamiliar languages filling the magnificent and curiously cathedral-like space. She loved travelling, and this was the feeling she always got in a new place—a sense of promise, of discoveries waiting to be made and adventures yet to be had.
    ‘Ready?’ he asked huskily.
    Their eyes met and she nodded, torn between the desire to
rush to the nearest hotel with him, and the urge to get out and explore the city that lay tantalisingly just beyond the soaring criss-crossed pillars of the terminal building.
    Kit walked ahead of her, stuffing the wad of dirhams he had just exchanged into the back pocket of his jeans. Sophie’s throat dried with instant lust, and along with it the glib warning she was about to give him about the danger of pickpockets. No one would mess with Kit.
    A car from their hotel was waiting for them, sleek and gleaming amongst the battered, dusty taxis. The driver got out, nodding respectfully at Kit as he came round to open the door for them. Smiling shyly, Sophie slid into the car while Kit spoke to the driver in rapid, fluent French and tipped the porter who had brought out their bags.
    Another gush of desire crashed through Sophie, and she leaned back against the seat, inwardly outraged at her own weakness as Kit got