Tessa had never been to Peppers, and she had never been in a helicopter, either. As soon as she saw the executives climbing aboard, she knew she had a problem. No way in the world was she going to be able to take the high step into the cabin in her narrow skirt. She heaved a deep sigh and looked at Blaize Callagan. He met her glance with a wickedly knowing gleam in his dark eyes.
“I’ll lift you,” he said.
Tessa burned. “Thank you,” she bit out.
The pilot had already taken their attaché cases from them to stow in the baggage area. Tessa expected Blaize Callagan to hoist her up from her waist. He didn’t. Before she even approached the step to the cabin, he swooped and lifted her right off her feet and into his arms.
“Nice body weight, Miss Stockton,” he remarked appreciatively.
“Thank you, sir,” Tessa whispered as she tried to recapture her breath.
One arm was around her thighs. His other arm was around her shoulders, with a hand coming perilously close to curling under her arm to the outside swell of her breast. She was pressed against a broad and unrelenting chest.
“Look after yourself, do you, Stockton?”
She looked him straight in the eye, blazing gold meeting devilish black. “I try to keep in trim.”
“Good work, Stockton. Try to keep it that way.”
“Oh, I will, sir. I will.”
His mouth wore that funny quirk as he carried her forward and lifted her into her cabin seat with all the case in the world. He really had very sensual lips. Tessa felt he knew just what to do with them and used them accordingly. To taunt, tease, excite or provoke. Right at this moment, she felt very provoked. And teased. And taunted. And if she was totally honest with herself, treacherously excited. He certainly was a very strong man.
He released her smoothly, without the slightest suggestion of taking any liberties, and Tessa was left wondering if he was playing games with her or not. She concentrated on fastening her seat belt until he was settled in the seat in front of her, next to the pilot. She wished she had bought a pantsuit. She was almost sure he had enjoyed touching her like that.
The helicopter lifted off. When the heat in her cheeks became slightly less painful, Tessa turned to look at Jerry, who was sitting next to her. Impossible to talk, but she would have liked a look of moral support from him. He had his gold-rimmed spectacles off. One hand was lifted to his eyes, finger and thumb squeezing the eyelids hard. His brow was furrowed. His head was bent. He looked as if he was fiercely concentrated in prayer... or something.
Tessa sighed. No help there. Maybe Jerry hated flying. Or maybe he was praying that she wouldn’t stuff up. She beamed a hard thought at the back of Blaize Callagan’s head. I am not here for your amusement, Blaize Callagan, she told him. And my body—fit or not—is no business of yours. You either take me seriously, or don’t take me at all!
Except she was here in this helicopter, and on her way with him, and she couldn’t exactly jump off in midair. In fact, there was very little she could do about it, so she turned her head to the view below and watched the city give way to country. At least she was getting away from other problems for a while.
There had to be someone down there, she thought. Someone a whole lot better than Grant Durham. Someone who would at least be faithful to the so-called love he talked about. Tessa wondered if Blaize Callagan had been faithful to his wife. Maybe men weren’t faithful animals. But she certainly wasn’t going to marry one who couldn’t be faithful to her seven weeks before their wedding day!
Tessa heaved another sigh. How was she going to tell her mother the wedding was off? She could readily imagine the hysterics and the recriminations. “What will people think?” and, “All the arrangements are made!” and, “You’ve been wanting to marry Grant for four years, Tessa! You won’t get anyone if you don’t have him.” Her mother was going to throw an absolute fit. Reason would have nothing to do with it.
At least her father would listen. He had never been all that keen on Grant. Besides, her father was about to be saved a lot of money on the wedding reception. He would appreciate that more than her mother did. Tessa had always found her father a sane, sensible man.
It seemed no time at all before they were over the Hunter River Valley. The rolling hills were lined with rows and rows of grapevines. The helicopter swooped in towards an impressive complex of colonial-styled buildings situated on the top of a small hill. Cream walls, green roof and verandahs all around. Nothing higher than two storeys. Landscaped gardens close in, and expanses of lawn rolling down the hill with lovely stands of native gum trees and a huge lake-like dam to add interest.
They landed on the lawn near the tennis court. Blaize Callagan lifted Tessa out of the helicopter as efficiently as he had lifted her into it. Apparently they were the last to arrive. The verandah above the slope of lawn was crowded with company people and a smattering of Japanese, all enjoying a pre-luncheon drink while they waited for the big guns to lead proceedings.
Tessa looked at the grassed slope to be traversed and regretted her spindly high heels. Blaize Callagan offered his arm.
“Please try not to fall flat on your face, Stockton. It wouldn’t create a good impression,” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth.
“I’ll hang onto you like grim death, sir,” she retorted.
“A lively way to meet your end, Stockton,” he said with a totally impassive countenance. “Might I suggest a more forward pressure on your toes?”
“At your command, sir.”
“Nice attitude, Stockton.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She made it up to the verandah without mishap. At which point, she became nothing but a cipher at Blaize Callagan’s side until luncheon was over, although she was treated with impeccable courtesy by all the men present, Australian and Japanese. Her opposite number, with whom she would have to liaise, was a man. Who, she was pleased to note, was as short as she was, which made him a whole lot less intimidating than he might have been. She was the only woman from either side.
At two o’clock, they all trooped down to the conference centre and the nitty-gritty business began. Tessa had no time to admire the facilities provided, the fine proportions of the big conference room, the interesting paintings on the walls or the artistic floral arrangements. She concentrated hard on her shorthand notes, arranging them in a system for easy reference points— the names of the speakers, their contributions to the discussion, the proposals, the objections, the suggested compromises.