CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOAHFROZEASIlsa stepped away from him. Her shoulders were high and she clutched that shoulder bag to her side like a protective shield.
She didn’t want to be here.
He’d leapt to the conclusion that she’d come halfway around the world to see him. Now he realised, whatever this was, it wasn’t the reunion he’d hoped for.
Bitterness filled his mouth. He should have learned his lesson by now. For all her fine words, Ilsa didn’t fancy a future with a self-made Australian.
Yet still he’d hoped. He’d planned to see her in Europe. To persuade her, seduce her if need be, into seeing things his way.
It took everything he had not to reach for her. His palms actually tingled with the need to feel her satin skin.
She looked incredible, if a little pale, utterly gorgeous in casual clothes that took him straight back to the paradise days on his yacht when they’d been inseparable and the world had glowed around them.
But she didn’t want him.
He remembered her dismay as he’d reached to help her up from the picnic table. The hectic colour flooding her cheeks. How she’d looked away and kept her distance.
His stomach cramped. No wonder she’d been silent in the car coming here.
But after seeing her with his family it was clear that, she was no snob. Poppy would have turned her nose up at mingling with them. Ilsa, on the other hand, had been a delight with them all.
This woman did his head in. She made him feel too much. For years Noah had called the shots, both in business and his personal life, but she left him reeling.
‘Ilsa. Talk to me.’
Finally she swung around. Her closed expression and tight mouth made his heart hammer painfully.
She regarded him steadily, her gaze troubled. ‘I’m sorry.’ She swallowed. ‘Walking out on you the way I did...’ She shook her head. ‘It was too much like the way Poppy behaved. I’m not surprised you don’t want to see me.’
Ilsa remembered the name of his ex-girlfriend? Noah struggled not to feel it was important that she recalled such a detail.
He frowned. She was broadcasting conflicting messages. Obviously she didn’t want to be here, yet she apologised as if sincere.
‘You’ve got it wrong. I wasn’t unhappy to see you.’
Ilsa shook her head, hurrying on. ‘I’m sorry for intruding on private family time.’ She lifted her chin as if in challenge. ‘I tried organising an appointment but—’
‘You don’t need to explain. My PA has instructions about fielding calls from people I don’t know. I only found out you’d tried to reach me after she’d fobbed you off.’
‘Oh.’ Ilsa’s tight shoulders eased down.
‘I asked her to get your number if you called again.’
‘Oh?’ No mistaking her surprise. ‘But you didn’t want me there today.’ Her voice was flat. ‘You didn’t want me to meet your family.’
She was right. Because he needed privacy to deal with Ilsa and resolve their issues. Trying to act nonchalant before his extended family, and his mother’s appraising regard, had been almost impossible.
On the other hand, it had been an eye-opener seeing her interact with them. She’d seemed as relaxed and happy with some retired garbage collectors, a mechanic, a kindergarten teacher, a café owner and the rest as if she’d been at a party of sophisticates.
Just like when she’d played football on a beach in Turkey. Or chatted with fishermen or rug-sellers or anyone else she met.
Ilsa was what he’d thought her—genuine. The knowledge created a glowing kernel of warmth low in his body. A warmth he shouldn’t feel, because what they’d shared was over.
‘You took me by surprise. I thought you were in Europe.’ Doing her royal duty.
‘It’s okay, Noah. You don’t have to pretend. I realise—’