He settled back in his chair again, calmly eating his sandwich and watching her reaction. His dark eyes kept flashing I�m available signs. Which he wasn't. He knew it
and didn't care. Vanessa felt a momentary sympathy for his wife. Then, annoyance
overcame her sympathy. A sudden hunch he expected her to be outraged led Vanessa to lean back across the table and mimic his low, sexy tone.
"You're disgusting." Some impish devil, perhaps her sense of adventure drove her to forget all about his wife and to just enjoy the flirtation. This would be a practice run, she told herself. She was free to flirt with whomever she chose. Ther was no one here to criticize or ridicule. Nigle was delighted with her response. Vanessa could practically see him calculating how soon he could come to her room. He gulped down his sandwich, and she nearly laughed. "Don't choke now," she murmured, making no attempt to hide her amusement. Really, this was easy. Why had she always been so afraid to flirt back when men had given her the eye? They had. She'd just pretended not to notice. Scared that Ron might say something. Or one of those other-woman sentinels, watchful like hawks at their
husband's sides. She watched him reach for his drink and swallow a mouthful. Bet he says 'bed' in the next sentence. She nearly laughed again. "Still sleep in a double bed?" There, he had managed both "bed" and "sleep". Vanessa smiled, picked up her sandwich and took a bite. God, men were so predictable. She chewed, suddenly uncaring and ininterested in Nigel, who launched into a monologue. He only drove buses for a lark, for several months of the year. He was really a pilot, about to buy his own airline. "Internal. Auckland to Christchurch," he informed her. "Not quite Air New Zealand," he laughed with pretended modesty, "but first class with all the trimmings." He spun his chair round, sat down and hooked one ankle across his knee. "We're negotiation now," he told her, leaning back, draping one arm along the back of his chair and watching from beneath lowered lids. His white shirt was open at the neck, revealing a tanned throat. He's displaying his wares, thought Vanessa, averting her gaze from his crotch.