Antarctic Affair (20 page)

“I hope so,” replied Georgina giving him a hug. He
looked pleased.

“Take care of yourself,” he told her fondly.

She nodded and watched as clipboard in hand, he left
the ship.

“You ready, George?” she turned to find Amy waiting
for her. She looked at Taj, who was shaking hands with the captain and co-pilot
about ten metres away. Their eyes met and he smiled. Her heart soared.

“Wait for me at the yacht club,” he shouted, above
the commotion. She nodded, and turned back to Amy, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Claude helped her with her heavy case and soon she
was bidding them goodbye, as a taxi waited to drive them to their hotel. They
were staying another night in Ushuaia before they flew out to Los Angeles the
next morning.

“Promise to keep in touch,” cried Amy, throwing her
arms around Georgina’s neck. Georgina hugged her new friend back and promised
she would. Then they were gone.

Suddenly she heard a familiar voice behind her and
froze. It couldn’t be… She turned and felt the icy tentacles of fear wrap
themselves around her neck.

“Caro! I have missed you so much!”

She caught a glimpse of Taj’s shocked face as a chic
and sexy Miss Armani through herself into his arms purring with pleasure. She
watched horrified as his arms went around her and he hugged her back. Even
Georgina could smell the sweet fragrance of Gucci Rush that surrounded her. It
made her want to gag. Those are
my
arms, they should be around me, she thought absurdly. The woman was all over
him, kissing his face, running her hands through his hair. It was all too much
for Georgina. How could he just stand there and let her
claim
him in front of everybody, especially her. Anger replaced the
icy fear and she marched toward them.

“Excuse me, Caro,” she said icily to Taj, “I didn’t
think you had a girlfriend anymore?”

“Taj, who is this?” asked the brunette, Taj’s name
running off her lips like honey. Damn that Italian accent.

Taj had gone pale beneath his glasses, “Christina,
this is Georgina. Georgina, Christina.” Neither woman made an attempt to greet
one another.

“Oh, so its Georgina now is it?” She shook her head
in disbelief. How quickly things changed. Christina, obviously realising this
was the competition, eyed Georgina up and down haughtily. Georgina could almost
see her sneer as she observed the mud-encrusted hiking boots, her un-made-up
face and of course the hastily scraped back, scraggly hair, which hadn’t
recovered from the foaming face wash incident. Never in her life had she felt
so frumpy and unsophisticated – and it was all
his
fault.

She glared at Taj, waiting for him to say something.
Instead Christina said in her husky, accented voice, “Taj, darling, we need to
talk. I’ve booked a room for us at the Posada Costa Serena.” She arched her
back seductively as she bent towards him, and whispered loud enough for
Georgina to hear, “The honeymoon suite.”

Taj
seemed to come to his senses and pushed Christina roughly away from him. She
didn’t look impressed.

“Please, Christina. I have no idea what you’re doing
here, but I need to talk to George. Could you give us a moment?” When she
looked like she might argue, he added, “Alone.” Then he took Georgina’s arm and
frog-marched towards the yacht club. Christina threw her hands in the air and
said something uncomplimentary in Italian.

“It took you long enough,” hissed Georgina, hating
herself for acting like a jealous brat.

As soon as they got inside the building Taj turned
her towards him. He saw the unshed tears in her eyes, the expectation and the
love and went cold. It was happening all over again. He couldn’t promise her a
thing. There was no point. She was leaving tonight, flying back to London and
out of his life. He had a book to put together and then National Geographic was
sending him off to the Amazon and after that it would be somewhere else. Even
if they tried to keep in touch, it would be impossible.

“George, what are we trying to do here?” he asked
seriously. “You’re leaving for England tonight, which means I will probably
never see you again.”

“Does that mean you’re swopping me for Christina,
because she’s available?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Christina has got
nothing to do with this. This is about you and me.”

When she didn’t immediately say anything he sighed,
“How do you expect us to stay together when we’re continents apart?”

She regarded him carefully. “Actually, I’ve decided
to accept Max’s offer.”

Taj felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“You’re staying? When did you decide?”

“About an hour ago,” she replied honestly.

He took her face in his hands, “Are you sure?” he
asked. “Because I would hate for you to do all this because of me.”

He saw in her face he’d guessed correctly. She was
about to give up her job, a promotion she’d worked years for, as well as move
to a strange new country, and it was all for him. Part of him really wanted her
to do it, but he was done with being selfish. It was too much to ask. Even with
her in America he couldn’t promise her anything. The pressure and expectation
would kill them.

He kissed her gently on the forehead. “I love the
fact you’re willing to do this for me. But I can’t let you,” he whispered.

“What?” she cried incredulously. “I thought you
wanted me to move to L.A.”

“I do,” he agreed sadly, “but for the right
reasons.”

“What better reason is there,” she asked.

He took her hands in his, “You need to do this
because you want to work for Max, to make documentaries, to travel and see the
world. Not because of me.”

Georgina stared at him, her eyes wide with
confusion.

“It won’t work out between us, George. How can it?
We’d be like ships passing in the night. You need stability, you told me
yourself and I’m the last person in the world who can give you that.” He shook
his head, helplessly. “You’d end up bitter and disappointed, and then you’d blame
me.” He caressed her cheek, “I don’t want to be the one responsible for ruining
your life.”

He saw Georgina’s eyelids flicker as she tried not
to cry. “Isn’t it worth a shot, at least?” she whispered.

Taj shook his head. “I’ve done it before, many times.
Trust me, it doesn’t work.”

She looked so forlorn standing in the swish yacht
club in her dirty boots with her dishevelled hair. The face he now knew so
intimately was deathly pale, her blue eyes huge, and her lips quivered with
emotion. He felt like a complete bastard, but he knew he was right. Still, he
couldn’t have loved her more at that moment if he’d tried.

She took a shaky breath. “So that’s it then?”

He nodded. He didn’t have a choice. She’d end up
leaving like all the other girlfriends he’d had in the past. It was inevitable,
and when she did she’d leave his heart in a million tiny pieces and they would
both bare the scars for life.

To his surprise she didn’t try to argue. She merely
glanced from him to Christina, who was still fuming outside, and with a bleak
expression turned and walked away from him. He almost called out her name, but
bit down hard on his lip instead. Only when she’d rounded the corner and he
tasted blood, did he close his eyes in despair. Unable to face Christina, who
had obviously got it into her head that she could convince him to stay with
her, he slipped out the side entrance and went for a walk. When he went back to
fetch his equipment, she was gone.

Sporting enormous sunglasses because she’d cried so
much on the flight to Santiago, Georgina followed the crowd through the maze of
corridors to the boarding gate for Miami.

“Thank God I found you,” a breathless voice said
directly behind her making her jump.

She spun around. “Oh Max, you startled me.”

“Sorry,” he wheezed, “I had a few problems with the
attorneys, but it’s all sorted out now. Here’s your contract.” He proudly
handed her a stack of papers bound together in a neat little booklet.

She froze. “Max, I’m literally about to board. I
don’t have time to read this now.”

He grinned and pulled a fountain pen out of his
jacket pocket. “You don’t have to. Just sign. Trust me, it’s a good one.”

He paused to catch his breath. Georgina stared at
him in amazement.

“How did you get in here?” she asked. “This is a
transit lounge. They don’t let just anyone in here.”

He grinned, “Honey,
ol
’
Max Copeland
ain’t
just anyone.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want it in a nutshell?”

She nodded.

“You’re bound for a year and then have the option to
renew the contract, or if you want, become a permanent staff member.”

Still she hesitated. She’d only agreed before
because she’d thought it would give her and Taj a chance, but now that bright
idea had been blown out of the water, was there any point?

“The pay’s excellent,” he added. “I had to fight for
it, but…” he leant forward and whispered a figure in her ear. She balked. It
was almost triple what she currently earned. She looked at the dotted line
underneath where her name was neatly printed. It was tempting.

Her flight was called and passengers started moving
forwards in the line, bumping into her. How was she supposed to think when her
heart had been smashed to smithereens, she thought wretchedly? There was
nothing left for her in London anyway. Just an empty flat. She didn’t even have
a cat because Charles was allergic. She worked so hard the only friends she had
were colleagues. Charles had been her life, and now she didn’t even have that.
Suddenly it all seemed hugely depressing.
 

“Oh what the hell,” she sighed and grabbed the pen
out of Max’s hand. Max turned around offering his wide back as a table and she
scribbled her signature across the bottom of the page.

“Done!” she exclaimed.

Max beamed. “You won’t regret this, honey! Now get
your little ass back here as fast as you can, so you and I can make lots of
beautiful documentaries together!”

She had to smile at him, “Max, you are
incorrigible!”

“Are you boarding, madam?” the lady at the gate
asked her. She nodded and handed in her passport. The woman checked it and
waved her through. She gave Max a hug and then turned to board the plane back
to London and face her future.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Georgina returned home to her house near the beach
in Santa Monica after a successful day of filming. She loved her new job. Max
had been right, she didn’t regret her decision to come here for a second. Since
she’d got off the plane two weeks ago, everything had fallen perfectly into
place. Max had been a darling and helped her find a cute Cape Cod style house
with a sea view on the hill in Santa Monica. It had cost a fortune but she’d
bought it with the money her father had left her. Why not put it to good use,
you only live once, right? And besides, what else was she going to spend it on?
She’d had Amy and Claude round for dinner once, and Max had become a good
friend, as well as being her producer. They were currently shooting a local programme
to get her in the swing of things so there was no travelling involved, which
was great because it gave her time to decorate her new place and get to know the
neighbourhood. She’d often wondered if she’d bump into Taj living here, but so
far she hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of him. She’d bought in this area
because even though she knew there was no hope, it made her feel closer to him
somehow. Pathetic? Maybe, but as hard as she tried she couldn’t seem to get
over him.

The cover story she’d written on Taj had been a
raging success. The April edition had flown off the shelves. Seeing Taj’s
heart-breakingly handsome face smiling back at her off every newsagent shelf
had been torture, and she couldn’t wait to finally leave London. Eric had been
disappointed by her decision to resign, but after he’d heard about her break-up
with Charles, he understood. Maureen had taken the assistant editor’s position
and Georgina had been happy to let her have it. She’d sold the second article
she wrote on
Antarctica, The Life
Changing Destination
, to a well-known British travel magazine, and she
planned to keep writing whenever she could.
 

She was just throwing a green salad together and had
poured herself a glass of wine when she heard the doorbell ring. She sucked the
olive oil off her fingers and went to get the door.

“Coming,” she called, as she padded down the hall in
her bare feet. Because she had such warm, wooden floorboards it had become a
habit of hers to kick her shoes off as soon as she entered the house.

Her hands were greasy from the oil and it took a few
attempts before she could turn the brass knob far enough around to open the
door.

“Taj!” Her gasp of surprise was drowned out by her
neighbour who unfortunately chose that moment to mow his lawn.