Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance

by Tracy Corbett

  ‘Twice.’

  ‘Three times, if you count today by the pool.’ She smiled and once again he felt something shift in his chest.

  ‘Ah, but that wasn’t your fault. I can’t hold you responsible for Mrs Whatshername nearly drowning. How is she, by the way?’

  ‘Sleeping, last time I checked. She’s in the room next to me. We got chatting at breakfast this morning. She’s here celebrating her divorce.’

  ‘Is that a thing?’

  ‘Apparently so.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s all the rage. A way of turning a negative into a positive. They were married for forty-three years, before he left her for his thirty-year-old physiotherapist.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘I know, cliché, right?’ She smiled when the barman handed over her cocktail. ‘Ooo, thanks.’

  ‘No wonder she was knocking back the booze.’

  Lily removed the umbrella from her drink and tucked it behind her ear. ‘It’s sad, really. But she’s brave for coming on holiday alone. It isn’t the easiest thing to do.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  She seemed surprised. ‘Are you here alone?’

  ‘Yep. You?’

  She nodded. ‘All alone. But determined to have a good time.’ She raised her cocktail glass. ‘Here’s to flying solo.’

  He clinked glasses with her. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

  She took a huge gulp of drink.

  He tried not to focus on the sight of her red lips sucking on the straw.

  ‘What brings you on holiday on your own?’ she said, coming up for air.

  ‘Nothing as dramatic as celebrating a divorce.’

  ‘Oh, you’re not married then?’

  He stilled. When a woman usually asked him that question, she was making a play, ensuring there were no obstacles preventing her from propositioning him. But Lily wasn’t flirting. Or if she was, she needed lessons.

  ‘I’m not married,’ he said slowly, which was true, but it didn’t ease the twinge in his chest.

  ‘Sorry, none of my business.’ She waved her hand about, looking genuinely mortified. ‘I’m not normally so nosy. The alcohol must be affecting my manners.’

  He smiled. ‘Yeah, it can do that.’

  ‘I don’t usually drink,’ she said, taking another gulp of Pina Colada.

  ‘You don’t? Why’s that?’

  Her forehead wrinkled, as she considered her answer. ‘Lack of opportunity, I guess.’

  ‘Busy life, huh?’

  ‘It has been, yes.’ There was a sadness in her expression that was at odds with her party girl demeanour.

  ‘Do you have a demanding job?’

  She blinked. ‘I guess so… Or rather, I did.’ And then she shook her head, her smile returning. ‘Let’s just say, life at home is crazy busy.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ He lifted his glass. ‘Hence the opportunity to let loose.’

  ‘Indeed.’ She took a huge mouthful of cocktail, her eyes almost watering as the alcohol hit home. She definitely wasn’t accustomed to drinking. No one used to alcohol would be knocking back a potent cocktail with such gusto.

  ‘I’m guessing you’re not married, either?’ he said, and then wondered why he’d asked that. ‘Sorry, I’m the one being nosy now.’

  She didn’t look offended, or react like he was coming onto her. She simply shook her head, dislodging the paper umbrella from behind her ear. ‘No, not married. Free as a bird, as they say. No ties.’ But despite her jovial tone, an air of sadness surrounded her.

  ‘Me neither,’ he said… and then he flinched.

  Why had he said that? He had ties. Boy, did he. She was about four-feet tall and was the centre of his entire world. But mentioning his eleven-year-old daughter would only lead to questions about Sara, and Will wasn’t up for that. This holiday was about taking a break from his life. He didn’t want to see the look of sympathy on Lily’s face when he admitted he was a widower. Or have to recount Sara’s death, or talk about the struggles of being a single parent. He just wanted to be treated like a single bloke on holiday with no baggage. Was that so much to ask?

  Lily slid off her stool. ‘Would you like to dance?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m a terrible dancer.’

  ‘Good, so am I.’ She took his hand and led him onto the dancefloor.

  Laughing, he let her. Partly because it felt mean to refuse, but mostly because it cut short their conversation about personal lives.

  Thankfully, the dancefloor was packed, so his lack of rhythm was masked by the mass of bodies surrounding them. But the tight space meant they kept knocking together, the gap between them narrowing as the floorspace filled with more guests.

  ‘You’re worse than I am,’ she yelled.

  He smiled. ‘I did warn you.’

  He never normally danced, he was too self-conscious. But there was something about being abroad with strangers that enabled him to let go of his inhibitions. Well, that and the several pints of beer he’d consumed.

  He wasn’t drunk, but he’d had enough alcohol to soften the edges. No one was judging him. They weren’t even looking at him. It was liberating. He spent his whole life being judged. Or that’s how it felt. Was he being a good father? Was he paying the bills? Was he keeping the house clean? Was he satisfying Poppy’s emotional needs?

  Everyone felt the need to constantly ‘check up on him’. How was he doing? Did he need more grief counselling? Why hadn’t he remarried? Or at least started dating?

  It was an endless stream of questions, designed to be helpful and caring, but in reality were a constant reminder that he was ‘being assessed’. Like everyone was waiting for him to stuff up.

  It was nice to be free from all that. No scrutiny, or whispered conversations and concerned glances in his direction. He was invisible. Normal. And no one was speculating about him dancing with a hot woman. Or cared that he lacked coordination.

  It was bliss. And fun.

  After a while, the music switched tempo and became slower, more sensual. The crowd began pairing off, moving together as they selected a partner. Once again, the locals displayed how it should be done, as their bodies fused and their hips locked in erotic fashion.

  ‘Well, I’m not attempting that,’ Lily said, her eyes widening as the man next to them bent his partner over backwards. ‘I’d dislocate something.’

  He liked her self-deprecating humour.

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe they stretch beforehand.’

  ‘They must at least do yoga,’ she said, taking his hand, her other one encircling his waist. They were in what could only be described as a ‘ballroom hold’. Not exactly fitting for the occasion, but he went along with it, mostly because it was nice to be held.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he was this intimate with a woman. One-night stands didn’t count. There was nothing affectionate about hooking up with someone you’d just met. It was primal, selfish. An easy way of satisfying an itch.

  But dancing with another human being was… romantic. It allowed time to savour the moment, to feel, to look and to absorb. A chance to really notice the other person, rather than not remember anything about them the next morning.

  By his own admission, he hadn’t exactly behaved very gentlemanly of late towards the opposite sex. The only consolation was, he could categorically state, was that none of the women he’d hooked up with had felt any differently about him.

  As odd as it felt to be in such a formal hold, it was nice too. Lily fitted snugly against his chest. Her hair was soft and her sway matched his. They might be uncoordinated as separates, but together they were completely synchronised.

  The music changed to an uptempo number. Damn. He’d been enjoying himself.

  ‘Drink?’ she yelled, releasing her hold.

  He nodded and they made their way to the bar.

  ‘I’m thirsty,’ she said, fanning her face.

  ‘I’ll get these. What’ll you have?’

  ‘Pina Colada, please.’ />
  He ordered their drinks.

  She perched on a barstool. ‘Thank you. You’re very chivalrous.’

  Chivalrous? He couldn’t help smiling. She was cute. And funny. And just a little bit odd. ‘It’s an all-inclusive bar.’

  ‘Oh, right. Yes, I’d forgotten that.’ Her look was sheepish. ‘It’s still nice of you.’

  The barman handed them their drinks and Lily drank most of hers in one go, sucking the creamy liquid through the straw as though it was a milkshake.

  ‘You really were thirsty.’

  ‘These are so tasty,’ she said. ‘I’d never had a cocktail before this holiday.’

  ‘You hadn’t?’ Where had she been all her life? ‘What do you normally drink?’

  She looked embarrassed. ‘Err… well, a little wine every now and again. Oh, and a dry sherry at Christmas.’

  ‘Sherry?’

  ‘Is that uncool?’

  ‘No… just a little unusual.’

  Her face fell. ‘You mean, old-fashioned.’

  Ah, so she knew she was somewhat outdated. He felt bad. He hadn’t meant to tease her. ‘They say sherry is the next gin. It’s making a comeback. You’re ahead of the game.’

  She smiled. ‘That’s complete tosh. But it’s incredibly sweet of you.’ She moved closer, her hand leaning on his thigh. Her face was inches from his. She had green eyes, he noticed. Pretty.

  And then the atmosphere seemed to change between them. Gentle banter dropped away, replaced by a growing heat. Her hand squeezed his thigh, her pupils dilated and her green eyes, no longer a picture of innocence, displayed a look of pure wanting.

  Well, hello, things were getting interesting.

  He wouldn’t have put her down as someone who’d move this fast. Not that he was complaining. His body certainly wasn’t. She was gorgeous. If she was up for it, then so was he… But then she lost her footing and slid off the stool, almost landing in his lap. Crap. She was pissed.

  He caught her before she hit the floor. ‘Whoa, how many have you had?’

  She screwed up her nose. ‘Three… maybe four. Is four too many?’ She tried to stand up, but veered to the left. ‘Definitely too many.’

  He tightened his hold. ‘What do you need? Water? Coffee? A lie down?’

  ‘A lie down, I think.’ She tried to stand upright. ‘Sorry about this.’ She held out her hand, inviting him to shake it. ‘It was very nice meeting you again. Thank you for a lovely evening, but it’s time I called it a night.’

  He ignored her outstretched hand. ‘There’s no way I’m letting you walk back to your room in this state.’

  ‘I’ll be fine—’

  ‘You can barely stand.’ He slid his arm around her waist. ‘Lean on me. No arguments. I’m taking you up to your room.’

  He half-carried, half-dragged her away from the bar and across the lobby.

  She was floppy, warm too, and giggling. ‘You smell nice,’ she said, burying her face in his neck.

  She certainly knew how to distract a guy.

  ‘And very handsome. Has anyone ever told you, you look like Jude Law?’

  Only his bloody sister.

  ‘I bet he doesn’t smell as nice as you.’

  He laughed. ‘I don’t envy the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow.’ He pressed the button for the lift.

  ‘I’ll drink plenty of water before I go to bed.’

  Somehow he didn’t think that was going to help.

  She looked at him, one eye shut. ‘On a scale of one to ten, how drunk am I?’

  He gave her a rueful look. ‘Eleven.’

  ‘Oh, that’s not good. How drunk are you?’

  ‘A four… maybe five.’ He stopped outside her door. ‘Where’s your room key?’

  ‘My womb key? Oh, you mean my room key.’

  Right. Cause he was the one slurring.

  ‘Here.’ She removed it from inside her bra, dislodging the strap of her dress.

  Bloody hell.

  Thank God he wasn’t more drunk. His resistance was being tested to the limit.

  He took the key card and opened the door.

  ‘Lean on me,’ he said, carrying her over to the large bed. ‘You’ll feel better once you’re lying down.’

  ‘I’d feel better if you were lying next to me.’ Her arms slid around his neck. ‘Or on me, even.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Would you like to lie on me?’

  He wasn’t sure whether to laugh – or say, what the hell, and kiss her. And if she’d been one of his meaningless pick-ups, he would have done. But it was clear she didn’t know what she was saying… or doing. Even if she did, she’d regret it in the morning.

  Besides, he had his own heart to think about. He could imagine one night with her and he’d be smitten. She was sweet, funny, endearing and—

  She kissed him.

  Just like that.

  No warning. No chance for him to extricate himself. No preamble. Just kissed him.

  And try as he might, he couldn’t back away.

  Why? Well, for one thing, he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She wasn’t accustomed to kissing random men, he was sure of that. He didn’t want to dent her confidence by rejecting her. Also, he didn’t want her to feel awkward in the morning. She’d be mortified.

  Oh, who was he kidding? He didn’t back away because he didn’t want to back away. Simple as.

  As kisses went, it was right up there. Passionate, warm, enthusiastic and extremely hot. His body had gone into spasm. His legs were shaking. His head spinning. Every nerve-ending in his body was urging him on, willing him to ‘lie on her’ as she’d requested.

  Boy, did he want to.

  But he couldn’t do it. It’d be wrong… even though it felt really, really right.

  He gently pulled away. ‘Lily?’

  She tried to kiss him again. ‘Yes?’ Her voice was soft and breathy.

  He held her at arm’s length. ‘You’ve had too much to drink. It wouldn’t be right.’

  Her other dress strap slid off her shoulder and her slinky dress slipped below her strapless bra. ‘You don’t want to stay the night with me?’

  Hell, yes. One hundred per cent, yes.

  He closed his eyes, trying to dispel the image of her breasts. ‘Not tonight,’ he managed – although how, he didn’t know. ‘Come on, lie down.’ He eased her onto the bed and covered her in a sheet. ‘Sleep tight, pisshead.’

  She smiled. ‘You really do smell nice.’

  ‘Go to sleep.’ He kissed her forehead and left the room… before he did something really, really stupid.

  Chapter Five

  Thursday, 18 March

  Lily checked she had her sunglasses, hat and purse, before leaving the hotel room. It was a ten-minute walk to the sailing centre, so she didn’t want to forget anything that might scupper her planned excursion.

  She’d woken this morning determined to do something more adventurous and not spend another day laid up in bed. It was such a waste of her precious holiday. She was supposed to be having fun and exploring the tropical sights, not recovering from the effects of too much alcohol.

  The whole of Tuesday had been lost to a god-awful hangover. She’d never felt so ill in her life. She couldn’t even lie out on the balcony. Her eyes hurt, her skin hurt, even her hair hurt. She’d barely eaten anything, and even drinking water had made her retch. Lily was never getting drunk again.

  Now, as she exited the lift into the main lobby, she checked the coast was clear and almost ran from the hotel, praying that she wouldn’t bump into Will.

  If dealing with the physical effects of having been paralytic had been painful, it was nothing compared to the humiliation of remembering her inappropriate behaviour on Monday night. As the memories had slowly returned, her sense of shame had deepened… Which was why she’d spent yesterday at a neighbouring beach and had avoided the pool area at the hotel. She absolutely did not want to bump into Will. Not when she’d practically accosted the poor man. />
  She couldn’t remember her exact words, but she had a vague recollection of asking him to ‘lie on her’. Oh, good God. She stopped walking and covered her eyes. Had she really said that? Worse, she’d kissed him.

  Groaning, she continued towards the beach, head down, sunglasses on, hoping to remain inconspicuous.

  Talk about brazen. Not to mention stupid, and dangerous, and naive. What had she been thinking? Supposing he’d turned out to be an axe-wielding murderer? She could be lying dead now in a pool of blood and it would be her own stupid fault.

  Well, maybe not entirely her fault. After all, murderers had to be accountable for their actions, but she certainly hadn’t put her safety first. Something she wouldn’t be doing again.

  Thankfully, if Will was of the murdering persuasion, he’d kept it hidden Monday night. He’d been the perfect gentleman. Kind, thoughtful, and respectful. He’d helped her to her room, checked she was okay and then left… which was entirely the right thing to do.

  She should be grateful that he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation, or responded to her request to ‘lie on her’. She stopped again, the thought making her cringe again.

  Why had she said that?

  Except, she knew damn well why. Just because she’d willingly sacrificed a social life to care for her ailing granddad, it didn’t mean she was happy about denying herself such things. She was human, after all. She had needs, same as the next person. And it had been a long time since she’d had the desire or opportunity to address those needs.

  Throw in a handsome man, who appeared to be charming, funny and sane, and no wonder she’d got carried away. Who could blame her?

  But maybe it wasn’t as bad as she feared? Maybe she’d only thought about propositioning him and hadn’t actually acted on it? But that was wishful thinking. She’d definitely humiliated herself. She’d thrown herself at a man she barely knew. End of.

  Of course, there was another plausible explanation for him rejecting her advances, other than chivalry. And that was that he just didn’t fancy her. A highly depressing thought.

  Lily reached the beach and paused to savour the view ahead.

  It was glorious. The white sand was peppered with sunloungers, each one shaded by a thatched parasol. Further down the beach Zorbing was taking place. Holidaymakers were encased inside giant plastic bubbles, rolling across the sand, and being shunted into the water.