Meet Me at the Honeymoon Suite

by Charlotte Phillips

  ‘I think as a life choice your attitude could have some merit,’ he said. ‘For example…’

  His movements were slow and deliberate as in one smooth and delectable movement he took a step closer, curled a hand around her waist and kissed her.

  His touch was expert, one hand at the small of her back, the other gently stroking her hair away from her face while he stroked her cheekbone delicately with his thumb. As his lips caught hers perfectly, her pulse hit the roof and her knees seemed to suddenly take on an elastic quality.

  Only as he gently pulled away did she realise that her eyes had fluttered deliciously shut. She snapped them open.

  ‘What was that about?’ She tried to keep her voice at a normal pitch when what it wanted to do was come out as a soft moan.

  He kept his arms gently around her, a cheeky lopsided grin lifting the corner of his gorgeous mouth. Her mind zeroed in madly on the caress of his hand against the small of her back, a dissolving sensation was tingling its way down her spine.

  ‘You believe in happy-for-now and I’m all for moments of madness – remember? You and I are so alike Amy – too busy with work to fit in anything that resembles a private life.’

  His lips brushed hers in between words. He tasted faintly of coffee. Her heart slammed non-stop against her ribcage.

  ‘Today, talking to you made me happy. Right now, kissing you makes me happy. I can’t say if it will or won’t tomorrow, but who cares because as long as I go into it with my eyes open, what can possibly go wrong? Why can’t we have a moment of madness without the future complicating it?’

  She could see the challenge in his eyes. A moment of madness? A fling? Amy Wilson didn’t do things like that. She was the nice girl you could bring home to meet your parents. And hadn’t that just got her SO far in life.

  ‘I don’t do relationships. Didn’t I just get through telling you exactly that? Do I look like I have time for this stuff? I shouldn’t even be here now.’

  Her mind, carefully trained all these years to shut out all distractions from her life goal (to become the best wedding planner in the universe and earn a mint), struggled to maintain a foothold. It wasn’t just the utter bone-melting deliciousness of his kiss, it was the idea of sticking two fingers up at the broken record of rejection that her life insisted on throwing at her over and over again. OK so she’d never been anyone’s real deal. Not Roger’s, not Luke’s. Why not embrace for once the whole concept of not being the real deal. She was the warm-up act. She was Miss Right Now, never graduating to just Miss Right. So why not run with that and just embrace all that situation had to offer. Fun, desire, no strings, no stress, no inhibitions, no regrets. All of those things could be hers.

  ‘This isn’t a relationship. This is living in the moment. You don’t want to think about the future? So don’t.’ He pulled her closer and kissed her again. Her stomach dissolved straight back into melty mode and all reservations were lost to the sensations he evoked in her.

  And then her pager buzzed in her jacket pocket and reality bit her squarely on the arse.

  Just what the hell was she doing? Yes, yes, yes, a quick and gorgeous ego-boosting fling would be just the ticket right now after this new wave of inadequacy, but the bigger picture slipped back into view as she took a breathless step backward and checked the gadget. The extension number of the Duty Manager displayed itself on screen like a digital wake up call. She had one chance at this job. One chance. And she was pissing about kissing random guests?

  She shook her head madly as if to clear it.

  ‘I have to go.’

  She was pressing the call button for the lift before his hotel room door was fully shut.

  CHAPTER 4

  The lift would be exactly what she needed: a calm and solitary minute or two alone to compose herself back into her poised work persona. It even had a mirrored back wall – she could check her undoubtedly smudged makeup and dishevelled hair before she checked in on the wedding party. By the time she reached the ground floor, it would be as if the last twenty minutes had never happened. As if she simply hadn’t made the insane decision to cross Owen Lloyd’s threshold, let alone to kiss him.

  The lift doors slid open to reveal not the sought-after empty space but Luke, with his back to her, hands running through his carefully disarranged hair as he pouted into the mirror. She jumped.

  ‘Ahahaha! What are you doing here?’ she gabbled.

  He offered her a grin and stepped out of the lift.

  ‘I was just coming to look for you.’

  She straightened her jacket and wiped her hands automatically across her mouth. Not that she needed to. He was so preoccupied with his own appearance she could probably have run down this corridor stark naked and he wouldn’t have noticed.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Reception said you might be checking the honeymoon suite over.’

  It occurred to her that they were feet away from Owen’s hotel room door and he could blunder back out at any moment. The last thing she needed was for Luke to find out what had just happened. From memory discretion really wasn’t his strong point and all it would take was for the management to get a tiny sniff of what had gone on and the job would be snatched away from her before you could say guitar hero.

  She grabbed him by the elbow and propelled him firmly back into the lift, putting some speed into her pace, as if she was extremely busy pulling his perfect wedding weekend together and most certainly was not snogging his best man.

  As she leaned across and pressed the button for the ground floor, he pulled a sheet of folded paper from his inside jacket pocket and shook it out.

  ‘Had a bit of a chat with Owen,’ he said.

  Her heart performed a cartwheel at the sound of his name and she leaned a hand steadying hand instinctively against the side of the lift.

  ‘Erm, who?’

  He held up a hand.

  ‘Best man, babe. Tall, dark hair. Stood by the bar. Good looking, but not as good looking as me.’

  Oh for Pete’s sake. She failed to stop an exasperated eye roll.

  ‘I always thought I knew most of your friends,’ she couldn’t stop herself saying. ‘Never heard you mention this Owen though.’

  He shrugged dismissively, completely missing the indignant point, which was that he’d given about five percent of himself to their relationship while she’d been giving it her all.

  ‘Grew up with him,’ he said. ‘Top bloke. Hardly get to see him these days because he’s trying to break Europe with his wine bars but he did let me crash at his place last year. Barely saw him even then. Guy works 24-7. No time for anyone or anything.’

  Her mind zeroed in on the third party information. So Owen really was the workaholic he claimed to be. It wasn’t just a line. She felt far too interested in the revelation that apparently he didn’t have a girlfriend or partner of any kind. It actually sounded like the guy barely had a life. She felt a vague sense of affinity with that.

  ‘Anyway, babe, he’s in booze,’ Luke went on. ‘And he’s given us a few pointers on party drinks. Thought I’d pass it on to you, if you could just get it sorted.’

  She stared down at the sheet of paper, her scruffy hair and make-up momentarily forgotten. So the menu and drinks had been agreed and in place for the last six weeks and he now wanted to change them on a whim with less than twenty four hours to go. She bit back the surge of irritation and forced her lips to make a professional smile instead of a grimace.

  ‘Absolutely not a problem. Leave it with me.’

  Changes to the wedding logistics she could do. In fact a bit of practical organisation could be just the thing to redress her own reckless behaviour and take her mind off Owen Lloyd. And while she was there she could get a clarifying bit of calming advice from her voice of reason.

  She sped out of the lift and headed for the Lavington’s wine bar. Conrad’s territory.

  ‘You snogged one of the guests? You? My you did take the going-the-extra-mile thing seriou
sly.’

  Conrad’s eyes were amused behind his statement glasses and she put Luke’s sheet of paper on the bar in front of her and clapped her hands over her eyes so she couldn’t see his grin. And there she had been thinking a bit of supportiveness might be in order.

  ‘It was just the shock of seeing bloody Luke again after all this time. ‘I’ve spent the last year or so thinking he was a free spirit who didn’t want to be tied down and that’s why things ended between us when he moved away. Now it turns out he was actually just making do with me while he waited for something better to come along.’ She sighed and leaned forward to rest her hot forehead on the cool glass of the bar. ‘I’m a warm-up act, Conrad. It’s the story of my bloody life. And so I may have acted on impulse a bit.’

  She glanced up at him with one eye.

  ‘So it’s a jealousy thing?’ he said.

  She flung exasperated hands up.

  ‘No, it is NOT a jealousy thing. I am NOT bloody jealous! I’m irritated that I could ever have been so keen on someone who is obviously so shallow. And I’m also extremely narked that somehow I wasn’t good enough to be more than a fling but he’s marrying practically the first girl he met since he dumped me. When it came right down to it, I was ok while there was nothing else on offer and he was playing smoky working men’s clubs and stinky pubs, but as soon as he landed a better gig I was dispensable. What the hell is it about me?’

  Prior to Luke the limit of her relationships had been the teenage school type. Short lived and based on who happened to be in her class that year. Luke had been different. Her first proper boyfriend since leaving college and getting her first job. Grown up and cool, with his guitar playing and his songwriting and his big dreams. They’d had a real laugh together. It was so easy to slip into thinking in the long-term. She’d been utterly clueless that in all that time he’d seen the whole thing as nothing more than a stop-gap.

  ‘This has no bearing on you, sweetie. It’s just down to him being a knob.’

  She sighed.

  ‘If this was just the one instance of it then I’d agree with you. It isn’t about him, I’m way over him. It’s about the situation. It’s just another variation on a life theme of mine. And so maybe I wasn’t thinking straight when I agreed to coffee. Which then led to a kiss.’

  ‘You mean the best man snogs you and you ran with it for the ego boost,’ he said, pretty succinctly she had to admit.

  ‘Oh for Pete’s sake, I should never have told you. It’s not like anything’s going to come of it. It was just a…mutual moment of madness.’

  ‘Is that what we’re calling it these days?’

  ‘It was a one-off thing, that’s all. No biggie. I’ve been living my life this last year or so without any emotional angst and everything works better as a result. I’m better at my job, I’m more objective about decision making, so it stands to reason that I can have a bit of a snog without it having to mean anything.’

  She downplayed it hard. Perhaps if she did that enough the memory of it might stop dominating her brain.

  ‘Yeah well,’ he pointed at her with a bottle opener. ‘There will always be a morning-after, sweetie. And you are still on probation here.’

  ‘And the situation is completely under my control. I don’t do emotional claptrap. I’m not about to put my career on the line over one kiss.’

  No matter how bone meltingly delicious it might have been.

  He flapped a dismissive hand at her.

  ‘OK, OK, so you’re on top of the situation. In that case, tell me more about Mr Snog. What’s he like? Is he fit?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘He owns a chain of swanky cocktail bars. He’s in four major cities in this country and he’s planning on rolling them out across Europe.’ And although she was trying not to think about how gorgeous Owen was, she didn’t want Conrad to think she’d just snogged a total moose so she added, ‘He’s smart and fun. And really good looking.’

  He clapped his hands together.

  ‘I love him! He sounds amazing! Maybe you should make the most of the situation after all. I mean it’s not as if they’re queuing up, is it? Get this job under your belt and then go all out for a date.’

  ‘He’s really knowledgeable about cocktails,’ she said, trying to ignore his go-for-it advice. ‘Have you heard of a Raspberry Bellini?’

  Conrad blew out an impressed puff of air.

  ‘Bellini eh? I like his style. Between you and me champagne is so last season.’

  ‘Good. Because the bride and groom have listened to his advice and have changed all their drink choices. That’s why I’m here – to tell you to rejig your supplies.’

  He threw exasperated hands up.

  ‘Scratch everything I just said. The guy’s a meddling pain in the arse.’

  ‘Bit of a curve ball, bumping into your ex,’ Owen said. The evening air was cool. The city beginning to come to life with streetlamps giving the pavement a mellow glow in the darkness. Traffic moved steadily past them. People heading for Friday night out.

  He crushed the thought that he really ought to be working.

  Luke glanced up from his mobile phone.

  ‘Amy, you mean? Yeah. Didn’t realise she’d moved to London.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Keep it to yourself, eh? I don’t need the grief from Sabrina.’

  Eyes back down to the mobile.

  The dozen or so in the stag night group waited while the concierge hovered, waiting for the convoy of taxis to arrive and take them into town. Owen glanced back through the revolving glass doors for what felt like the hundredth time. Beyond them he could see a glimpse of the marble-floored lobby with its velvet furniture. There had been no sign of Amy since she left his room mid-afternoon, not that that stopped his mind constantly returning to her. Spending that little time with her had been the best part of his day. Going out on the lash with a gang of blokes he barely knew held little appeal in comparison. The mantra continued to flash in his mind.

  I could be working.

  ‘I don’t remember you mentioning her,’ he said.

  Luke stood up straight and pocketed his phone.

  ‘It was no big thing,’ he said, scanning the street for taxis. ‘She had this big focus on her career, worked all hours, and she was really close to her mum. It was just the two of them. She used to watch me gig, we had a bit of a laugh, that was it. When I got the session job up here it made sense to call it quits. Nice girl though.’ He nodded at Owen. ‘You’d like her. Never stops working. Right up your street.’

  Mercifully it seemed that Sabrina and her glamorous posse of girlfriends were perfectly able to while away an evening in the spa without any need for Amy’s assistance, because she’d rather eat her own head right now than take her bruised ego into a room full of perfectly-toned models in designer swimwear. The spa team seemed to have everything under control and so instead Amy had the evening on call, which so far almost amounted to an evening off if you could ignore the sparse décor of the Lavington’s staff quarters.

  Her pager buzzed madly as she watched some awful late night chat show on the communal staff room TV. She’d spent the last couple of hours picking at a lasagne and trying to focus her mind anywhere except where it kept wanting to go, which was a constant looped rerun of Owen Lloyd’s kisses. Somewhere around eleven she’d taken herself off to her temporary room, but no amount of trying brought sleep and eventually she got back up and headed to the staff room to make sleep-inducing hot chocolate. The pager, usually a total pain, was actually a welcome distraction.

  She checked the number and crossed the room to pick up the extension. The night receptionist’s voice was punctuated by odd slurring sounds in the background.

  ‘Amy, I know it’s late but can you come to the lobby? There’s some kind of issue with the stag party for your wedding and I’m on my own here. The concierge is outside sorting out some kind of taxi problem. The best man’s asking for you.’

  Her voice trailed away and the pho
ne clicked as she hung up.

  Some kind of issue with the stag party? Oh just bloody great. In her experience the only kind of issues with stag parties were alcohol related ones. She ignored the immediate flurry of butterflies that kicked off in her stomach. They were obviously to do with hunger after the inedible lasagne and absolutely nothing to do with imminently seeing Owen Lloyd, who was asking for her.

  She took a deep breath and channelled calm. It was after midnight now but she nipped back to her room and changed quickly into her uniform all the same. Professionalism never slept. She jabbed buttons through buttonholes at speed but didn’t bother to put her hair back up. It was after midnight now and surely any guest in the lobby this late would be too drunk or tired to notice her up do.

  The lobby was quiet and all but deserted. The receptionist nodded in the direction of three sofas, set in a cosy grouping near the revolving door. Owen was leaning against the back of one and he stood up straight the moment he caught sight of her. He wore a sharply cut slate grey shirt over jeans and despite her attempts all evening to convince herself otherwise, he was as jaw-droppingly gorgeous as ever.

  Her stomach performed a tingling flip of attraction at the sight of him which turned into a surge of exasperation as she saw Luke slumped behind him on one of the sofas. He was dishevelled, messy and wouldn’t have looked out of place in a gutter.

  ‘What the bloody hell?’ she blurted.

  Owen held up placating hands and took a step backward.

  ‘Hey, I didn’t handcuff him to a lamppost or stick him on a train up North,’ he said.

  Amy leaned over Luke. He was completely out of it.

  ‘Am I meant to be grateful for that?’

  CHAPTER 5

  ‘If I get him up to his room can you maybe organise some black coffee?’ he said. ‘He’s thrown up. He just needs to sober up now and then sleep it off but he can’t even remember his own room number. Maybe you could get it for me? I’m not sure he knows what planet he’s on actually.’