by Sue MacKay
Looking up at the apartment above, Alesha saw a light on in the lounge. Relief was instant. Whoever was in there would have the phone number she needed to resolve this glitch.
Loud knocking on that door brought no more success than trying to open her own. The light was on but no one was home. Nor was there anyone in the other apartments when she banged on their doors. Seemed she wasn’t only alone but she might be sleeping on the lounger if she didn’t find a way of contacting Karolina.
This would be hilarious if it hadn’t happened to her. It might even be funny in a few days’ time when she recounted it to her flatmates back in London, but right now it was downright scary. Another shiver wracked her while her sunburnt skin burned and chilled equally. ‘I can’t sleep outside.’ Her stomach rumbled. ‘Yeah, and you can wait and all. There’s no dinner coming your way until this is sorted.’
Looking around the complex, she smothered the panic threatening to overwhelm her. Think. She was safe in here, cold and hungry, yes, but no one was going to get through the outside door leading from the road. Waiting until other guests came home was her only option, although who knew when that would be? Down on the narrow road cars went by slowly. From the far end of the pool she stared out at the view, which would have looked beautiful if she weren’t just a tiny bit afraid she was going to spend the whole night out here.
Lights flickered on in the next-door house. Of course. Neighbours.
Wrapping the towel tight around her, she headed for the gate and out onto the footpath. The gate snipped shut behind her. Her stomach nudged her toes. How stupid could she get? She was out on the street in a bikini and it was getting dark. Lying on the lounger by the pool all night suddenly seemed almost like fun.
Neighbours, remember. Someone would know the owner of the apartments. They had to.
They might’ve but they didn’t speak English. No one at the four houses she tried understood a word she said; instead they looked at her as though she was a madwoman gibbering away in a foreign language—she was fast approaching becoming one—and closed their doors in her face. She should’ve learnt a few more words of Croatian other than hello and thank you, though it would never have occurred to her to learn ‘how do I get in touch with Karolina?’ or ‘I need a locksmith’.
Back on the street Alesha blinked away the irritant in her eyes. Crying was not happening. This was a holiday, shambolic yes, but a holiday in a beautiful place, and meant to be enjoyed. All she had to do was find a way back into her apartment. How hard could it be?
A couple was walking up the road, talking and laughing.
Relief lifted her heart. ‘Hello. Do you speak English? Can you help me, please?’
They did stop and look at her, before shaking their heads in bewilderment and carrying on up the hill.
That had to be a no, then.
A woman came around the corner, a phone plastered to her ear.
‘Excuse me. Do you speak English?’
Apparently not. The woman didn’t even slow down.
Alesha walked down the road a hundred metres, asking everyone she saw the same questions, getting the same result.
The night stretched ahead interminably. What she wouldn’t give to be back in her flat eating yesterday’s leftovers and throwing darts at the board after she’d pinned a photo of Luke to it. It had all started with him, hadn’t it?
No, it went way further back than him.
* * *
Kristof Montfort strolled up the hill, hands in pockets, glad the day was done and the temperature was dropping to something near bearable. Once in a rare year London might get as hot. Might. A cold beer beckoned, and his feet moved faster.
The little girl found curled up, shivering, in the bushes by the Dubrovnik Bridge had been brought in to his mother at the Croatian Children’s Home during the night and had stolen into his heart when he hadn’t been looking as he worked with her. He must be getting soft because the tiny child’s big fear-filled eyes, her gaunt cheeks, and scrawny body had angered him, destroyed his usually well-controlled emotions and let her in where he never let anyone. It had taken all day to get his equilibrium back. How could a parent abandon their child to the vagaries of street thieves and child porn operators? His father might’ve made a mockery of all he taught Kristof about being an honest, reputable gentleman, but he’d never physically hurt him, and the emotional slam dunk had happened when he was old enough to fend for himself.
They were yet to learn the child’s name so in the meantime everyone was calling her Capeka—little stork—for her inclination to stand on one leg with the other twisted behind her knee as she huddled in a corner.
He’d done all he could for Capeka today; operating to fix an arm with multiple fractures, stitching deep, badly infected cuts on her thighs and forearms, putting her back together physically. Food, clean clothes and a warm bed had been priorities. The mental stuff would be taken care of by his mother and her colleagues, and would take a lot longer to resolve, if ever. The counsellors and the nurses at the Croatian Children’s Home spent hours with their little patients and lost souls, but there was a gross shortage of caring nurses, the pay being minimum on a good day. Even the most fervent care-giver had to eat and find shelter and wear clothes.
‘Excuse me.’ A young woman dressed in a towel appeared in front of him, looking wary although desperation was rippling off her.
‘Yes?’
‘You speak English?’ Surprise warred with disbelief.
‘I am English.’ And Croatian, but that was another story. ‘What’s your problem?’ There went that cold beer. Somehow he just knew this wasn’t going to be a quick question and answer session. There was something about those earthy coloured eyes that strummed him, and warned him. The woman was in trouble.
Or was trouble.
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. ‘I’ve gone and got myself locked out of the apartment I’m staying in. As well as the complex,’ she added in a rush. ‘I need to get hold of the owner but I don’t have a phone.’ Her cheeks pinked. ‘Or her number.’
‘You’d be talking about Karolina.’
Hope flared. ‘You know her?’
He didn’t want to dampen that hope; it made her look less drawn, beautiful even. ‘A little, but, better than that, my mother is friends with Karolina’s.’ Tapping his mother’s number, he held his phone to his ear. He listened to the dial tone while studying the woman before him. Temptation in a towel. ‘Fingers crossed my mother has her phone with her. She has a habit of leaving it all over town.’
Her shoulders drooped. ‘Oh.’
‘Is that you, Kristof?’
Kristof raised a thumb in his distraction’s direction. ‘Yes, Mum, it’s me. And before you start in on me about not taking a partner to the fundraiser dinner tomorrow, I’ve got someone here who’s got herself locked out of the Jelinski Apartments and needs to get in touch with Karolina.’ As in the lady he was not taking to the dinner even if his mother had begged him to.
‘She came here to pick up her mother and left five minutes ago. I’ve tried to give you Karolina’s number so many times.’
So you have. Your persistence is admirable, but please use it on more important issues.
He liked Karolina. He didn’t have the hots for her, or love her, or want to get to know her better, though he’d do anything for her if she asked because that was who he was these days, and she felt the same about him. Though she might not do anything he asked. Their respective mothers had other ideas and wouldn’t listen to them. What did they know? Kristof’s mother, in particular, refused to accept that he’d decided not to marry again, ever. Why would he when his ex-wife had cheated on him more times than he could count? Had laughed when he’d told her he loved her and that monogamy was part of their relationship. A deal breaker for him, but her idea of love included adventurous affairs on the side.
Th
e woman before him was looking at him as though he was her saviour, and shivering, wrapped only in that towel and who knew what underneath? Nothing? ‘Mum, please let Karolina know she’s needed at the apartments urgently.’
Now he noticed red, string-like straps running over her shoulders. A bikini? Or a bra? Whichever, no better than nothing for warmth. But slightly easier on his overactive libido, which did not have a role to play here. It might’ve been a few months since he’d seen to that need but he would not be scratching it with this woman, despite the heat starting to flow into his blood. Shoving the phone into his back pocket, he told her, ‘You shouldn’t have to wait long. Karolina lives four streets over.’ As long as she’d gone straight home after dropping her mother off.
‘Thanks so much. I appreciate your help. I was beginning to think I’d be spending the night out here and there’s nothing other than cold concrete or tarmac.’ Now that her problem was being fixed her mouth lifted into an ironic smile. ‘It’s been one of those days.’
Don’t smile at me like that. It goes straight to places I don’t want to acknowledge.
That bow-shaped upper lip and full lower one would be magic on his skin. He slapped his hand against his thigh, instantly regretting the action when she jerked backwards. ‘Well, we’ve dealt with this problem. Glad I came along.’ He was off the hook, had helped her out of a bind and could walk on with a clear conscience. Couldn’t he? Kristof sucked in a breath. She wasn’t as young as he’d first thought. Mid-twenties? Older? What did it matter? He wasn’t interested. It was time for that beer and to forget a particularly difficult day dealing with Capeka. But his hormones got in the way and he asked, ‘Why are you cold when the temperature is still warm?’
‘I fell asleep by the pool for a little while and got some sunburn. Now my skin is fluctuating between hot and cold.’
Kristof looked over her shoulder and whistled. ‘That’s going to sting under the shower.’ An image filled his brain of her tall, slim body under the water. He wasn’t seeing red, more cream-coloured skin and lots of curves. Forget an itch. Muscles tightened in places they had no right.
His phone rang. Relief at the interruption was quick but didn’t loosen the tension plaguing him. ‘Mum? Don’t tell me you couldn’t get hold of Karolina?’ His eyes were fixed on the woman in front of him so he didn’t miss the way her body momentarily folded inward.
When she saw him watching she was quick to straighten to full height, bringing the top of her head to align with his chin, while struggling to banish the disappointment sparking in her eyes.
His mother harrumphed. ‘Of course I did. Karolina will be at least half an hour though. It’s something unavoidable.’ In other words don’t ask.
He wouldn’t. ‘Okay. I’ll tell—’ What was her name? They hadn’t got around to introducing themselves. He almost didn’t want to in case that made her real. Huh? How not real was this stunning female? ‘We’ll be waiting.’ There went that beer. He explained the situation to the woman. ‘By the way, I’m Kristof Montfort.’ He held his hand out. ‘I’m a doctor from London over here helping my mother for a week.’ That was added to reassure her he wasn’t an axe murderer, not to show off. He didn’t need to tell her he owed his mother for hurting her for many years. That was his guilt, not to be shared.
She put her slim hand out to shake his and the towel slid to the ground, giving him an eyeful of her body. Definitely lots of enticing curves and her skin was creamy and smooth. Got that right, then. The moisture on his tongue dried. Her breasts more than filled the ridiculously small red-and-white-fabric cups supposedly holding them in place. He couldn’t breathe. Or move. But his eyes roamed. She was a stunner. From top to toes. His eyes cruised down her legs to those toes just to make sure he was right. Of course he was. This woman was hot, beautiful, a magnet for his manhood. He stepped back. Away from temptation. She’d have him locked up in a flash if he acted on the heat ramping through his body, language difficulties or not. Why had he gone and said he was hanging around until Karolina turned up?
Snatching her hand free, she bent to retrieve her only cover, quickly tying it back in place. ‘Alesha Milligan, fool extraordinaire. I can’t believe I left my phone and keys inside.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’
Then she smiled, reminding him of sunny days on the briny in his runabout, and his stomach hit his feet. Her voice was so feminine and warm. ‘Actually I’m lying. Yes, I can believe it. I’d been distracted big time. It’s a surprise I remembered to take a towel outside.’
It would’ve been better for him if she’d remembered to take her clothes out to the poolside. Of course only someone who knew they were going to lock themselves outside would do that. ‘We all stuff up at times.’ As he was now, with his body still reminding him that all parts below his belt were in full working order, despite a recent lack of practice due to long hours working at the private practice in Harley Street hindering a social life. But he had to be grateful for towels. The one wound around that exquisite body was hiding even the curves. Except now he knew what was under there. Knew, and wanted another glimpse, wanted to touch and get to know.
No, he did not.
‘Feel like a beer while you wait?’ At least that would mean a quick break while he went home to get said liquid libation.
Her scrutiny of him seemed haughty. ‘You don’t appear to have any with you and as I don’t intend going to a bar dressed like this I’ll say no. B-but thank you for offering.’ The shivering was back, her skin lifting in goosebumps.
Inviting her back to the house might be kinder than letting her stand out here, but then they wouldn’t know when Karolina turned up. Also, his mother was still at the children’s home so there was no one else at the house. Alesha might not feel comfortable spending time alone with a stranger while dressed in next to nothing. ‘Give me five and I’ll be back with beer and a jersey and some pants to keep you warm. They’ll be too big but better than nothing.’ And just might make that amazing body look as if it were hanging out in a sack.
But you’d still know what was in the sack.
Again surprise appeared in her face. Kristof liked surprising her for some reason. Maybe because green flecks appeared in the brown of her eyes? ‘Th-thanks, I’d appreciate that.’
‘If you’re sure you’re all right, I’ll go now.’ She’d be safe but not comfortable. He’d be fast. She was also a visitor to his second country, and visitors were meant to be treated kindly. Yes, that was what this was all about. Taking care of a visitor. Nothing to do with this hissing and fizzing in his veins. ‘Be right back.’
He’d have that flare of excitement going on in his groin under control by the time he returned. Hopefully hanging out here in the dark only lightened by low-quality street lamps he’d be safe from those deep, alluring pools blinking at him from under long eyelashes. Safe from the array of emotions darting in and out of her less than steady gaze.
CHAPTER TWO
‘HERE, PUT THESE ON.’ Alesha’s dark-blond, good-looking saviour handed her one of the bags swinging from his large hand.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered. How embarrassing to be stuck out on the street pulling on a complete stranger’s clothes. Lots better than dropping the towel though. His eyes had popped right out of his head, embarrassing her. Had he thought she’d done it on purpose? If so he must think her a bit loose. He wouldn’t know that according to Luke she was the dead opposite. If only she’d been thinking straight when she went outside the apartment without keys after Karolina had specifically told her to keep them with her at all times. But she wouldn’t have got an eyeful of Mr Handsome. Cherry would probably say he was fling material, but she wasn’t going there. It was too soon.
Shoving her arms into the lightweight jersey, Alesha pulled it over her head, down to just above her knees. And she’d thought she was tall. The sleeves needed rolling up, but at least she felt warm and cosy. The f
abric smelled of man: good-looking, intriguing man. Yes, well, she wasn’t interested. As for the jeans, they were ridiculous. Even with the lengthy belt on its tightest notch they were going to slide down whenever she moved. ‘Just as well I’m not going anywhere,’ she quipped as she bent down to roll up the hems several turns.
‘Sorry I didn’t bring some shoes.’
His smile touched her deeply, dodging the lump that was Luke’s defection. A genuine, not wanting anything from her smile that went some way to warming the chill gnawing at her. When was the last time a man had smiled at her like that? Had anyone ever? Finding a smile of her own, Alesha glanced down at his enormous feet. ‘I doubt you have a pair of size seven high heels stashed in your wardrobe.’
His laugh was light and added to the warmth his jersey was creating. Soon she’d be roasting. ‘I’ve never been into cross-dressing.’
‘Again, thank you for everything. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along.’
‘You’d have got a little colder before Karolina came to do her night round.’ Kristof dug into another bag and retrieved two beers. ‘I promised you one of these.’
Accepting the bottle, Alesha dug deep not to react outwardly to the zip of heat the touch of his fingers on hers created. ‘What do you mean? Night round?’
His eyes had flared at that touch. Was he feeling hot too? ‘Karolina checks on the apartments every morning and night, and a couple of times in between, often cleaning the pool, pulling the rare weed that dares to pop up in the gardens, making sure everyone staying here is happy. She’s very particular about her apartments and wants her guests to get the most out of their time with her.’
The admiration in his voice had Alesha wondering if there was more to his relationship with this woman than he was letting on. ‘The place is immaculate, and she was so welcoming that I feel terrible causing trouble. She told me to put her number in my phone, but it never crossed my mind I’d need to have it with me while I was only a few metres from my room taking a dip.’ Or falling asleep. What was done was done, and there was no point bemoaning the fact she’d stuffed up.
