by Nikki Moore
The only hotel room I’ve ever stayed in with its own bar was bright yellow with orange and blue swirly covers on narrow twin beds. The bar consisted of a tiny fridge full of miniature bottles costing a bomb and a wonky wooden shelf above it holding a selection of neon plastic tumblers. I may have been a manager but the money wasn’t fantastic and London is so expensive unless you live on the outskirts and commute. Our flat is pretty much in the heart of the city so holiday budgets never stretch to much.
Inhaling the scent of polish and subtle fragrance of the roses, I try to look unimpressed but epically fail by zipping over to the window and pressing warm fingers against the cool glass to take in the view. Amazing. It feels like I could fly. I’m lost in the moment, swept away in the heady sense of freedom and feeling of weightlessness from being so high up. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I murmur at last, turning round to find Alex right behind me, only a foot away, ‘absolutely breathtaking.’
He steps forward. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ But he’s not looking over my shoulder out of the glass, he’s staring at me, eyes intense.
Breathless and crowded and incredibly excited, I step back but hit the window. There’s nowhere to go. A wall of heat builds in the space between us, a magnetic force field pulling us together.
But Alex obviously doesn’t feel the same. Shaking his head as if rousing from a dream, he swings away. ‘Dining room through here.’ His tone is abrupt. Without waiting, he marches into the next room.
Stumbling in my high heels to catch up, my brain is so muddled when Alex halts in his tracks I slam into him, my boobs crushing up against the warmth and hardness of his back through his suit jacket. ‘Sorry.’ My face and certain areas below my waist heat instantly.
Going rigid, he throws an accusatory glance over his shoulder as he puts space between us. He looks so stern I want to giggle, but hold back. Stepping away, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, glaring out the window. I frown. It was his fault for stopping like that, so one apology is enough. Leaving him to brood, I run a cursory glance over the long glass table and red velvet chairs which could comfortably seat a football team, before hurrying back into the lounge. I gasp as I notice the baby grand piano tucked away in the other corner and go over to it. Sweeping my hand over the curved lid, I recall the weekly piano lessons Mum insisted on. She was right to make me take them. Being able to play an instrument is a joy and music has always been there for me, giving me the escape I longed for as a teenager.
Alex marches in, an unreadable expression crossing his face.
I snatch my hand away. ‘Sorry, it’s probably just for show isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘Never? But if you’ve stayed here before … ?’
He smiles wryly. ‘I hardly even noticed it’s in here. I might have the first time, but that was a long time ago.’
He looks suddenly exhausted, the lines bracketing his luscious mouth more noticeable. An overwhelming need to order him to sit down, fix him a drink and tell him to lay his head in my lap sweeps through me. Hang on a sec. What?
As he shakes his head, it drags me from my thoughts. ‘Can you play?’ He looks genuinely curious.
I nod, latching onto the question gladly. ‘I’m reasonable, had lessons when I was younger. Occasionally I teach myself songs. I’m lucky enough to have a good ear. Still, if I’d kept tuition up I’d be much better now.'
‘Do you get much of a chance to play?’
‘Only when I visit my family and use the one in the village pub.’
‘The pub has a piano?’
‘Yes. It’s a bit of a mishmash really, traditional versus quirky. Chess matches on Mondays and Rock Karaoke on Wednesdays and Saturdays, live music on a Friday, but it works, you know?’
‘Not really.’ For an instant he looks wistful, but the expression passes. ‘But I can imagine.’ Nodding at the piano: ‘Use it whenever you want.’
‘Thanks.’ I don’t like that I’m touched by his suggestion. ‘I uh, think I’ll go and unpack.’
‘I’ll show you to your room.’ He strolls over to an unmarked door tucked away in the corner.
Grabbing my case, I follow him. When the door clicks shut behind me the room suddenly feels tiny even though it’s huge. Alex in my bedroom. Unsettling. Tempting.
‘Here you go.’ Oblivious to my feelings, he throws the curtains open to reveal a sensational view of the teeming port. I swing my case onto the queen-sized bed, unzip it and hover. I can’t unpack in front of him, it’s too personal.
Alex checks his watch. ‘I’m going to take a quick shower and change for dinner.’ He starts tugging at his tie.
‘Right. I guess I’ll do the same. How long before I need to be ready?’
The tie comes off and is tucked away inside a pocket. ‘Half an hour?’ He undoes his top button as he saunters past me to the door.
I catch a glimpse of olive skin over broad collarbone with a hint of chest hair in the open neck of his white shirt. Hormones take over. He’s mouth-watering. Stop undressing. I beg silently. No, keep going. Oh, heck. His lips are moving but I’m deaf to any words. ‘Pardon?’ I ask.
‘I asked whether you’ll be ready for dinner on time.’
‘Yes, no problem.’
‘No problem?’ A smile plays around his mouth. ‘If you are, you’ll be the first woman of my acquaintance capable of it.’
‘Maybe I’m not like the other women you're acquainted with then,’ I lift my chin, holding direct eye contact. ‘I’ll be ready,’ I glance at the slim silver watch on my wrist, ‘by eight fifteen.’ Twenty seven minutes. It’s not long but I’ll do it, just to show him.
‘I look forward to it.’ His smirk says he fully expects me to fail.
It feels like I’m at the Olympics, on the starting line. I fling open my suitcase, ready for the gun to fire to begin the race.
‘I’ll see you soon.’ His hand is on the door handle, straight-faced but a glint of humour in his eyes.
‘Fine.’ Picking up my wash bag, I fight back a smile.
‘I’ll be waiting in the suite.’ He pulls the door open.
‘Perfect.’ My fingers inch towards my black stilettos.
‘Actually, I’ll knock for you.’
He’s determined to not give me an extra second isn’t he? ‘Suits me,’ I say lightly. I put a hand on one hip, striving for casual, turn and manoeuvre myself so the other hand can grope around in the case behind me.
He watches every move. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’
‘Okay.’
Shaking his head, he slides from the room and I spin round to my case. Just as the door swings shut, his voice echoes through the tiny gap, ‘I’ll be waiting.’
It makes me laugh and I shake my head.
Right. Focus. Twenty-five minutes left. I lay out minuscule black lack underwear and a favourite evening dress I packed with two others, just in case. Tight, deep purple, strapless and with small jewel encrusted pockets, the hem is just above the knee. It’s one of those dresses that makes you feel good, boosts your confidence. And the hotel is so posh I have to dress up.
I pelt into the bathroom but am still able to appreciate the modern black and white tiles, the corner bath with jets and the gloriously huge walk-in shower. It’s divine. Imagine waking up to this every day. Bliss. Pulling on a shower cap, I push a button and step into the hot blast of water. I’d love to wash my hair – it’s gone wild from snow and wind and dry cabin air – but I don’t have time. Scrubbing with branded complimentary shower gel and realising Alex is probably showering only a handful of feet away, my eyes slide shut. Imagine what he’d look like without his formal suit, stripped bare. Broad chest, long muscular arms and legs, other interesting parts. He’s bound to be a dream naked. The man looks built. I bet he has a six-pack.
I inhale sharply, nipples tightening, an answering throb between my legs. No, stop it. To shake loose the dirty thoughts, I turn the temperature down, gaspin
g as the icy needles chill my skin. It does the trick, reining my hormones in. Turning the shower off, I step from the cubicle, whip off the shower cap and dry briskly with the fluffy bath sheets, finishing up with lashings of moisturiser. Applying light make-up, I unpin and brush out my hair, tying it in a messy topknot and spraying it with gloss-effect hairspray.
Darting into the bedroom, I tug on underwear, ignoring the horrible slide of fabric on cream-dampened skin. Scrambling into the dress, I adjust it to sit right on my waist and hips and hold my boobs in. Threading on dangly jet black earrings and a matching chunky necklace, I spray on perfume before bucketing around the room for a quick tidy. I check my watch as I strap it back on. 8.13 p.m. Last thing is to slide my size eight elephant feet into black suede-effect stiletto heels.
Although expected, the loud rap at the door still makes me jump.
‘It’s Alex,’ his voice is muffled, ‘ready?’
‘Yes,’ I holler, ‘come in.’
Alex enters as I’m reaching across the bed to grab my clutch bag.
‘That,’ his voice sounds strangled, ‘is impressive.’
Standing, I note the new form-fitting black suit and pale blue shirt that sets off his eyes spectacularly. No tie tonight, top button undone. I prefer the slightly more casual look on him and gulp. ‘Thanks. I said I’d be ready in time.’ I can't help gloating.
He smiles, acknowledging my victory. ‘Yes, you did, though I was talking about– Ah, never mind, you look very smart.’
‘Thanks.’ Smart? I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so deflated by a compliment. It’s not as if we’re on a date, it’s a work dinner and we’re just colleagues, but would it have killed him to dream up something better than you look smart? It’s what Mum said on the first day of school or what Gran might remark about one of my more modest dresses. Huh. ‘Shall we go then?’ Moving past Alex, I grab the door handle.
‘Charley.’
‘Yes?’ I’m startled to find my nose practically pressed against his shirt front when I spin around. Too close. Way too close. He smells gorgeous and my knees go liquid.
He puts some room between us. ‘I was just going to say that … ’ he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck.
‘Yes?’ A long uncomfortable pause follows. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing.’
A silence drags out. I’m ultra aware of my bare legs and tiny underwear, the raw urge to bridge the distance to him, push my hands into that thick dark hair and kiss him. I tighten my grip around the door handle, using it to anchor me to reality. It’s difficult. His eyes are so blue staring into them all day would be no hardship at all.
‘I mean, I just remembered,’ he says in a deep rock star husky voice, ‘that I need to make a quick call.’
I blink. Now, just as we’re going to dinner? After how keen he was for me to be ready on time? It must be important. It’s after office hours, so perhaps it’s his girlfriend he needs to phone. In the car he said he didn’t have one, but his definition of girlfriend and mine might be different. I don’t like the twitch in my stomach at the thought.
‘I’ll go downstairs then.’ I murmur. ‘Meet you in the bar?’
‘Yes. I’ll be down shortly.’
‘Okay.’
‘Okay.’
I’m pinned to the door by the intense expression on his face. It’s like he wants to say something but can’t quite get it out. What? Please don’t tell me about your girlfriend. I don’t want to know.
'I’ll bring a copy of the schedule down with me,’ he states.
His reminder this is work is the perfect push to break away. ‘Great.’ Whirling around, I leave as fast as possible on my high heels. I need time. I need space. And for the sake of my sanity I need to see him as my boss … not a man.
Chapter Seven
‘Bugger!’ On my mobile to Jess, I hunt for a quiet corner in the hotel bar. The call will cost money I don’t have, but this is an emergency. ‘Bugger, bugger, bugger!’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The CEO. Alex. He’s gorgeous! Tall, dark haired, ruggedly handsome and heavenly–bodied. Every time I’m with him I practically swoon, like a girl from those regency novels you devour. Or I basically drool. It’s so embarrassing. What am I going to do?’
‘Well, if you’d listened to me you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. I told you, it’s not right—’
‘What’s not right is what Tony bloody Ferrier did to me. Jess, please,’ I beg, ‘less teacher mode and more best friend. You still love me, right?’
‘Yes,’ she sighs. ‘Of course. Okay, so you’re finally going gaga over a man.’ She chuckles, lightening up. ‘I must admit I was wondering if it’d ever happen.’
‘That is not helpful.’ Spotting a free table, I stride across the room and sit down, ordering a glass of white wine from a passing waiter with a series of elaborate hand gestures. ‘And I’d hardly say going gaga. I’m just struggling a little to stay professional, that’s all.’
‘Sorry, but a little? You just said you nearly swooned.’ She laughs.
‘I’m glad you think this is funny. Remember that when you’re having to pull me out of a giant tub of ice cream and prise the empty wine bottle from my cold fingers because it’s all gone wrong.’ Then I interject quickly, ‘Don’t say it.’
‘Fine. And you’re there now so we have to deal with it I guess. Hmm. He’s gorgeous. Well, I agree it would be better if he was fat, old, smelly and bald.’
‘If only. And what’s really annoying is he’s totally not my usual type.’ I nod a thanks to the waiter as he places a glass of wine in front of me.
‘Why? Because he’s not a sensitive soul like the ones you usually go for who look like James Blunt on a bad day? Have you ever wondered if the guys you date aren’t really your type, and that’s why you never commit to them?’
‘Hey, watch it.’ I take a large mouthful of the wine. ‘You’re not so hot on the commitment front yourself, are you?’ I wince. ‘Sorry,’ I rush. She’s been in love with my oldest brother Tom for years, since a heated kiss on her fifteenth birthday caused mayhem and havoc in both our families. It almost ended our friendship when he rejected her. We don’t talk about it but I’ve always known he’s part of the reason she’s never had a serious relationship. Maybe one day it’ll work out between them. If anyone deserves a happy ending it’s Jess. ‘Besides,’ I switch subjects, ‘you’re forgetting Nick. He wasn’t my usual type and that didn’t work out.’
‘Yeah, he was a banker rather than an artist or musician, and a real man’s man. But he was also an ass who only wanted a trophy girlfriend. That was never going to be you. You’re too intelligent for a start.’
‘Doesn’t feel like it at the moment. Anyway, stop trying to get on my good side just because you’re losing the argument.’
‘I’m not! We’ve been friends for over twenty years, and you can be pretty annoying, I’ll give you that—'
‘Hey.’
‘But you do have some good qualities.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
Jess sniggers. ‘Pleasure. So, what’s he like apart from not your usual type but gorgeous?’
Maybe if I just focus on the negatives. ‘Arrogant, cynical, defensive and sexist. Oh, and stubborn. Entrenched in his views.’
‘Wow, that’s quite a list. And er, I hate to point it out Cee, but you’re not unfamiliar with the concept of stubbornness yourself.’
I cut across Jess, on a roll. ‘He fluctuates from distant one minute to laughing the next. You never know where you are with him. He’s also kind of old-fashioned. You know,’ another gulp of wine slides down my throat as if by magic, ‘complete sentence construction, wanting to carry my bags, not believing in employing female staff.’
‘Speaking the Queen’s English? Offering to help you? How dare he?’ she mocks. ‘Complete and utter bastard.’
I smile, knowing I’m caught out. ‘All right, perhaps I’m being a bit harsh but
you can't quibble the last one.’
‘That I get and it’s not acceptable.’ She pauses, mulling it over. ‘How old is he?’
‘Early thirties.’
‘Miss Caswell.’ The deep voice is unmistakable.
Flicking a quick look over my shoulder, I freeze. Of course Alex is standing right behind me. The pit of my stomach drops down to my toes. God knows how long he’s been there for. Oh, crap.
‘Still, he doesn’t sound that bad,’ Jess is still chatting away, ‘from the way you described how hot he is, I think I could overlook some of the rougher edges. Or possibly train him,’ she muses. ‘Maybe I should pop across Europe and check him out?’
‘Um, I’ll get back to you on that. Gotta go.’
‘Something wrong?’
‘You could say that. Speak later.’ Flipping my phone closed, I stand reluctantly. How much has he heard? Everything including my comment about Tony? Talk about incriminating. Talk about blowing my cover. It would be just my luck if he kicks me out of this classy hotel with no belongings and no money and I’m left stranded in Barcelona.
Taking a deep breath, I swivel around. ‘Alex. I didn’t realise you’d be down so soon.’
‘Obviously. So would I have overheard the entire character assassination if I’d arrived earlier?’
Phew, he probably didn’t hear me mention Tony. Then mortification singes my face as I realise what he has overheard. ‘I’m sorry.’ Screwing my face up, ‘Er, what exactly—?’
‘Arrogant and sexist were mentioned. Old-fashioned and cynical also featured.’
‘I’m so sorry. Is there any point in saying some people might take some of those as compliments, in particular the old-fashioned part? You know,’ I squeak, wishing I could vanish in a puff of black smoke, ‘as in traditional values? Moral fortitude?’
‘I might have done, because I don’t think there’s anything wrong in being polite or articulate, or being worried about something other than the latest fashions or music, but they didn’t sound like compliments the way you said them.’
‘No, I get that,’ I confess, squirming now, ‘but it was because … ’
