debate.’ Shrugging broad shoulders, ‘But if I upset you I’m sorry.’
It’s hardly the apology of the century but sometimes you have to work with what you’ve got. ‘Thanks.’ I pause, ‘An interesting debate?’ Hmm. ‘Have many of those?’
‘No,’ he looks thoughtful, ‘not really.’
The lift doors open and we walk to the end of a long black-carpeted corridor decorated with white and cream flocked wallpaper and elegant crystal chandeliers.
‘You can access your room here.’ Alex indicates a door set into the wall adjacent to the main suite entrance. ‘But come in through the suite and take a look around. You’ll be free to use the lounge and bar. You’ve got to see the view, it’s spectacular.’ He swipes his key card over the reader on the door frame and takes our stuff in without waiting for an answer.
The door clicks shut quietly as I wander through the hall with its luxurious gold-toned carpet. Alex deposits our luggage against a wall as I enter the lounge, but I’m barely aware of him.
The suite’s gorgeous, more like a posh flat on the Thames than hotel accommodation. The room is done out in calming beige tones, with plush gold-hue carpet. Two white oversized leather sofas form an L-shape, strategically placed in front of panoramic windows overlooking the brightly lit city below us and the wide blue Mediterranean beyond it. At the end of each sofa is a glass vase filled with white roses on a black table and there’s a small bar with optics in the closest corner of the room.
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 that 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, making it 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.