Carrington’s at Christmas: The Complete Collection: Cupcakes at Carrington’s, Me and Mr Carrington, Christmas at Carrington’s, Ice Creams at Carrington’s. Alexandra Brown
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come on, tell me what’s wro—’ I stop mid-sentence and almost run into Eddie’s back as he halts in the doorway that leads out onto a little wooden balcony area overlooking the sea. Tom is sitting on a bench, with just the moonlight to see by as he taps into his iPhone. Eddie swiftly turns around.
‘Oops! Three’s a crowd,’ he snorts, before barging back past me, giving me a little shove out and slamming the door behind him.
‘Sorry about that, don’t know what his problem is,’ I say, feeling put on the spot.
‘Well, he has a point,’ Tom replies, his messy hair making him look all windswept and utterly gorgeous, and I’m sure I detect a hint of flirtatiousness in his voice – or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. ‘Why don’t you take a seat and keep me company for a bit?’ He gestures to the space next to him.
‘What are you doing out here?’ I ask as the crisp night air hits my face. I perch alongside him.
‘Hiding,’ he replies, furtively. He turns to face me and his eyes shoot from side to side and I can’t help gawping openly at him. He manages to look both petrified and damn sexy all at the same time. My guard falls away as I listen to the waves below us and glance at the twinkling shoreline in the distance. The tingle intensifies and I wonder what might happen if he actually touched me, or kissed me even. I allow myself to daydream for a flash of a moment, but then rapidly shake the thought from my mind.
‘This isn’t really my scene,’ he whispers, leaning closer, and treating me to a quick burst of his intoxicating scent.
‘Oh, it’s just a surprise for Ciaran and it was bound to be sexual with Melissa in charge,’ I say, and like a pubescent teenager I feel my cheeks blush at saying the word ‘sexual’ in front of him. I immediately feel foolish. He must think I’m ridiculously immature, especially after what he must be used to with the prom queen and supermodel … Maxine.
‘Was it?’ He stares into my eyes. The innuendo hangs in the air like a neon sign outside a cheap motel offering rooms by the hour. Blood rushes to my cheeks again. Neither of us speaks, and then he playfully nudges me with his shoulder and whispers, ‘Can I ask you a personal question?’ I lean into him. His face is almost touching mine. He grins, and right now I want him to ask the question. I nod, and grin back.
‘Are you really a cheeky cow?’
My mouth opens.
It closes.
I swallow and then open my mouth to reply, but his lips are on mine. It’s as if a bumper pack of fireworks have all ignited, one after the other, deep inside me. And right now I don’t care if games are being played. I don’t care if I’m being used to sell more handbags, purses or whatever before Maxine shafts me. I don’t care if James hates me. I don’t care if Malikov wants to shoot me. All I care about is having Tom. It’s primal, and I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. I feel his hand link with mine, and in the glow of the moonlight and over the gentle sway of the sea he moves his mouth to my ear.
‘I take it you like pink roses then?’ For a moment I’m not sure what he means, and then I remember. The gorgeous flowers delivered to the switchboard room. So they weren’t from James after all. They were a bona-fide secret-admirer bouquet. My heart skips a beat.
I lift my eyes to meet Tom’s, but his face changes. He looks really worried.
‘Georgie, I’m so sorry. I err …’ he starts, lifting his hands out slightly, and away from me. He looks terrified now. ‘I’ll go. Please forgive me.’ He’s standing now, his hand reaching out for the door. But before I can reassure him, he pulls the door open and, after hesitating momentarily to glance back at me, he’s gone.
26
The low, quiet muffle of Tom’s voice stirs me, and I open my eyes. I stretch my arms and legs out like a starfish. Tom is in his room, but the adjoining door to the side of my bed is slightly ajar. He disappeared after leaving the karaoke bar last night, and I must have forgotten to close the door properly.
I pull myself up and peer through the crack. He’s sitting sideways on the chair at the desk wearing a grey T-shirt and jeans. He’s talking softly into a black retro-style desk phone.
‘Yes. Just as we said it would.’ I strain to hear, wondering who he’s talking to. ‘We’re nearly there now.’ Then he clicks the handset down and I hear footsteps moving towards the hallway, followed by his door slamming shut.
I jump out of bed with a vigorous burst of energy that I’m not used to, and promptly trip over the left Gina sandal. I bend down to retrieve it, smiling at the memory of the kiss from last night but wondering why he rushed off like that. As I hunt around for the other sandal, I spot my clothes dumped in a heap by my bed. I scoop them up and my stomach rumbles. I’m starving. I ponder on room service, but ‘who was he talking to’ pops into my head. An unnerving thread of doubt worms its way into my thoughts, and I move towards the adjoining door. It’s still ajar, and a horrible sense of mistrust festers in the pit of my stomach as I tiptoe through it.
He only left a few minutes ago. My brain races, quickly calculating a feasible time span before he might return, then telling myself he’s gone downstairs to have breakfast before heading straight to the conference room. My heart pounds as I rush over to the desk. But what if he forgot something and comes back? I have to be quick.
I lift the handset, and my hand trembles as I press the redial button. After the longest few seconds ever, the number he called appears on the display. It’s a London number. It starts ringing. The feeling of hunger is replaced with a rush of nausea. I wish I hadn’t done this now. I pull the handset away from my ear, desperate to ignore the knot of doubt, and I’m just about to disconnect the call when a voice breathes into the charged air.
‘Yes?’
I drop the handset down as if it’s a scalding hot iron singeing the palm of my hand and fly from the room, slamming the adjoining door behind me.
Maxine’s voice.
It was Maxine.
I’d know her breathy voice anywhere. I hate her a million times over, but not as much as I hate myself. What the hell was I thinking? I feel like a complete sucker. The flowers, his gentlemanly charm, showing me his etchings … I mean, come on, how clichéd is that? And I still fell for it. It was all a ruse after all. And what about James? I feel like a slapper. A horrible, guilty slapper. I barely know Tom, and it was only a kiss – admittedly a very long delicious smoochy one – but who knows what could have happened if he hadn’t left so abruptly. I’m not sure I could have resisted him if we’d come back here to carry on. Tears stab my eyes.
After a quick, punishingly hot shower, I decide to go and find the others. I couldn’t bear to still be here in the adjoining bedroom when Tom returns. I pull open the door and instantly grind to a standstill.
‘Oh my God. What happened to you?’ I ask, quickly taking in the scene. Ciaran is standing right in front of me with his fist in mid-air, as if he was just about to knock. And he’s totally naked and soaking wet.
‘I was minding my own business having an early morning dip in the hot tub when I’m hauled out and my shorts whipped from my body,’ he says, through chattering teeth. ‘And they nicked my robe. Any chance of a towel?’ he pleads, clutching his manhood.
‘Err, yes. Of course. Sorry, I should have offered. Help yourself,’ I say, feeling flustered at this sudden interruption. Averting my eyes, I step aside and motion him towards the bathroom. ‘So who was it? Actually, no, let me guess, I bet it was Melissa?’ I yell through the crack of the bathroom door as I start to calm down.
‘Well, get this. They only had Kate and Wills masks on, and it all happened so quickly. They obviously planned it – pathetic really.’
‘It could have been worse, at least you’re still inside the hotel,’ I tell him, as he emerges from the bathroom, having dried