The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection. Zara Stoneley
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okay, I can get it,’ I say hastily.
‘It’s not a problem, honestly,’ he looks up at me.
His dark lashes are so ridiculously long. I edge away. ‘Honestly,’ I echo, ‘I’m fine.’
‘I’m trying to be a gentleman. Are you always this stubborn?’
‘I’m not being stubborn,’ I defend. ‘I just like taking care of myself.’
Picking my case up, he gives me a small smile that curls my toes. ‘Being independent is admirable but it’s okay to accept help sometimes. Now let’s get upstairs and get rid of our bags so we can eat. We have a table booked for eight thirty.’
‘We do?’ I squeak. Being with this guy in a professional setting is one thing, but at a cosy table for two?
‘It’s what usually happens when people go on business trips together.’ He gives me a pointed look. He’s right, damn it. Leading the way to the lift, he stabs a small round button set in a gold panel. ‘Besides, we need to discuss the schedule and how we’ll work best together.’
With me blindfolded so I can’t see your gorgeousness? The knee-jerk thought flashes across my brain.
‘Or do you suggest we sit separately and shout across the restaurant at each other?’ he asks drolly.
‘No, of course not,’ I mutter. Couldn’t he have filled me in on the plane? Although I guess he had other work to do then, and it’s not for me to challenge. But won’t dinner be a bit uncomfortable? My cheeks go hot with irritation as I mentally rehash his snotty remark in the car about almost believing me.
His blue eyes focus on my face like a satellite tracking device. ‘You’re a funny colour again. Are you all right?’
‘Uh-huh. Just a bit warm.’
He stares down at me, eyes narrowed, but thankfully the lift arrives with a discreet ping. He gestures for me to go first and once we’re both in stabs the P button. Excitement leaps up. I’ve never stayed in a penthouse before. Have I fallen asleep and woken up in the middle of Pretty Woman? But of course, I’m not a prostitute and sex is definitely not going to form part of the arrangement for the next few days.
We sink back against opposite walls of the lift. I fan myself, trying to cool down. The memory of his words reverberates through my head and a pressure builds behind my jaw.
‘Did you mean it?’ I blurt.
He raises an eyebrow, ‘Mean what?’
‘What you said in the car? About not believing me? What I said about men and money?’
‘I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. I said I almost could.’
‘Same difference,’ I shoot back. ‘And not very nice.’ Then I snap my teeth shut so I don’t say anything I might regret.
He looks at my hands where they’re clenched at my sides and then back at my face. ‘As far as I’m concerned that discussion was simply an interesting 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