Kiss Me on This Cold December Night:. Charlotte Phillips
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to take more than a hint to fob him off. She turned to face him.
‘I’d love to catch up but I’m meeting someone,’ she said.
***
A stabbing sensation deep in his chest felt like jealousy, but was clearly his pride kicking back in at her detached brush-off. Brief acknowledgement – check. Polite ‘hello,’ – box ticked. Tom Henley knew perfectly well that his next move should have been to continue with his stay at the hotel and let her do the same, keeping out of her way for the duration of his (hopefully short) visit. Separate ways well and truly intact.
That would have been the sensible next move, and the one suited to his life and to the way he thought he had categorised her in his head: fun evening, hot night, nice memory, no bearing whatsoever on the present.
Except that deep down he knew he was kidding himself.
Instead, the file in his mind that related to Ella Scott was unfinished business and it was her fault for simply disappearing. No contact, no saying goodbye. No woman had ever left him before or since and let’s face it, it wasn’t as if there’d been a shortage of opportunity. The demands of medical training combined with his regimented upbringing – boarding school, heavy on routine, heavier on expectations – had meant that the short-term relationship was the only type he had any interest in.
He knew absolutely zilch about her beyond her name and a bit of background. And the fact that there was a silky inch or two of skin just at her inner hip that was so soft against his lips it had driven him crazy. He tightened his grip around the smooth leather handle of his holdall at that particular thought.
After she’d left, he’d been plagued with doubt that their unbelievable night really hadn’t been all that great for her and this blow to his pride had bothered him for far longer than it should have done. Why should he care, as long as he’d had a great time? It wasn’t as if she was the first, or the last. And he’d intended on walking away himself just a few hours later, just not in the abrupt cut-all-ties way that she had done. He’d become so accustomed to being the one in control, the one who backed away, that her no-show had been a bolt from the blue. It simply hadn’t entered his radar for a second that she could walk away first.
Devon had been a stopgap for both of them. He’d been visiting a friend for a few days before his annual departure for the house in Barbados. She’d been on the Christmas break from her college course, working crazy hours in a restaurant on the seafront, making the most of the holiday overtime. Passing through, the both of them.
Instead of just leaving the encounter in the past where it belonged, it had remained a loose end in his mind. In the months that followed, his ears pricked up whenever he encountered a patient with the surname Scott, wondering randomly if it might be a relative of hers. Hankering after something he couldn’t have and didn’t need were diversions he couldn’t afford and he’d made an effort to push the what-if from his mind ever since. Tom Henley didn’t allow himself to be diverted from his path in life, not by anyone or anything. He hadn’t been raised that way.
Now he had a few days staring at four walls while he waited for the airport to reopen. No friends to visit; they were all doing their own usual Christmas thing. And when he eventually got to Barbados it would be the beginning of a new era as he stepped into his father’s shoes, the culmination of nearly thirty years of career preparation, and one which filled him with a crushing sense of being hemmed in.
With that prospect bearing down on him, the resurrection of a non-thinking, mind-blowing repeat of the most exciting, sensual encounter of his life felt suddenly like the Christmas gift to end all Christmas gifts. A brief respite before the walls closed in on his life in the New Year. Not to mention the fact that it would redress the balance and kill off that what-if once and for all.
She glanced at her watch and gave him a polite must-dash smile. Unfortunately, she wasn’t looking like it was that attractive a prospect from where she was standing.
‘Someone?’ he clarified.
She stole a glance at the revolving doors as they spat another snow-covered guest into the lobby.
‘A friend. She’s actually due any minute,’ she gabbled.
She? So not here as part of a couple then? His interest intensified at the revelation and he shrugged easily.
‘She’s probably delayed because of the snow. It’s bad out there,’ he said, stating the obvious. ‘Can I buy you a coffee while you wait?’
An awkward pause and then she gave him a perfunctory smile.
‘I don’t think it would be a good idea,’ she said, not really meeting his eyes.
‘I’m getting seriously mixed messages here,’ he said. ‘There I was thinking you were instigating a rerun and you won’t even do coffee?’
‘A rerun?’ she said.
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me it’s a coincidence that of all the places in the lobby, you chose to stop and chat to me right here?’
She stared at him through narrowed eyes, wondering what the hell he was going on about, then followed his gaze as he looked up, one eyebrow cocked knowingly. An enormous bunch of mistletoe tied with a red silk bow was suspended directly above them. Her stomach made a warm, melting flip and she hefted her holdall in front of her as if to ward him off.
‘Coincidence,’ she said, her cheeks warming. ‘Pure coincidence. I had no idea that was there.’
‘Oh really?’ His tone was amused, as if he didn’t believe a word of her excuse and was thoroughly enjoying this, toying with her. And let’s face facts, he probably was. Of course after her wanton behaviour of five years ago, Tom Henley thought she was an easy lay. And could she really blame him? Because five years ago for one night only, she’d been exactly that.
‘No! I really am NOT that kind of girl,’ she gabbled desperately, then saw his cocked eyebrow, his half smile, realised he was teasing.
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and grinned as she looked back at him.
‘I just realised how that sounds,’ she said. She sighed and put her bag down for a moment on the marble floor, passing a hand over her eyes. ‘Believe it or not I don’t do one-night-stands, I don’t actually do any kind of stand. What happened in Devon was a blip.’
‘A blip?’
A smile played on his lips, as if having her on the back foot amused him all the more.
‘A one-off,’ she clarified madly.
It was true, that night in Devon had been a one-off, never repeated before or since. For some reason that night the conditions had been perfect for one-night-stand requirements. Need to prove herself alive – check. Don’t-care attitude – check. Both had come from the loss of her grandmother a few months earlier, which in light of the fact that when it came to parenting skills, her mother and father had proved themselves on a par with a chocolate teapot, had meant Ella was truly on her own in life at the age of twenty-two. Add in the fact she was sacked from her waitressing job and that Tom had come to her aid, and mix in the fact that he was leaving the country the next morning. No repercussions to worry about when the other person was on another continent – right?
Result – a one-night stand that had been so hot it made her toes curl just thinking about it. And the whole point of one-night stands was they stopped at one night. The clue was in the name.
‘It’s nice to see you, Tom,’ she said. She kept her tone detached, polite. ‘But I really need to get settled in.’
This time he didn’t follow her, but she felt his eyes on her as she took the stairs to the galleried landing above.
‘Coffee,’ he called after her. ‘Open invitation, grab it while you can. The moment the snow melts I’ll be out of here.’