The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance. Carol Marinelli
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the door and see what it was like. But, no, he had organised a guided tour.
The staff member left us in the ballroom while he took a call. Luckily for us the ballroom wasn’t being used. The chairs and tables were against the walls, which made the floor space seem the size of a football field. The décor was a stylishly neutral one in cream and white with a touch of taupe, which gave wonderful scope for thematic decorations.
I did a three-sixty about the room and pictured stunning colours and costumes and wonderful food and wine and fabulous music with live musicians playing. I momentarily forgot about the hospital budget, but still …
‘What do you think?’ Matt said from beside me.
‘It’s perfect,’ I said. ‘We could have helium balloon trees and a chocolate fountain and a prize for the best costume.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
I was about to respond when the hotel staff member returned. He had an apologetic look on his face as he handed Matt a key card. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been called away to deal with a little matter in Reception. The manager asked me to give you access to our honeymoon suite. It’s the only suite that’s vacant this evening so you won’t be disturbed. A light supper will be sent up shortly, compliments of the hotel.’
‘Oh, but we couldn’t possibly—’ I began.
‘That’s very kind,’ Matt said, smiling at the staff member.
The honeymoon suite?
As we made our way to the lift my heart was skipping all around my chest cavity like a hyperactive kid on a pogo stick. I didn’t say a word as the lift zoomed up to the top floor. Not one word. I did what most people do in lifts. I stared at the numbers, then at my feet, then at the ‘In Case of Emergency’ instructions, which I studiously memorised. Anywhere but at the tall, silent man standing within arm’s reach of me. I kept my arms close to my body, clutching my purse across my belly, which was doing a series of super-fast somersaults that would have made an Olympic gymnast proud.
The lift opened and Matt led the way to the suite down the wide, velvet-soft carpeted corridor, holding the door open for me once he’d unlocked it. ‘I feel as if I should be carrying you over the threshold or something,’ he said with a deadpan expression.
I gave him a wry look. ‘The last time someone carried me they herniated a disc.’
It was true. My dad picked me up as a joke a few years ago and ended up having months of physiotherapy. Not that I’m a big girl or anything but ever since then I’ve been self-conscious about my weight. It doesn’t help that my father keeps reminding me of it every time he sees me by leaning over and groaning, ‘My poor old aching back!’
Matt closed the door, looking at me with one of those quirked-brow looks. ‘Not your husband, surely?’
I had to work hard to get myself together. ‘Erm … no. He didn’t carry me over the threshold. He’s not very … erm … traditional.’
‘Is that why you don’t wear an engagement and wedding ring?’
I mentally kicked myself. I never wear rings of any sort at work because it’s all too easy to lose them when I scrub up for a central line procedure or Theatre. But I should have thought of wearing a dress ring or something tonight. I’d given back Andy’s engagement ring … after I’d got the plumber to find it in the S bend of my bathroom basin. I curled my fingers into my palm—as if that was going to help—and gave Matt a tight smile. ‘I forgot to put them on when I got home from work. Silly me.’ I spun round to look at the suite rather than have him study me in that penetrating way. ‘Wow! Look at this place. It’s totally awesome.’
I wasn’t exaggerating. It was awesome. The suite was in four compartments separated by different levels. The décor was lavishly decadent, lots of velvet and satin, with soft lighting creating a sensual mood. The sitting-room area overlooked the Thames with views over Tower Bridge and the brightly lit London Eye. A wide flat-screen television dominated one wall. Seriously, who needed a television while on honeymoon? Mind you, I was glad I had one on mine but that’s because, well, you know, but at least I’d caught up on the complete box set of Downton Abbey. There was a well-stocked bar and a coffee table and side tables with gorgeous lamps that created an intimate atmosphere.
I caught a glimpse of the bathroom through the open door. It was bigger than my sitting room and was a luxurious affair of marble and gold with a white claw-foot bath in the centre of the room. A shower stall big enough for a hockey match was on one side and twin basins and gilt-framed mirrors above them on the other. Gorgeous fluffy towels, which looked as big as sheets, were on the gold towel rails or folded on a gold luggage rack-style holder.
On the top level of the suite there was a king-sized bed. I wondered if there was such a thing as emperor-sized—or maybe dictator-sized—as I’d never seen one as big as that before. The bedhead and sashed curtains either side of it were plush scarlet velvet, and teamed with the snow-white linen it looked not just stunning but temptingly inviting. I wasn’t tired but I had a childish desire to bounce up and down on that big bed, like Jem and I used to do when we visited our grandparents, which was rare because our parents hadn’t wanted us to be corrupted by capitalist greed. Like that worked.
There were dried rose petals artfully arranged on the bed and scatter cushions in the same rich scarlet were positioned against the bank of feather pillows. The bedside tables held twin lamps with sparkling crystal stands and the shades were the same pure white as the bed linen.
I stole a glance at Matt but he seemed totally unfazed by all the luxury. I suspected he was no stranger to five-star hotels. He was checking his phone, scrolling through messages or emails. ‘Nice view,’ I said to break the silence.
He looked up and smiled a lazy half-smile. ‘Yes.’
I could feel my face blushing like the colour of a stoplight. Something about his gaze as it held mine made me feel like a teenager discovering she was attractive to the opposite sex for the first time. I felt aware of my body in a way I hadn’t been before, all of its secret zones lighting up like a Christmas tree. Not just lighting up but fizzing with energy. I moistened my lips and watched as his gaze followed the pathway of my tongue. I saw his eyes darken as they came back to mine.
A knock on the door jolted me out of the moment. I whipped around and opened it before Matt could take a step. I knew I was acting like a gauche fool but I had never been so far out of my depth.
A hotel staff member wheeled in a trolley full of silver dome-covered dishes. There was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two crystal flutes. The champagne had a scarlet ribbon tied around its neck the same shade as the cushions and drapes. I felt like I had stepped into a fairytale. I was suddenly a princess being served in the royal suite with a handsome suitor.
The handsome suitor discreetly tipped the hotel staff member and the door closed with a soft little click that had a hint of finality to it that was strangely disquieting. For some reason an anticipatory shiver coursed over my flesh. I sensed we had crossed a threshold, one I hadn’t crossed in a long time. Maybe ever.
I was alone with a man I had only met the day before.
He was my boss, sure, but if things had been different—like if I weren’t pretending to be married—I would have been perfectly happy if we were left alone for the next week. Month even.
‘Might as well make the most of the situation,’ Matt said, as he reached for the champagne bottle.
I watched as he poured the bubbles into the two glasses. My fingers brushed against his as he handed me my glass. My heart fluttered and thumped like it had developed wings and a limp. My pulse raced. I took a sip … more than a sip, to be honest. It’s why I don’t drink too often. If I’m feeling nervous I drink more than I should.
Before I knew it the glass was empty. I could feel the alcohol hit my bloodstream like rocket fuel. I felt light-headed but maybe that had more to do with the fact that Matt was standing close enough for