her out of my mind,’ he said, surprising himself when he realised he’d made this admission out loud.
Beth looked startled, too. ‘But you only spoke to her for a few minutes.’
‘I know.’
‘On top of that, she was a blonde.’
Daniel smiled a wry smile. ‘Yes, I know. But I really liked this one. She was sweet.’
Beth laughed. ‘She was sexy.’
‘Not in an obvious way.’
‘Oh, come on. With that figure?’
Daniel frowned. Yes, he supposed she was sexy, and yes, he’d like nothing better than to have the chance to make love to her. But in the time since she’d walked out of his life this morning, it wasn’t sex that was on his mind so much as just wanting to be with her again.
‘I have to find her,’ he pronounced.
‘How? You don’t even know her name.’
‘I know she booked a wedding reception at the Regency Royale hotel tomorrow. I could get her name and number from them.’
‘They won’t give it to you.’
Daniel nodded determinedly. ‘Oh, yes, they will.’
Beth sighed. He was right. They probably would. Daniel had the gift of the gab. He could talk anybody into anything.
‘You said you had to go into the city to see your doctor at twelve, didn’t you?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Anywhere near the Regency Royale?’
‘A good ten to fifteen minute walk.’ Her doctor’s rooms were up in Macquarie Street. The Regency was down near the Rocks.
‘I’ll pop down there whilst you’re in the surgery. How long do you think you’ll take?’
‘Could be anything up to an hour or two if the doctor’s called away to deliver a baby. That seems to happen quite a bit.’
‘We can keep in touch by phone.’
‘Are you sure this is such a good idea, Daniel? I mean, that poor girl would have to be extra-vulnerable right now.’
‘I have no intention of hurting her, sis. I just want to take her out to dinner. Get to know her a bit better.’
Beth rolled her eyes. There was no point in arguing with Daniel. There never was. Once he decided he wanted something, nothing stood in his way.
‘I’ll book a taxi for eleven-thirty, then. No point in driving into town. Parking is a pain.’
Charlotte pulled up at the entrance to the Regency Royale just after noon. Although twelve-thirty was the time she’d arranged to meet her mum and dad for lunch, she knew that her ultra-punctual, always-leave-plenty-of-time-to-spare parents were sure to have arrived in Sydney early, and would already be sitting there in the lobby, waiting for her. She had contemplated being late but then decided it was far better to get her bad news over and done with as soon as possible.
The hours since returning home from the airport had been difficult, with recriminations and regrets. But mostly filled with tears.
Maybe if Louise had been there, she’d have been able to maintain her equilibrium by having a bitching session about Gary’s betrayal. But Louise had had to go to work. Whereas she was on a week’s holiday from today, courtesy of her supposed wedding tomorrow. They virtually passed each other in the foyer of their old apartment building, with Louise giving her a quick hug before making Charlotte promise not to ring that bastard, Gary. An easy promise to give, and to keep. She couldn’t have borne to even talk to him, let alone listen to his pathetic excuses and apologies.
The effect of their empty flat was undermining in the extreme, a huge wave of depression descending within seconds of Charlotte letting herself in through the front door. The silence was awful—plus the sight of the snaps of herself and Gary taken at the airport which she kept on the bookcase in the hallway. She threw them all in the bin, then threw herself on her bed and wept in a wild mixture of bitterness, anger and despair.
After an hour or so, she pulled herself together to have some breakfast and to send an email back to Gary telling him what she thought of him and that he was to never, ever contact her again!
The moment she sent it, however, she burst into tears again.
This time, she pulled herself together reasonably quickly and made a few necessary cancellation calls. The formal-clothes hire place. The celebrant. The florist. And finally, the suite she’d booked for their wedding night.
By this point, she was too upset to cancel the whole reception as well. She decided to do that later in the day, in person, after she’d talked to her parents. Maybe she could talk the hotel into giving her father some kind of refund.
The physical damage of her three crying jags had not been easy to repair. An ice pack had helped, plus some carefully applied make-up. She’d changed her clothes as well, her outfit this morning having been chosen with Gary in mind. Now she was wearing tailored cream trousers and a red shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves. Fawn pumps. Straw bag. Red lipstick.
‘Will you be booking into the hotel, ma’am?’ the parking valet asked when she climbed out of her car.
Charlotte suppressed a groan over the ‘ma’am’. Since when had she become a ma’am and not a miss? Still, the valet attendant looked all of nineteen, if that, so she supposed, at thirty-three, she was a ma’am to him.
Depressing, though, and not what she needed today.
‘No,’ she said, forcing a smile as she handed the fellow the keys to her silver Kia Rio. ‘Just meeting someone here for lunch,’ she added.
‘You’ll need a parking ticket, then, ma’am.’
Taking the ticket from him, she whirled and pushed through the revolving glass doors into the huge, airy arcade which led to the hotel proper.
A right trap for tourists and guests, this arcade, Charlotte thought as she strode past the exclusive boutiques which sold designer clothes, fabulous jewellery and the sexiest of lingerie. A trap for brides-to-be as well, she recalled with a sigh, thinking of the money she’d spent in the lingerie shop the last time she’d been in here.
Charlotte promptly veered to the other side of the arcade, where there was nothing to provoke depressing memories, just a couple of doorways. The first led into the Rendezvous bar, a trendy bar she’d visited once or twice with Louise. The second led into the bistro-style bar and grill called the Tavern, which she’d checked out the last time she’d been here and where she intended taking her parents for lunch. They served good old-fashioned pub and club meals, just the thing for a country couple who weren’t partial to à la carte cuisine.
‘Can’t stand fancy food,’ her father always said.
Charlotte’s stomach churned as she thought of her father. More so when she reached the end of the arcade and stepped from the marble
