had to stop loving him once and for all or else she risked losing him for ever. And if she lost him then where would he go? Would he lose himself in short-term relationship after fling, trading one gazelle-like blonde for another as carelessly as if they were new shirts? This whole nightmare was a wake-up call. Alex was right. She had to grow up.
And grow out of loving him.
IF ALEX EVER needed a new job then he could always audition for work as an actor. As long as the role demanded he was asleep throughout. He’d spent an entire night rehearsing for just such a role.
Lying still but not so still it seems unnatural? Check. Breathing deeply? Check. Resisting the temptation to add in the odd snore? Check. Playing word games, counting sheep and alpine cows and blades of grass? Oh, yes. Very much check.
Doing anything and everything to keep his mind away from the bed just a few feet away—and from the warm body occupying it? Check. Not dwelling in miserable detail on the long limbs, the tousled hair and the wide, sensual mouth just made for kissing? No, no check. He’d failed miserably.
It was all too reminiscent of his last summer in his father’s house. Lying in his bed at home during the long school holidays, wishing he were in the little attic room that Flora’s family only half jokingly called his or even, on the worst nights, wishing he were back at school in the dorm room filled with the cheesy, musty scent of adolescent boys.
It wasn’t as bad when his father was at home. Then he just had to listen to the noise. The drinking, the laughing, the noisy lovemaking. But his father was so seldom home.
He didn’t know what was worse. The way he had dreaded the creak of the door when his stepmother came in to ‘check on him’—or the way he had anticipated it. The musky smell of her shampoo. The way the bed dipped where she sat. The cool caress on his cheek. Her whisper. ‘Alex, are you awake?’
And so he had practised his breathing, kept his eyes lightly closed and pretended that he wasn’t. He didn’t think he ever had her fooled. And in the end she stopped asking if he was awake. Stopped waiting for permission.
In the end he had stopped pretending.
No. He rolled over, the narrow sofa uncomfortable beneath his hip. No. He mustn’t think of his stepmother and Flora in the same way, at the same time. They were nothing alike. He couldn’t, wouldn’t taint Flora with that association. She was better than that. Better than him.
Far too good for him. He had always known that.
And that was why he had to step away. Just as he had all those years ago. He’d broken up his childhood home with his out-of-control desires. He’d been so lucky that Flora’s family had stepped in and offered him a second home, an infinitely better home. He couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t let desire infiltrate that space. No matter what.
He opened one eye, relieved to see the room turning grey with the pre-dawn light. Slowly, stealthily he slid off the sofa, wincing as he straightened his legs; he felt like the princess must have after her night sleeping on a pea—if her bed had also been too narrow to allow her to turn and a good foot too short. He tiptoed to the door and slid it open. He could have sworn he heard a sigh of relief from Flora as the door slipped shut behind him.
He needed a run. He needed a swim. And most of all he needed a very long and very cold shower while he figured out just how he was going to survive the rest of the week.
* * *
‘I hope you slept well?’ Camilla smiled in welcome when Alex walked into the dining hall two hours later. Darn, he had hoped to have more time to gather his thoughts but it was too late. They were on. Time to be convincing.
‘Like a baby,’ he lied, searching for a subject that didn’t involve sleep, Flora or the suite they were now sharing. ‘Look at the morning light in here. It’s spectacular.’
‘It should be. You designed it that way.’
‘That’s true, I did.’ And he had. But it was always an unexpected joy to see his dreams made real.
The hotel was on the western slopes facing Innsbruck and so the huge windows were always most effective in the evening when the sun hung low in the evening sky and began to set. To counter this and to ensure the dining room didn’t feel too dark during the day, Alex had designed it as a glassed-in roof terrace with dramatic skylights positioned to capture as much morning sun as possible. Balconies ran around the entire room so summer visitors could enjoy the warm Alpine sun as they ate.
Like the rest of the hotel the floor was a warm, golden oak, the same wood as the tables and chairs and the long counters that ran along one side. Guests could help themselves to juice, fruit and a continental breakfast; discreetly hovering staff were there to take orders for hot breakfasts. There was no menu; the kitchen was prepared for most requests.
Alex strolled over to the counter and poured himself some orange juice before spooning fresh berries into a bowl. ‘Coffee, please.’ He smiled at the hovering waitress. ‘And scrambled eggs, on rye bread. That’s all, thanks.’
He took his fruit and drink over to the square table where Camilla sat, basking in the sunlight like a cat. Her plate was bare and she had a single espresso set in front of her. In the two years they had worked together Alex had never seen her eat. He suspected she ran off caffeine, wine and, possibly, the blood of young virgins.
Camilla took a dainty sip of her espresso. ‘I think I made the right call on the mattresses. I know they were expensive, but a hotel like this needs the best, hmm?’
Alex nodded, wishing he had had the opportunity to sample the mattress himself. ‘Of course. Your guests wouldn’t settle for anything less.’
Camilla eyed him shrewdly. ‘A hotel tracksuit? Very good of you to live the brand, Alex.’
He speared a blueberry on a fork. ‘Early morning workout. I didn’t want to wake Flora. Good idea to have them where anyone could borrow them. I wonder how many people will slip one into their suitcase?’
She shrugged dismissively. ‘Let them. They pay enough—and it’s all good branding.’ She looked over at the door. ‘Good morning, Miss Buckingham.’
‘Good morning.’ Flora wandered over to the table, a glass of juice in her hand. Alex gave her a quick critical look. She had on more make-up than usual, as if she was trying to conceal the dark shadows under her eyes. It might fool anyone who didn’t know her. It didn’t fool him for a second.
Had she been pretending to sleep as well?
A little belatedly Alex remembered his role as adoring lover and got to his feet to give her a brief peck on the cheek. He closed his eyes for a brief second as her warm, comforting scent enfolded him. ‘Morning.’
Her eyes flew to his. He couldn’t read her expression at all. He expected anger, discomfort maybe. Instead all he saw was determination.
Interesting—and very unexpected. She looked different too. Her dark hair pulled back into a loose bun, the dark green tunic belted over her jeans not left to hang shapelessly. She’d accessorised the whole with a chunky silver bead necklace and earrings. She looked smarter, more together.
