need to go into Innsbruck this morning,’ Flora said after giving her breakfast order to the waitress. Alex’s coffee arrived as she did so and he gratefully poured a cup of the delicious, dark, caffeinated nectar, offering it to Flora before pouring his own.
It was all very domesticated.
‘I only brought work clothes. I didn’t realise that I would be participating in the week’s activities.’ She smiled over at Alex. ‘Apparently I won’t be able to avoid learning to ski any longer although I’m sure I’d be far more useful concentrating on all the lovely après-ski activities.’
Camilla drained her cup. ‘I think learning to ski is an excellent idea. You really should look at the hotel’s ski lodges. I’d be interested to hear what you think of the materials and colours. They’re accessible by ski lift but the only way back down the mountain is on the slopes.’
Flora grimaced. ‘I can’t wait to see them but I have to admit I’m a little nervous about the whole “two bits of plastic on snow” part. I can ice skate but other than that my balance is decidedly wonky. But hey, carpe diem and all that. It’s good to try new things.’
Alex looked up. What was going on with her? Something was definitely different. Her tone, the way she was dressed. Did this have anything to do with yesterday? Their disagreement—or what happened later?
He should step back. This was what he wanted for her, right? For Flora to be more confident, to start living. And he could do with his space too. To make sure he cleared any lingering sentiments from that darned kiss from his system so they could go back to being easy with each other.
He looked out of the window. It was a glorious day, the sun already high in the blue winter’s sky, lighting up the snowy peaks in brilliant colour. He should stay in and work—but the contrast to the damp fog he had left behind in London was almost painful. He yearned to get out, to clear his lungs and his mind in the cold, clear air.
Besides, Flora had never skied before; she had no idea what she needed—an easy target for anyone wanting to hit their sales targets. And it was his company’s expense account on the line. ‘I’ll come in with you. Unless I’m needed here, Camilla?’
‘No, no.’ His client shook her head. ‘You have a lovely day. Visit the Christmas markets and enjoy Innsbruck. I’ll be doing the tour of the hotel when the guests arrive. I don’t need you for that. This evening I am planning a mulled-wine reception and sledge rides for my guests. It would be nice if you were here for the reception so that I can introduce you.’
‘Absolutely. Sounds great.’
Flora didn’t say anything while Camilla sat with them but as soon as she sauntered away Flora pushed her plate away and narrowed her eyes at Alex. ‘I don’t need a chaperone. I hate shopping enough as it is. The last thing I want is you hanging around looking bored.’
‘I love shopping,’ he promised her, reaching over and nicking a small Danish pastry from her plate. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be absolutely fine.’
She smacked his hand as he carried the pastry away. ‘I wasn’t worrying about you. I’m going to try out the swimming pool first while I can be sure of having it to myself if you want to go and get changed.’ Her cheeks flushed pink and she avoided his eyes. ‘I’ll be at least an hour so you have plenty of time to, you know... Change.’
He did know. She didn’t want to walk in on him. Last summer when they had shared a tent at the festival she’d been content to stand outside the tent flap and yell an imperious demand to know whether he was decent or not. Those more innocent days were gone, maybe irrevocably. He tried for a light humour. ‘We should have a code. Like college students—a ribbon on the door handle means don’t come in.’
‘I’d be tempted to keep one on there all the time.’ But she smiled as she said it, a welcome attempt at the old easy camaraderie. ‘I’ll see you in the foyer at around eleven. You bring the credit cards and arms ready to carry lots of bags. I’ll just bring me.’
* * *
It was annoying. She was annoying. Annoying and pitiful. Annoying, pitiful and pathetic. Yep, that just about covered it. Flora grimaced at herself in the half-steamed-up changing-room mirror. She shouldn’t be glad that he wanted to spend the day with her. She should tell him to stick his pretend relationship and his begrudging job offer and his expense account—and then she should go spend the day sightseeing before jumping back onto a plane and heading home to re-evaluate her life.
All of it.
But instead she was taking extra care drying her hair and reapplying the make-up she had swum off—and not just because this wide room, tiled in bronze and cream, was the most comfortable and well equipped changing room she had ever set foot in. It was going to be very difficult going back to her local council gym with its uncomfortable shared changing facilities and mouldy grout after the thick towels, rainforest showers and cushioned benches.
No, she couldn’t deny it; she was looking forward to the day ahead. Because when all was said and done he was still Alex Fitzgerald and she was still Flora Buckingham. Life-long best mates, blood brothers and confidants and surely one embarrassing drunken episode and one insanely hot kiss couldn’t change that.
She wouldn’t let it change that.
And she wasn’t going to sulk and dwell on his words from the previous afternoon either. Flora’s hands stilled as shame shot through her, sharp and hot. He knew her too well, knew how to hit a tender spot, how to pierce right through the armour of denial she had been building up. She was too afraid of messing up. So scared of getting it wrong that she had ignored her instincts and selected purely science A levels in a bid to show her parents that she was as clever as her brother, as her Oxford-educated, high-flying sister.
But in the end what had she proved? Nothing. Quitting her vet course might have been the right thing to do but in the end it had just confirmed all their ideas. That she wasn’t quite as robust as the rest of her family, not quite as determined.
Flora resumed drying her hair. For once it was going right, the frizz tamed, the curls softened into waves. Maybe this was a good omen for the weeks ahead. The truth was even now she wasn’t sure she knew what she really wanted, deep down inside. Was she so determined to find more work as an in-house designer simply because that was easiest, hiding behind somebody else’s brief, somebody else’s brand? Or should she be trying to step away from the corporate world and indulge what he called her whimsy?
The little designs she played with might indeed be whimsical, fantastical even, but they had their fans. After all, her little online shop selling scarves and cushion covers in her designs ticked over nicely. Imagine how it would do if she actually gave it all her attention.
She smoothed some gorgeous-smelling oil onto her hair and twisted it back into the loose bun. Three hotels, three design briefs. This could buy her the time and income she needed to find out where her heart lay. Or was she going to wander from dream to dream for ever, never quite committing? Always afraid of failing. Of falling.
No. This week was a wake-up call in all kinds of ways. And she was going to make the most of it.
She smiled her thanks at the chambermaid who was already collecting her towels and returning the changing room into its pristine state ready to wow the expected guests. Flora knew that along with the journalists and bloggers a few influential winter-sports fanatics had been invited; a couple of ex-Olympians and several trust-fund
