gave her a sideways look. ‘What else did you have scheduled for the weekend?’
‘A few things.’ Sophy dug out her phone and her diary. ‘What am I going to tell them?’
‘The truth.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘You don’t want to say you’re running off for a dirty long weekend?’
Oh, she couldn’t hesitate now. ‘We’re a secret, remember?’
She got on and made the calls. It took the whole twenty minutes they had left on the ground to rearrange everything she’d agreed to do in the weekend.
She put the phone away but her practical-oriented brain presented her with the next set of problems.
He lifted her face to his. ‘What’s wrong now?’
‘I don’t have any clothes with me.’
‘You don’t need any.’
‘Oh, we’re going to a naturist colony? Awesome.’ She aimed for sarcastic but was burning inside with the naughty promise of his words. ‘They don’t mind furry teeth either?’
He laughed. ‘There are shops where we’re going. We can get you a toothbrush, okay?’
‘Fabulous.’
The flight was only just over an hour. Christchurch. She knew the destination now, of course—the signs and the pilot’s message had given that one away. She was fine with it. Christchurch was a nice city and she hadn’t been there in ages.
But when they got into the rental car he headed straight onto the bypass and the motorway north.
‘Where are we going?’
‘I told you, you’ll see.’
After forty minutes or so she thought she had it figured. The rows and rows of vines in the fields gave it away. Waipara—part of the wine region.
‘We’re staying on a vineyard?’
‘No.’ He kept driving.
It was another hour, passing alongside a river and the weird shaped cabbage trees that looked like something Dr Seuss would have drawn. A few sheep were scattered in the fields. And then they got there—to Hanmer Springs, an Alpine spa town in the heart of a geo-thermal area. He slowed down as they drove through the main street of the village.
‘Look, swimsuit shop on the right,’ he pointed out. ‘Leopard print number in the window gets my vote.’
Oh, please.
‘Superette on the left for toothpaste and other essentials.’ He pointed with his hand. ‘Bakery for the best pies in the country.’
She chuckled. ‘Everything one could possibly need.’
‘That’s right. Now I’m going back to Waipara for some meetings.’ Halfway up the hill he pulled up in front of a house. ‘You’re staying here.’
She got out of the car. He was leaving her? She walked up the path slowly, not caring enough to appreciate the pretty wooden chalet he’d just unlocked. When was she getting the ‘dirt’ in the weekend? Inside he’d opened the big suitcase. Carefully packed inside was all her gear—all her tools, all her unfinished work. She stared at it, then at him.
‘I’m not letting you throw away this opportunity, Sophy,’ he said softly, placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘Not even for hot sex with me.’
‘Lorenzo—’
‘Give me your phone.’ He held out his hand.
She pulled it from her purse and gave it to him.
He switched it off and put it in his pocket. ‘You have no excuses now. You have to finish them.’ His expression softened. ‘I’ve booked you into the spa at four p.m. for a massage and whatever other treatments you feel like.’
‘Really?’ Her spirits lifted a fraction.
‘Uh-huh.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘But you have to do nothing, and I mean nothing, but work until then—deal?’
‘Okay.’
‘And you’ll have to walk down to the spa because I’m taking the car.’
‘That’s okay.’ She nodded again. ‘Thanks.’
But she was disappointed. She ached for him. And he’d played on that—used it to set her up. She’d cleared her weekend to be with him, but now she had nothing to do but finish her pieces for the show.
She supposed she’d thank him one day.
He kissed her, drew away way too soon. But at least he groaned as he did. He put his hands behind his back. ‘Nothing but work. Nothing.’
She managed a laugh and watched him go. As he got to the car she couldn’t stop herself calling after him through the open door. ‘You’ll be back later?’
‘Count on it.’
She turned back inside and looked at her stuff. She had all afternoon. All day Saturday and Sunday too. With no phone, no outside contact—no one calling. Suddenly she felt it—liberation. And she did as he’d bid. It only took twenty minutes to set herself up and then she worked. In the silence, alone, she got into the zone. Her enthusiasm for it returned, as did her confidence. She studied her options, assessing the work she had completed and her pages of notes for other styles. She deliberated carefully before making a decision. She wanted her work to be the-matically linked, but for each piece to stand uniquely, to showcase a broad range.
There was a harsh ringing. She literally jumped three feet in the air. Spun round, looking for the source of the noise. It was the landline of the holiday home. ‘Hello?’
‘You need to go now or you’ll miss your appointment.’
‘Oh.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Is it that time already?’
He chuckled. ‘You’ve been hard at it, haven’t you?’
She leaned against the bench and let the smile out. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ She meant it this time.
It was a ten minute walk down the hill to the thermal pool complex, but she jogged it in five—so she had time to pick up a swimsuit from the store first. She walked straight past the leopard print but stopped at the rack of crimson costumes. There was a two piece the exact shade of part of the graffiti piece on Lorenzo’s fence. She grabbed the one in her size—hoped the cut would be okay. She paid and ran—not wanting to be late.
She went for the full facial, full massage option. An hour and a half of pure bliss. At the end she couldn’t have peeled herself off the table if she’d tried. The beautician left her to relax. Her private room had its own small pool of thermally heated, mineral-laden, olive-green water for her to melt into at her leisure. When she regained some kind of muscle control, that was.
