problem unless you allow them to be.’
‘My mistake. Yours don’t stay around long enough to cause trouble. You change yours with the season, the way some women change their wardrobes.’
‘At least I’m consistent.’
‘Right. They’re all tall, thin and looking for a man to show them off in all the right places,’ she said dismissively. ‘And you’re tall, rich and obliging. Temporarily. Is it Lake Spa?’ she persisted. ‘Is that why you’re going down there for the next few weeks?’
‘No, Lake Spa is already outperforming expectations, but new buildings inevitably have teething problems and someone needs to be on the spot while Gina’s away.’
‘You?’ She didn’t bother to conceal her disbelief.
‘Yes, all right, you’ve seen right through me as usual. I want to take a close look at the staff she’s chosen.’ He swung his chair around to face her. ‘They’ll tell me a lot about the woman. And if what they tell me is as good as I think it will be, I want to see who performs above expectations, looks like a natural successor.’
‘To Gina? But I thought she was a real find.’
‘She is. I’m considering promoting her to take overall charge of the health club division within the year.’ He glanced up at her. ‘Why don’t you take a break and come down for a day or two? See what you think of the hotel now it’s finished. Swim, have a sauna, an aromatherapy massage. A complete makeover in the salon. Whatever you like.’
She pulled a face. ‘No, thanks. I made myself a promise that I’d never take my clothes off during working hours and it’s served me very well for the last thirty years. Why don’t you take one of those women who don’t give you any trouble? I’m sure they’d queue up for the chance.’
‘Like you, Penny, I never mix business with pleasure.’ And health and leisure were big business these days. Of course, it helped that he’d applied the same single-minded determination to building his business empire that he’d put into his glorious, if short-lived, career on the rugby field. Expanding fast enough was the only problem there.
‘Okay, I give up. Not business. Not women. When was the last time you took a holiday?’
‘I hate holidays. There’s nothing wrong, okay?’ he said, noticing her raised eyebrows. ‘It’s always the same when a new project reaches completion. A sudden gaping hole in the working day. A what-was-I-doing-before-I-did-that? emptiness.’ Lake Spa had been bigger than anything he’d done before. The low was correspondingly deeper, that was all.
‘You need a new project. A new challenge.’
‘Do I?’ How many new challenges were there in his business? The Lake Spa project had been a new direction, combining hotel, health club and conference centre. So what was left?
He’d reached the pinnacle in his sport for one dazzling moment of fame and glory before his career had been cut short by injury. He’d never had a chance to get bored, to reach the been-there, done-that stage when repetition was all he could hope for. And the journalists watched for signs of him passing his peak.
Not that it had seemed like a plus at the time. He’d had to pull himself back from the edge of despair and start again, this time in business. But now his leisure company had reached a point where all he could do was add another new health club to the chain, another new hotel, another new conference centre. Or another spa.
The prospect of repetition yawned before him. Been there. Done that.
‘You definitely need a holiday,’ Penny said. ‘Something to recharge the batteries. Inspire you.’
What he needed was a challenge that wouldn’t leave him empty when it was done. Something that would continue to grow. Keep him focused.
‘Inspiration can’t be found lying on a beach,’ he said. Or staring out of his office window. ‘But, if there’s nothing needing my attention, I might as well go home.’
Maybe a couple of weeks at the Lake, at the sharp end of his empire, would give him some new ideas.
Dodie resisted the urge to dip her finger in the jar of chocolate spread and instead tossed it into the bin. ‘I will be good,’ she said out loud to no one in particular, avoiding her reflection as she passed the mirror on her way out to her studio. ‘Honest.’
She switched on her computer and, as she waited for it to boot up, tied her hair back in a scrunchie to keep it out of her face. Working at home had a lot of pluses. That she didn’t have to wear a suit or tights came top of the list. No need for serious work on her hair first thing in the morning was good, too.
No distractions in the way of sexily helpless men who didn’t know how to boil a kettle, or any of the hundred and one other things that a woman will do for a man who says he loves her.
But—and what a nasty word that was—there was always a downside to everything.
She might be able to work her own hours, wear what she wanted, not have to bother with make-up except when she was meeting a client, and never, never have to walk to work in the rain.
But there was no doubt that walking away from Martin, along with her post as tutor at Melchester University’s Art Department, hadn’t helped the constant struggle to keep her weight down.
Her freelance work had increased a little now that she had all the time in the world to concentrate on it, with no students, no man to distract her. But so had her need for comfort food.
Without the brisk daily walk to counter the effect of sitting at her computer and workbench—with exercise an optional extra that she never opted for—the effect on her backside had been disastrous.
Natasha’s wedding, she decided, had come just in time to get her back on the rails and maybe even into her favourite black dress. The one that now gaped unattractively over her bust.
The prospect of following her newly wed sister down the aisle on the arm of the thoroughly gorgeous Charles Gray had to be incentive enough for even the most ordinary woman, the most slothful food junkie, to get back into shape.
That and, of course, the opportunity to show Martin just how big a mistake he’d made.
Lake Spa blended perfectly into its surroundings. A series of low-rise stone buildings, each guest room with its own private deck built out over the water, it was set along the edge of an artificial lake which had been created by long-abandoned gravel workings.
Serene, peaceful now, colonised by wild duck and swans, it was light years from the local authority evening classes in aerobics run by Gina before she’d finally married her day job to her passion.
Dodie parked her ancient van—the battered exterior disguised by her own vivid artwork and hideously out of place amongst the top-of-the-range motors that filled the car park—and walked across to a small dock with a little flotilla of sailing dinghies, seeking inspiration for her part of the bargain. She spent far too long taking photographs of the hotel lodge, the conference arena, the health club and lake with her digital camera. Putting off the moment of no return for as long as possible.
Finally, however, she crossed to the entrance, trying not to feel completely overawed by the healthy creatures who,
