that she should move and he would follow. ‘If you will excuse me, Holly,’ Ruiz said, holding the door for her, ‘I’m going back home to bed.’
‘You’re taking Bouncer? Of course you are,’ she said quickly, remembering Bouncer was living at the town house now. ‘I’m really sorry to have put you to all this trouble, Ruiz. The silly thing is I didn’t even want to go out. I’m so bogged down with work I can’t spare the time.’ She stopped when she saw his expression.
‘I think you have some decisions to make about how you live your life, Holly. Success is great, but—’
Ruiz’s shrug said it all.
‘I need to get some sleep,’ he said, turning. Before he made the long journey back to Argentina, Holly guessed, as the man she loved and his dog left her life without a backward glance.
* * *
He didn’t sleep. Luckily for him he’d packed for the trip ahead of time. He tossed and turned, thinking about life and what he wanted out of it, and he came up with the same answer every time: Holly. She was all he wanted. He couldn’t make sense of his longing for her, or come up with anything more concrete than the fact that his life was empty without her. He wanted her, not just for a fling, but for longer—for ever, maybe. He’d started to get to know her and he wanted to know more. A lot more. He wanted to give them a chance. He wanted to run with the crazy redhead and see where it led. Almost certainly nowhere, Ruiz concluded, since Holly seemed completely wrapped up in her career. But was that because she really didn’t care about anything apart from her job. Or did Holly’s lack of confidence in her personal life mean she only felt safe when living vicariously through her column? There was only one way to find out.
* * *
If the team leader wanted misery he could have it, Holly reflected the next morning as she hung up her coat at the office. The only consolation was that she wasn’t alone with her hangdog expression. Everyone was a little under par after the party, moving in slow-mo and speaking in mumbles, and then only when necessary. But all that changed when she reached her desk. ‘What?’ she said, looking at the mob surrounding it. ‘What’s happened?’
As her colleagues peeled away from Holly’s work station Holly saw the envelope propped against the monitor. She knew immediately who it was from. Thousands of letters arrived each week addressed to The Redhead, but this was addressed in bold, black script, To Holly.
‘Well? Open it,’ Freya insisted.
Picking it up, Holly held the envelope to her chest almost as if she hoped that would make it invisible. ‘This is private,’ she said, hoping everyone would go away.
‘Open it here,’ Holly’s team leader insisted with his usual insensitivity. ‘Then if it’s anything to upset you, one of us can take over your work so at least something will get done today.’
‘He’s all heart,’ one of the girls murmured discreetly, adding, ‘We’re all on your side, Holly. And judging by the size of that envelope there could be something more inside it than just a private note.’
And why should she care if it was from Ruiz? Holly reasoned. He’d made it clear enough last night that what he wanted was a clean break. Perhaps she’d left something behind in the club and he was returning it, though she couldn’t remembering doing so—
‘It’s a folder from an airline,’ Freya informed her colleagues as Holly peered inside the envelope. ‘And there’s something else,’ she exclaimed, poring over Holly’s shoulder.
‘Do you mind?’ Holly said shakily. Walking over to the window, she turned her back on everyone. She read the handwritten note first. It was another of Ruiz’s succinct wake-up-calls: ‘Have you thought about your life yet, Holly? About who you really want to be? Maybe the enclosed will help. Ruiz.’
‘Are you okay, Holly?’ Freya demanded when she remained rooted to the spot. ‘Have you checked the airline tickets yet?’
Airline tickets, Holly thought numbly, turning her attention to the rest of the envelope’s contents. ‘Oh, my God! This is ridiculous—’
‘What is?’ Holly’s team leader demanded.
‘First-class return tickets to Buenos Aires, leaving tonight. And a VIP pass to a polo match.’ Holly held them up as if she needed everyone else to confirm that they were real. When the shrieks of excitement died down, she shook her head. ‘What a waste.’
‘A waste?’ her team leader queried sharply.
‘Well, I won’t be using them.’ Going back to her desk, Holly sank weakly into her chair. ‘How can I, when I’ve got so much work on here?’
‘Have laptop, will travel,’ the team leader argued briskly, swinging his chair round. ‘You can send copy from anywhere in the world with Internet access, Holly. And if you don’t take up that offer, you can consider yourself fired.’
‘Fired?’ Holly exclaimed, springing up.
‘Wasn’t it you who told me that the “Living with a Playboy” feature had almost run its course?’ her boss reminded her. ‘Don’t you think this trip to Argentina is the key to reviving it?’
And put her life through the wringer again? Did she want that? Wouldn’t it be so much easier to make it all up in the column as she went along and walk away from this? ‘I can’t afford to take time off,’ she said flatly.
‘We’ll cover your expenses and pay your wages while you’re away, as long as you keep submitting the column,’ the team leader said, growing in enthusiasm as he thought through his idea. ‘You’ve just been appointed ROCK!’s foreign correspondent. Just think what that will do for reader figures,’ he added, rubbing his hands with glee.
Reader figures. Great. But she felt empty inside. What was wrong with her? She finally had the career she’d always wanted.
And what a hollow victory that had turned out to be. What about the guy? What about Ruiz?
The thought of seeing Ruiz again was a terrifying and uncertain prospect. She didn’t know what to expect. Could she do it? Could she be with Ruiz again, write about him, and remain aloof? ‘What about me?’ she blurted as desperation took over.
‘What about you?’ the team leader demanded. ‘You’re part of a team, Holly. The clue’s in the word.’
He was right, Holly realised. She couldn’t let the team down—all of their jobs were on the line, not just hers. And nothing was ever achieved by hiding away. She had to get out there and confront life—and Ruiz—head-on.
‘I don’t know what you’re standing there for,’ he added impatiently. ‘Shouldn’t you be going back home to pack? According to this ticket you’ve got four hours to catch your flight!’
Hope I can read my writing later with all the turbulence—this must be the messiest diary entry I’ve made in a while.
Did I have any option but to accept Ruiz’s invitation? Having already messed up my non-existent
