of the building to ensure it took full advantage of the stunning views. Once again Flora stood by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows and her stomach fell away at the terrifying illusion that there was nothing between her and the edge of the mountain.
Clusters of comfy bronze and red velvet sofas and chairs surrounded small tables, bookshelves full of books, games and magazines filled one wall and a huge wood-burning stove was suspended in the middle of the room. Somehow the lounge managed to feel cosy despite its vast size, easily capable of seating the sixty people the boutique hotel was designed to hold.
‘Right.’ Alex seated himself on one of the sofas and laid out his sketch pad in front of him. It would, she knew, be filled with exquisite pen-and-ink drawings. This was just the first phase, the visionary one. From here he would proceed to blueprints, to computer models, to hundreds of measurements and costings and attention to a million tiny little details that would transfer his vision from the page to reality.
But she knew this, the initial concept, was his favourite part. In many ways neither of them had changed that much from the children they had once been, designing their dream houses, palaces, castles, tree houses, igloos, ships in absorbed companionship.
But in other ways... She ran her eyes hungrily over him, allowing herself one long guilty look at the bent tousled head, at the long, lean body. In other ways they had both changed beyond recognition—not that Alex had noticed that.
No, in his eyes she was still the dirty-faced, scabby-kneed little girl he had met the first time he had run away from home. He’d only made it half a mile along the lane before bumping into Flora and together they’d built him a den to stay in. Planned for Flora to bring him bread and milk and a blanket.
He loved her, she knew that. And there weren’t very many people who could claim that. Outside Flora’s own family probably none.
He just wasn’t in love with her. There had been a time, way back when, she had wondered. But her one attempt to move things up a level had ended messily.
Flora curled her fingers into fists, trying to block out the memory. Block out the way he had put his hands on her shoulders, not to pull her in closer but to push her away. Block out the look of utter horror in his eyes.
He had kissed a lot of girls that summer and subsequent springs, summers, autumns and winters. But not Flora; never Flora.
And here she was, all these years later, still hoping. Pathetic. One day she’d stop being in love with him. She just had to try a little harder, that was all.
* * *
Neither of them noticed the light outside fading, replaced by the gradual glow of the low, intimate hotel lighting. It wasn’t until the huge Christmas tree dominating the far corner of the lounge sprang into brightly lit colour that Alex sat back, took off his work glasses and rubbed his eyes.
‘So, what do you think?’
Flora chewed on her lip. ‘I think I really need to take a trip out there to fully get your vision,’ she said solemnly. ‘At least three weeks, all-expenses-paid.’
‘Play your cards right, convince Camilla Lusso that you can do this and you will do,’ he pointed out. ‘I told you that part of the brand promise is ensuring each hotel is both unique and part of its environment—and to leave as small a carbon footprint as possible. You’ll need to source as much from local suppliers as possible.’
‘Very worthy.’ Flora pulled the pencil out of her hair and allowed the dark brown locks to fall onto her shoulders. ‘Will the guests arrive in a canoe, paddled only by their own strokes with the help of a friendly wind?’
He bit back a grin. Trust Flora to see the big glaring hole in the whole eco-resort argument. ‘Unlikely. But it’s a start, don’t knock it.’
‘If I get to travel to Bali I promise not to give it as much as a second thought. Do you think they’ll go for it? The glass-bottomed hotel?’
‘I don’t know. They’ve already decided to set the hotel in the rainforest—which is a pretty interesting decision. After all, most people expect a sea view in a place like Bali, so I really want to still have that water element. And although it would be nice to build out over the sea the local laws won’t allow it—and the whole “surrounded by the sea” concept is a little “honeymoon in the Maldives” obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ Flora sounded wistful and he nudged her.
‘Come on, work with me here. If I can’t convince you I’m doomed. I actually think this might be even more breathtaking. Not just building over the lagoon but using glass floors to make the lagoon part of the hotel—the water as one of the design materials.’
‘And I can bring that detail to bear inside. The lovely local dark woods and the natural blues and greens. Yes.’ She nodded. ‘I can work with that. Thanks, Alex.’
Alex pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the bar, a long piece of polished oak on the other side of the room. ‘Glass of wine or a stein of Austrian beer?’
‘I’m not sure what a stein is. A glass of white wine please.’
Alex ordered their drinks from the barmaid who was hovering discreetly at the far end.
He carried their drinks over and handed her the wine, taking a long appreciative gulp of his own cold beer, a heavy weight in the traditional stein glass. ‘Cheers, or should I say prost?’
She raised her glass to his. ‘Cheers. You were right. A job like this is just what I need.’
Alex paused. He knew it wasn’t easy for her, younger sister to such high-achieving siblings, daughter of well-known experts in their fields. He knew her mother’s well-intentioned comments on everything from Flora’s hair to her clothes cut her to the quick. He knew how self-conscious she was, how she hated her conspicuous height, her even more conspicuous figure, her dramatically wide mouth and showy Snow White colouring. She really truly didn’t know how stunning she was—when she wasn’t hunching herself inside one of the sacklike dresses or tunics she habitually wore.
But she was twenty-nine now. It was time she believed in herself.
‘You could have had work before,’ he pointed out. ‘How many times have I asked you to freelance for me? You were just too proud to accept—or too afraid.’
Her mouth shut again, her lips compressed into a tight, hurt line. ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to stand on my own two feet.’
‘No, there isn’t.’ He fought the urge to backtrack; he’d always hated upsetting her in any way. ‘But there’s nothing wrong with accepting a helping hand either. Sometimes I think you’re so determined to prove yourself you actually hold yourself back.’
Her eyes blazed. ‘I can’t win, can I? Once you accused me of not knowing my own mind, now you’re telling me I’m too stubborn.’
‘If you mean I told you not to apply to vet school then I stand by that. Just like I stand by telling you not to take that job at Village Inns. I still don’t know why you did.’
Flora set her wine down on the table and glared at him. ‘Why were you so set against it? No one lands the perfect job straight from college. It made sense to get some experience.’
‘No,
