Читать книгу Her Ex, Her Future? - Louisa George - Страница 12

FIVE

As jobs went, this one hadn’t exactly been a hardship, thought Lily, settling on her sun lounger and preparing herself to test the customer service levels of the beach-bar staff, although this time for her own personal pleasure.

Some were, some weren’t. That was the way it went, and had gone, right from the start. MMS had started off offering customer satisfaction surveys before expanding to include services such as employee performance analysis, consumer demographic studies and bespoke training programmes, all in the name of driving service excellence. Their clients came in all shapes and sizes and temperaments.

This particular—easy—client had been with them since their inception and had grown with similar speed. Somehow, as the by-product of a much larger deal they’d ended up with a portfolio of assets that included the island of Santa Teresa. They’d offloaded the assets they didn’t want, but had decided to keep Santa Teresa with its once five-star luxury resort to see what they could do with it. They’d hired MMS to conduct a thorough analysis of how to turn the business around on the consumer side of things.

Normally MMS contracted the fieldwork out. In their business anonymity was key, and employing a small band of discreet, trustworthy, reliable freelancers to go wherever they were needed allowed Lily to concentrate on the marketing, sales and client side of the business and Zoe to focus on the numbers and data analysis.

On this occasion, however, the woman they’d hired to spend a week assessing the performance of staff and the overall consumer experience at the Coral Bay Lodge had slipped on ice and broken her ankle over Christmas and couldn’t fly. At such short notice, especially over the holiday season, they hadn’t been able to get anyone else so Lily had taken on the job.

Actually, she’d been heartily grateful for the distraction. January in London was typically on the quiet side and if she’d been there twiddling her thumbs she’d have had hours in which to dwell on everything that had happened on New Year’s Eve. Instead she’d been so busy working, concentrating on the details and reporting back to Zoe with her findings that she hadn’t given Kit a moment’s thought.

Well, hardly a moment’s thought, she amended, picking up the cocktail menu and wondering whether five in the afternoon was too early for a sundowner.

He had slipped into her head on the odd unguarded occasion, but whenever he did hot on the heels of it came the instant realisation of just what a bad idea Sunday night had been, how much what he’d done still hurt and how stupid and deluded she’d been to even imagine that him showing up on her doorstep might mean anything other than the need to scratch an itch.

Thank goodness the sex had been lousy or she’d be in serious trouble, she reflected, glancing down the long list of cocktails. If it had been as mind-blowing as she knew it could be, she’d now undoubtedly be wondering what she’d been missing all these years. What she’d been thinking when she’d decided to pursue relationships with men who didn’t affect her pulse rate.

She might also well be letting good sex get in the way of good judgement and telling herself that maybe she’d overreacted on Sunday night. She might be thinking that perhaps everything that had gone on between them before was now water under the bridge and why on earth shouldn’t they try again?

Despite the heat of the day Lily felt a shiver run down her spine. Wow, what a lucky escape she’d had.

And continued to have because thankfully since the day following the night before she hadn’t heard from Kit. Oh, that Monday he’d called. Repeatedly. At least, she assumed it had been him; she didn’t have his number in her phone, but he’d said he would, and she couldn’t think of anyone else whose number her phone didn’t recognise who would keep popping up with such persistence.

By the time the tube to Heathrow had emerged above ground, she’d seen she had half a dozen missed calls but, feeling too tired and too emotionally on edge to deal with the conversation she could imagine he’d want to have, she’d switched her phone off.

She’d switched it on twelve hours later and braced herself for more missed calls, but they seemed to have dried up. Which she was delighted by. Really, she was.

Smiling up at the waiter who’d materialised beneath her thatch umbrella as if able to read her mind, Lily ordered a margarita. It wasn’t too early and, besides, so what if it was? This was the first holiday she’d had in two years, and she planned to enjoy it.

After all, how could she not? she thought, lying back as the waiter smoothly retreated, putting her sunglasses on and closing her eyes with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

The endless azure-blue sky had been unblemished by cloud for the entire last week and the temperature was on average a perfect twenty-eight degrees. She’d downloaded a dozen books to read and there were miles of white sandy beaches to stroll along should she want the exercise. Ditto the sea, which was clear and turquoise and incredibly inviting. And what with the fabulous restaurant and beach bar she wasn’t planning on moving for the entire week.

Lily was on the point of dropping off when the quick tensing of her muscles and the sudden jump in her heart rate alerted her to the fact that someone was standing over her.

The waiter with her cocktail, she thought delightedly, levering herself up, whipping off her sunglasses and opening her eyes.

And nearly passing out with shock at the sight of Kit looming over her, blocking out the sun and holding what looked like her drink.

Oh, no, she thought, her heart plummeting as she stared up at him. There went her plans to relax.

‘Hello, Lily,’ he said casually, his deep voice sending goosebumps scattering all over her skin.

‘Hello, Kit,’ she replied, adding a cool smile to show that she could do casual too.

Acting like an automaton, she sat up, swung her legs round and reached for the sarong she’d dropped on the neighbouring sun lounger. With an odd feeling of calm she stood up and wrapped it round her, covering up the bikini that she’d thought modest when she’d put it on this morning but right now felt like the skimpiest thing she’d ever worn.

She tied the ends of the sarong between her breasts and took a moment to arrange her thoughts. Thoughts that actually weren’t in nearly as much disarray as they ought to have been, she had to acknowledge. Because the strange thing was in all honesty she wasn’t all that surprised to see him. Kit had always been proactive, and what with the way things had been left between them and the way she’d ignored his calls she should have guessed that he wouldn’t have let it lie. In fact, she should have realised something was afoot when the calls had stopped.

‘Yours, I believe.’ He held out her drink.

Lily took it, ensuring that their fingers didn’t accidentally brush. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘The hotel business not doing too well these days, darling? Having to moonlight as a waiter?’

Kit shot her a smile that despite her intention to stay cool and unruffled made her hot and bothered in a way that had nothing to do with the afternoon heat. ‘The hotel business is doing great. And as I was on my way over anyway I thought I’d save him the trip.’

Lily lifted the glass to her lips, swallowed down a massive gulp and winced as the tequila shot down her throat and hit her stomach. ‘So thoughtful.’

‘I can be.’

She licked the salt from her lips and felt a sharp stab of satisfaction when his gaze dropped to her mouth for a second. ‘This is beginning to become a bit of a habit,’ she said.

‘What is?’

‘You showing up unexpectedly.’

‘I might be on holiday.’

Yeah, right. ‘Are you?’

‘Yes.’

‘My, what a coincidence.’

‘Isn’t it just? Do you mind if I join you?’

Yes. ‘Not at all,’ she said, waving a hand in the direction of the sun lounger to her right as she sat down. ‘Be my guest.’

Kit took off his sunglasses, folded them and hooked one arm over the V of his T-shirt. Then he sat down and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees.

As his eyes met hers Lily felt herself beginning to lose track of things, as she often did when she looked into his eyes, and she wished he’d kept his sunglasses on. Instead she put her own back on, and waited.

‘I was told you were staying at the Coral Bay Lodge,’ said Kit.

‘Who by?’

‘Zoe.’

Of course. No one else apart from the client knew she was in this part of the world. But what the hell did Zoe think she was doing? Normally her sister was the soul of discretion, so what had happened? How could she ever have thought that Lily would want to see Kit? How had he ever persuaded her to release the details? Had he said something about what had happened between them on New Year’s Eve, and Zoe, in her current state of ecstatic happiness and filled with the resultant determination for everyone else to feel the same, was under some warped misconception that she was facilitating a reconciliation?

Whatever the reason, Lily thought darkly, she and her sister would be having words just as soon as she was free to call. ‘When did you speak to her?’

‘New Year’s Day.’

A week ago. ‘Right. Why?’

‘I rang you, but you didn’t pick up.’

‘I was travelling.’

‘You didn’t return my calls.’

‘I didn’t know it was you.’

He arched a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘You should have left a message.’

‘Would you have called me back if I had?’

‘Of course.’

‘Sure about that? Because I don’t remember getting a reply to my email.’

Lily smiled and shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Well, I guess we’ll never know, will we?’

‘I guess not.’

‘So were you worried about me, Kit? Ah, that’s sweet.’

‘I wasn’t worried in the slightest,’ he said easily. ‘I merely wanted to talk to you. This seemed to be the only way of achieving that.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘You should be. You were tricky to track down.’

‘I moved hotels.’

‘You moved islands.’

Lily took another gulp of her margarita. ‘Yes, well, these islands are small. My hanging around on Santa Teresa once my work was done might have looked a bit odd.’

‘It took me longer than I’d expected to find you.’

‘Are you after an apology?’

‘Would I get one?’

‘Not this time.’

Kit grinned that heart-fluttering grin of his and her stomach flipped in a way she didn’t like at all. ‘Didn’t think so,’ he murmured.

‘Couldn’t you have waited until I got back? I haven’t had a holiday in years.’

‘Patience isn’t one of my strong points.’

‘No.’ She paused and then gave it one last futile, she suspected, shot. ‘Is there anything at all I can do to make you go away?’

‘Not a thing.’

No, she hadn’t thought so. Lily sighed and resigned herself to the inevitable. ‘OK, fine. You win. But I’m not dressed for a chat.’ She certainly wasn’t ready.

He ran his gaze over her, so slowly and thoroughly that she felt as if he’d stripped her bare. ‘You look fine to me,’ he said, a little hoarsely she thought, ‘but perhaps you’re right. Maybe this isn’t the time or the place.’

Never and nowhere would be the right time and place in her opinion, but what could she do? On an island this size she’d never be able to avoid him, and hopping on the next available boat to the mainland wasn’t the answer because not only was running away immature, as Kit had just proved, he’d simply come in search of her.

Anyway, it would probably be fine. All they were going to do was talk, and talking never killed anyone, did it?

Besides, on one of the extremely rare occasions that Kit had flitted into her head over the last week she’d reflected that she’d been wrong when on her doorstep a week ago she’d told him they’d never been able to talk. Communication between the two of them had always been fine when there wasn’t much of import to communicate. The problems had only arisen when the stakes had been stratospheric, when emotions had run high and they’d felt exposed and vulnerable. It was then that they’d both gone into hiding and communication had become a four-letter word.

Tonight there wouldn’t be anything at stake. Kit might make her feel a bit on edge, and, God, he looked mouth-wateringly, spine-tinglingly hot in the white polo shirt, khaki shorts combination he was currently wearing, but she wasn’t emotionally involved. Not now.

And, actually, if he wanted to rake through the ashes of their relationship, that was fine with her because there were things she needed to tell him. Things she’d come to realise over the last five years. Things that she wanted to get off her chest and he ought to know.

She was much stronger than she’d been all those years ago, and with the exception of the wobble she’d had on New Year’s Eve, which had merely been down to shock anyway, he didn’t have the ability to hurt her any more.

Therefore, if she was well prepared and stayed focused conversation with Kit would be fine. Cathartic even. ‘Shall we have dinner?’

‘The restaurant?’

Of course the restaurant; no way was she inviting him to her villa for room service. ‘Why not?’

‘Eight o’clock?’

Three hours in which to decide her strategy? Three hours in which to don her suit of armour? Or, despite her brave thoughts just now, three hours in which to get completely and utterly hammered? Whichever route she chose to take three hours was perfect.

Draining the rest of her margarita and ignoring the small bundle of nerves beginning to twist her stomach, Lily nodded coolly. ‘Eight o’clock it is.’

* * *

The terrace where dining took place was everything that could be expected of a luxury four-figure-a-night five-star resort on an island off the coast of Mozambique. Lanterns sat on the edge of the decking, the candles within flickering in the twilight. Tables set with starched white tablecloths, silver cutlery and fine crystal dotted the terrace and the beach. Soft, sultry music drifted from behind the bar into the warm evening air.

Nature lent quite a hand to the feeling of sensuality too. The sea rushed up the sand with a gentle swish and then rolled back. The heady scent of lady of the night drifted through the warm evening air. The palm trees that surrounded the restaurant rustled in the breeze and cicadas chirped in the undergrowth.

Utterly oblivious to the considerable charms of the establishment, however, was Kit, who was standing at the bar and frowning down at his beer as he experienced a rare yet all-consuming moment of self-doubt.

Heading over here had seemed such a good idea last week when he’d put his plans into place. Fired up on adrenalin and the thrill of the chase, and practically burning up with the idea of a second chance with Lily, he’d had his secretary make the travel arrangements while he’d issued instructions to his management team. He’d found himself looking forward to seeing her again and the challenges he knew he could expect. He’d been looking forward to getting everything off his chest and persuading her to give them another shot. More than looking forward to it, if he was being honest.

But now he was here, now he’d seen her clear hostility towards him—which she’d been less successful at hiding than she probably thought—it struck him that maybe he’d been a bit reckless. And maybe he wasn’t being very fair.

OK, so he wanted to talk things through and offload, but perhaps Lily didn’t. Who was he to insist they rake up the past when, considering the boyfriends she’d mentioned, she’d evidently moved on in a way that he didn’t think he had?

By turning up out of the blue like this and demanding they talk he’d put her in an impossible position. He’d probably shot her intentions to relax and enjoy her holiday to pieces. Given what he knew of her he wouldn’t be all that surprised if she’d hopped on a boat to the mainland to catch the next flight home. Or at the very least hotfooted it to one of the other islands that made up the archipelago in an effort to put some distance between them and resume her holiday in peace.

Either one of which was looking increasingly likely, he thought, glancing at his watch, because it was now quarter past eight and Lily was never late.

Beating back the disappointment beginning to sweep through him, Kit swallowed hard and forced himself to focus on practicalities. If she wasn’t late, if she had gone, what would he do next? Go after her again and this time lock her up or something to make flight impossible? Leave her in peace until they got home? Or give up altogether?

As his stomach began to churn Kit exhaled slowly and told himself to calm down. He’d give her another fifteen minutes, then he’d put in a call, and, depending on whether or how she answered, would take things from there.

Thirty seconds later, however, the doubt over whether or not she’d left and what he’d do about it vanished because despite having his back to the entrance to the bar he knew Lily was there. He could feel it in the way his muscles tensed with awareness, the prickling of his skin, the overwhelming sense of relief that flooded through him.

Deliberately slowly he set down his beer, turned round, and at the sight of her his heart stopped. For a moment he felt winded. Blinded. Stunned. She was wearing a simple floaty black dress and sparkly flip-flops, and she was clutching a small black bag. Her neck was bare but big silvery hooped earrings hung from her earlobes.

Her dress wasn’t particularly revealing or overly clingy, yet something about her made his mouth go dry. It was as if she were sort of glowing from the inside out. Her dark hair shone in the soft light of the bar and her eyes gleamed and her mouth was curved into a barely there smile that had his pulse racing.

She looked... He racked his brains for a moment to find the right word. Serene. That was it. She looked serene.

While he felt anything but.

With his heart beating double time Kit watched as she walked over to him and for the first time in years felt a stab of panic because he didn’t know whether to kiss her mouth, her cheek, shake her hand or do nothing.

His indecision was as terrifying as the decision he had to make, and his palms went damp in a way that had nothing to do with the condensation that he’d felt on his beer glass.

With every step she took his head swam just that little bit more, until she stopped right in front of him and, thank goodness, took the decision out of his hands by reaching up and planting a soft, light kiss on his cheek.

Then she stepped back and smiled up at him, presumably completely unaware of how she was affecting him.

‘You look nice,’ she said, giving him a quick once-over that had heat shooting through him.

‘You look beautiful,’ he replied, once he’d managed to clear his head of her scent and unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

‘Thank you.’

He cleared his throat. ‘I booked a table.’

‘Great.’

‘Would you like a drink before we sit down?’

‘Would you?’

‘If you would.’

‘I don’t mind.’

Feeling as if a swarm of bees had invaded his body, Kit swallowed hard. For crying out loud, this was absurd. He was thirty-two. He ran a global multimillion-pound business. He was known for being decisive, intuitive and utterly ruthless when the situation called for it. Yet here he was, being rendered practically tongue-tied by the prospect of an evening with his ex-wife. His totally calm and in control ex-wife. Who was expecting not a drooling idiot of a dining companion, but a possibly difficult conversation that he’d insisted upon.

Telling himself he really had to get a grip, with superhuman effort Kit pulled himself together. ‘Let’s just go straight to the table, shall we?’ he muttered, taking her hand and practically marching her across the bar and out onto the sand.