Crazy, Undercover, Love (21 page)

‘Yes,’ an expression I can’t read crosses his face, ‘you’re right.’

We stop in one of the shops at the northern end of the long, wide, paved street, tucked behind a discreet black door. Sitting in a plush green velvet chair filled with silk cushions, I soak up the atmosphere as I wait for Alex, trendy music pulsing from invisible speakers in the burgundy walls, a horde of young, cool staff floating around making drinks and tending to the exclusive clientele.

Alex comes out of the changing room wearing a pair of black jeans and a pale blue open-necked top. Oh my. My knickers go into meltdown at the sight of his muscular thighs in the tight denim, the cotton of the top clinging to his wide shoulders and chest, the light shade managing to highlight how big and manly he is.

‘What do you think?’ he demands.

‘Uh-huh,’ I wheeze, nodding. I shoot a look at the nearest female assistant. She’s stopped what she’s doing to stand and gape at him.

‘Do you like it?’

I suck my cheeks in, and gulp with great difficulty. ‘Do you?’

‘It’s comfortable,’ he shrugs. ‘Think I’ll go and try something else on.’

As he goes into the changing room it gives me a view of his delectable bum. I may just slide down into a puddle on the floor right now. The assistant and I look at each other. She recovers first, probably because she has no idea the contents live up to the packaging. I squirm on the chair, thinking about the things we did to each other, how warm and confident his hands are. Would it be very naughty to sidle into the cubicle and help him out of his clothes?

‘You have a very handsome boyfriend, si?’ The young assistant saunters over, tucking a few dark curls behind her ear.

It’s too complicated to explain. My chest puffs up. ‘Si,’ I reply, wishing he did belong to me. Silly girl. Just imagine that on tap twenty-four seven though. Wow.

Alex materialises again in dark blue jeans and a black top, open at the collar.
Take me now
.

The shop assistant looks at him and turns to me with a raised eyebrow.
Why are you here shopping
her expression seems to say,
when you could be alone with him
? I completely agree, wanting to go back to the hotel room and push him up against the wall and do wicked things to him.

‘Charley?’ Alex crouches down in front of me, tanned skin and black hair looking sinfully gorgeous against the dark top.

‘What? Yes. Fine,’ I croak.

‘I didn’t ask you anything.’ He chuckles, ‘I was just trying to get your attention.’

‘Oh.’ Leaning forward I tuck my hands into his collar, feel the smooth skin of his shoulders, run my fingers into the hair at his nape. Our eyes connect and something around the area of my heart lurches. ‘You know I like you, right?’

He smiles and the corners of his blue eyes crinkle. ‘Yes. I like you too.’

I want to rest my forehead against his, close my eyes and make the world go away but it’s not an option.

‘Good.’ I sit back and clear my throat. ‘Now go get changed and then buy some of that stuff. You look great in it.’

‘Yes, madam,’ he salutes, pretending to click his heels.

I sit back in the chair, head falling onto the headrest as he strolls into the changing room.

I’m going to hell.

But I’m in heaven a few minutes later when we’ve exited the boutique carrying several posh bags and I spy a shoe shop. I drag Alex over to the large window, my eyes racing over the display. I’m a girl who loves her chocolate but shoes  …  they’re on another level. The ones that make me go still are open toe and neck-breakingly high, covered with blue and purple swirls against a white background, reminiscent of renaissance artwork. Better still, one of them is lying on its side and I can see the soles are red.

‘Wow,’ my breath fogs the glass.

‘Nice?’ Alex presses a hand into the small of my back and, after peering down into my face, grins.

‘Magical.’

‘So buy them.’

I check out the price tag. If I had a steady job and three months of clothing budget set aside I’d consider it. ‘Can’t.’ It’s a humiliating confession.

‘I guess it is a lot to spend. Let me.’ He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet.

‘That’s sweet Alex, but I wasn’t hinting. I don’t want you to pay because you’re the man, or the boss, or rich.’

‘I appreciate that, but you love them.’ One corner of his mouth curls up, ‘In fact, from the light shining in your eyes I’m not sure which you’re most excited by; me or the shoes.’

I chew my lower lip like I’m putting serious thought into it. ‘It’s a close contest, but they just have the edge.’

He smirks. ‘Very funny. I’m not sure if they’d be very good company, but if that’s how you feel you should definitely buy them.’

I stiffen my shoulders. ‘I told you, I can’t.’

‘Why?’

I may as well tell him. ‘Because I’m broke.’

‘Broke?’

‘Yes.’ This is so cringeworthy, especially with him being so rich. Super-yacht, luxury mansion, sports car rich.

‘Completely broke, as in you can’t afford to eat?’

If only a crevice would open up in the chewing-gum-laden pavement and swallow me whole. ‘Yes,’ I reply tightly, ‘pretty much.’ I fight the urge to lay my head against his broad shoulder and cry.

‘Ah,’ he says, nodding.

‘What?’

‘The comments you made about money in the car on Friday make sense now. So, how have you managed this weekend?’

‘Everything’s paid for.’ I shove my hands in my jeans pockets. ‘Room, food and drinks.’

‘What happened?’

I trail my eyes across the other shoes in the window, not really seeing them. ‘I don’t feel comfortable talking about it.’ Now, out in public, is not the time to tell him about my chequered employment history.

‘You can tell me.’ He squeezes my waist and looks into my eyes. ‘What is it?’ he asks, trying to make light of it. ‘Online bingo? An addiction to male dancers?’

‘Close, but not quite.’

He sighs. ‘You don’t want to discuss it, I can live with that, but why are you struggling so much? Wouldn’t your parents help if you asked them?’

‘Yes.’ I want so badly to lean on him, let him carry some of the weight.

‘But you don’t want to ask,’ he guesses, ‘because then they might think they were right, you shouldn’t have moved to the city.’

I’ve never met a guy who understands me so much. ‘Yes.’

He tugs on a piece of my wavy hair. ‘And will they be right?’

‘No,’ I say fiercely, instinctively, ‘they won’t.’

‘Because?’

‘Because I was happy until recently, and the experience of pursuing my dreams has made me who I am. No one can take that away from me.’ It spills out of my mouth and I stop. Regret and relief rise in my throat.

‘So does it matter if they think they’re right, as long as
you
know they aren’t?’

I let out a shaky laugh. ‘I guess not.’

‘Everyone goes through setbacks, you shouldn’t be ashamed. It doesn’t matter to me whether you’ve got money or not and it won’t to anyone who matters.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ I sniff, ‘you’re loaded!’ Immediately backtracking, ‘Sorry, that was rude.’

‘Don’t worry.’ He pauses. ‘My family has pots of money, the company does. Between you and I though, I don’t draw as big a salary as I could.’

‘You mentioned that on the way to the hotel on Friday. So how come? And what about the designer suits, the Maserati? You’re not going to tell me you live in a box under a bridge are you?’ I look at him suspiciously, ‘Because that I would
not
believe.’

‘No.’ His eyes gleam with mirth, ‘I don’t. I have a flat in London, one in Paris, and my own wing of the family home in Corfu. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy having money, but the rest of the stuff is part of the image. There are far more important things in my life.’

‘Like?’ I’m confused. I thought all he did was work.

‘Right at this moment, bedding a lovely redhead.’

I roll my eyes, grateful to him for trying to cheer me up. He makes life seem right. Or at least like it’s okay, or might be.

No. I can’t think that way. Stepping back from him deliberately to put some distance between us, I stare at the display again. It’s not real, whatever’s happening between us today. He’s nothing to do with real life. The inflexible, solid glass of the window separating me from the gorgeous shoes is like the barrier separating Alex and I. We can see each other but we can’t occupy the same space.

‘Come on.’ Spinning away from him, I wander down the street, looking up at the graceful but Gothic architecture of the buildings surrounding us. ‘What do you think is in there?’ I point at nondescript double doors tucked under an archway in the side of a building, a flow of people entering and exiting.

‘I don’t know. Do you want to check it out?’ Alex asks.

‘Have we got time?’

He frowns down at his watch. ‘Let’s make time.’

I smile over my shoulder at him as he follows me, and watch as the smile dies from his eyes, face becoming sombre. What’s he thinking? I wonder, but forget about it in the awe of the room I step into. It’s like arriving in Narnia. Completely unexpected. An indoor food market is arranged in lines of stalls, the vibrant colours almost too bright for my eyes. I spin around. Red, orange, yellow, green, purple. Smoothies, fruit, cakes. Like a light glass-topped warehouse, the space is warm and filled with people. I can smell something deliciously spicy cooking and hear shoppers chattering as they buy stuff or meander down the aisles. ‘Woah. Where do we start?’ I ask, mouth slightly open in wonder.

Alex turns away from a stall owner with a blue bandana in her dark hair, handing me a clear plastic cup with a domed lid and a neon pink straw sticking out the top of it. ‘Strawberry and Kiwi smoothie,’ he answers, gesturing down the alley of stalls I’m standing next to. ‘Shall we go down there?’

‘Thanks. Sounds good.’ Taking a sip of smoothie, I make an
mmming
sound at the back of my throat. ‘That’s gorgeous. You have to try it,’ holding out my straw to him.

Ignoring it, he hauls me in close and plants a kiss on me, tongue slipping between my lips. ‘Tasty,’ he whispers, stepping away.

‘What happened to no PDAs?’ I breathe.

Taking in the crowd of people sweeping past us: ‘There’s no one I know here. To everyone else we’re just a couple enjoying a lazy day together.’

‘Uh-huh,’ I agree, fiddling with my hair, arranging it over one shoulder. We’re not a couple, and when he finds out what I came on the assignment for we’re not likely to be.

‘Let’s get cracking,’ he says, tugging me forward.

An hour later we’ve walked up and down every aisle and have tried more samples than I thought possible. Tender meats and fresh seafood and sweet bread and dark fruity wine. ‘Well, I’m not going to need any lunch that’s for sure,’ I tell Alex. ‘Talking of which, shouldn’t we be getting back to the hotel?’ I’m surprised I’m the one to mention it.

‘I suppose so,’ he says reluctantly, looking around the market one last time before we push out the door back onto the grey street. ‘I liked it in there. It reminded me of you.’

‘Loud and full of food?’

‘No. Colourful and fun.’ He runs a hand through the lengths of my hair.

‘Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘It’s meant to be.’

He’s being too nice. It’s going to make telling him the truth so incredibly hard. Biting my lip, I dash off ahead of him, turning around to walk backwards. ‘Last one to the hotel … ’ I trail off, searching for a suitable insult.

‘Has to flash the other?’ he suggests, eyes twinkling and intent.

‘
Again
?’ I exclaim, instantly understanding his thoughts are centred around me and him naked on a bed.

‘Is that okay?’

‘Uh, yes!’ Whirling around, I start jogging back down to the marina. To the hotel and the nearest bed.

One more time. I just need to be with him one more time before I say goodbye.

As we approach the hotel, he takes my hand, yanking me down behind a large palm tree in a Mediterranean-style pot.

‘What are you doing?’ I demand.

‘Shhh,’ he turns to me. ‘Hiding.’

‘Um, why?’

‘I don’t want them,’ he points out a couple of shady looking men hanging around outside the hotel with cameras, ‘to see us.’

‘Oh, right.’ The privacy thing again.

‘Before you know it, we’ll be all over the tabloids. I can’t let that happen.’

‘What about the women you get pictured with who appear in the celeb mags?’

‘That’s different.’ He wipes his forehead with the back of one hand. He’s actually sweating. ‘They’re my dates for public events. She knows that.’

‘Who knows that?’ I ask dangerously.

‘Louise.’

‘And that matters because?’

‘Our divorce is being finalised and she’s not happy about it. If she thinks I’m involved with someone, she’ll drag it out even more.’

‘Are you lying to me about the divorce Alex, is it really happening?’ Kettle and pot and black for accusing
him
of being the one who’s dishonest.

His intense blue eyes clash with mine. ‘No.’ He emphasises the word, ‘Absolutely not.’ Squeezing my arm to underline the point: ‘It’s happening. I’m telling the truth.’

I can tell he’s being sincere. ‘Then, for God's sake!’ I snap, starting to rise.

‘What?’ He grabs my knees to pull me back to the floor.

‘If that’s what the whole not telling anyone and being discreet and no PDA thing was all about why didn’t you just tell me? I would have understood.’

‘I wasn’t sure of you, didn’t know you, and those other reasons still count. The clause thing and the wanting privacy.’

‘Right.’ Hmm. I want to tell him that’s unfair and unreasonable but he’s got a point. I was a stranger. And in a lot of ways I still am.

I watch as the men start chatting, and one of them lights a cigarette. ‘Alex?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Those women you get pictured with. You’re not with any of them? None are friends with benefits?’

‘Not all of them,’ he answers absently, craning his neck to watch the men.

‘What?’ I ask darkly.

‘Only a few,’ he says quickly, catching sight of my outraged expression. ‘No one special,’ he adds. ‘And not for a few months.’

‘Oh,’ I answer, mollified.

‘Charley, will you do me a favour?’ His warm breath puffs across my hair.

‘What?’

‘Can you go in first? I’ll follow in a few minutes.’

‘If it’s that important to you.’

He gazes down into my eyes and I feel the powerful connection that keeps tugging me in. ‘It is,’ he whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

‘See you up in your room then. Don’t take too long.’

‘I won’t.’

A delicious forty minutes later I’m standing in the massive shower conditioning my hair. As much as staying in Alex’s bed is very tempting, I’ve insisted on returning to my own room. I need space and time to brace myself for what I’m doing straight after lunch.

Telling him. Everything.

When he joined me in the suite it felt like something had changed between us, maybe because we spent the morning together. Neither of us said anything, we didn’t need to. He just took my hand and led me to his bedroom and we undressed each other, the rustling of our clothes and the humming of the air-con the only sounds.

He touched me like I was a rare shell discovered on a faraway beach, fragile, worn away by the sea over time, and ready to break. The incredible passion was still there but it took second place to something else. Our bodies fit together perfectly and he held my face and kissed me with sexy tenderness. I skimmed my fingers down his spine and held him close when he was inside me. When I came, I felt more at peace than I have in a long time, tingles running through me, tears clogging my throat. And when he held me afterwards we sighed at the same time and laughed about it and I thought,
I want to stay here forever
.

That was when I knew I had to get away. Disengaging, I slid out of bed and mumbled an excuse about needing to get ready, unable to look him in the eye.

I feel sad and horrible. What’s he going to say? He’s so smart and confident and has such a mega-amount of pride. He’ll hate me. I take a deep breath, and release it slowly. I’m a big girl. I will deal with whatever happens.

Looking down, I realise I’ve written
I’m sorry
in four-inch-high letters on the steamy cubicle door. Losing the plot. Still, I might as well carry on as I started.

Stepping from the shower, I wrap a fluffy towel around my body and traipse into the bedroom, door open so I can see into the lounge. There’s no sign of Alex so he’s probably on his way down to bag us a table for lunch in the restaurant.

An impatient knock sounds on the main suite door. Perfect. A towel is hardly the best outfit for receiving guests, but what if Alex has forgotten his key card? Another knock. Or could it be room service? Has Alex changed his mind? A third round of thumping. Better to answer before whoever it is decides I’m dead or incapacitated and feels duty-bound to kick the door down. Which could be pretty humiliating in my current outfit.

‘Coming,’ I call. Hurrying through the rooms, I swing the door open, a polite greeting freezing on my lips. ‘Tony,’ I grind out. ‘Alex said he’d sent you home.’

‘You wish.’

‘What do you want?’ I fold my arms across my body, hating the way he’s looking at me. I’m in a towel, alone in a hotel room with him. It reminds me of the scene in
Pretty Woman
when Julia Roberts' character gets a visit from Richard Gere's slimy friend and ends up getting clocked. But this is real life, not a film.