The Unexpected Consequences of Love (14 page)

Tula was loving working at the Mariscombe House Hotel. Moving down to St. Carys had definitely been the right thing to do, to the extent that she shuddered at the thought of how it so easily might not have happened. If she hadn't been caught out by Facebook, she could still be in Birmingham now.

But she
had
been caught out and she was no longer there; she was here instead. Doing a job she adored, in a gorgeous place, with friendly people.

And,
cough
cough
, a very good-looking boss.

Okay, officially Dot was her boss, but she didn't mean Dot. Having a crush on Josh Strachan just made working at the Mariscombe that much better. It was a definite bonus knowing he was around, unexpectedly hearing his voice, looking up and catching sight of him as he passed by.

Every single time she saw him, Tula's heart did a little double beat. Sometimes he stopped for a few words and sometimes he didn't, but simply finding herself on the receiving end of a momentary glance, a nod of acknowledgment, or a brief smile brightened her day. She'd even found herself acting as if he were watching her when he wasn't, just in case he secretly
was
. It was extra thrilling, like being in a film, aware of the cameras but pretending they didn't exist.

And here he was again now, heading out onto the terrace in jeans and a green-and-white-striped shirt, talking rapidly into his phone and swinging his Ray-Bans from his free hand. Skippety-skip went Tula's heart as he nodded his head in greeting, ended his call, and came over to the tables she was laying before dinner.

“Hi, where's Dot?”

“The Nelligans' taxi didn't turn up in time, so she's given them a lift to the station.” Shaking out a freshly laundered cloth in an attempt to billow it into the air before letting it settle gracefully over the table, she misjudged the angle of the shake and ended up covering her own head instead.
Ach
.

“Here, let me.” Josh solemnly lifted the white cloth off her and helped her smooth it over the tabletop. “How's the job going? Settling in?”

“Yes, thanks. Everyone's lovely.”
Especially
you
.

She didn't say that last bit, just thought it while polishing a wineglass with a vivacious flourish.
Just
like
a
girl
in
a
film
.

“What time do you finish your shift?”

The sun was shining on his face; she could see the glints of gold in his dark brown eyes and the tiny lines at the outer corners of the eyelids. His mouth was beautiful, so cleanly edged it looked as if it had been carved, and there was dark stubble peppering his jaw…okay, probably best to stop staring.

“Six. But I can stay later if you want me to.”

“That wasn't why I was asking. Seeing Sophie tonight?”

“No, she's got a job. I was just going to have a quiet evening. Well,” Tula amended, “apart from Sophie, I don't really know anyone else to socialize with yet.”

“Ah, don't worry. I'm sure you'll make friends soon enough.”

“Unless you'd like to come out for a drink with me?” The words popped out of her mouth almost of their own accord. Tula was as startled to hear them as Josh evidently was. Then again, why not?
Carpe
diem
and all that.

“Well…”

“Just a drink to keep me company, a friendly gesture, that's all… It's a beautiful sunny evening; better than staying in and watching a load of rubbish on TV. Not too much to ask, is it?” Oh help, and now she was burbling—almost as impressive as flinging a tablecloth over her own head.

Josh hesitated. The next moment, amazingly, he said, “Okay then. We can do that if you want. How about seven o'clock? I'll meet you out here on the terrace.”

Oh
my
God
oh
my
God
oh
my
GOD…

“Seven. Perfect.” It wasn't
that
perfect, what with only giving her a single measly hour in which to do herself up, but never mind; she'd just have to go at warp speed. Throwing him a dazzling smile, Tula said, “See you then!”

***

Adrenaline. Excitement. Time for the sixty-minute makeover. Fizzing with excitement, Tula ignored the hunger pangs in her stomach and jumped into the staff quarters' shower. If it was a choice between eating and getting herself Josh-ready, there was no contest.

Shower, hair, teeth, legs, scent, nail polish, makeup, redo hair, more makeup, pale yellow sundress, high heels, low heels, flip-flops, medium heels, pink espadrilles. And one last coat of mascara for luck.

Tah-dah
, all done with one minute to spare. And giant squirmy butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Tula took one last look in the mirror, then left her tiny room and raced down the back stairs.

“Wow, you look nice.” Carol, one of the older waitresses, gave her an approving nod. “Doing something special?”

Ha, just a bit
. Unable to keep such enthralling news to herself, Tula feigned a casual air and said, “Just off out with Josh.”

Carol did a gratifying double take. “Who?
Our
Josh?”

Tula nodded proudly. “Drinks first, then we'll probably go on somewhere for dinner.” Okay, that bit hadn't actually been agreed on, but it had to be a possibility, didn't it? She was hoping so anyway.

“Lucky you.” Carol, who was in her fifties and married to someone whose nickname was Shrek, said enviously, “He is lush.”

“I know.” Feeling a fresh burst of butterflies, Tula said, “Wish me luck! I'll tell you tomorrow how it went.”

***

By eight thirty, the jug of Pimm's was empty and Tula had a suspicion she'd drunk most of it. Then she belatedly remembered Josh was drinking San Pellegrino, which meant she'd sunk the whole lot.

It was the fruit, basically. She was hungry, so she'd eaten the slices of apple and cucumber and orange by way of a meal replacement. And drunk the accompanying punch, obviously. Well, it was a hot evening. By the time they'd reached the Mermaid Inn she'd been thirsty. And being in the company of Josh Strachan—finding herself on the receiving end of his undivided attention—had been so nerve-racking, she hadn't even realized she was knocking the stuff back until… Hmm, well, until it was all gone.

But they'd been having such a good time. It had been thrilling as well as nerve-racking; Josh was smiling and asking her loads of questions about herself—which was good because it meant he was interested in knowing all about
her
. And in turn she'd told him stories of her childhood, those tricky teenage years, the disastrous boyfriends…then had hastily backtracked for fear of sounding like a complete loser and regaled him with tales of wild parties, fantastic vacations, and completely lovely boyfriends who'd
adored
her.

In return she'd learned details of Josh's own upbringing, despite having already heard the gist of it from the other girls working in the hotel. Essentially it hadn't been the happiest of childhoods, which only served to massively ramp up his level of attractiveness. Then he'd moved on to the stays in Cornwall with Lawrence and Dot, interspersed with his time at university. By the time he'd finished telling her about the crazy years in Hollywood and even crazier experience managing Go Destry, the jug was miraculously empty.

Spotting her glance in its direction, Josh said, “Ready for another drink?”

“I probably shouldn't.” Tula was feeling light-headed and
probably
hadn't been the easiest word to get her tongue around; it had come out sounding like
prolly
. Oh, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings. Nor did she want him to think she wasn't enjoying herself in his company. If he got the idea into his head that the evening wasn't a success, he might end it and take her home.

In the unromantic sense.

Which definitely mustn't be allowed to happen. This was their very first date, after all. Whether or not he was aware of it.

“Okay, just one more. I'll have a glass of wine this time.” Tula beamed enthusiastically. What the heck, there were worse things in the world than being a teeny bit tipsy on a first date.

“Red or white?” said Josh.

“Wed.” Oops, bit of a Freudian slip. “
Red
.” She emphasized the choice with a sensible nod, but really, they were getting on
so
well
together. She'd been doing that thing the dating experts always told you to do, mirroring the other person's gestures and casually making physical contact at opportune moments. And it was actually working brilliantly, for once in its life; it was as if there were some kind of magical connection between them. She sat in a haze of happiness, elbows on the table and chin resting on her hands, as she watched Josh make his way back inside the pub—whoops, elbow off table. Oh well, never mind, look at how gorgeous he was…

***

At the bar, Josh was wrestling with his conscience. Yes, he'd had a plan, but it certainly hadn't been this. Initially, when Tula had invited him to have a drink with her, he'd been caught by surprise. But they'd gotten off to a rocky start last week and she was turning out to be an incredibly hard worker. A mixture of guilt and sympathy had made him unexpectedly say yes, coupled with the fleeting idea that if he were a bit kinder to Tula, he might perhaps go up a notch or two in Sophie's estimation.

In his mind he'd pictured Tula and himself sharing a couple drinks out on the terrace back at the hotel. In his mental image, she'd worn a casual shirt and shorts, and maybe a dab of makeup.

Instead, she'd bounced out to meet him this evening done up to the nines, and said brightly, “Let's go somewhere nice!”

Which hadn't been his intention at all.

They'd ended up at the Mermaid. Whereupon, instead of asking for half a lager or a glass of wine, Tula had spotted the sign for Pimm's, said, “Ooh, Pimm's. How lovely. Let's get a jug of that,” and promptly proceeded to glug her way through it.

She was now, predictably, three sheets to the wind and for some reason copying everything he did. It was bizarre, like when small children found it funny to repeat every word someone else said, except Tula, as far as he could tell, didn't appear to be doing it to be funny. When he rubbed his jaw, she rubbed her jaw. When he picked up and idly turned over a beer coaster, she did too. He'd started leaning forward and raising his eyebrows in a quizzical fashion, just to see if she'd mimic him. And she
had
. He had no idea what was going on, but it had kept him entertained for the last hour.

Anyway, moral dilemma. Of course he didn't want to take advantage of a girl who'd had too much to drink. Then again, when he'd earlier attempted to bring Sophie's past into the conversation, Tula had changed the subject. But with her tongue now loosened by alcohol, this could be a golden opportunity to find out just what it was that Sophie was hell-bent on not telling him.

Which could possibly be regarded as underhand tactics, but he was doing it for the right reasons, wasn't he? Basically, he needed to know.

God, this red wine was completely delicious. Really mustn't have any more after this one, though. The good thing was, the hunger pangs had disappeared—those slices of orange and cucumber had definitely done the trick.

“We should probably head back soon,” said Josh. “You said you're working the early shift tomorrow.”

“I'll be fine.” Tula beamed at him. “Don't worry, I won't let you down. Shall we have another drink?”

“Better not. It's getting late.”

“But it's only ten thirty. That's not late at all.” She didn't want the date to be over. “I know. Let's go for a walk along the beach!”

Josh nodded and smiled in that heart-melting way of his. “Okay, good idea. Let's do that.”

Whoops
, sitting down had been easy; walking across soft sand was way trickier. And her head was spinning a bit more too, but never mind. The good thing was that after a couple stumbles, she now had Josh's arm around her waist to steady her. Oh yes, this definitely counted as a blissful experience…

“So you wouldn't say any of them had broken your heart.”

She'd been telling him some more about the boyfriends she'd had in Birmingham. Josh, bless him, was sounding concerned.

“No, not broken.” Picking her way over some complicated pebbles, Tula shook her head. “A few dents and bruises maybe, but nothing permanent. Nothing I couldn't get over. These things happen, don't they? You just keep on looking till you find the one who's perfect for you.” Glancing up at him with a bewitching smile, she said, “And then one day it just happens. There he is. And you know it's meant to be.”

“And everyone lives happily ever after.” Josh carefully steered her past a clump of gleaming brown seaweed, its frilly fronds sprawled like octopus tentacles across the sand.

“Well, we
hope
they do. Except it doesn't always work out that way. Look at Dot and Lawrence,” said Tula. “Look at Sophie.”

After a moment, Josh said, “Sophie needs to let go of the past. She shouldn't let what happened affect her life the way it does.”

“I know,” Tula nodded vigorously, “but she just
can't
. I've tried telling her that so many times, but it's like she's made up her mind and there's no going back. Once you've been married to someone and they do that to you… Well, it's not something you get over in a hurry.”

“I know, but she has to, for her own good.”

“I didn't know she'd told you.”
Oops
. Tula nearly stumbled again. “She never tells anyone about Theo. Honestly, though, what a nightmare. First his mother, then the whole suicide thing… I mean, God, no wonder she's so messed up.”

Silence from Josh. Finally, in a voice that was overly casual, he said, “No, no wonder. So…how long ago did he die?”

Tula stopped walking and peered up at him, her brain swirling with alcohol. But she wasn't so far gone that she didn't realize he'd been bluffing. Honestly, why couldn't he just relax and enjoy the evening without veering off on other subjects that weren't anything to do with him?

“Let's not talk about Sophie.” Entranced by the way he was looking at her and the sensation of his arm firmly encircling her waist, Tula breathed in the intoxicating smell of him. “Why don't we talk about us? You're so beautiful, do you know that? The first time I saw you, I could just
feel
it, you know? You seemed so right. And now we're here on this beach and it's all so…romantic. Do you know what I'm thinking?”

“Hang on, could you just stand upright a minute? Before we both fall over.” Not that she would have minded falling over with him, but Tula found herself being firmly rebalanced on her own two feet. Taking a step back from her, Josh said, “No, I don't know what you're thinking, but—”

“The last time I did this, it all went horribly wrong,” Tula babbled. “There was this guy I really liked at work, and when I tried to kiss him, he told me he was gay. But I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen again, because you're definitely not…
Oof…
”

This time she lunged toward him and Josh was forced to catch her. Taking advantage of the gathered momentum, Tula puckered up, aimed her mouth at his, and managed to get his jaw. Not perfect, but better than nothing. Plus she was now plastered against his front, which had to be good.

Sadly Josh didn't seem to think so. Once more she found herself being peeled off.

“Oh, come on,” Tula protested; it was so frustrating, being thwarted at every turn. “You know you aren't gay.”

“I'm not gay,” Josh agreed, “but it still isn't going to happen.”

“God.” She huffed out her cheeks in disappointment as he began to march her back in the direction of the hotel. “You're such a spoilsport.”

Sounding suspiciously as if he might be laughing at her, Josh said, “I know.”

***

The alarm went off at ten past six and Tula wondered if it was possible to die from the sound of a too-loud alarm. Her head felt like an egg about to give birth to a full-grown dinosaur. Her heart was hammering with nausea. Which was now rising in a tidal wave up her body… Oh help…

Falling out of bed, she only just made it to the bathroom in time.

Jesus, was there anything worse in the world than feeling like this?

“Blimey.” Spike was making himself a coffee when she stumbled into the staff kitchen and filled a glass with cold water at the sink. “You look rough.”

“I'm a girl barely alive.” Tula swallowed; her legs were like jelly, her hands trembling. Even drinking water was fraught with risk.

“Good night, was it?”

“Not really.”
Stay
down, water, please
.

He peered at her with interest. “You know when milk gets left out and it separates and goes that weird yellowy-green color? That's the color of your face.”

“Don't,” Tula murmured. Just the thought of sour milk could do it.

“Are you going to faint?”

“No.” It was a distinct possibility.

“You need to go back to bed,” said Spike.

“Can't.”

“There's no way you can work a shift.”

Tula wanted to cry; did he think she didn't know that? Except there was no way she could not turn up for work. Her current state of near-death was self-inflicted, and she'd be out of a job faster than you could say
super-strength ibuprofen
.

Plus… Oh God, her brain had been quailing and veering away from even thinking about the goings-on of last night, but it was a situation she was going to have to address. Memory was patchy so far, but amid the gray blur was an all too vivid Technicolor recollection of her launching herself at Josh like a heat-seeking missile, doing her damnedest to kiss him—and missing—before being smartly fended off.

The shame, the terrible, terrible shame of it. Somehow she'd managed to misread the situation and make a complete fool of herself. Wild optimism had overcome common sense. In the cold, hungover light of day, it was mortifyingly obvious that he wasn't the least bit interested in her. His number one priority was evidently still Sophie.

Who in turn wasn't remotely interested in him. For goodness' sake, couldn't he see how futile his stupid crush on her was?

Anyway, at least she hadn't been caught out by those sneaky questions he'd asked at the beginning of the evening. Sophie's secrets were still safe.

Then the blanketing gray clouds of her memory parted just fractionally and a single word slipped out, causing the breath to catch in Tula's throat. The word felt as if it might be
suicide
, but her brain had already skittered off in terror. Oh God, oh God,
please
don't let her have said it out loud last night…

“Whoops.” Spike hastily pulled out a chair, grabbed her by the arms, and steered her toward it. “You'd better sit down. You look like you've seen a ghost.”

***

Somehow, by some miracle, Tula made it through her shift. Pale and shaky and feeling unbelievably ill, she nevertheless managed to stay upright, smile at the guests, serve breakfast, and generally behave as if she wasn't teetering on the verge of death.

After lunch she went in search of Josh. “Could we have a private chat?”

Josh led the way into the empty office behind reception, eyeing her with interest. His tone dry, he said, “Well done. I didn't think you'd manage it. Feeling any better yet?”

“No.”

“Sit down. Why not?”

As
if
he
didn't know
.

“Okay, I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean for any of that to happen.” She may as well get all the humiliating bits out of the way first; let's face it, having to apologize for trying to kiss him was less shaming than the actual attempt itself. Tula rubbed her forehead and said, “Sorry about everything, the grabbing you and stuff. I can't believe I did that. It'll never happen again.”

“You've said that before,” Josh pointed out.

“I know, but about something different. That was bunking off work. This was trying to kiss my boss. And I couldn't be more embarrassed, but it's not even the worst thing I did.” She stopped and took a deep, shuddery breath; during the course of the morning, the memories of last night had made their patchy, terrifying return. “I told you some stuff I shouldn't have told you, about Sophie. I'm pretty sure I didn't say too much, but…please don't tell Sophie, okay? Please. I promised I'd never say anything, and she'll be so upset if she finds out I've let her down.”

His expression was inscrutable. “Oh. That's a shame. I was going to ask more questions.”

Tula's neck prickled with panic. “Well, don't! And there's no point anyway, because I'm not saying another word. Promise me you won't tell her,” she begged. “She's my best friend.
Please
.”

“Fine. You didn't say much.” Josh shrugged. “But okay, I promise. She won't hear it from me.”

“Thank you.” The relief was overwhelming; her eyes unexpectedly smarted and she covered her mouth. “Really, thanks.”

“Are you going to be sick?” He reached for the trash can under the desk.

“No.” Tula took her hand away and wondered how it would feel to hear him say it with genuine concern for her, rather than for the office carpet. She was just going to have to accept that as far as Josh Strachan was concerned, she wasn't The One.

Oh well. Maybe in time Josh would come to terms with the realization that as far as Sophie was concerned, he wasn't hers either.

***

When Tula had left, Josh remained in the office, lost in thought. Sophie had been married. And her husband had committed suicide. This information had been ricocheting around inside his head since last night.

Well, he'd known there had to be some reason for her being the way she was, but he hadn't been expecting
that.

Talk about a bolt from the blue. He had no idea what had happened or the circumstances leading up to it, but he certainly understood now why she was so determined to protect herself from further pain.

Feeling responsible for another person's death—even if you
hadn't
been responsible for it—had to be one of the worst experiences in the world.

No wonder Sophie preferred to keep it to herself.

And now, thanks to Tula's impassioned plea not to ask her any further questions, he wasn't likely to find out more.

Before going off duty, Josh checked his watch. Sophie would be here any minute. It had been Dot's idea; upon being told by a party of guests yesterday evening that before booking into any new hotel they liked to check out the photos of the people who ran the place, she had exclaimed, “Oh no, I can't believe we haven't done it; there aren't any pictures of Josh on the website—we need to sort that out at once!”

And while he'd been out at the Mermaid with an increasingly inebriated Tula, Dot had been calling Sophie to get her up here this evening for a short notice photo shoot.

The next moment, prompt as always, there was a knock at the office door.

“Hi.” Sophie was smiling, and the sight of her—coupled with the knowledge of what he'd discovered last night—caused something in his chest to tighten. She was wearing a purple shirt and faded jeans, and looked happy and utterly relaxed. Except he knew now that she wasn't. There was a carefully constructed guard there that never came down.

Okay, just act normally. If she can do it, so can you.

“Hi. Just so you know,” he warned her, “this is worse than the dentist for me. I hate having my photo taken.”

Sophie laughed. “So do lots of people. Don't worry; I'll make it quick and painless.”

“Shall we go outside to get it done?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I want you…sitting at your desk.”

It had been one of those accidental, meaningless pauses while she considered the options, but just for a millisecond it had sounded as if she were saying:
I
want
you.

Ha, if only.

Mildly curious, he said, “Why?”

“I have my reasons. Sit,” Sophie instructed, pointing to the chair and already reorganizing the items on the desk. “I need you looking all businesslike and efficient and grown-up.”

Something was going on; her eyes were sparkling as she moved the computer a fraction to the left. Josh sat down and said again, “Why?”

“For contrast.” Grinning, she pulled a folder from her bag and opened it, taking out a photograph. “It's Dot's idea. She wants to show everyone how you are now, compared with how you used to be.”

He saw the photo and groaned. “Oh God.”