The By Request Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
Flora had never skied before; she had no idea what she needed—an easy target for anyone wanting to hit their sales targets. And it was his company’s expense account on the line. ‘I’ll come in with you. Unless I’m needed here, Camilla?’
‘No, no.’ His client shook her head. ‘You have a lovely day. Visit the Christmas markets and enjoy Innsbruck. I’ll be doing the tour of the hotel when the guests arrive. I don’t need you for that. This evening I am planning a mulled-wine reception and sledge rides for my guests. It would be nice if you were here for the reception so that I can introduce you.’
‘Absolutely. Sounds great.’
Flora didn’t say anything while Camilla sat with them but as soon as she sauntered away Flora pushed her plate away and narrowed her eyes at Alex. ‘I don’t need a chaperone. I hate shopping enough as it is. The last thing I want is you hanging around looking bored.’
‘I love shopping,’ he promised her, reaching over and nicking a small Danish pastry from her plate. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be absolutely fine.’
She smacked his hand as he carried the pastry away. ‘I wasn’t worrying about you. I’m going to try out the swimming pool first while I can be sure of having it to myself if you want to go and get changed.’ Her cheeks flushed pink and she avoided his eyes. ‘I’ll be at least an hour so you have plenty of time to, you know... Change.’
He did know. She didn’t want to walk in on him. Last summer when they had shared a tent at the festival she’d been content to stand outside the tent flap and yell an imperious demand to know whether he was decent or not. Those more innocent days were gone, maybe irrevocably. He tried for a light humour. ‘We should have a code. Like college students—a ribbon on the door handle means don’t come in.’
‘I’d be tempted to keep one on there all the time.’ But she smiled as she said it, a welcome attempt at the old easy camaraderie. ‘I’ll see you in the foyer at around eleven. You bring the credit cards and arms ready to carry lots of bags. I’ll just bring me.’
* * *
It was annoying. She was annoying. Annoying and pitiful. Annoying, pitiful and pathetic. Yep, that just about covered it. Flora grimaced at herself in the half-steamed-up changing-room mirror. She shouldn’t be glad that he wanted to spend the day with her. She should tell him to stick his pretend relationship and his begrudging job offer and his expense account—and then she should go spend the day sightseeing before jumping back onto a plane and heading home to re-evaluate her life.
All of it.
But instead she was taking extra care drying her hair and reapplying the make-up she had swum off—and not just because this wide room, tiled in bronze and cream, was the most comfortable and well equipped changing room she had ever set foot in. It was going to be very difficult going back to her local council gym with its uncomfortable shared changing facilities and mouldy grout after the thick towels, rainforest showers and cushioned benches.
No, she couldn’t deny it; she was looking forward to the day ahead. Because when all was said and done he was still Alex Fitzgerald and she was still Flora Buckingham. Life-long best mates, blood brothers and confidants and surely one embarrassing drunken episode and one insanely hot kiss couldn’t change that.
She wouldn’t let it change that.
And she wasn’t going to sulk and dwell on his words from the previous afternoon either. Flora’s hands stilled as shame shot through her, sharp and hot. He knew her too well, knew how to hit a tender spot, how to pierce right through the armour of denial she had been building up. She was too afraid of messing up. So scared of getting it wrong that she had ignored her instincts and selected purely science A levels in a bid to show her parents that she was as clever as her brother, as her Oxford-educated, high-flying sister.
But in the end what had she proved? Nothing. Quitting her vet course might have been the right thing to do but in the end it had just confirmed all their ideas. That she wasn’t quite as robust as the rest of her family, not quite as determined.
Flora resumed drying her hair. For once it was going right, the frizz tamed, the curls softened into waves. Maybe this was a good omen for the weeks ahead. The truth was even now she wasn’t sure she knew what she really wanted, deep down inside. Was she so determined to find more work as an in-house designer simply because that was easiest, hiding behind somebody else’s brief, somebody else’s brand? Or should she be trying to step away from the corporate world and indulge what he called her whimsy?
The little designs she played with might indeed be whimsical, fantastical even, but they had their fans. After all, her little online shop selling scarves and cushion covers in her designs ticked over nicely. Imagine how it would do if she actually gave it all her attention.
She smoothed some gorgeous-smelling oil onto her hair and twisted it back into the loose bun. Three hotels, three design briefs. This could buy her the time and income she needed to find out where her heart lay. Or was she going to wander from dream to dream for ever, never quite committing? Always afraid of failing. Of falling.
No. This week was a wake-up call in all kinds of ways. And she was going to make the most of it.
She smiled her thanks at the chambermaid who was already collecting her towels and returning the changing room into its pristine state ready to wow the expected guests. Flora knew that along with the journalists and bloggers a few influential winter-sports fanatics had been invited; a couple of ex-Olympians and several trust-fund babies. They would expect only the best even from a free jolly like this one and Camilla and her staff were determined they would get it.
Maybe that could be her career? Travelling from luxury hotel to luxury hotel to be pampered and indulged in the hope that she would say something nice about it. How long would it take to get bored of that? She was more than willing to find out.
She wandered up the stairs to the large, high-ceilinged foyer. It would be the first impression of the hotel for all future guests and so it had to set the standard: light, spacious, with quality in every fitting. Would the people expected here later notice—or did they take such attention to detail for granted? It would be nice to be that jaded...
* * *
Yes. Nice was the word. Although she was a long, long way from jaded. Driven into Innsbruck, attentive service in all the shops and, best of all, the hotel driver stayed ready to collect her bags and whisk them back. If only she’d been buying something useful like fabric rather than over-priced, over-stuffed shiny clothes.
‘I could get used to this,’ Flora confided, watching her bags get loaded into the small hotel city car, ready to be delivered back to her room—their room—and hung up ready for her return. ‘I think I was always made to be part of the other half.’
‘It’s not the other half,’ Alex pointed out. ‘It’s the other one per cent and, I don’t know, I think it would do them good to carry their own bags some of the time.’
‘Don’t spoil my fairy tale. Expense accounts and my every whim taken care of? I feel like a Christmas Cinderella.’
‘And who am I? Buttons?’
He hadn’t cast himself as Prince Charming. Flora ignored the stab of disappointment and linked arms with him, just as she usually would. Act normal, remember? Alex gave a barely susceptible start before falling into step with her.
‘No,’ she said sweetly. ‘You are my fairy godmother. I can just see you in pink tulle.’
He spluttered a surprised bark of laughter and despite herself her heart lifted. They could get back on track even if they did have to share a room. As long as neither of them used that darned bathtub. It had been the first thing she had seen when she opened her eyes that morning, taunting her with its suggestion of decadence.
‘I don’t remember the fairy godmother having such a hard time convincing Cinders to try on clothes.’
‘That’s because she wasn’t