The By Request Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
Alex shone his torch onto the keypad and punched at the buttons. ‘Which would you rather?’
‘Which would I rather what?’
‘Zombies or aliens?’
This was so like their teen conversations that for one moment Flora forgot the cold, the ache in her ankle, the awkwardness of the last few days and was transported back to the roof of her house, accessed reasonably safely—although not with parental permission—from her attic window. She and Alex had spent many a summer night up there, staring up at the stars, discussing the Big Questions. Would you rather be eaten by a tiger or a shark? What would you do if you had twenty-four hours left to live? Were invisible? Could travel anywhere in time?
‘Depends on what the aliens want, I suppose,’ she said as she watched Alex swing the keypad open and extricate a key.
‘If everyone’s wiped out it can’t be anything good.’
‘No, but they might be allergic to something like salt water so we could do a mass extermination. With zombies you have to destroy their brains. That’s quite a long process. Unless there were other pockets of survivors around. You?’
‘Aliens would be cool. I always think zombies must reek.’ He pushed the door open. ‘Welcome, my lady.’
The door led into a spacious cloakroom with a flagstone floor. Hooks and shelves awaited, ready to dry out ski clothes or hiking jackets. Flora sank onto the nearest bench with a moan of bliss as she worked her boot off her sore ankle. It was a little swollen but not as bad as she’d feared and when she poked it nervously it didn’t hurt too badly. She put her bare foot on the floor and squeaked in surprise. ‘It’s warm!’
‘Underfloor heating. No expense spared here—and it means everything should dry out for tomorrow.’ Alex was stripping off without any sense of embarrassment, his padded trousers and jackets neatly hung up, his boots put onto the bench provided, his socks stretched out ready to dry.
Flora’s mouth dried. He was still decent—just—in his tight-fitting, thermal trousers and a T-shirt. But they fitted him so well it was almost more indecent than if he had been half naked, highlighting every muscle. Alex was so tall, so rangy he seemed deceptively slight when in a suit but the form-fitting material made it clear he was in perfect shape.
The last thing she wanted to do was parade around in leggings and her T-shirt, the wide straps of her sports bra visible beneath the neckline. But neither could she stay bundled up in her padded clothes any more. The pod was beautifully warm.
She reluctantly pulled down the zip and shrugged off her jacket. Alex had already taken her boots and socks and when he turned back she handed him the jacket as if it were fine, as if she were as comfortable as he seemed to be. But she couldn’t help noticing how his eyes fastened onto the generous curve of her chest, made far more prominent by the light, tight material, or how they lingered there.
‘I don’t suppose there’s anything I can change into?’
He looked away, a faint colour on the high cheekbones. ‘As a matter of fact I think they are keeping some spare clothes here for guests. I’ll...er...go and see.’ He backed towards the door that led into the rest of the pod, opened it and backed out, looking anywhere but at her.
* * *
What had he been doing? Staring at Flora’s chest like, well, as any red-blooded male would. She might and did bemoan her curves but they were pretty magnificent—and, showcased by the tight black stretchy material, had been even more magnificent than usual.
Or was it just that he was more aware of her than he usually was, than he allowed himself to be? Of the way her hair waved around her face, of the sweetness in her eyes, the humour in her mouth?
‘Did you find anything yet? Oh, my goodness. Alex, this is sensational!’ Flora appeared at the door and looked around the room, her mouth open in admiration. The main room was sensational. It was also pretty intimate. He had designed the pod for romance. To allow the guests complete privacy, to make them feel as if they were the only people in the world. The skylights were the only windows, allowing the occupants to look up and see the night sky as they slept, although summer guests could slide open the back wall and enjoy the outside from the wooden terrace attached to the back of the pod if they wished.
A small kitchen area curved around the front wall; just a hob, a microwave, and a sink, the large, well-stocked fridge was back in the drying room. On the opposite side a second door led into the bathroom and a wood-burning stove was cosily tucked into the corner, a love seat, rugs and cushions heaped before it. But the main focus of the pod was the huge bed. It dominated the room; covered in throws and fake furs, it was big enough to fit several people. Flora’s eyes settled on the bed and she swallowed. ‘Very discreet.’
‘Let me just look for some clothes and I’ll let the hotel know where we are. They’ll need to organise a cleaning crew to come up tomorrow. I know that Camilla is making sure every couple gets a night up here. She’s hoping these pods will be a big hit with honeymooners.’
‘Yes.’ Flora’s gaze was still fixed on the bed. ‘I’m sure they will be.’
Alex ducked out of the room and into the quiet of the bathroom. Not that it was much better, the huge oval bath, designed for two, taking up most of the central space and the walk-in shower dominating the wall opposite. What had he been thinking? If they had set off down the mountain straight away they could have got back okay. Now here they were. Together. In a place designed for seduction. It made their hotel suite seem positively chaste.
Normally they would have laughed about it—and goodness knew that bed was big enough for them both to sleep completely sprawled out and never touch.
But these weren’t normal times.
The cupboards, built in around the sinks, held fluffy towels and, he was glad to see, a selection of warm clothes. He pulled out one of the hotel-branded tracksuits for himself and looked for something for Flora. There was another tracksuit, an extra-large that would swamp her, or a couple of white silky robes. Grabbing one of the robes, he handed it to her as he walked back into the main room. ‘Why don’t you...? There’s a bath or a shower. I’ll just get the stove lit and see what’s in the fridge.’
She took the robe with a self-conscious smile of thanks and walked into the bathroom. Alex tried, he really did try, but he couldn’t help watch her walk out of the room. The sway of her hips, her deliciously curved backside perfectly displayed in the tight leggings.
He stood there and inhaled. Get a grip, Fitzgerald, he told himself.
* * *
Ten minutes later the hotel had been contacted, the stove lit and Alex had raided the fridge for supplies. It wasn’t hugely promising—unless he was bent on seduction. The fridge held several bottles of champagne, some grapes and cheeses. The freezer was stocked full of hotel-prepared meals ready to pop into the microwave: creamy risottos, rich beef casseroles, chicken in white wine sauce. All of it light and fragrant. He’d have given much for a decent curry or a couple of bloody steaks. Substantial, mates’ food, full of carbs and chilli, beer and laughter.
‘I’m all done if you want the bathroom...’ Flora stood by the bathroom door, her eyes lowered self-consciously. She had washed her hair and it was still damp, already beginning to curl around her face. The robe was a little too big and she had tucked it securely around her and belted it tightly. But no matter how she swathed herself in it, no matter how she tied it, she couldn’t hide how the silky material clung to her curves, how the ivory set off the dark of her hair, the cream of her skin, the deep red of her mouth. She looked like a bride on her wedding night. Purity and decadence wrapped in one enticing package.
‘If I want...’ he echoed. His pulse was racing, the beat so loud it echoed through the room. Twice in the last twenty-four hours he had walked away. Twice he had done the right thing.
He didn’t think he could manage it a third time because when it came down to it he was only