Your Room or Mine?:. Charlotte PhillipsЧитать онлайн книгу.
her feel worse.
Human nature. That didn’t stop it from hurting.
And so a bit of harmless attention from a man who looked like an off-duty aftershave model with his open-necked white shirt, perfect suit, tousled hair and lop-sided smile was just the thing to kick off the Make-Izzy-Strong Reinvention Mini-Break.
‘I’m this way,’ she smiled at him, coming to a stop and tilting her chin at the sign on the wall listing room numbers. He inclined his head almost imperceptibly, the hazel eyes holding her own for just a beat too long. Her stomach, now awakened, wasn’t about to quit and gave a slow and delicious flip.
‘Oliver Forbes,’ he said, holding out his right hand. Easy for him, he had minimal luggage.
She looked from his hand to his face. The smile was still there. She shifted her case from one hand to the other and shook hands briefly with him.
‘Izzy,’ she said. ‘Thanks again for before.’
Oliver Forbes watched from the corner of his eye as she held her head high and lugged her own bags down the passage, key card poised in her hand.
Her unease in the lobby had been almost palpable, drawing in his attention until the rest of the bustle around him seemed to pale into the background. Her finger-drumming impatience at the bureaucracies of check-in, the blush of embarrassment as she cleared up after knocking the plant flying that managed to highlight her porcelain skin so prettily. She was clearly desperate to escape to her room.
He wasn’t usually given to noticing such detail.
Then again, he’d been knocked off-centre by the tedium of taking a hotel stay when what he’d wanted, what he’d expected was the work to have been finished on his new house in Highgate by the moment he chose to move into it. Turned out his travel and business commitments had lulled his supposedly impeccable team of contractors into a false sense of security over the urgency of the work. Not good enough. Heads would roll.
In the meantime, since he faced a few more days without his private refuge, a face like hers with its blush touching the smooth cheekbones and its tiny spray of golden freckles on her nose, was a welcome distraction.
Gardener? Really?
He took in her appearance as she walked away. Softly curving figure, long legs, healthy-looking rather than skinny. Honey coloured hair gathered loosely at the nape of her neck, touched gold at the ends by the sun. Lightly sun-kissed cheeks and nose beneath minimal make-up. No jewellery, no nail varnish, no accessories. Suddenly her stated profession seemed more plausible.
He wondered what she was doing, checking in alone to her booking for two. He’d barely registered anything his own receptionist had said, it had been far more interesting to listen to Izzy’s discomfort at check-in. Damsels in Distress – his particular weakness.
Because where there was fluster, there was always a way in.
****
Izzy slid the door key card into the slot and pushed the panelled door open, still enjoying the afterglow of his attention. The smile on her face faded on her lips as she leaned back against the closing door and drew in a long breath.
‘Oh hell,’ she muttered out loud.
So the Spa Treatment wasn’t an end to it. In the course of the joint brainwave with her friends to turn the intended surprise night away with Joe into a Get-Over-Him Mini-Break for herself, she had failed to remember that she’d booked the hotel’s Romantic Getaway Package for two.
It wasn’t called that for nothing.
Was there anything in this room that wasn’t his-and-hers? Her eyes took in matching white fluffy bathrobes and waffle slippers, two crystal flutes stood next to the complimentary champagne. And as she walked into the adjoining bathroom she was greeted by Jack-n-Jill sinks.
She stared at her own dismayed face in the ornate scrolled mirror above them. How the hell was she meant to stop thinking about Joe when this whole place was a made-for-two luxury nightmare that mocked her from every angle?
IZZY SHAW’S GET-OVER-THE-BASTARD ACTION LIST
1) Enlist friends for supportive esteem-building summit meetings.
2) Stock up on wine and ice cream and eat/drink without regard for calorie counting.
3) Calculate budget for Joe’s intended birthday and Christmas gifts and spend said amount on treating self to new clothes.
4) eBay his collection of football programmes and add profit to own treat-budget.
5) Make list of all Joe’s faults for reference at weak moments.
6) Block him on Facebook and delete all texts and messages from him before responding.
7) Book up girls’ nights out for the next couple of months.
8) Take a night away for me-time, pampering and contemplation.
9) Don’t get even, get even better. Have a no-strings one night stand.
Izzy leaned back against the smooth tiled wall and closed her eyes to soak up every ounce of relaxation that hot steam had to offer. Tension in her shoulders ingrained from the endless bending and stretching that came with her job slowly began to loosen its grip. It was early evening now and she had the basement pool area and steam room almost to herself as people drifted away to get ready to go out or have dinner. No rush for that. Her appetite hadn’t been up to much these last few weeks, she’d rather stay here a bit longer.
When door opened and Oliver Forbes climbed into the steam room, she took an unintentional deep breath, filling her lungs with steam and launching a spectacular coughing fit.
He stared at her through the hot mist, one hand on the door.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked doubtfully.
She turned away, her eyes and nose streaming, one hand plastered over her mouth, the other flapping at him.
‘Fine,’ she croaked in between hacking.
He sat down on the opposite bench and raised one foot. As she gradually got her cough under control she was grateful for the steam, which she hoped might hide her undoubtedly tomato-red face.
She offered his concerned expression an I’m-perfectly-alright smile and he nodded and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tiles. Hah! The perfect opportunity to steal a proper sneaky look at him in his dark blue swim shorts. He had the most toned abs she’d ever seen. Broad shoulders, lean and fit body, legs roped with muscle. His dark hair was damply tousled from the steam and he had a light tan. She imagined him on some extreme sports holiday abroad, leaping off a cliff in the sunshine.
He opened his eyes unexpectedly and she snapped her gaze away and examined her fingernails.
‘How’s the stay going?’ he asked. ‘Making good use of the spa?’
She knew just from his pointed tone of voice and the smile that lurked on his lips that he’d overheard at check-in.
‘Trying to,’ she said. ‘It’s all such a treat, especially the whirlpool bath and steam room. I get a lot of back pain in my job.’
She raised eyebrows at his cheeky grin.
‘What now?’
‘I was imagining you with a shovel.’
‘What can I say, I give good garden,’ she said. ‘What about you? Are you here for the leisure complex too?’
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Not that the gym and spa aren’t a nice bonus. This is a bit of an unscheduled stay. It’s in a good location for me for work.’
‘How