Gloria was debating getting out of bed and putting on her cardigan, when the door opened.
Andrew came in, and she felt warm all over as he met her eyes. He wasn’t the least unhappy to see her in bed. Good. His eyes widened as his rather lovely mouth curled up in a very slow smile. Her goosebumps weren’t just because of the cold. She grinned back, only half noticing the ancient waiter carrying a load of blankets and a chambermaid bearing a pair of stone hot water bottles.
Gloria did her best to look calm and unconcerned as if she habitually stayed in hotels without luggage and the presence of hotel staff in the room was a matter of course.
If the burning in her face was anything to go by, she failed utterly.
“Where do you want the blankets, sir?” the waiter asked.
“Er…Put them on the chair.” Andrew replied. “We’ll get them when we need them. Many thanks.”
“No trouble, sir. We only wish we had coal for the fire but with all the shortages, heating is kept for the ground floor.”
“That’s alright.” Andrew seemed as eager for them to scoot off as she was.
“Hot water bottles, madam?” the chambermaid asked.
“In the bed, please.” Where else? Gloria took one and held it close, while the maid slipped the other down near her feet.
“Will that be all, sir?” the old waiter asked.
“Yes, rather. Thank you.”
“Morning tea, sir?”
Would they never leave?
“Yes, I suppose so.” He looked at Gloria. “Eight sound alright?”
“How about seven thirty? We should try to get back to Brytewood by nine.” Andrew nodded. “What about buses?” she asked.
“We’ve a timetable in reception,” the maid replied, “but often they run late after a raid. Detours you know.”
She could imagine.
“Right then. Tea at seven-thirty, please,” Andrew said and as good as bundled them out of the door. Closing it behind them, he smiled at Gloria.
Now, she wasn’t cold one little bit. Heat flushed right down to her toes. Well, not quite to her toes. It pooled a good bit higher as a thrill fluttered between her legs.
“Fancy a drink?” Andrew asked, holding up their unfinished bottle of wine.
She bit back, “Not really. I fancy you!” and nodded. “Thanks.”
“I rescued it from the dining room,” he went on. “It was sitting undisturbed on the table right where we left it. Not a drop spilled.”
“I was thinking earlier, I wished we’d brought it down to the shelter, but now’s even better.”
He handed her a glass of the deep red wine and poured one for himself before raising his glass. “Here’s to us.”
She wasn’t about to wonder what that meant. Now was all that mattered. Blame it on hormones, shock or unbridled lust, she wanted Andrew Barron in the worst, and most likely best, possible way. “To us.” She raised her glass and sipped, not breaking contact with his gorgeous blue eyes.
“Look,” he said. “I’ve got to nip down the hallway. Be back in a jiffy, I promise.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Except perhaps into her dreams, as he closed the door and left her alone in the now decidedly chilly room. Who gave a fig? Just as long as he didn’t get lost on the way back, she’d be happy. This was outrageous, definitely scandalous and without a doubt, truly wonderful.
Funny how a deluge of doubts evaporated with a few bombs. Alright, not funny for the poor people who get it and not funny over Andrew’s car, but they were both alive, young, attracted to each other, and delighted to be together.
He was back in minutes, his jacket over his arm and his shirt hanging out.
“I hope you didn’t meet anyone on the way back.”
He blushed. Just a wee bit but it somehow reassured that he didn’t do this every weekend. “I think we’re the only ones up here. The boozy lot from the bar all left, probably late for some curfew. And the other couple in the restaurant had hied off home. We have the place to ourselves,” he paused, “Gloria.”
She swallowed. It helped ease her tight throat. Sort of. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Yes. It’s like the Arctic here and the bathroom…”
“I know. Freezing. Made my lean-to bathroom seem positively cozy by comparison.” Damn it! She did not come here to talk about deficiencies in comfort of her cottage. “It’s warmer in bed and I put one of the hot water bottles on your side.”
Hardly seductive but it didn’t seem to put him off. “You’re a brick, Gloria.”
He unbuttoned his shirt and she, shameless Gloria that she was, watched, all but mesmerized as he slipped each button from its buttonhole. As if aware of her scrutiny, he turned his back and draped his shirt over the chair, giving her a lovely view of his broad shoulders. A view much enhanced as he pulled his vest over his head and she got an eyeful of his naked back.
She clenched her fists to restrain the sudden urge to run her hands over that beautiful skin and trace the muscles in his arms.
As he sat down to take off his shoes, she unclenched her fists. Darn it, very soon she had every intention of touching him, of feeling him skin to skin and running her hands all over his luscious body. Just watching his arms as he untied his shoelaces and eased his shoes off sent her pulse racing.
He pulled his sock off, set his bare foot on the faded red carpet, crossed the other foot over his thigh and started all over again.
She was beginning to understand the appeal of striptease acts and she had her own personal solo performance.
He stood. There was a soft metallic sound as he unbuckled his belt.
Gloria knew it was rude to stare but really, how could anyone not? She’d never realized just how long it took a man to unbutton his flies. Was he taking his time to tease, or was he…shy?
That she didn’t think. A shy man would have insisted on separate rooms.
Ooh! He bent to take off his trousers and gave her a lovely view of his nice firm posterior. Good thing he couldn’t see her lick her lips. Or maybe he’d be flattered. The look on his face as he crossed the room toward her wasn’t that of a self-conscious man.
“Andrew,” she said. It came out a bit like a squeak but she didn’t try to hold back the grin. She could just imagine him without the white cotton interlock drawers.
He had the bottle in his hand. “Want to top off your glass?”
“Not really, I’d rather you got in and kept me warm.” Forward, yes, but darn it, hot water bottles only warmed so much.
“I can do both.”
He could indeed. Sitting beside him in bed, sipping wine wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening. But she could think of better. “What are you going to do about the car?” Why in heaven’s name did she ask that?”
“I’ll worry about it in the morning. It isn’t going anywhere. Ever. Apart from the junkyard. Maybe they can use the metal to build a Spitfire.”
She did not want to talk about planes or bombs or war. Not now. She swigged down the entire glass. It would go right to her head very, very soon, so…“Kiss me, Andrew, please.”
She must have put the glass down somewhere. He probably tossed his across the room, wine and all. His hands came to her shoulders, she caught the scent of wine on his breath and his lips met hers. She kissed