‘We get back on Christmas Eve,’ he reminded her. ‘Straight to your parents’. Won’t they guess?’
‘How? We promised not to let anything change our friendship and it’ll be finished by then. Finished the moment we get into the taxi to drive to the airport. Maybe you were right, we would have had a mad teen thing, all drama and lust, and it would have been glorious—and it might have ruined us for ever. But we’re older now, we’re far more sensible. It doesn’t have to ruin anything. But I reckon we’re owed just a few days of crazy fun. We owe it to our younger selves.’
It was a convincing argument—if he didn’t examine it too closely. ‘I suppose we do at some point. Guess it’s either now or when we’re in the nursing home.’
‘We might be married to other people when we’re in the nursing home,’ she pointed out. ‘Plus right now I’m still reasonably pert and have all my own teeth. You might not be so keen when we’re finally retired.’
His mouth dried. Did she know what she was offering? The rest of the week as a no-strings, full-fun affair. He didn’t deserve it; he didn’t deserve her. But he wasn’t strong enough to turn her down.
You’ve always been weak. He thrust the insidious thought aside. They were supposed to be dating, they were sharing a room and they had just spent the night very much together.
‘May as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.’
Her mouth curved into an irresistible smile. ‘You do say the most romantic things. I can see why the girls love you. What’s the very latest we have to be out of here?’
‘We have about an hour if you want to eat, shower and change before your hot date with your dashing instructor. Why?’
‘Well...’ she let the sheet fall, just a little, not nearly enough ‘... I thought we might seal our deal with a kiss.’
‘CAMILLA SEEMED IMPRESSED with your ideas.’
Flora put her hairbrush down and turned to look at Alex, admiring the lithe grace as he sprawled on the bed, completely at his ease as he looked through her sketchbook. ‘It was like being summoned for an audience with the queen,’ she said, her palms damp at just the memory. ‘It’s a good thing she can’t actually raise those eyebrows of hers, she made me feel about six as it was.’
‘That’s just her way. I don’t think she meant to question you quite so closely—she knew you would have no real idea of cost at this stage. We’re still at the initial concepts.’
‘How can I even think about putting costs in when she hasn’t even decided which of your ideas she wants? Plus I have no idea of what I can actually source there—or what her actual budget is.’ At least when she had worked in-house she hadn’t had to worry about any of this part. She had been given a task, she’d completed it, easy—even if it had been dull and monotonous and about as creative as granola.
He turned another page, nodding as he looked at her carefully drawn plans. ‘Relax. No one expects you to know any of this yet. Once Camilla gives us the go-ahead we can do a reconnaissance trip out there. We’ll need to talk about money as well. The interior design is all subcontracted through my firm. Lola charged for each project as a whole but I could take you on as a contracted member of staff if that makes things easier.’
Flora froze. It would make things a lot easier. She had no idea about how much to charge if she freelanced, nor how often she could invoice, when she would get paid—or how she’d live until she did. But working with Alex? Travelling to Bali with him? It wasn’t going to be the kind of cold turkey she thought she might need...
Because four nights in and she was already getting a little addicted to his touch. To the way his eyes seemed to caress her. To the way his hands most definitely did. To his mouth and the long, lean lines of his body.
She was in way over her head, barely graduated off the nursery slopes and yet heading full tilt down a black run and she didn’t even care. ‘Do we have to go on this evening’s jaunt?’ She allowed her eyes to travel suggestively over his body. ‘I’ve seen the Christmas markets.’
‘Not at night, you haven’t, and yes, you do. Three-line whip. But we don’t have to hang around in the bar after we get back if you would rather get some rest.’ He smiled like the big bad wolf eyeing up Red Riding Hood.
‘I do need a lot of rest,’ she agreed solemnly. ‘All this mountain air is exhausting me. I may also need a really long hot bath.’
‘I was thinking about a bath too,’ he said softly and she shivered at the intent look in his eyes as he slowly glanced from the large tub to her. ‘I do feel particularly dirty this evening.’
A jolt of pure lust shot through her and Flora gripped the top of the dressing table, her knuckles white. What was she doing? How on earth could they ever return to their old, easy camaraderie after this? How would she manage when his hand was no longer hers to hold, when she couldn’t run her fingers over the soft skin on the inside of his wrists, when she couldn’t kiss her way along the planes of his face and down his neck?
She had dreamt of this for so long that it all felt completely right, completely fitting. Stepping back again? That was going to hurt. But she had promised him that it would all be fine, that she would be fine, they would be fine and she couldn’t let him down. She would just have to keep smiling and pretend her heart wasn’t shattering into millions of little pieces.
‘Okay.’ She turned back to the mirror and outlined her mouth with the deep red lipstick. She’d almost got used to the striking colour over the last few days. It sent out a statement of confidence that she might not feel but that she could fake. She caught up a silk scarf, a midnight blue patterned with abstract snowflakes, and knotted it around her neck, the accessory adding some much-needed style to the cream jumper and blue velvet skinny jeans she’d chosen for their warmth. ‘I’m ready.’
Alex caught her hand as they left the hotel room, an easy gesture. She fought to keep her hand loosely clasped in his, not to curl her fingers tightly around and hold on, never letting him go.
‘You can help me choose Christmas presents,’ he said as they made their way along the wide corridor to the stairs. ‘I haven’t managed to buy any yet. I expect yours were all done and dusted by September.’
‘This year’s fabric was designed and printed by then,’ she agreed. Twice a year Flora got several of her designs printed up into silks and cottons, which she then used to make the cushions and scarves she sold online. She also combined her own designs with vintage fabrics to create quilts, which she made to order. ‘I’ve made both Mum and Minerva clutch bags. I hope they like them. I don’t think Minerva has ever worn last year’s skirt.’
‘Strawberries and cream isn’t particularly Minerva,’ he pointed out. ‘But it was a beautiful design. I’m sure she really appreciates it. Apron for your dad?’
‘Of course.’ Every year she made her father a new apron and a selection of tea towels and he always made sure they were prominently displayed in every tutorial and photoshoot. ‘I’ve bought dolls for the twins and made them entire wardrobes.’ She had also made shirts for Horry, Greg her brother-in-law and Alex in the same pattern as the scarf she was wearing this evening. Flora always made her presents; she suspected Minerva at least would rather she stuck to scented candles and bath salts but Flora loved to create things, especially for the people she cared about.
‘As we’re in Austria I’m thinking glass all round, animals for the littlies, crystal glasses and bowls for the adults. Too obvious?’
‘No, they’ll