‘Could all attendees please make their way back to their seats for the next talk, please?’
The announcement over the loudspeaker filled the silence on their behalf and left them with the decision of whether to say goodbye temporarily, or for ever.
‘Listen, why don’t we go for a proper drink? The hotel bar should be quiet enough with all the reprobates locked in here for another few hours of telling us things we already know.’ Charles rested his hand lightly at her waist, leaning in so his comment reached only her ears. She could barely feel the pressure of his fingertips on her skin, but it was sufficient to awaken every erogenous zone in her body until she was sure she’d follow him to the ends of the earth.
‘Sure,’ she squeaked.
Damn, she was in trouble.
Charles didn’t know what he hoped to gain by getting Harriet on her own, except having her to himself for the first time in over a decade. When he’d spotted her across the room there had been no great plan, just a need to be near her. Much like the first time they’d met in medical school and had instantly become inseparable. Being each other’s first loves, they’d become serious quickly. In hindsight, that youth and inexperience would never have worked in a world where tradition and duty to the family name was everything. He’d just wanted to be with Harriet and had given no thought to Heatherglen back then.
Now he considered himself lucky she’d agreed to go for a drink with him instead of throwing a cup of hot coffee in his face.
‘There’s a seat in the corner. I’ll get the drinks. White wine?’ He led her into the bar, where one or two other hotel guests had sought refuge.
‘Yes, please.’ Even that knowledge of her preferred drink brought back memories of times together it was difficult to ignore. Those early student days of being silly and partying too hard. Later, when it had been a bottle of wine to accompany a romantic meal they often hadn’t bothered to finish...
‘Charles, what are you doing?’ he muttered under his breath, and stole a glance back at Harriet as she settled into the corner.
Those days of acting only in his own interests were supposed to be far behind him. He didn’t make any decisions now without thinking through how it might affect those around him. It had been a tough lesson to learn when the consequences of his past actions had come at the price of his brother and father’s lives. He’d sacrificed his relationship with Harriet for her benefit—his first act of selflessness when he’d inherited Heatherglen. Not that she’d known, and he couldn’t have told her it was because he’d wanted her to stay on in London and pursue her career instead of getting dragged into his mess. She would’ve insisted on going to Scotland with him.
Although, seeing her now and realising everything he’d lost, regret weighed heavily on his shoulders along with his threefold burden of guilt.
Approaching her this evening and getting her to agree to join him for a drink had been entirely for his own benefit without considering her feelings. Yet, so far, she’d shown him nothing but friendliness in return. It was entirely possible he’d over-inflated the idea of what they’d had together in his head and she’d forgotten him the second she’d got on that train without him.
‘You look good, by the way. Have I said that already?’ He’d certainly thought it as he’d headed back to her.
Harriet had always been pretty with her slim figure and long, dark blonde hair but now she was a stunningly beautiful woman. The emerald-green dress she was wearing wasn’t particularly noteworthy except for the womanly figure it clung to, accentuating her every curve. It was understated and sophisticated, but on Harriet it was as sexy as hell.
‘You haven’t but thank you.’ She sipped her wine, leaving a trace of ruby lip gloss on the rim of her glass, and...he really needed to keep his libido in check. She was his ex-fiancée, not an anonymous one-night stand.
‘So, are you married? Any kids?’ He took a gulp of lager, making the question as nonchalant as he could. Why should it matter to him what her marital status was, other than cooling his jets if he found out there was someone waiting for her at home?
‘No. I decided my career was the only long-term relationship I needed in my life. I’m too busy to fall for all that again.’
Ouch.
Harriet’s brown eyes glittered with a dark challenge for him to bite back. Charles didn’t want to go down that route, going over old ground and spoiling the moment they were having now, but she deserved some sort of explanation.
‘What about you? Did you settle down?’
‘I’m too busy with the clinic and, to be honest, Mum isn’t the best advert for marriage. I’m not sure what number husband she’s on now since Dad. Three, I think. She spends her days sailing around in his superyacht. We don’t see very much of her. I think Heatherglen holds too many sad memories for her.’
‘I know the feeling.’ Harriet took another sip of her wine, apparently needing to dull the mention of his family home with alcohol.
‘Harriet, about all that...’ There had to be some way of saying ‘It wasn’t you, it was me’, without sounding completely insincere.
She saved him the trouble, reaching out her hand to still his, which was currently ripping up the cardboard beer mat. ‘This is much too serious a topic for this evening, Charles.’
Suddenly his mind was spinning, trying to come to terms with the way his body was responding to her touch after all this time apart and to what she was saying to him.
‘I don’t do serious any more.’ She held him with her ever-darkening gaze, making no attempt to break contact.
‘No? What do you do?’ He leaned in closer, hoping that if she was actually coming on to him, it wasn’t simply a ploy to get revenge.
‘I have fun, Charles. You do remember how to do that, don’t you? If so, I’m in Room 429.’ With that, she got up and walked away. Leaving Charles with his mouth open, his heart hammering, and battling with his conscience, which was telling him that following her was a really bad idea.
Harriet’s legs shook on her way towards the elevator. She’d never been so brazen in her life and couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol when she’d only had a sip. From the moment she’d seen Charles, she’d wanted what they’d had in the past. Wanted him. What she didn’t want was to rake over the ashes of the past and be reminded of how he’d rejected her. It was important to know he was still attracted to her. As though that would somehow erase the previous damage he’d caused her self-esteem.
One night with her ex, on her terms, might give her closure on the relationship that had spoiled her for any other.
Except he hadn’t immediately jumped up and begged to take her there and then. She’d merely succeeded in humiliating herself and now had an extra chapter to add to their tragic story.
She jabbed and jabbed at the button for the lift, wishing it would somehow make it come faster. Then it would swallow her up and transport her away from view as soon as possible.
‘Harriet, wait!’ Charles shouted after her as she stepped inside the lift. It was tempting to let the doors shut in his face and be done with him once and for all, but he jammed his foot inside and stole that option from her.
The only scenario worse than being stood up when you’d offered yourself on a plate to a man was having him tell you why he didn’t want to sleep with you. She fought off the tears already blurring her vision because she was determined not to re-create their last mortifying goodbye.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ His brow was