She wasn’t anything like the type of woman he’d used to date—blonde and willowy models or television celebrities who’d looked good on his arm for publicity purposes. Mia had been tall and blonde too. He swallowed hard against the wave of regret and recrimination that hit him as it always did when he thought about his late fiancée and forced himself to focus on the present.
Adele was average height, curvier than any model, with thick auburn hair she’d worn tied back in the yoga class but which now tumbled around her shoulders. She wasn’t conventionally pretty—her mouth was too wide, her jaw line rather too assertive for ‘pretty’—but she was head-turning in her own, vibrant way. It was her smile he was noticing now—she’d never had cause to smile in his presence. In fact he remembered she’d been rather effective with a snarl when it had come to interacting with him.
Her mouth was wide and generous and she had perfect teeth. When she laughed at something the other woman said her whole face lit up; her eyes laughed too. What colour were they? Green? Hazel? Somewhere in between? The other woman was charmed by that smile. Alex could tell that from where he stood.
Yet when Adele looked up and caught him observing her the smile faded and her face set in cool, polite lines. Her shoulders hunched as if to protect herself from him and her eyes darted past him and to the doorway. Who could blame her for her dislike of him? He wished he could make up to her for the way he’d behaved towards her. As he’d tried to make amends to others he’d damaged by his ruthless, self-centred pursuit of success. Make amends to them because he could never make amends to Mia. Her death hung heavily on his conscience. His fault.
He headed towards Adele. She smiled at him. But it was a poor, forced shadow of the smile he’d seen dazzling her companion just seconds before—more a polite stretching of her lips. He found himself wanting to be warmed by the real deal. But not only did he not deserve it from this person he had so relentlessly hounded, it would be pointless.
There was something frozen inside his soul that even the most heartfelt of smiles from a lovely woman could never melt. Something that had started to shut down the day he’d got a phone call from the police to say a psycho had his city restaurant in lockdown and was holding his fiancée hostage with a gun to her head. Something that had formed cold and rock solid when Mia had lost her own life trying to save another’s.
‘Hello there,’ Dell said very politely. Then turned to the woman beside her and gestured towards him. ‘We met in the yoga class,’ she explained, not mentioning his name by way of introduction.
So she intended to keep her word about maintaining his privacy. He was grateful for that. Alex nodded to the older woman. He did not feel obliged to share anything about himself with strangers—even his name.
He turned to the artful display of teas in small wooden chests. ‘This is a fine selection,’ he said with genuine interest. He was here to glean information for his new project. A hotel completely different from anything he’d created before. He’d been isolated from the hospitality business in the past years and needed to be on top of the trends. He knew all about partying and decadence—what he sought now was restraint and calm. A different way of doing business. A different life.
‘Tea has become very fashionable,’ Adele said in what seemed a purposely neutral voice, more for the benefit of the other woman rather than any conscious desire to engage in conversation with him. ‘Not any old teas, naturally. Herbal teas, healing tisanes, special blends. I highly recommend the parsnip, ginger and turmeric blend—organic and vegan, which is a good thing.’
Alex gagged at the thought of it.
But if that was what people wanted at a place like this, it would be up to him to give it to them. Of course Adele would know about what was fashionable in foods and beverages. Her Dell Dishes blog attracted an extraordinary number of visitors. Or it had three years ago when he had instructed his lawyers to delve deep into her life with particular reference to her income.
At one stage he had thought about suing her personally as well as via the publishing company that had employed her as a food critic and editor of its restaurant guide. Back then, scrutinising Dell Dishes, he hadn’t thought she had done enough to monetise her site, to take advantage of the potential appeal to advertisers. Needless to say he hadn’t offered her any advice—he’d wanted to bring her down, not help her soar.
‘I’ll pass on the parsnip tea, thank you,’ he said, suppressing a grimace. ‘What I want is coffee—strong and black.’ He couldn’t keep the yearning from his voice.
‘No such thing here, I’m afraid,’ she said, with a wry expression that he couldn’t help but find cute. Cute. It was incomprehensible that he should find Adele Hudson cute.
He groaned. ‘No coffee at all?’
She shook her head. ‘Not part of the “clean food” ethos of the spa. You’ll have to sneak out to the Bay Bites café. They serve Dolphin Bay’s finest coffee. I can personally vouch for it.’
‘I might follow up on that.’
His friends the Morgan brothers, Ben and Jesse, had made the once sleepy beachside town of Dolphin Bay into quite a destination with the critically acclaimed Hotel Harbourside, Bay Bites, Bay Books and now the eco-friendly Bay Breeze spa in which Alex had invested in the early stages. It would not be long before he saw a return on his investment.
The new resort was still in its debut phase but had been an immediate success. It had been booked out for Easter a few weeks back. The Morgans had read the market well. In just one day Alex had picked aspects he liked about the operation and ones he didn’t think would translate to his new venture. What worked in Australia might not necessarily work in Greece.
‘Escaping for coffee is hardly in the spirit of eating clean food.’ Adele sounded stern but there was an unexpected gleam of fun in her eyes. Eyes that were green like the olives growing on the island in the Ionian Sea that had once belonged to his ancestors and that he had bought so it once more was owned by a Mikhalis.
He couldn’t help his snort of disgust at her comment. ‘So does “clean food” mean that all other food is “dirty”? I don’t like the idea of that. Especially the traditional Greek foods I grew up on.’
‘I think that term is debatable too,’ she said. ‘I wonder if—?’
Adele’s grey-haired companion chose that moment to pick up her cup of herbal tea and make to move away. ‘I want to say again how much I love your blog,’ she enthused. ‘My daughter told me about it. Even my granddaughter is a fan, and she’s still at school.’
Adele flushed and looked pleased. As she should—it was no mean feat to have her site appeal to three generations. ‘Thank you. I hope I can keep on bringing you more of what you enjoy.’
‘You’ll do that, I’m sure,’ the other woman said. ‘In the meantime, I’ll leave you two to chat.’ She departed but not without a speculative look from Alex to Adele and back to him again.
Alex groaned inwardly. He recognised that gleam in her narrowed eyes. The same matchmaking gleam he’d seen often in the women of his extended Greek family. This particular lady had got completely the wrong end of the stick. He had no romantic interest whatsoever in Adele Hudson. In fact he had no interest in any kind of permanent relationship with any woman—in spite of the pressure from his family to settle down. Not now. Not ever. Not after what he’d endured. Not after what he had done.
Besides, Adele was married. Or she had been three years ago. He glanced down at her left hand. No ring. So maybe she was no longer married. Not that her marital state was of any interest to him.
Adele had obviously not missed that matchmaking gleam either. When she looked back at him, the undisguised horror in her eyes told him exactly what she thought of the idea of anyone pairing her with him.
Alex