Holding Back

by Helen Pollard

  Holding Back

  by Helen Pollard

  Published by Clean Reads

  www.cleanreads.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  HOLDING BACK

  Copyright © 2015 HELEN POLLARD

  ISBN 978-1-62135-413-0

  Cover Art Designed by CORA GRAPHICS

  Chapter One

  "Excuse me. You've picked up the wrong bag."

  Deep and decisive, the voice startled Laura from behind as she loaded her luggage onto her hard-won airport trolley.

  "No, I don't think so." She swung round to confront the voice's owner. Unnerved to find him towering over her, she took a step back, stumbling over her trolley in the process.

  With lightning speed, he reached out to catch her arm, his grip strong as he helped her regain her balance. When she was upright again, she took in piercing blue eyes, thick dark brown hair, a hint of stubble on a tanned face—and felt an immediate jolt of attraction.

  Laura ignored it. "I can manage, thank you," she snapped, thinking she wouldn't have tripped if he hadn't surprised her like that.

  He released his hold and raised an eyebrow. "As I said, you have my bag."

  Pushing away long strands of chestnut-brown hair that had dared escape their ponytail, Laura returned his gaze.

  "No, this is definitely mine." She was hot, harassed, and late. The last thing she needed was a futile argument over her own luggage!

  "Would you mind if I check?"

  "Help yourself." Unable to disguise her impatience, Laura waved at it, adding, "But I am in a hurry." She winced at the hostile tone in her voice, but she really didn't have time for this. Tapping her foot in irritation, she waited to be proved right as he crouched over her trolley.

  "Would you care to look?" he asked.

  Laura's foot stopped tapping. Recognising undisguised triumph on his face, she read the label over his shoulder with trepidation, but there it was in black and white—Daniel Stone, London Gatwick to Porto. The heat that rose in her cheeks seemed to burn right through her skin.

  "But it's the same as mine!" she blustered, watching with embarrassment as he hoisted the heavy bag from the trolley with ease.

  "It's hardly a unique design," he commented, shrugging broad shoulders. "If you weren't in such a tearing hurry, you might have spotted your own on the carousel."

  Laura spun around to see her bag riding forlornly around with the few that were left. Mortified, she opened her mouth to apologise.

  But he spoke first. "Personally, I would advocate that old saying 'More haste, less speed.'" His tone softened a little as he added, "I'm sorry, but you're not the only hot, tired person whose flight was delayed, you know." And off he strolled through the terminal, his bag flung over his shoulder, without a backward glance.

  Laura watched him disappear through the crowds, any chance of apologising gone with him. Heaving her luggage from the conveyor belt, she checked the label in a fit of pique. Anyone could make a mistake, for goodness' sake, although it was a rare occurrence on her part. It was also unlike her to be so impolite. Then again, Mr. Stone left something to be desired in the courtesy department, too. At least he could have lifted her bag off the belt!

  "Pity his manners aren't as attractive as the rest of him," she muttered as she pushed her trolley through the throng. And, she had to face it, the rest of him was attractive, even to her usually oblivious eyes.

  When she saw the size of the queue at the car hire counter, she cursed the time spent over the bags and glanced impatiently at her watch. Paulo and Rachel were expecting her at the hotel by five, but it was four o'clock already. She needed to be there to greet the new arrivals for them, so they could get ready for their holiday tomorrow.

  Pulling her phone out of her bag, she texted to explain the delay, smiling as she read Rachel's reassuring reply. Laura was so looking forward to seeing her again—once a year just wasn't enough. The two of them had been inseparable at university, but while Laura went on to become a teacher, Rachel married Paulo and came to live in Portugal at the Quinta Maria, the country hotel he ran with his family. Every summer since, Laura had been invited to help Maria and Teresa— Paulo's mother and younger sister—while he and Rachel visited friends and relatives back in England. Since Laura spoke Portuguese and was free during the school holidays, it was a perfect arrangement for everyone!

  Her paperwork processed, she hurried out of the terminal into the late afternoon heat. Spotting a red hatchback along the row of cars, she clicked the key and—nothing. She tried again, with the same result. Huffing, she stabilised her luggage trolley against the boot of the car, threw her handbag onto the roof and tried once more.

  No good. Her key must be faulty. Unwilling to troop inside and join the back of the queue to complain, she pulled the manual key out of its casing and pushed it into the lock—where it firmly stuck. As she impatiently shoved hair out of her eyes, she heard an ominously familiar voice.

  "Adding car theft to bag stealing?"

  Her heart sinking, Laura turned to see Daniel Stone leaning casually against the car next to hers, tall and imposing, his arms folded across his chest. It made her inexplicably cross that he appeared so cool and in control, his light cotton shirt and khaki trousers clean and unwrinkled. Acutely aware of her own smudged face, unruly hair, and the heat causing her tee-shirt to cling uncomfortably to her body, she felt at a distinct disadvantage.

  With an effort, she jerked herself back to the task at hand. Her appearance was the least of her worries, and why she should care what she looked like when she would never set eyes on this man again was beyond her. By nature, she was calm and collected too.

  "Hardly." She shot him a withering look. "This key's faulty. Either that or they've given me the wrong key."

  "Or you've got the wrong car?" he suggested mildly.

  She glared at him. "I don't think that's likely, since this is the only red one here."

  "Apart from that one down there, perhaps?" He pointed down to the far end, and when Laura stepped back a few paces to see right to the end of the row, sure enough, there was another red car hidden beyond a van.

  "But I checked the licence plate!" she declared, already doubting herself as she glanced down at her papers. With something bordering on despair, she realised that in her hurry, she hadn't checked properly. This was so unlike her! Furious with herself, she walked back to the car door and pulled at the key, but it was stuck fast.

  He moved to her side. "Allow me."

  "Thank you, Mr. Stone, but you don't have to trouble yourself. This is my problem. I created it and it's up to me to fix it."

  "Actually, it's my problem, too. It's my hire car you're breaking into."

  Laura closed her eyes in exasperation. Of course it was. She stood to one side. As he moved past her in the narrow space between the parked cars, his light woodsy aftershave sent a frisson of . . . something along her nerve ends. Alarmed, she surreptitiously shifted away from him.

  With long, deft fingers, he fiddled patiently with the key until he released it. Straightening, he handed it to her, took his own out of his pocket, and opened the door with ease.

  Gathering her handbag and trolley, Laura opened her mouth to apologise, but once more she was thwarted.

  "I sincerely hope you get to wher
ever you're going without further mishap," he said. "Although somehow I doubt that's possible." And with that, he climbed into the car, closed the door, and started the engine, leaving her standing there with her mouth gaping open.

  Unable to think of a response that would be remotely ladylike, Laura stalked down the row to her own car, unlocked it, climbed in, and opened the windows to let air into the stifling vehicle. Adjusting the rearview mirror, she pulled a face. It had been a long day and it showed. Her violet-blue eyes were tired and shadowed, her hair had escaped from its clips and stuck to her hot forehead, and any trace of makeup she'd applied that morning had long since disappeared. She was desperately in need of an early night, but a quick shower when she arrived would have to do, and then straight into helping out as promised.

  Despite her impatience to be on the move and get some air circulating, Laura waited a few minutes before setting off. She needed to calm down before she attempted to join the heavy traffic, and she wanted to be sure Daniel Stone was well out of harm's way. The last thing she needed was to run into the back of his car on the way out.

  Finally leaving the airport, Laura confidently headed north. The first time she'd driven over here, she'd found it challenging. Since this was now her fifth summer in Portugal, it didn't worry her anymore, which was more than she could say about her encounters with Daniel Stone. She'd been in the wrong, she knew that, and she supposed she hadn't been gushingly polite about it, but anyone could make a mistake. Or two.

  Except Laura didn't usually make mistakes—she was rarely anything other than organised and capable. Over the years she'd had no choice but to get it down to a fine art, and nowadays it was the only way she knew how to be. As a teacher, it was the only way to be. The fact that Mr. Stone obviously thought she was a bumbling idiot annoyed her, although why she should care what a complete stranger thought, she had no idea. Their paths were hardly likely to cross again.

  Laura made a deliberate effort to blot him from her mind. Her trip might have had a shaky start, but she had three glorious weeks ahead of her. All she had to do was take care of guests on arrival and departure, and be in reception for a couple of hours each morning and evening. In return, she had a room to herself, use of the pool and grounds, and plenty of time to enjoy them in. Paulo even insisted on paying for her flight and hire car. What more could she ask for?

  As the outskirts of Porto gave way to the green countryside of the Costa Verde, Laura eased up on her speed. It stood to reason that any guests due tonight would also be late, since they must have been on the same flight as her, and she had the advantage of knowing the way. By six o'clock, she was skirting around the busy town centre of Viana do Castelo to head north through green farmland and forest. Taking the turn to the Quinta Maria, her car bounced down a country lane past fields and farmhouses until she drove through the stately stone gateway that led into the grounds.

  Laura barely had a chance to climb from the car before Rachel ran up and caught her in a tight hug. Paulo wasn't far behind, closely followed by his mother and sister. Overwhelmed by their affectionate greetings, she fought back tears.

  "You look worn-out!" Rachel exclaimed. "Bad journey?"

  "I'm okay." Laura failed to hide the weariness she felt. "There was a mix-up over my luggage and another over the hire car. Still, I'm here now."

  Just mentioning the incidents immediately conjured up a picture in her mind of Daniel Stone's face, and she was both surprised and irritated that she could recall every detail.

  "Would you like to lie down for a while?" Rachel asked.

  "No, I'll be fine. Let me quickly freshen up and then I'll be ready for the new arrivals. You both have plenty to do if you're setting off first thing tomorrow."

  The shower felt wonderful, and if Laura hadn't been in such a hurry, she could have stayed under the spray for hours. Coming out of the bathroom, she moved around her room with comfortable familiarity, humming as she tugged a white sundress from her luggage and scraped her hair back into its usual tight ponytail.

  Rachel and Paulo were waiting for her up at reception, but a car pulled up before they could go through the schedule.

  "You didn't put your foot down hard enough, Laura." Paulo winked at her, then boomed "Welcome to the Quinta Maria!" at the middle-aged couple getting out of their car, his smile broad as he strolled over to them.

  Laura recognised the panic on Rachel's face. "Just leave me to it," she said. "You and Paulo go finish packing."

  Rachel's relief was evident. "Alright. Come up to the house when you've finished here and we'll go through everything over dinner."

  "Mr. and Mrs. Hurst are in room two," Paulo called from the doorway. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

  "Of course!" Laura said with mock exasperation. "Now shoo, both of you!"

  Helping the waiting guests with their luggage despite Mr. Hurst's protests, she led them down the path to the long, low buildings that housed the rooms. The surrounding gardens were as beautiful as ever, and the Hursts were effusive in their praise as she showed them around.

  Two more couples arrived soon after and had much the same reaction, filling Laura with pride. Few people came to the hotel without being absolutely delighted at what they found.

  Hearing another car pull up, she left them to settle in and eagerly marched up the path to greet the next arrivals. But all sense of relaxed efficiency deserted her as Daniel Stone climbed from his car.

  Chapter Two

  Laura's mind raced as her footsteps slowed. What on earth was he doing here? The unlikely hope he might be passing by—perhaps he'd called in for directions to somewhere else?—was immediately scotched as he lifted his luggage from the car. Reminded of their encounters at the airport, she could have squirmed with embarrassment at how out of character she'd acted, making mistakes and being so snappy about them.

  Well, he wouldn't see her like that again. If Daniel Stone was a guest here—and it seemed there was no escaping from it—then she must make him welcome. For goodness' sake, she was used to dealing with awkward situations every day at school!

  He turned at the sound of her footsteps. Forcing a calmness into her voice that didn't extend to her stomach, she stepped forward and held out her hand.

  "Mr. Stone? Welcome to the Quinta Maria."

  Closing the car, he straightened up to his full six-foot-something and reached out to shake hands. For one brief, glorious moment, Laura thought he might not recognise her now that she was spruced up a little, but any hope of that disappeared as his eyes narrowed in sudden recognition and his hand dropped to his side as though it had been burned.

  "It seems you have the advantage over me, knowing my name," he said. "Since you're determined to turn up like a bad penny wherever I go, perhaps you could enlighten me with yours?"

  Incensed, Laura bit back a response. They were no longer on neutral ground, and as his host, she could hardly give him a piece of her mind.

  "I'm Laura Matheson," she replied as evenly as she could. "If you'll excuse me, I'll get your key and then I'll show you around."

  Disappearing into reception before he could find further fault with her, she crossed to the desk and raked her tired eyes over the reservations spreadsheet with a growing sense of disbelief. Not only was Daniel Stone booked in for a full fortnight, but he'd been allocated the room next to hers. Even Paulo and Rachel were unknowingly conspiring against her!

  "You're in room eleven," she announced, sensing his presence in the doorway. "Your other party checked in earlier. Will you require a second key?"

  "My other party?"

  Something in his tone made her glance up. She recognised the travel weariness in his stance, but his face showed only bewilderment.

  "Yes." She squinted at the computer screen again. "Miss Hartman."

  His eyes froze to a dangerous dark blue. "Natalie Hartman?"

  "That's right," she confirmed, double-checking the name. "Is there a problem?"

  "What time did she check in?" His mouth was
a hard, thin line.

  She frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't know."

  "You don't know?" There was incredulity in his voice, along with displeasure and a hint at incompetence on her part.

  Laura didn't like it, nor was she going to take it. "I don't know because I wasn't here in reception when she checked in. As you're aware, I only arrived here a short while ago myself. I …" She stopped. There was no need for her to explain herself. Frankly, she couldn't understand why he didn't just go and talk to his companion. After all, they were sharing a double room.

  "Are you sure she booked into my room, not one of her own?" he asked, his tone of voice suggesting he was already pessimistic over the likely answer.

  She stared at him. "Of course. We don't make mistakes like that here."

  "I should hope not. In that case, perhaps you wouldn't mind looking into how Miss Hartman's name was added to the booking?" When she only stared at him in surprise, he raised an eyebrow. "Indulge me."

  Laura worked hard to suppress her irritation. With Paulo and Rachel setting off first thing in the morning, she needed to sort out any loose ends with them over dinner. The other guests had been a doddle to meet and greet, but Daniel Stone … typical that the last one of the day had to be a problem. Still, the sooner she sorted him out, the sooner she could go up to the house.

  She glanced again at the spreadsheet. "Miss Hartman booked by e-mail the day after your telephone reservation," she told him, riffling through the filing cabinet for hard evidence. Finding what she was searching for—a copy of Miss Hartman's e-mail—she glanced it over before handing it across to him. "She asked to share your room."

  He took the sheet, his eyes narrowing as he read it. "And you didn't think to check this with me?"

  Laura bit her lip, struggling for patience. Whatever was going on in this man's private life, she didn't see why she should get dragged into it.

  "It wasn't me who dealt with the booking," she pointed out. "However, since Miss Hartman specifically quoted your personal booking reference and asked to share your room, I can't see why Senhor Silva would have had any reason to question it." Defiantly, and a little acidly, she added, "I'm sorry if our desire to assist with a last-minute request has caused you any inconvenience."