The Great Escape (Dilbury Village #2)

by Charlotte Fallowfield

  ‘Then just cancel one of your jogs, sorry, runs this afternoon so you can pack, and then you’ll be free to take her to dinner,’ Abbie insisted firmly. ‘We all know that the only reason you come past so often is because you’re checking her out. You find her hot, she finds you hot. Go to dinner, walking at a leisurely pace, as Georgie doesn’t do rambling, jogging, running, or sprinting as they make her wheeze. Just avoid ordering the mash, carrots, and peas, and see what comes of it.’

  ‘Abbie,’ I scolded, my cheeks turning pink at her directness, as well as outing my feelings about him and my level of unfitness.

  ‘I guess I could, if you want to?’ Weston asked, forcing me to look back at him. I couldn’t tell from his facial expression if he was desperate for me to say yes or no.

  ‘Well, we could, you know, if you want to?’ I replied.

  ‘He wants, you want, so that’s settled. Be here for eight and she’ll be ready. Nice to meet you, Weston, have a safe trip home tomorrow,’ Abbie said firmly, making sure the conversation was drawn to a close.

  ‘Thanks,’ he replied, looking a little shell-shocked at being railroaded into being stuck with me for the night. ‘So, I guess I’ll see you at eight then, Georgie?’

  ‘Eight, Weston,’ I whispered breathlessly, loving the sound of my name rolling off his full lips in that sexy tone. This time his reaction to my response was unmistakable. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard and nodded before dropping his glasses back down to shield his eyes. Seconds later, he was kicking up the sand as he powered away from us, back in the direction he came from, leaving me with all sorts of whirling emotions.

  ‘Jesus, talk about painful!’ Abbie roared, dabbing tears of laughter from her eyes. ‘Waffling on about jogging and food. You weren’t joking about being a wreck around a hot guy, were you?’

  ‘No,’ I groaned as I followed Weston’s progress as he slowly disappeared from sight around the curve of the beach. ‘How am I going to get through dinner without you? It will be a disaster.’

  ‘Pretend you’re chatting to me, Charlie, or Daphne. He’s a man, not a foreign species,’ she tutted, making it sound so easy, as she sat up to grab her drink.

  ‘From where I’m standing, he might as well be from Mars,’ I muttered.

  Abbie stood on the veranda shooing me off at a minute to eight. I glanced down at myself, hoping I’d not misjudged the sort of outfit I’d need, as there was no guarantee he was taking me to the hotel restaurant here. Why would he after I’d effectively slated their food? He obviously wasn’t staying at our hotel as we’d not seen him at any time other than his beach runs, so maybe he’d take me to his hotel.

  I’d put on a pair of silver toe-post flats with a white and grey dip-dyed maxi dress, and had a pretty, shimmering silver pashmina draped across my shoulders. I’d even gone to the hairdressers for a blow-dry to leave me with soft, sleek waves cascading down my back, and had a matte silver mani-pedi. I forced myself to skirt the pool and head to the gate, dragging a whole load of nerves behind me as I waved to Abbie over my shoulder. When I looked back, my breath caught in my throat. He was already waiting, sitting on the edge of my sun lounger.

  He looked just as hot as he did in his running shorts. He was sporting a pair of pristine black cargo trousers, black flip-flops, and a white linen shirt, the lower part of the sleeves rolled up to expose a dusting of dark hair on his strong, tanned forearms. A light beige linen jacket lay on the bed next to him, and his gently tousled dark hair was swept back, slightly damp as if he’d just showered. I could smell lime on him more strongly and decided it must be his body wash. I’d never really liked the smell before, but mixed with his natural cologne, I could lick it right off him. He stood up quickly when he heard the gate being opened and turned to face me with a nervous smile.

  ‘Hi, gorgeous,’ he quipped.

  ‘Hi,’ I giggled, equally nervously, but pleased he was attempting to break the awkwardness of earlier. ‘Georgie is fine. Short for Georgina actually, but only my parents call me that. Do I call you West?’

  ‘I’d prefer Weston, and it’s not short for anything,’ he replied. We stood a few feet apart, obviously not sure what the etiquette was when you were seeing someone you fancied with their clothes on for the first time.

  He stepped forward at the same time as I did, and when I saw his hand moving towards me, I assumed he was going to shake my hand again. I stuck mine out and looked down to return the gesture, just as he placed that hand on my hip instead and obviously leaned in to kiss my cheek. There was a loud crack as his face ricocheted off the top of my head, both of us hissing at the contact. The air was filled with garbled apologies on both sides, as I rubbed my scalp and he clutched the top of his nose. He gestured to the path that ran between my villa and the next one along and we headed up it, then hooked a right to walk through the gardens towards the main hotel reception.

  ‘So,’ we said at once, then each let out an uncomfortable laugh. This wasn’t getting any easier.

  ‘Ladies first,’ he suggested, slowing down to walk at my pace, his bare forearm occasionally brushing against mine and sending a sizzle of chemistry surging through my body. My physical attraction to him wasn’t in any doubt, that was for sure. And I was convinced, judging by the way his eyes kept darting to look at my chest and his tongue swept over his lower lip, that it wasn’t one sided.

  ‘I’m sorry about earlier. I’m not usually a rambler, but it’s been a while since I’ve spoken to an attractive man and it makes me rather nervous.’

  ‘And when you’re nervous, you ramble?’ he asked.

  ‘My conversation skills are normally a little more refined.’

  ‘Mine too. I guess I was thrown, it wasn’t really how I imagined our first conversation going.’

  ‘You imagined?’ I asked, looking up at him through my lashes. My heart was beating so loudly in my chest, I was sure he’d hear it. I was a good five foot eight and I had to look up at him, which made him at least six foot two.

  ‘A little too much, as that tumble onto my face the first time I looked at you can attest,’ he chuckled, though no hint of embarrassment showed on his cheeks.

  ‘Tumble?’ I questioned, carrying on the pretence that I hadn’t noticed.

  ‘I know you saw, though you were very gallant trying to save my pride by pretending to read your book.’

  ‘Am I that transparent?’ I laughed, embarrassed that he’d known all along I’d been checking him out.

  ‘You’d have fooled most people, but I’m not most people.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘My last job meant that I needed to read people and my surroundings well.’

  ‘Abbie thinks you’re in the forces, she says you’ve got that look about you.’

  ‘Then she’s observant too. I was a captain in the British Army.’

  ‘She’ll be so pleased she was right. What did you do in the Army?’ I asked as we stepped under the cover of the large roof that spanned reception and the central fountain. ‘I mean, I know you fight, but there’s all kinds of regiments and brigades that specialise in different things.’ He hesitated for a moment, a slight frown appearing on his face, and his muscles immediately tensed up. I wasn’t a great reader of body language myself, but even I could pick up on the waves of negative energy that were suddenly radiating off him.

  ‘Actually, that’s one topic I’d rather not discuss,’ he stated flatly.

  ‘I see, one of those “I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you” kind of 007 deals. Enough said. Can you tell me what you do now?’ I asked, hoping I’d eased whatever stress my original question had obviously just brought him.

  ‘I’m a personal trainer,’ he replied, the enthusiasm and warmth returning to his voice immediately. ‘I’m really into keeping fit and it seemed a natural progression to help others.’

  ‘It’s paid off,’ I purred, imagining his body again, like I had so many times over the last
ten or so days since I’d first seen it. He let out a soft laugh as he smiled at me, making me blush. Well, this was going better than earlier.

  ‘Good evening, Mrs. Carter,’ waved the receptionist, his “Mrs.” coming out more of a Mieces Carter.

  ‘Ermmm, evening,’ I called back, screwing up my face in a grimace and hoping Weston hadn’t heard him.

  ‘Mrs. Carter?’ he questioned, an edge of disapproval to his tone as he ground to a halt.

  ‘Slip of the tongue, I’m sure. Are we going to the restaurant on the beach?’ I asked, hoping to quickly move the conversation along.

  ‘Mieces Carter,’ the receptionist called again. ‘The manager want to let you know he book private dining tomorrow for last night of your honeymoon. Very special dinner for very special couple.’

  ‘You’re married? And on your honeymoon?’ Weston spluttered, flashing me a frankly damning look.

  ‘No, to both questions. It’s just this whole huge misunderstanding, and after trying to argue our case, Abbie and I just let them think it to have an easy life. I couldn’t be further from married.’

  ‘You’re pretending to be a married gay couple for the reception staff?’ he asked, seeming unconvinced.

  ‘I know it sounds crazy, we’ve told them so many times we’re not married, but it seems there was a mix up with our booking and we got the honeymoon-package. Look, look,’ I urged, holding up my left hand. ‘No ring, wedding or engagement, or hint of a dent in my skin or a tan line.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs. Carter,’ nodded the hotel porter as he rushed past with a trolley full of cases.

  ‘Well, he thinks you’re married, too.’

  ‘Everyone here thinks we’re married. I’ve even got used to being called Mrs. Carter instead of Miss Bassett, not to mention sharing a super king-sized honeymoon bed with Abbie. Honestly, if you’d come with your friend and they’d made the same mistake, you’d be a married gay person right now. There’s no telling them.’

  ‘There’s no way I’d share my bed with another man, friend or not,’ Weston scoffed. ‘And I don’t want to get in the middle of anything here, Georgie.’

  ‘You’re not, I promise, we’re just best friends. I’m not into women and I’m not a cheater. I couldn’t do that to someone, not after …’ I broke off and took a deep breath. It wasn’t ideal telling a guy you were on a first date with that you were so undesirable, your fiancé had cheated on you.

  ‘Not after?’ he coaxed, tucking two fingers under my chin to lift my embarrassed gaze up to meet his curious one. Was it normal to feel a spark of heat every time a man touched you? It had never happened to me until now.

  ‘Someone did it to me, they hurt me badly and that’s something I’d never want anyone else to experience,’ I whispered, the memory of the pain I’d felt lancing my heart again.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that and I promise you not all men are cheats. There are still a few good ones out there amongst us,’ he said softly, still holding my chin.

  ‘How am I supposed to spot them though? Most men come on far too strong, it’s all “Let’s have sex” on the first date, or “Let’s move in together” after a few weeks. I don’t want all that pressure. I just want easy, you know? Someone I can have dinner or go out to the movies with, maybe have the odd romantic weekend away. Where we can get together at the drop of a hat if we feel like it, without it being some huge deal that has to be planned in meticulous detail. Greg was a “let’s plan everything” kind of guy and I hated that.’

  ‘I get that,’ he nodded, immediately dropping his hand. I was surprised at how much I missed his touch the moment he did. ‘You don’t want the complications of a guy who rushes things, or a long-distance relationship. You want some spontaneity in your life, while taking a relationship slowly.’

  ‘Exactly. I just want easy for a while,’ I confirmed, pleased he got it. So many guys didn’t. I swallowed hard when I realised that we were so close, if he dipped his head right now he could be kissing me. I was confused. I’d just said I didn’t want to rush things, my head believed that one hundred percent, so why was I so desperate for him to press his full lips against mine? He blinked a few times as we just stared at each other, our mouths so close our outward breaths were already mating. We quickly backed away from each other at the same time, whatever soft and yearning look I thought I’d just seen in his eyes evaporating in a second.

  ‘I’m guessing the kind of relationship you’d like next isn’t a topic you want to discuss in detail with a virtual stranger. So how about we make a move and go and have dinner. I hired a Jeep as I heard there’s a really authentic Mexican place up the coast, assuming you like Mexican food?’

  ‘As long as they don’t try cooking mashed potatoes, carrots, or peas, I do,’ I smiled, grateful for the change of intense topic to a lighter subject.

  ‘Let’s go then,’ he confirmed, placing his hand in the small of my back to guide me through the hotel and out towards the circular drive, where the cars and coaches pulled around another large fountain in the middle. We walked towards an open-top Jeep and he gallantly helped me up into the passenger seat and passed me my seatbelt before shutting my door. I frowned as he walked around the front of the car, tossing his jacket onto the back seat before climbing in next to me, his body suddenly taut and tense again. The atmosphere had changed, a subtle shift from us moving into comfortable “getting to know each other” conversation, to an uncomfortable silence again, just like on the beach when Abbie had intervened. Had I said too much about my relationship concerns and come across as a woman with a bag full of issues? Was that why he’d backed off?

  He started up the engine and pulled out, heading up the hotel drive to the main road. When I glanced over at him, he seemed so focussed and controlled, just like he had when he was running, and I didn’t want to distract him. As he picked up speed when we hit the main road, I began to regret not having tied my hair back as I felt it lifting and falling, pulling the occasional bit away from my mouth where it had stuck to my lip-gloss. Wind-whipped, open-top car hair was an extra level worse than hat hair, and no self-respecting woman would be seen dead with either style.

  ‘Shit,’ I muttered under my breath, then winced as a large piece caught me in the eye, making it water. Great, that was all I needed, my mascara running too.

  ‘Everything ok?’ he called, breaking out of his concentrated stare at the road ahead.

  ‘It’s a bit breezy for hair down in a moving open-top vehicle,’ I called back, my eye twitching as I reached up to scrape my unusually ruffled hair back. I used its length to tie it into a neat knot at the base of my neck.

  ‘Why are you winking at me?’

  ‘I’m not winking.’

  ‘You are, you’re doing it now.’

  ‘I’m blinking. A piece of hair may have just lacerated my eyeball and it stings.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s been so humid, I thought an open-top Jeep would be a nice way of cooling down with a gentle breeze, but the wind seems to be picking up somewhat. There’s a map in the glove box, if you don’t mind?’ he asked, flicking his chin towards it. ‘We need to turn off somewhere down here on the left, I marked the restaurant on it.’

  ‘Ok, but I’d better warn you I failed my Duke of Edinburgh orienteering at school. I barely know my left from my right.’

  ‘I’m sure you can’t be that bad.’

  ‘Trust me, I am,’ I confirmed, as I opened it up and gripped the edges, squinting through my non-watering eye. I found where he’d marked the restaurant with a cross and followed the trail backwards to see where it joined the main road, then followed that back to the hotel. I’d just released my grip from the left-hand side of the map and was using my finger to start counting which turn left it was when there was a ripping sound, and my vision was lost as a section of the map plastered itself to my face before being sucked up and out of the top of the Jeep. I gasped and looked down to see I was left holding a fragment of map in my right hand, the area we were travelling in
, let alone the hotel and restaurant, now nowhere to be seen. ‘Ermmm, Houston, we have a problem,’ I advised, waving what was left of the map in his direction.

  ‘Damn it,’ he muttered, a sexy furrow forming in his brow. ‘Can you remember which turn it was?’

  ‘Four or five, I think?’

  ‘Well, we just passed two, so let’s try four first and if I remember correctly, it’s a straight run all the way down to the beach.’

  ‘Do you have a roof for this thing?’ I yelled over the noise of the throbbing engine, bouncing suspension, and sound of the wind, which was really picking up speed. Palm trees along the roadside were starting to sway considerably.

  ‘No, and it looks like we’ve got a storm coming in,’ he grimaced, flicking his head up ahead to where a bolt of white lightening split the dark purple sky.

  ‘Do you think we should turn back? We could eat at the hotel,’ I suggested.

  ‘From what you’ve said, it doesn’t exactly sound that appetising. Besides, we’ll be there in a few minutes and the storm will probably pass over as we’re eating. Trust me, Georgie.’ He flashed me a reassuring smile, and I gave him a weak one in return.

  Trust him? I didn’t even know him. In fact, I was starting to question my judgement again. Who went on a date with a guy they didn’t know, in a foreign country, when he was taking her to God knows where and nobody even knew. Abbie thought we were eating at the hotel, she had no idea we’d left or where I was. What if he was some crazed murderer who was going to bury my body under a cactus somewhere in the Mexican desert? Did Mexico even have a desert? We’d rushed here so fast I’d had no time to do any research on the country. When Weston turned down a rough-looking dirt track, my heart moved up into my mouth. Where the hell was he taking me? I must be crazy going off with him blindly like this. I screamed as a particularly nasty gust of wind grabbed my silver pashmina and sucked that into the darkness that surrounded us to join the rest of the map.

  ‘Are you ok? You’ve gone rather pale,’ he yelled as he swerved to avoid a pot hole in the road, making me dig my fingers into the fabric of the seat below me.