‘What were you expecting?’ he called across to her.
She paused in her journey, arms outstretched but not a hint of wobble, nose crinkled in a very cute thoughtful expression.
‘Some bar I suppose,’ she said. ‘Whenever I see you in the papers you’re always falling out of some swanky celebrity nightspot or other.’
‘And are you disappointed then? With the choice of venue?’
She started walking again. Coming towards him now, a full circle nearly completed. He stood still and waited for her to reach him, then stepped down onto the frosty ground and lifted her gently down and against him, his arms finding her waist and sliding around her.
‘Nope,’ she said, her cheeks pink with the cold. ‘It’s perfect. I haven’t been to the park for ages. I work all hours, it’s lovely to get some fresh air.’
He kept an arm around her and headed for a bench at the side of the path. She sat down next to him and took a sip of her coffee.
‘Most girls I meet are falling over themselves to go to a club or a restaurant with me,’ he said. ’And you’re happy with coffee and jumping around a fountain.’
She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkly and the tip of her nose pink in the cold. He wanted to kiss it.
‘You’re too used to women swooning over you,’ she said. ‘I guess some people really are that shallow, that they’re so impressed by the image or stories they see in the press they have no regard for what the actual person is like behind the headlines. Because you look amazing when you take your shirt off on court and you’re rich and you have these impetuous arguments with umpires and bed models and starlets, people don’t look any deeper than that.’
‘Except for you.’
‘That kind of thing doesn’t impress me,’ she said, taking the lid off her cup. Steam curled from it as she took a sip, watching him over the rim of the cup. ‘I guess I’m just not like most girls.’
‘No,’ he said, holding her blue gaze with his own. ‘You’re certainly not.’
The way he looked at her made her stomach melt. Her heart give a joyful little skip in her chest and she immediately checked it. Somehow that seemed so much harder to do with him alone out here in the cold air, with none of his rich-and-famous trappings buoying him up. He was bucking stereotype by bringing her here. And she’d been relying on that concrete stereotype as justification for keeping her emotions in check. Suddenly it felt a little as if she were standing on uncertain ground.
When he took her coffee cup from her and set it on the ground next to his own she didn’t stop him. He tugged her onto his lap and she couldn’t help herself snuggling into him. He smelled faintly of aftershave, deep woody notes, and the jersey of his hoodie was soft against her cheek. He tilted his head down and found her mouth with his, holding her tightly against him, his arms curled around her back, one hand finding and stroking her hair. The kiss was slow, lingering and deep and she could taste the faint twist of strong coffee on his tongue. There was something gentle in the way he held her, the way he stroked a stray tendril of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear, the way he caressed her cheek. This felt somehow more intimate than even the hottest moments they’d spent back in the hotel room.
He’d risked going outside to prove some kind of point and now he was cuddling up to her in public, not that there were many people about, a few joggers, but still. Heat flowed slowly through her veins to pool in her stomach and she swallowed hard. But there was a part of her desperately wanting to make all this significant. Surely if all he wanted was a quick and easy lay he would never have suggested leaving the hotel?
With dusk on the brink they began walking back. Sparks began to simmer deep inside her, a want to get him back to the hotel suite, to have him all to herself in private again, the physical desire for him so strong it shocked her. He caught her hand in his as they walked and she looked down at that physical connection, biting her lip hard enough to hurt. This should not mean anything to her. It certainly shouldn’t be reducing her insides to melted chocolate. But it had been a hell of a lot easier to dismiss this as just an experimental take-it-or-leave-it fling before he had to bring touchy-feely affection to the bloody table.
They were out of the park now and back onto the cold pavement. Early evening London traffic pushed its way past them, the street lights beginning to kick in. A light mist began to fall around them, softening headlights and clinging to her hair. And then a group of three young women approached them, giggling and chatting, and Layla saw rather than felt the sudden double-take as one of them clocked just who it was they were walking past.
‘Matt Stanton?’ Narrowed eyes and swooning beatific smile kicked in instantly on the woman’s face.
Matt stopped and dropped her hand like a stone. The intimate connection broken in an instant, without so much as a thought. And her eyes, tuned in to pick up every detail in magnified sharp clarity, noticed him put a couple of paces between them. He was withdrawing his contact with her. She was dismissed. That’s how it felt. That’s what it was. And for Pete’s sake, had she really imagined he would behave any differently?
She added another pace backwards herself as he turned to the women, instant smile lighting up his face, ready and willing to meet his adoring public.
‘Omigod I’m such a fan, you have no idea,’ one of them was babbling. ‘I sleep on the pavement every year at Wimbledon. I’m first in the queue to watch you play.’
‘That’s really very sweet.’
She heard the smile in his voice. Her stomach churned hideously. Not one of them acknowledged that she was there. Why would they? Matt hadn’t acknowledged her, if anything he’d made it clear she meant nothing to him in the face of their adulation.
Really, what did she expect? To be introduced to them as his girlfriend?
Furious with herself, she watched the second girl, slim and attractive with blonde hair piled messily up on her head, tugging her jacket off and undoing the top buttons of her blouse with one hand. With the other she fumbled a pen from her bag and pressed it into Matt’s hand.
‘Can I have your autograph?’ she said, tugging her blouse apart and thrusting a pink-bra-clad breast at him.
Matt took the pen from her with a flourish as much giggling ensued.
An unexpected wave of nausea rose in Layla’s throat and she pressed a hand to her mouth and blinked hard to clear her watering eyes. There was no way she was staying to take in another second of this and she turned away to head back to the hotel on her own. Unfortunately not before she picked up the breathy cry of gratitude, ‘I’m never going to wash again!’
Classy.
****
She retouched her make up in the staff toilets, removing all trace of kissed-off lippy, and kneeled underneath the hand drier briefly to blast away the damp from the misty rain. As if by restoring herself to work mode she could somehow undo her epic unprofessional behaviour this week. She should never have let any of this happen, it had been utter madness. She’d let herself be sucked into seeing him as a real person with proper scruples and genuine emotions, when in truth his image was always going to come first. Every aspect of his behaviour was influenced by it, she saw that now.
A wake-up call. And not before time. What the hell had she been thinking, letting herself get involved with someone like him?
Lurking beneath the hideous disappointment was fury with herself because she was even bothered. That was somehow worst of all. She’d thought herself so above all this, had believed she was immune to the charm of someone like him. Turned out, she was no different to every other female with a pulse.
Still, better late than never. All she needed to do now was avoid him. Make some excuse, maybe get one of the butlers to cover for her. He was scheduled to check out in forty eight hours, how hard could that be?
****
‘Kerry Suite’s just called down,’ the manager said as she emerged from the toilets directly into his path. Layla’s hands instantly crept to smooth her shir
t into place, as if he might still somehow guess that work for her this week had had little or nothing to do with, well, actual work.
‘Apparently you’re meant to be there?’ He frowned. ‘Some kind of admin task, ring a bell?’
Admin task? Oh just bloody perfect.
‘I’m really tied up here,’ she gabbled, taking a step away from him in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Maybe one of the concierge team could step in?’
The frown morphed into raised eyebrows. ‘I thought you were able to handle this,’ he said. ‘Can’t just chop and change the point of contact for the guest. We committed to letting him use you as staff for the week. That comes first. Whatever you’re tied up with here, get someone else to do it. Unless you’re not up to the job of course. Which,’ he added pointedly, ‘would be a shame with the departmental changes in the pipeline. You’re hardly recommending yourself for the post here are you? If you can’t pull out all stops for one guest, we’re hardly going to believe you can do it for a hotel full of them.’
She changed direction and headed for the lift.
****
She took a deep breath outside the door before giving it her standard work double-tap. Her heart might be thundering like a train but she rearranged her face into what she hoped was a detached professional expression.
He opened the door. She could see beyond him that the fire had been lit. Its mellow glow lit the sitting room area cosily. The mist of their walk had turned into full on rain now, she could hear it pattering at the windows. His smile of welcome made her stomach churn. So he was back in his suite with the rest of the world shut out and now she had a place. In his bed, to be precise. She’d had a glimpse now of what it would be like when he checked out of the hotel. No place for her in any of that. The disappointment twisting in her stomach told her that somewhere deep down she had hoped that wouldn’t be the case, that there could somehow be more for them after this week, however hard she might have denied it to herself.
‘Where did you go?’ he said.
‘Was there something I could help you with?’ she said, talking over him loudly. ‘I got your message.’ Oh yes. She’d well and truly got that. ‘Some kind of admin task was it? Because I’m not sure now that I’m the best person to meet your needs for the rest of your stay.’
He opened his mouth to speak and she held up a hand to stop him.
‘I’m not going to leave you in the lurch, you needn’t worry. I can make sure one of the concierge team is available for you twenty four hours. Or possibly a butler, if that’s more the service you’re looking for.’
He stared at her as if she were an alien.
‘I don’t want some concierge or butler. Why would I? I’m perfectly happy with the present arrangement.’
Something inside her snapped.
‘That’s exactly what this is, isn’t it? An arrangement. I should never have let it get this far.’
‘What are you talking about?’
She gestured madly between them.
‘This. Us. You and me. I should never have let things get personal. I should have just gone with my first instincts and kept things between us professional. And I definitely should never have gone out with you.’
A sudden flash of clear understanding burst into Matt’s mind as she cut her gaze away from his. So that was what this was about. The fans they’d come across. Seriously, it wasn’t as if he’d been mobbed. It was three women.
‘You were jealous.’ he said in surprise. For some reason the prospect of that gave him a spike of happiness. For all her maddening indifference she liked him. This proved it. Her furious denial proved it even further.
‘I am NOT jealous!’ she snapped. ‘I am NOT some sad groupie. What I am is disappointed that there actually isn’t more to you than lucrative sponsorship, crazy publicity and screaming fans.’ She lowered her voice then, as if she was reigning herself in.
‘Of course there’s more to me than that, but that’s what people want from me, Layla. My sponsorship deals, my fan base, all that has come from raising my public profile, and that comes from interacting with the public, being seen in the press. Do you really think I’d have the kudos and success that I do if I kept my head down and never put myself into the limelight? This is the way things are. All I did was sign a couple of autographs and pose for a picture, you’re talking like we were mobbed. I just don’t understand what the big deal is.’
He cast exasperated eyes at the ceiling. Just the fact he was arguing this point was new territory for him. In his usual remit, he’d be letting her walk out the door, possibly with a flash of gratitude that he’d had a lucky escape from such high maintenance grief. ‘This is my life, Layla. This is what it’s like. None of it’s real, none of it counts. Not on any level that matters at least.’
He took her elbow gently and turned her back to face him, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She looked down at his hand on her arm, her lips pressed together so hard that they were white.
‘We were talking, Matt,’ she said. ‘Mucking about in the park, getting to know each other. Those things are real, normal. Those things are worth spending time on. And then a gaggle of women clock who you are and the moment’s over. I might as well have not even been there. You were swept up in their adulation before I had a chance to draw breath. Well I have absolutely no desire to be anyone’s second best, left shuffling from one foot to the other in the background, waiting until you get bored with the praise being heaped on you and remember that I’m actually there.’
Exasperation began to rise in his chest as he held her frowning, angry gaze with his own.
‘I like the real you,’ she said quietly. ‘The one who was at the park, the one who talks about normal things, who told me a bit about his childhood.’
Her refusal to listen to him made his temper break free, not least because he felt her regard for him slipping away and he had no idea how to regain it when the one thing that he’d always relied on to impress people happened to be the one thing she really wasn’t impressed by.
‘Being with you these last few days hasn’t only been about sex, you know.’ He shrugged and conceded, ‘OK well, it might have started out that way but as I’ve got to know you it’s turned into something else.’
‘You would say that of course,’ the coldness didn’t waver. ‘Say the right things, whatever works to get me into bed, isn’t that right?’
He couldn’t stop an incredulous laugh. Did she really think he would be bothered with her insane high maintenance if the only thing he liked about her was sex?
‘Has it not occurred to you that the reason I like being with you is because you DON’T ask me to autograph your tits?’ he snapped. ‘If sex was all I wanted I’d say Layla, you’re not needed anymore and I’d call up one of a dozen or so women I know in London who’d be happy to provide just that. Or I would have invited autograph girl back here for the evening.’ He flung exasperated hands up. ‘Do you think I don’t wish it could be that straightforward? Like I need this grief! Nothing about you is easy, you’re impossible to impress, you change your mind every five minutes and you think the worst of me by default. But for some crazy reason the only person I want to be with right now is you.’
He paused for breath as she stared at him, roused out of her coldness by his raised voice and exasperated tone. He made a monumental effort to calm down.
‘You’re the first person I’ve met who isn’t impressed by who I am and that’s new territory for me.’ He ran his hands distractedly through his hair. ‘I’ve spent my life trying to impress and that’s what got me where I am. I can’t just dispense with that side of my life. It’s who I am, Layla. It’s made me what I am.’
And without it he really wasn’t sure who he was. Or whether he would be good enough for her or for anyone.
Her heart turned softly over at the anguish in his face. Not to mention the fact that he’d just compared her to the celebrity fishbowl and she’d come out on top. OK so he’d also said she was dif
ficult but she could overlook that in the light of the overall sentiment.
Could she really let herself believe there might be something more to this than a throwaway week? How that could possibly play out going forward, she had no idea, but for now just knowing he thought she was different was enough.
She raised her hand and for a split second he thought she was about to slap his face. Nothing would surprise him coming from her, wasn’t that what the whole appeal was? Instead she touched his cheek softly with her palm, her blue eyes softening. He covered her hand immediately with his own, lacing his fingers through hers, holding her gaze in his. And then he pulled her close and kissed her.
Lingering kisses this time, a chance to taste, feel, caress. As she melted against him she slid her arms up to curl around his neck and then he was lifting her, carrying her, kissing his way across the suite to the bedroom where he lowered her onto the softness of the bed. Removing her clothes was a delight to be lingered over, every inch of her skin his to kiss until she was squirming deliciously under his hands.
He savoured the silk of her skin against his and her gasp of pleasure as he slid inside her thrilled him. With each long smooth stroke into her he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair, savoured the delectable softness of her lips against his. The caress of her fingertips on his skin and the satin of her legs as she curled them around his back, pressing him deeper into her as her breathing rose, her soft cries of pleasure against his shoulder, these things thrilled him on a deep level he’d never known before. The want, the need for her was so strong, so all-encompassing that it shocked him to the core as he pushed them both towards the point of ecstasy. Sex had never been about this for him. It was about self-gratification, appreciation, emotions need not apply. He didn’t do sex with emotional strings.
Breathing began to level. He looked into the china blue eyes below his as she held his gaze steadily with her own, pupils dilated, and felt a connection to her that seemed to fill his every sense, something that forced rationalism out of the room.
Did Someone Order Room Service?: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance Novella (Do Not Disturb, Book 2) Page 8