Dominic interrupted her politely but firmly. “There must be another room in the hotel. Surely you can understand the situation?”
The woman’s professional smile suddenly slipped. She looked from left to right, then leaned forward over the counter until she was just inches from them.
“Sir, I have been up since four am this morning. It is now nearly midnight. I have had more complaints today than I have had in ten years. Taps not working. Beds not long enough. Views not interesting enough. Pillows not soft enough. I am tired. I want to go home to my bed. You look tired too. You both look like fine, normal people, I don’t think either of you is hiding an axe in your bags.
“Let me give you some advice,” she continued, as her voice got more and more gruff. “Turn the lights off while you’re both getting undressed. Put a pillow between you to stop any overwhelming thoughts of lust. Say a rosary together before you sleep if you think it will help. I would even quickly build you another room if I could, but I am telling you…” the professional smile suddenly switched back on, “I really am sorry but there is no other room available tonight. Good evening to you both.”
With that the woman placed a sign reading Reception Closed until 7 am with a bang on the desk in front of her, and walked purposefully out from behind the desk, heading straight for the bar.
Maura bit her lip. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to panic, to laugh or to cry.
Dominic broke the silence. “We can’t really drive on any further with that tyre. I’ll have to sleep in the car,” he said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Maura answered quickly, pleased to be able to come across as the voice of reason. “It’s raining, you’ll be cold, we’ll just have to manage. There’s probably a couch or something like that in the room – one of us can sleep on that. Me, I’m the smallest. Come on, we won’t get to sleep standing here all night.”
She took up both bags firmly and moved toward the stairs, glad to see the weight stopped her hands from shaking. God knows she found it unsettling enough sitting in the same car as him, let alone sleeping in the same bedroom. Still, if it was big enough, they could even make up a small bed on the floor.
One second in their room put paid to any idea of sleeping on the couch. It was the smallest room she had ever seen. There was barely room for the double bed, let alone a couch. Two tiny bedside tables, with barely enough room to hold a phone on one and a lamp on the other, were crammed tight against the bed. There wasn’t even room for an ensuite bathroom. She gathered from a sign pinned to the wall that they were supposed to use the facilities just down the corridor from the room.
If she’d been here on her wedding anniversary she might have found it cosy and romantic. But this was close to a hostage situation, sharing something the size of a cell.
Dominic’s face gave nothing away. She could see the little muscle on his cheek twitch, but wasn’t sure if it was anger, amusement or a sudden attack of unbridled lust. She didn’t know which of the three would be worse.
She decided to be as brisk and businesslike as she could to break through her nervousness. “Well, we’ll just have to make do. As the lady said, it’s late and there’s nowhere else we can go. We’re both adults, I’m sure we can get through one night and we’ll make sure to phone ahead and change the bookings in the other hotels first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, first thing,” he said, the smile still playing around his lips.
“Perhaps you’d like to have a quick drink in the bar while I get changed and ready for bed,” she suggested. To her own ears she sounded like she had suddenly turned into Mary Poppins: ‘Come on now, spit spot, none of this messing around or you won’t get any supper.’
To her relief, Dominic seemed to think it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion. “I’ll say goodnight now, then, you may be asleep by the time I come back in.”
Some chance of that, she thought, as the door closed behind him. She looked around the room in exasperation. This wasn’t exactly the night she’d been expecting. She’d imagined a quiet drink in a cosy bar before they went up to their rooms, and the opportunity to hear some of the traditional musicians the West of Ireland was apparently famous for. That hadn’t seemed to be the preferred entertainment in the bar downstairs. To her untrained ear it had sounded more like country and western karaoke, with either the car dealers or the county councillors singing up a storm.
Maura looked again at the double bed taking up nearly all of the available space in the room. She knew she would lie rigid with nerves all night in case they happened to touch. “Stop being so ridiculous,” she told herself crossly. She and Richard had lived together for nearly two years. She was twenty eight years old, a woman of the world. Why was she carrying on as though she was on day-release from the local convent?
As she found the tiny bathroom down the hall and got ready for bed, she spoke to herself in a firm voice, talking down her nerves. All she had to do to keep him away from her was leave her bank book lying around. Her paltry savings wouldn’t compare with the aphrodisiac qualities of Carla’s millions. She’d just climb into bed, fall asleep and before long it would be morning and back to business.
Then why was it she felt more awake than she had in days? Where was her jet-lag when she needed it most? She didn’t even feel tired after her sleep in the car. Still, she’d hurry up, brush her teeth, change into her pyjamas . . . oh no, the thought suddenly hit her. She didn’t usually sleep in pyjamas, and had brought just the one pair with her.
Nick and Fran had given them to her as a farewell present, laughing that every girl needed a pair of special pyjamas, just in case her hotel suddenly caught fire and she had to stand outside for hours watching the firemen at work.
Back in the room, she rummaged around in her case, hoping her memory had deceived her and they weren’t as bad as she remembered. They were. But there was no choice. It was either wear them or go naked. It was the best of a bad choice. Keeping an ear out for Dominic’s return, she pulled out the pyjamas and clambered into them as quickly as she could.
A sound in the corridor outside sent her hurtling for her side of the bed. She pulled up the covers to her chin, grabbed a book from the bedside table and lay as close to the edge as she could, trying to appear nonchalant. A moment later there was a gentle knock and Dominic’s voice inquiring if it was all right to come in. She wondered whether to fake a snore but thought that would be too unconvincing altogether.
Her brief series of etiquette lessons at school had hardly prepared her for this situation. She would have been perfectly relaxed if Dominic were to ask her which fork went where, or how soon a fiancé should return the gifts after a wedding is called off. This was an unexplored situation entirely.
“Come in,” she called, feeling like a child bride on her wedding night.
She couldn’t be completely cool – she was about to sleep beside the man, for God’s sake. There was no point pretending they were sitting beside each other on the bus. She could hardly strike up a quick conversation about the Irish soccer team’s chances in the World Cup or his theories on Princess Diana’s death.
He broke the silence. “Are you scared of spiders?” he asked mildly.
“Yes, why?”
“There’s one walking across the pillow beside you. Perhaps you could brush it away with that upside-down Bible you’re reading.”
She leapt out of the bed even before he’d finished speaking. He was telling the truth, there was a spider on the other pillow, but it was a midget compared to the spiders she’d done battle with at home in Clare.
“That’s not a real spider!” she said indignantly. “The spiders in Australia are ten times as big as that! God, we’ve got huntsmen and funnel webs and . . .” Her voice trailed off as she realised he wasn’t paying her words much attention.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror stuck on the back of the bedroom door. From the neck up she looked fine. She had worn her hair down today and the fine misty rain had sent it
into a tumble of ringlets. It was the neck down that was the trouble.
Nick and Fran had given her a pair of bright-green pyjamas, covered with shamrocks and with the words I’ve got Irish Roots emblazoned in huge letters across the front.
She looked down at her pyjamas. So did he. “They’re a joke,” she said.
“Yes, they are,” he agreed.
“No, I mean they were given to me as a joke, normally I don’t wear any pyjamas at all, I sleep better without any clothes on . . .” she was babbling to cover her embarrassment, and digging herself into a deeper and deeper hole with each word.
“Oh, never mind,” she said, quickly climbed back into bed and pretended to become engrossed in the Bible as he left the room to take his turn in the shared bathroom down the corridor. When he returned, she didn’t dare inspect his nightwear, but caught a glimpse of a light blue coloured shirt. She lay on her side, took up the Bible again and kept her eyes firmly fixed on Revelations.
She felt him climb into the bed beside her and murmured a reply when he wished her goodnight. But it was at least an hour before she fell asleep.
She woke suddenly at about four o’clock, the moonlight streaming into the room making it as bright as though the lamp were lit. Even in her sleep she had managed to keep clinging to her side of the bed. She thought if she looked closely in the morning she would be able to see claw-marks where she had gripped it so tightly. She had nothing to fear. Dominic was fast asleep, lying on his back.
But she was absolutely wide awake. She counted forward the hours to work out what time it would be in Australia. Early afternoon – no wonder she was feeling so alert.
The curtain billowed slightly, catching on the bedhead and letting even more moonlight into the room. It illuminated Dominic’s side of the bed. Sitting up carefully, Maura took the opportunity to have a close look at him.
His shirt had become unbuttoned in his sleep and she could see the smooth, tanned skin of his chest. His face looked gentler in sleep, his hair tousled and falling onto his forehead. She suddenly wished he had made a pass at her. It was ridiculous, she’d spent hours unable to sleep in case he tried something on and now that he hadn’t she was disappointed.
After Richard she’d lost faith that gentlemen existed. If it had been Richard in this position he would already have seduced her, waited until she’d fallen asleep and then gone downstairs to see who else he might be able to attract. She shook the thought of him out of her head. The problem was there hadn’t been anyone since. She hadn’t let any man near her in the years since she had left Sydney.
That was what this was all about, she told herself. It wasn’t attraction, it was just that her sexuality was finally thawing. It had nothing to do with Dominic as such.
She felt comforted by her thoughts. She lay down again and tried to drift back into sleep, dismissing all thoughts of sexuality, thawed or otherwise.
She was startled back into complete wakefulness moments later with the feel of Dominic’s arm moving gently around her. He murmured something in his sleep and pulled her body in close to his. Oh my God, he must think I’m Carla, Maura realised in horror, feeling his lips brush against the back of her neck.
She stiffened, waiting for him to say something or do something more, but there wasn’t another sound. She moved her hand onto his arm to gently lift it away without waking him. His arm was bare and she held her breath as she felt the smooth, warm skin. She could feel the strength in his arm. Holding it still, she carefully looked around until she could see his face. He was definitely still fast asleep.
She suddenly realised she liked the feel of his arm around her, very much. Gently edging back in the bed, she moved until she could feel the warmth from his body. She stopped again, waiting to see if he would wake.
The room was dark and cosy and she could hear the rain begin outside again. She felt safe and warm and, she couldn’t deny it, beginning to feel in need of something much more intimate than a sleepy embrace. She could feel her body start to catch fire and was shocked at herself. Think straight, she told herself. This is a complete stranger you are in bed with. He’s practically a married man. You don’t like him.
But while her mind was talking sense, her body was making its own decisions. She edged back even closer, until her body lay close against Dominic. She moved his arm gently around her, until his hand was just brushing against her. She felt an urge to press closer to him, to hold his hand tighter against her. Every part of her started to glow with the warmth of being held close against a strong male body again.
Damn the green flannelette pyjamas, she thought in a daze. Even the heroine in the Princess and the Pea fairytale would have been hard-pressed to feel anything through them. If only Nick and Fran had presented her with some flimsy, black lace nightwear.
She checked again to see that Dominic was still asleep and slowly turned within the circle of his arm until she was lying face to face with him. The strength of her desire had caught her completely off guard. He moved suddenly and she pulled back in an instant, holding herself very still and willing him to stay asleep. He settled again within a moment, lying on his back now, the movement pushing the covers away from his body.
She could see the strong hard muscles of his stomach, covered in a pathway of dark hair leading under the waistband of his pants. Richard had been slightly overweight, with a white flabby stomach – a chef’s prerogative, he had always insisted. Looking now at Dominic, Maura couldn’t believe how sexy a man’s taut, naked stomach could be.
Reason had gone by now. She slowly and very carefully moved his shirt, letting it fall open and bare his chest completely to her gaze.
The door-handle suddenly rattled. Maura leapt back. It rattled again and the door moved as though someone was trying to get in. She made out voices, very drunk by the sound of the volume.
“The key doeshhn’t work,” one said.
“Gissh a look – it’s the wrong number – this is seven not seventeen, that’s why, shhtupid. Come on.”
The interruption had the effect of a bucket of cold water over her. She pulled away as if she had suddenly been burnt and wriggled quickly to the very edge of the bed. What on earth had she been thinking of?
She hardly dared to look over at Dominic again, almost pleading aloud that he hadn’t been woken by the commotion outside. He seemed to be fast asleep still. Thank God for the two drunks and their key, she thought, reason finally beating the still flickering desire. It must have been the jet-lag after all. She had obviously taken leave of her senses.
It took her more than an hour to fall asleep again, as she lay rigid on the very edge of the mattress. The dawn light was just starting to appear in the sky outside as she fell into a troubled sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Maura awoke at eight o’clock to the sound of the telephone beside the bed ringing. It was Rita once again, ringing to let her know a photographer from the local Mayo newspaper would be attending one of the wine-tastings that day.
Maura was glad to start the day with business, in order to dispel her thoughts about the happenings in the middle of the night. There was no sign of Dominic, thank heavens. He must have woken early.
She explained briefly to Rita about the problems with the hotel booking, deliberately making it sound much less of a bother than it had been, and not correcting Rita’s assumption that the room they’d ended up with had two single beds, rather than a double.
“Oh, you’re very good to take it so well. And I’m sure Dominic was the perfect gentleman.”
He was fine, Maura thought in embarrassment. It was me who had the wandering hands.
After promising to ring ahead to ensure the rest of their hotel bookings were correct, Rita announced that the venue in Ennis had been changed because of the huge response.
“You’ll be talking to at least one hundred people, isn’t that brilliant?”
Maura agreed it was great news, while fighting a sudden attack of nerves. One hundred people? Promisi
ng Rita she’d be in touch again soon, she hung up and quickly gathered her bathroom things. After showering and dressing in record time, she nervously went back to the bedroom, hoping that Dominic was still downstairs having breakfast or out getting the tyres fixed or wherever it was he had disappeared to.
She longed for a cup of strong, black coffee, anything to settle her nerves and give her the strength to act as though absolutely nothing had happened during the night. She could feel herself blushing at the memory. What on earth had come over her?
She took a deep breath. She’d calmly go downstairs and have her breakfast and if Dominic was there she would just greet him politely and quickly re-establish the professional business relationship between them. She just hoped to God he was a deep sleeper.
She had just finished packing her bags when there was a brisk knock at the door.
She looked up, steeling herself to see Dominic and praying that the make-up she had applied would hide any sudden blushes. She had barely called “Come in” when the door flung open to admit a furious Carla.
“You slut!” she shouted at Maura, before striding over and slapping her sharply across the face. The shock sent Maura back onto the bed. “I knew I should have told you to keep your hands off him but you couldn’t even last one night. I knew there was something going on between you, I’ve been watching the way you look at him – well, your secret’s blown now.”
Dominic came into the room right behind her. He ignored Maura’s outraged gasp, speaking to Carla in a low soft voice. His tone was more suited to taming a wild cat than a hysterical woman, Maura thought, tentatively putting her hand up to her stinging face.
“It’s not what you think, Carla. I told you there was a mix-up with the rooms. Absolutely nothing happened between us.”
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