Temporary Intrigue

by Huston, Judy

  “There could be a security guard up here soon. You might like to head off before he arrives.”

  If only.

  His voice was quiet, with a pleasant, slightly clipped accent. American? Canadian?

  Dragging her mind back from irrelevancies, Dimity decided it was now or never. After all, what was worse: baring her soul to one stranger, or baring much more to the hotel’s security staff and probably half the city of Newcastle when they marched her away?

  “The thing is –” she stopped and swallowed. This was going to be harder than she thought, virtually impossible if she couldn’t even see him.

  Taking the risk of moving her right hand, she lowered the glasses a fraction on her nose and looked up at him.

  “I was going to put the folder under the door.”

  “Right.”

  “But then the skirt split.”

  “Split?”

  “Up the back. Really split.”

  He was beginning to understand. His lips were also beginning to twitch.

  “You can’t – you know – hold it together?”

  “I wish.” She took a deep breath that threatened to pop the buttons on the jacket, then the words tumbled out. “To be honest, I don’t have much on underneath and if I walk around I’ll probably be arrested for indecent exposure. Is your room nearby? I thought maybe I could borrow something to put around me.”

  He rubbed a hand across his mouth as if considering.

  “I know it’s hilarious,” Dimity said coldly, feeling her stress level rising to boiling point, “and I expect I’ll roar laughing about it myself later, but meanwhile –”

  “Sure, sure. Sorry.” With a visible effort he got his face under control. “Let’s get you off this main drag, first. I’ll see what’s round the corner.”

  Dimity didn’t like his sudden disappearance, but he was back in a few seconds.

  “There’s a powder room along here. If you can kind of slither around the corner and along the wall, you’d be safer waiting there.”

  She slithered while he strolled beside her, hands in pockets, carefully not watching.

  “Someone’s working down the end of the hallway,” he warned out of the corner of his mouth as she manoeuvred along the wall. “Looks as if she’s putting laundry away but she’s got her back to us.”

  After reversing thankfully into the comparative safety of the ladies’ room, Dimity left its door open a fraction to confer.

  “The guest rooms are on the other side of the building,” he said. “I’d have to go through the foyer and I’m supposed to be meeting some people there –” he looked at his watch and whistled sharply “– two minutes ago. If they see me, they’ll ambush me for sure.”

  Before she could answer, the lift bell chimed. He moved swiftly and glanced around the corner.

  “Security,” he said over his shoulder. “Shut the door and keep your head down.”

  He was gone before she could reply, once more leaving Dimity feeling decidedly abandoned.

  ****

  Trying to look at ease, Josh strode towards the guard, cursing the irrational impulse that had stopped him getting into the lift. Until today he had never been late for an appointment in his life. By now he should be sitting down to a meal that a lot of people had worked hard to organise and at which he was supposed to be one of the guests of honour. Instead he was fooling around playing Good Samaritan to some screwball female with an outrageous sense of style and raccoon eyes.

  Not to mention a penchant for wearing clothes at least two sizes too small for her.

  Why not save himself a packet of trouble by handing her over to security with directions to find her some makeshift outfit and see her safely on her way?

  One glance at the guard, marching purposefully towards him, changed his mind. With a face like granite, he had the look of a man who would leave no stone unturned in his search for stray waifs and would show no mercy when he found them. The ladies’ room was probably first stop on his hit list.

  Josh introduced himself quickly.

  “Did Ms Addison ask you to look for a girl in a pink suit?” he then asked.

  The guard nodded. “Have you seen her?”

  “She was looking for a phone.” Josh waved a hand at the stairs. “I suggested she try reception. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. And could you tell Ms Addison I’ll be there in a couple of minutes?”

  “No problem.”

  The guard headed down the stairs. Josh walked back around the corner. The powder room door was tight shut.

  What now? Should he offer the girl his jacket to wear around her? Leaving his lipstick-smeared shirt exposed to all and sundry at the luncheon?

  Assuming he ever made it to the luncheon.

  Looking along the hallway for inspiration he saw the hotel employee he had noticed earlier, still transferring laundry from a trolley into a large cupboard.

  He reached her in six seconds flat.

  “Excuse me.”

  Compared with the girl she had nerves of steel, merely glancing incuriously over her shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “I need a sheet.”

  “A sheet?” Now he had her attention. “Why?”

  “Quality control,” Josh improvised. “I’m doing a check.”

  “What sort of check? This linen is hotel property. I can’t hand it over to someone I don’t know.”

  The Newcastle staff’s devotion to duty, as demonstrated in rapid succession by Gail, the guard and this woman, was giving him a headache.

  Josh rarely pulled rank, but these were desperate times. He produced a business card.

  “I’m here for the changeover,” he explained. “We like to take advantage of these visits to make sure everything’s up to standard.”

  Still dubious, she looked at the card.

  “I’ll need a receipt,” she said at last.

  Hoping he looked as if he wrote receipts for hotel sheets every day, Josh produced pen and notebook, scribbled, tore out the page and handed it to her.

  “I want it back before six o’clock,” she instructed him after comparing his signature with the name on his card. “I like to know everything’s in order before I go home.”

  “Of course.” Josh wished he’d waited until she’d gone then forced the damn cupboard open. “Where will I find you?”

  “Somewhere in the hotel. I’ll write my mobile number down.”

  Taking his pen and notebook, she printed a number with maddening deliberation.

  “That sheet’ll have to go through the laundry again, you know.”

  “Let’s hope the budget can manage.” Hardly able to hide his impatience, Josh watched her take her time removing the last neatly folded white sheet from her trolley.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the quality of our sheets,” she said defensively.

  “I’m sure there isn’t,” he told her soothingly, taking it with what he hoped was a non-urgent air. “Thanks. I’ll let you get on with it.”

  To his relief she locked the cupboard and trundled the empty trolley down the corridor. Feeling distinctively furtive he lurked until she had gone, then knocked cautiously on the door of the ladies’ room.

  “It’s me,” he called in a hoarse whisper.

  The door opened slightly. The massive black lenses stared at him.

  “This should get you out of trouble.” He thrust the sheet at her.

  The strawberry mouth opened in an exclamation as delighted as if he had handed her a Dior model. She grabbed the sheet and let the door shut, leaving Josh to cool his heels. Thinking belatedly of her wacky fashion sense, he hoped she wouldn’t rip the sheet into shreds and come out wearing it like some type of hula outfit. That would take some explaining to the dragon guardian of the linen cupboard.

  She emerged sooner than he expected. To his relief the sheet seemed to have undergone nothing worse than some creative folding and draping. At a quick glance, on her slim if curvy frame, it could now pass for a knee-l
ength white skirt although, judging by the way she was gripping it at the waist with one hand, security was still an issue. The other hand held her large bag while the sunglasses, for some reason, were now on top of her head.

  Josh nodded approvingly.

  “Very stylish. I don’t think you’ll be arrested in that.”

  For the first time he saw her smile. It was a warm, spontaneous smile that lasted only briefly. He found himself wishing for an encore.

  “It’s only borrowed, by the way. I’ve sworn on a stack of bibles to return it.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m really sorry about all this.” She seemed to have forgotten the black eyes. Looking beyond the bruising he could now see they were green.

  Dark green, with the depth of mountain pools he remembered from boyhood camping trips.

  She cleared her throat.

  “Didn’t you have to be somewhere?”

  “Hell!” Again he had forgotten the people waiting downstairs. “Come on, I’ll see you out.”

  He set off along the corridor then found he had left her behind, stumbling after him on those ridiculous heels while gripping the waist of her pseudo skirt.

  “You don’t have to wait for me.” She was panting when she reached him.

  “I’ll see you out,” he repeated. “You can’t wander through the foyer on your own. There are people everywhere.”

  Chafing at the bit he shortened his stride while she hobbled alongside him to the lift. It was absurd to feel so responsible for her but there was no way he was going to leave her stranded. He liked a tidy life. Once he had seen her safely on her way he could forget her with a clear conscience and get his day back on track.

  From her wary sideways glance he guessed she sensed his irritation. It wasn’t something he could explain even to himself, so he kept quiet.

  She followed him into the lift and, no doubt from habit, planted herself against the wall.

  “What will I do with the sheet when I bring it back? Do you want me to leave it at reception?”

  He liked her voice. It was clear but with a quality of softness that made everything she said sound confidential. As indeed most of it had been, to date.

  “No, that would only cause more trouble.”

  He saw her flinch.

  “I mean they wouldn’t know what it was all about,” he went on, “and I won’t have time to tell them. I’m late enough as it is.”

  Damn, that hadn’t come out right either.

  “I’ll be in the restaurant for a couple of hours. Get the receptionist to give me a call when you get here.”

  He pressed the ground floor button, found a card in his pocket and held it out to her.

  “My number’s on this. It’s a bit late for introductions, but I’m Josh Williams, by the way,” he added with a wry grin.

  “I’m Dimity. Dimity Forbes.” She looked at his card without reaching for it. “My bag’s open. Would you mind putting it in? I’d rather not let go.” From the way she was gripping the sheet it would take at least a pair of pliers to separate her from it.

  “Better safe than sorry,” he agreed solemnly, dropping the card into her bag. The lift stopped and he sensed her bracing herself.

  “Take it easy,” he advised. “You don’t want to trip and let your guard down.” He couldn’t prevent a chuckle. “Sorry, I used to write advertising slogans.”

  The pink mouth seemed to quiver. Was she about to laugh too? Cry? Spit at him?

  They stepped out of the lift into a small, carpeted alcove around the corner from the main reception area and foyer.

  Josh nodded at the sunglasses. “You might want to put those on first.”

  She tried to raise the hand holding her bag. From the effort the attempt entailed, the bag must have weighed a ton.

  “I forgot about them. They’re so dark, I had to take them off to check myself in the mirror.”

  She lowered her head, trying to make it meet her hand.

  “Women’s priorities never cease to amaze me. Here, let me.” He moved closer and lowered the Jackie O’s, settling them gently on her nose so that they once again covered half her face. “I know it’s bad form to ask, but what happened to your eyes?”

  She made that small, throat-clearing sound. Her lipstick was perilously close to his shirtfront again as he slid his index fingers lightly along each arm of the glasses to make sure they were tucked safely behind her ears.

  “A stupid accident. Someone ran into the back of my car and my head hit the steering wheel.”

  “That’s good. Well, I don’t mean it’s good you had an accident, I mean I thought someone might have–” He stepped back. “I’ll walk you to the exit.”

  As soon as they rounded the corner they were in the middle of the pre-lunch crowd, milling like cattle waiting for feeding time.

  “Stay close,” muttered Josh. Her small hand gripped his arm like a vice, just as Gail pounced.

  “Josh! I was about to send out a search party.”

  Her eyes popped as she noticed Dimity.

  “Won’t be a minute.” Josh turned his back firmly and forged a path through the crush of people. Hanging on to him like a limpet, Dimity kept pace. With her head down, she attracted few glances.

  “Safe at last,” Josh said when they reached the large glass doors fronting the street.

  She released his arm and looked up at him. He saw the glimmer of that quick smile again.

  “I’ll bring the sheet back as soon as I can.”

  “Leave it for a couple of hours and we can have a coffee,” he suggested, but his words were lost in the noise of passing traffic as the doors swished open. Releasing his arm, she took off as if a starting gun had sounded.

  Just as well, too. He didn’t know why he’d said that. There was no point spinning things out.

  Not that there was anything to spin out.

  Feeling his arm still warm from her grip, he watched her start across the walkway that led to the main shopping area. He would have thought she looked a tad ridiculous, tottering as if tied at the knees and hanging onto the sheet for dear life . . . if he hadn’t known about the wounded eyes.

  “Delicious from any angle.” Beside him, Malcolm was ogling Dimity’s rear view. “And she’s had a quick change from the look of her.”

  He smirked at Josh knowingly. Josh scowled before turning back to join the lunch party.

  ****

  The watcher’s mouth tightened as Dimity, skidding in the stilettos, crossed the walkway to the shops.

  It wouldn’t take much. A quick shove as a bus went past could do it.

  But there was no point taking unnecessary risks.

  The figure in pink suddenly stumbled and dropped the bag she was carrying. Objects scattered over the footpath.

  The watcher smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

  Something more serious than that accident the other night was needed. Spur of the moment stuff wouldn’t work. Planning ahead was the key.

  There would be a better place and a better time.

  And that time would be soon.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I have never been so mortified in my life! And you can stop laughing,” added Dimity, hurling the sheet into the washing machine in the back room of Sandra’s salon.

  Sandra mopped her eyes.

  “I warned you not to make any sudden movements. What a hoot! I’ll dine out on this for months.”

  “So will everyone who saw me today.” Dimity started the machine then peered at a mirror on the wall. “Black eyes, red mouth – I look like a clown. How could we forget to wash the green out of my hair?”

  Still chuckling, Sandra spooned instant coffee into mugs. “I’m so used to coloured hair I didn’t think of it. And the lipstick was supposed to take attention from your eyes – not that there’s much lipstick left, after you finished nuzzling him.”

  “I told you, I bumped into him.” Dimity accepted a mug and sat down at a small table.

  “An
d you’ve already arranged to meet again.” Sandra joined her with a jar of cream biscuits. “Excellent progress.”

  Dimity rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t even think about going there! You know I’m not ready for a man in my life. And what’s to say he’s available? Just because he wasn’t wearing a ring–”

  “Aha. So you noticed his hands.”

  How could she not notice his hands? Warm, strong, but so gentle as they lowered the glasses over her eyes . . .

  “Just a quick glance,” she said carelessly.

  Sandra guffawed.

  “Sorry about your skirt, by the way.” Dimity took a gloomy sip of coffee.

  “It was two years old. Have a biscuit.”

  “How can you pack it away like that and not put on an ounce?” queried Dimity.

  “You’re not fat, Dim, just curvy in the right places. I wish I knew the secret to that. Flat as a tack and thin as a stick, that’s me. Not a sexy look.”

  “Not a skirt-splitting look, either,” said Dimity morosely. “I waved my self-esteem goodbye in that corridor today. Celery and carrots for me from now on.”

  “You could have avoided all this if you’d taken ten minutes to buy something to wear.”

  “I’ve done too much digging into my savings since Shane came home.”

  “Do they ever give you any money for their keep?”

  “They can’t afford it.” Dimity eyed the biscuits longingly. “Shane gets the occasional shift but Leigh can’t find a job.”

  “Who’d employ her? But they should contribute something. You’re too soft when it comes to money.”

  “I did let you go and buy me the thong today,” Dimity reminded her.

  “Only because you could see your black knickers weren’t a good look under the pink skirt.”

  “If that recruitment agency ever again sends me to a job interview with no notice, I’ll go as I am.” Dimity looked down at the blue jeans, paint-dotted white shirt and comfortable sneakers she was now wearing. “It was probably all wasted effort anyway.”

  “I was getting around to that.” Sandra waved the remnants of her biscuit. “That’s why you couldn’t reach me. I was talking to someone on my phone, then yours rang. You got the job.”