Flick emerged from the bathroom, drying her hair with a fluffy white resort towel. She felt wrung out, like the proverbial dishrag, and an early night sounded like bliss. Long days working in the kitchen didn’t usually drain her. But then today hadn’t been normal. Heat crept up her neck at the memory of Xander catching her early morning escape; the careful shuttering of his expression as she fumbled through pathetic excuses to leave.
I didn’t mean to hurt him.
Their evening had been romantic, and sex with Xander had made her forget her own name—her body tingled at the memory of his lips on various parts of her body. And then …
‘I’d hoped to have breakfast with you.’
‘Maybe next time.’
Replaying their conversation in her mind, Flick sat with a thump. No wonder she hadn’t heard from him. Wrapped in her own insecurities, the idea only now occurred to her. ‘I’ll bet he thought I was dumping him.’ Saying the words out loud gave them weight and shape and an awful reality she didn’t want to acknowledge.
Was it too late to make amends? She checked her messages.
Nothing.
Before she could second-guess herself, she scrolled through to his number and pressed the button to connect. As the ring tone continued unanswered, butterflies began a chaotic dance in her stomach.
What would she say to him? What did she want to happen between them?
Nothing.
His voicemail asked her to leave her name and number and a short message …
She disconnected the call. No answer was his answer. He’d interpreted her running away as lack of interest and she had only her paranoid, scared self to blame. Closing her eyes, she fell against the cushion at her back. Wallowing in a sea of regret was ridiculous and she would give herself no more than one minute to indulge. One minute to think about Xander and what her fear had lost her and then she’d pack it away alongside other recent losses.
***
Xander picked up the empty beer bottle and looked over his balcony at the buzz of a busy resort approaching peak holiday season.
My resort.
Pride in his achievement seemed cold comfort tonight. Before she’d fled this morning, he’d imagined spending most nights with Flick. Looked forward to fun times and good company before he headed north to his next project.
He looked at the empty bottle in his hand. What the hell—a second bottle with dinner won’t hurt. Picking up the internal phone to order room service, his eye fell on his mobile. As he waited for the connection to the kitchen, his thumb brushed the on button. He didn’t mean to, but it was as though his subconscious refused to let go of hope. The screen showed a notification and he raised the phone to read what it said.
A missed call.
He put down the receiver, cutting off a ‘good evening’ on the other end. Flick had called not ten minutes ago while he was outside.
Staring at the notification, optimism opened like a chink of light through curtains. He checked the time.
Should he phone, visit, or ignore the contact? Do it now, or wait?
Damn it, he wanted to see her, wanted to talk and find out why she’d run out on him this morning. Phone in hand, he walked back onto the balcony and glanced to the right. Over there, out of sight beyond the trees, were the staff quarters. He imagined Flick in one of the rooms, tried to imagine walking up to her door and knocking; the shock on her face when she saw him standing outside. Not a good idea.
Hitting the reply button, he held the phone to his ear and waited.
‘Hello?’ She sounded sleepy.
‘Hi. I hope I didn’t wake you?’
‘I may have dozed off. It’s not a problem. Um, is everything okay?’
He paused. ‘You called me. I missed your call earlier.’
A soft intake of breath, a rustle of material as though she was getting out of bed, a sigh. ‘Of course I did. Sorry, long day. I—wondered if we could maybe talk? About this morning.’
‘Have you had dinner?’
‘No. I meant to but— You guessed right. I fell asleep.’
‘I’ll order something from room service if you want to come over to my place. Unless you prefer—’
‘I’ll come to you.’
***
Xander opened the door. ‘Come in. You’ve beaten room service.’ Shadows lurked in her eyes.
Tired, or wary, or both?
‘Would you like a glass of wine while we wait for dinner?’
‘Lime and mineral water please. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay awake if I have wine.’ Interlaced fingers pressed against her stomach and she moved to the sliding door. One hand reached for the handle before she turned and asked, ‘Can we sit outside?’
‘Fine by me. Go on ahead, I’ll bring the drinks out.’ He set a beer and the bottle of mineral water on the bench, and then watched as she slipped through a narrow opening and stood, a hand on each of two chairs as though the decision of where to sit was too hard.
He sensed Flick had more emotional baggage than simply not wanting to go public. He wasn’t looking for complicated in a relationship. But she was kind and talented and sexy, and he wanted to know more about her. A day spent analysing his reaction and thinking about her had shown him theirs was a relationship worth pursuing. He picked up the drinks and carried them out to the balcony.
Flick was seated with her back to the door and the lights. She jumped and gasped when he set her drink in front of her. ‘Oh, thanks.’
‘Are you okay?’
She nodded, her gaze fixed on the glass in her hand as she turned it around and around on the table. At last, she looked up. ‘I want to apologise for the way I behaved this morning. Last night was wonderful.’
‘It was, right up until you walked out. What happened?’ He kept his voice calm, but the fact they were talking gave him hope they were still going to be okay.
‘Waking in your bed spooked me for some reason. It probably sounds hypocritical, but I couldn’t face the idea of anyone knowing about us. I’m—a very private person.’
‘I understand that. If there’s one thing I’ve had to get used to running my own company, it’s the intrusive interest the media has in my private life. Flick, I don’t have a problem with staying off the radar, but I’d prefer it if you’d tell me when something is wrong.’
She sipped her mineral water before setting the glass down in the middle of a circle of condensation. One finger trailed through the puddle. ‘Some crappy things happened and then another crappy thing happened and I let my feelings of betrayal leach into other parts of my life. You got caught up in the ripples. I’m sorry. I can’t promise you I won’t feel like that again, but I’ll try not to let it affect us if—’
Even in the soft lighting, he saw the ripple of her throat as she swallowed whatever doubt she was feeling. ‘Can we call this morning a hiccup and leave it at that for now?’
She nodded. ‘I’d like that.’
‘And if you want to share any of the crappy stuff any time, I’m a good listener, but no pressure.’
The door chimes sounded, and Xander rose from the table. ‘That will be dinner.’
She put a hand on his arm and looked up. ‘Xander, thank you.’
He dropped a kiss on her forehead. A spicy scent, subtle but unforgettable, clung to his lips as he walked to the door. Dinner had arrived, and afterwards, if Flick stayed, he’d share his remedy for crappy days and happy nights.