His shoulders rigid with tension, Cam checked into the Hotel Candide.
Scooping up the keys to his room, he asked, ‘And can you tell me what room Miss Browne is in? I’m supposed to be meeting her here.’
The pretty Italian receptionist smiled at him as if she’d put two and two together and made a romantic four. He maintained his pleasant smile. If she guessed what he really wanted to do to Laurie, there was no way she’d give him her room number. Her polished pink nails tap tapped over the keyboard and her smile faded.
‘I’m sorry sir, we have no one by that name staying here.’ Her face was questioning, still trying to please.
‘Are you sure?’ With a head start on him, she should have been here yesterday. Had she used another name? Checked into a different hotel? Maybe this one was full when she arrived, although he looked around the lobby and thought that unlikely.
‘No one by that name is registered here at the moment.’
He thought for a moment. Had she been and gone? No, not without Ron verifying that she’d indeed made it. Ron. That was it. She was supposed to phone him a day before she expected to arrive so he could fly out and meet them.
‘Has a Mr Ron Leversedge checked in?’
Her face brightened. ‘He’s not here yet but I took a reservation for him earlier today. He will be arriving the day after tomorrow.’
The day after? What the hell was going on? And where was Laurie? She should have been here by now. Bormio was only half a day’s drive away. How could he have got here before her, unless she got lost on the way; but not with the sat nav, surely?
Taking the keys, he went up to his room. At least Ron’s imminent arrival meant she’d been in touch with him – so the bloody woman was alive at least. He might get some sleep tonight. Now the main problem was getting to her before Ron did.
His shoulder hurt like crazy and all he wanted was a shower, a lie-down to get the kinks out of his back and to put a heat pack on it. The tiny hire car had been a pile of shite on wheels. Served him right for being so tight, although the choice at the car rental place had been limited. Coaxing a people carrier down the pass hadn’t been very appealing.
As he stripped off, he checked his phone again. Reception was patchy in the mountains. Even if Laurie had texted him, he might not have received it. The thought hadn’t stopped him checking a dozen times an hour. Where the hell was she?
He turned the shower on full and waited a moment before stepping in. The warm flow eased the headache pulsing at his temples. What if she’d been car-jacked? Kidnapped? Water cascaded down his aching back. That car was worth millions on the open market.
Only lucky bastards like him could hope to buy one at a fraction of its worth, providing she got it here in one piece.
He held his face up to the shower and let the jets hit full on, hoping it would wash away the insidious worry. She had to be somewhere.
No one who knew cars would try stealing the Ferrari. They’d know it would be virtually impossible to sell. High performance babes like that only got stolen to order and even then it would be impossible for an owner to pass it off as anything else. But idiots might try. Idiots who didn’t know its real worth. He closed his eyes. The sort who were desperate. Jacked up on drink or drugs. What would they do with Laurie?
Getting out of the shower, he towelled himself vigorously, taking his frustration out on his damp skin, leaving his shoulders almost raw.
Maybe he should contact the police. Report her missing? If she hadn’t checked in by nightfall, he would call the local police first thing in the morning. He hated this feeling of indecision.
She swirled the red wine around her mouth, savouring it. The half bottle had been expensive but worth it. The wine list looked so interesting it was tempting to stay here for a few days and work her way through it. Pushing her plate away to the side, she opened up the map. She’d decided to stay overnight in Bormio at the foot of the pass which was teeming with cyclists, campervans and other sports cars. There was a good natured, happy atmosphere about the place and at first it looked like she might not find a room because it was so busy. Luckily the quaint looking Hotel Cormori was far enough out of town to deter most tourists and provided safe parking in the enclosed private car park.
Warmed by the red wine and relaxed after a hard day’s driving, she dreamily considered the map. If she put her foot down and drove all day, she could be in Maranello tomorrow evening and then what? Home?
Suddenly the lukewarm summer of home seemed another life away and Italy felt vibrant, exciting and busy. Her entire life had been spent driving through without stopping to experience it properly. The heavy accents and singsong voices of Italy were familiar and yet unfamiliar, the rapid rise and fall of excitable words entrancing. The incomprehensible words on the signs around the hotel and the town were alien. In France she had enough knowledge of the language to recognise a fair proportion of the words; here everything seemed completely strange … and she loved it – the feeling of anonymity, the ability to look around this restaurant and be an observer.
Before her like a plate of delicacies, the map offered Lake Como, Lake Garda, Parma, Milan, Turin, even Venice. They were all there … just for the taking. There was nothing to stop her driving to any of them. She had the money sitting in her pocket. A ball of illicit pleasure burned in the pit of her stomach.
With a sudden grin she made up her mind. She could do whatever she wanted. Responsible to no one but herself; with a pang she thought of Cam.
Then she stomped hard on that thought. OK, she missed him which was all the more reason to ignore his phone calls and texts. He was out of bounds, Mr Never Never and he’d made it completely clear he was not Mr Commitment, or even Mr Vaguely- Interested-In-The-Short-Term. Stupid man. Did he think she was too dumb to realise that? It had been a given the minute she kissed him. She’d known the score, apparently he hadn’t.
Knackered by the drive and lulled into a warm haze of happiness by the excellent wine, she left the dining room and went straight up to her room to find her phone blinking furiously with a slew of new messages. It was tempting to ignore it.
Shit, he knew how to make her feel guilty. Now that she’d come through all those hair-pin bends, it was understandable why anyone might worry. Not that it had bothered him before. Pursing her lips, she hesitated but honesty made her admit she should let him know she was fine. Part of her wanted to crow that she’d made it to the other side of the Stelvio Pass and she was more than fine.
Quickly she texted,
The message failed and she realised that she barely had a signal. Oh well, it would do Mr I’m-Not-The-Right-Man-For-You good to worry a bit longer. Show him she was quite capable of looking after herself.
Unable to help herself she flicked through the photos on her phone. The best one, him in white shirt and faded denims, black curls dancing across his cheekbone, made her pause. He’d been kind that day … he’d been kind every day.
Sighing she threw herself on the bed. Robert and she were over that was for sure. It wasn’t about being unfaithful … although that was bad enough. Everything had changed, thanks to Miles. Had he known what was hiding inside her? What she was capable of?
Now she thought back to the last time she’d seen him. Holding his hand at the hospice. It all made sense. He’d wanted her to see that although her mother had failed her, Laurie had failed herself by playing it safe. She’d missed out on so much because she’d been too scared to risk her emotions or challenge herself. Canny old Miles had seen it.
It was enough to put her off ever returning to England but tomorrow was a whole new day and she was off to Lake Garda.