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Discovering that the marketing team he’d entrusted with selling his hard won dream appeared to have lost the plot and being unable to do a damn thing about it.
‘I’m beginning to understand how that feels.’ She was still leaning forward, an elbow on her knee, chin propped on her hand, regarding him with that steady violet gaze. ‘The being out of touch thing. I usually spend the twenty-four hours before a big event with my phone glued to my ear, although who I’d call if I had a last minute emergency here heaven alone knows.’
‘Necessity does tend to be the mother of invention when you’re this far from civilisation,’ he agreed.
‘Even in the middle of civilisation when you’re in the events business. Clearly, this is going to be an interesting few days.’ Then, looking at him as if he was number one on her list of problems, ‘Would a massage help?’
‘Are you offering?’ he asked.
Josie had thought it was quiet here, but she was wrong.
There was no traffic, no shouting or sirens—the constant background to daily life in London—but it wasn’t silent. The air was positively vibrating with energy; the high-pitched hum of insects, bird calls, odd sounds she couldn’t identify, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with a longing to lie back, soak it all up, let the sun heat her to the bone.
The shriek of a bird, or maybe a monkey, snapped her out of her reverie and she realised, somewhat belatedly, that Gideon McGrath’s dark eyes were focused not on her face, but lower down.
Typical man…
‘All I’m offering is coffee,’ she said crisply, rising to her feet, tightening her belt.
‘Pity,’ he replied with a slow, mesmerising smile. It was like watching a car roll towards you in slow motion; one minute you were safe, the next…
‘Shall I leave the pot?’ she asked.
‘Better take it with you, or the room service staff will get their knickers in a twist hunting for it.’
‘It’s not a problem,’ she said abruptly. Calling herself all kinds of a fool for allowing herself to be drawn in by a smile, a pair of dark eyes. He might be confined to a deck lounger, but he was still capable of inflicting terminal damage and she wished she’d stuck with her initial response which had been to ignore him. ‘I’ll let them know where it is.’
‘Don’t bother about it. Really. You’ve got more than enough on your plate.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ she assured him, backing towards the exit. ‘I’ll be visiting the kitchen anyway.’ She had to talk through the catering arrangements for the pre-wedding dinner with the chef. ‘I can mention the mistake with the herbal tea while I’m there if you like.’
‘No. Don’t do that, Josie.’
Something about his persistence warned her that she was missing something and she stopped.
‘It wasn’t a mistake,’ he said. ‘The tea.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand…’ Then, quite suddenly, she did. ‘Oh, right. I get it.’ She stepped forward and snatched up the coffee pot, brandishing it at him accusingly. ‘This is a banned substance, isn’t it?’
‘You’ve got me,’ he admitted, his smile turning to a wince as he shrugged without thinking and she had to fight the urge to go to him yet again, do something to ease the pain.
‘I believe I’m the one who’s been had.’ And, before he could deny it, she said, ‘You’ve made me an accessory to caffeine abuse in direct contravention of doctor’s orders and—’ as he opened his mouth to protest’—don’t even think about apologising. I can tell that you’re not in the least bit sorry.’
‘Actually, I wasn’t going to apologise. I was going to thank you. Everyone keeps telling me that I should listen to my body. Its demands for caffeine were getting so loud that I’m surprised the entire camp couldn’t hear it.’
‘Not the entire camp,’ she replied. ‘Just me.’
‘You were very kind and I took shameless advantage of you,’ he said with every appearance of sincerity. She wasn’t taken in.
‘I was an idiot,’ she said, holding up her hand, palm towards him as if holding him off, despite the fact that moving was clearly the last thing on his mind.
‘Not an idiot.’
‘No? So tell me about the sugar?’
‘You didn’t give me sugar,’ he pointed out.
‘I would have done if you’d…’ She stopped, furious with herself.
‘The honey was inspired,’ he assured her. ‘Tell your partner that I’m converted.’
‘So what else is banned?’ she demanded, refusing to be placated.
‘White bread, red meat, salt, animal fats.’
Gideon knew the list by heart. His doctor had been trotting it out for years at the annual check-ups provided for all staff. Annual check-ups which the firm’s insurance company insisted should include him, despite his protestations that it was totally unnecessary. Now she’d got him captive, she was taking full advantage of the situation.
‘All the usual suspects, in other words.’
‘Along with the advice to walk to work…’ as if he had time ‘…and take regular holidays.’
He spent half his life at holiday resorts, for heaven’s sake; why would he want to go to one for fun?
And of course there was the big one. Get married.
According to actuarial statistics, married men lived longer. But then that doctor was a woman, so she would say that. He wasn’t going to.
‘The holiday part doesn’t appear to be working,’ Josie pointed out.
‘Nor does the diet. My life has been reduced to steamed fish, nut cutlets and oatmeal,’ he complained. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Unless, of course, he could convince Josie to take pity on him.
She’d been quick with a tender hand and he was sure that if he’d asked she’d have gone and fetched sugar for him from her own tray. If he’d done that she’d be really mad at him.
She might even have indulged his massage fantasy if she hadn’t caught him with his eyes rather lower than they should have been.
‘I take it that I can cross ants off the list of things I have to worry about,’ she said without the least sign of sympathy.
Okay, so she was too mad to indulge him now, but it wouldn’t last. She laughed too easily to hold a grudge.
‘If I say yes, will you have lunch with me?’ he asked.
‘So that you can help yourself to forbidden treats from my tray?’
‘Me? I’m helpless. Of course, if you forced them on me there isn’t a thing I could do to stop you.’
‘You can relax,’ she replied, but her lusciously wide mouth tightened at the corners as she fought to stop it responding to his outrageous cheek with a grin. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘I’d make it worth your while,’ he promised.
‘Give it up, Gideon. I can’t be bribed.’
Of course she could. Everyone could be bribed. You just had to find out what they wanted most in the world. Preferably before they knew they wanted it.
‘You’re going to need a friendly ear in which to pour your frustrations before this wedding is over.’ That he would be the major cause of those frustrations didn’t preclude him from offering comfort. ‘A shoulder to cry on when everything falls apart.’
‘All I need from you is your room,’ she replied. ‘Besides, you’re supposed to be on a low stress regime.’
‘It would be your stress, not mine,’ he pointed out.
‘Yes, well, thanks for the offer,’ she said, losing the battle with the smile and trying very hard not to laugh. ‘I appreciate your concern, but SDS Events do not plan weddings that fall apart—’
‘You didn’t plan this one.’
‘—and you won’t be here long enough to provide the necessary shoulder for tears or any other purpose.’
‘I’ll be here until my back says otherwise.’ And, quite unexpectedly, he didn’t find that nearly as infuriating as he had just half an hour earlier.
‘Your back doesn’t have a say in the matter. I hate to add to your stress, but unless you intend playing gooseberry to the bride and groom you would be well advised to make other arrangements.’
‘Are you telling me that this is going to be the bridal suite?’
‘Twenty-four hours from now, you won’t be able to move in here for flowers,’ she assured him, so seriously that he laughed.
It hurt like hell but he didn’t care. He was throwing a spanner in the wedding works and he didn’t have to lift a finger—let alone a telephone—to do it.
‘I’m glad that amuses you, Mr McGrath. They do say that laughter is very healing, which, since you have to be out of here by first thing tomorrow, is just as well. Maybe you should try the plunge pool,’ she suggested. ‘It will take the weight off your muscles. Ease the pain.’
‘I’m willing to give it go,’ he assured her. ‘But I’ll need a hand.’
‘No problem. I’d be happy to give you a push.’
‘But will you stick around to help me out?’
‘Sorry, I have a full day ahead of me. Enjoy the herbal tea and nut cutlets.’
‘You’re full of excellent ideas, Josie. You just don’t follow through.’
‘Don’t test me,’ she warned.
She turned with a splendid swish of her robe, giving him an unintentional glimpse of thigh.
‘I’ll give you one thing,’ he called after her.
‘Your bed?’
‘Communication.’
She stopped and, when she turned back to face him, he said, ‘If you’ll make a call for me.’
‘You want me to call your wife and tell her you’re catching the next plane home?’
‘There’s no one waiting for that call, Josie.’ No one to rush back to. ‘I want you to ring my office. Give me your notebook and I’ll write down the number.’
She came closer, drawn by the temptation, took the notebook from her pocket and handed it to him with her pen. It was the kind of notebook he favoured himself, with a pocket at the back for receipts and an elastic band to hold it together. He slipped the band and it fell open at the bookmarked page where she’d started writing a list.
Hairdryers?
Ring???
Phone?
Florist
Caterer
Confectioner
He smiled and beside ‘Ring’ he jotted down a number.
‘Call Cara,’ he said, handing it back to her. ‘She’s my PA.’
‘And say what?’
‘Just ask her what the hell is going on in Marketing.’
‘What the hell is going on in Marketing,’ she repeated, then shook her head. ‘I can see why you’re stressed. You’re on holiday. Let it go, Gideon.’
‘Holidays are my work, which is why I know that David has a satellite telephone and Internet access. He keeps it a dark secret from the guests, but I’m sure he’ll make an exception in your case.’
‘You—’ She let slip a word that was surely banned from the wedding planners’ handbook. ‘Had again.’
‘You’re going to need me on your side, Josie.’
‘I need you gone!’
He left her with the last word and his reward was a view of an unexpectedly sexy rear as she walked away. A pair of slender ankles. He was already looking forward to making his acquaintance with the legs that connected them.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a London newspaper to spare for a man dying of boredom?’ he called after her.
‘Never touch them,’ her disembodied voice replied from the bridge. ‘Far too stressful.’
‘Liar,’ he called back as he tugged on the bell pull that Francis had extended from its place by the bed so that it was within reach of the lounger.
He really should have explained what David had meant when he’d told her to ‘ring’. Actually, David should have told her himself, but maybe he’d been distracted.
She was a seriously distracting woman.
‘Don’t forget lunch.’
