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‘Ella Scott,’ he said, her name returning easily to his lips without the slightest need for searching his mind. Wherever he’d buried that brief encounter - it must have been five years ago almost to the day - it clearly wasn’t half as deep as he’d thought it was.
A brief pause as she clearly debated whether to acknowledge him or possibly deny she even knew him. Maybe even make a sharp exit. After all, that was what she’d done back then.
‘Devon. Christmas 2008,’ she said. The hazel eyes now wore a guarded expression. As well they might. She’d left without saying goodbye, leaving him to sleep on alone in his hotel room on the misty-cold seafront that last freezing morning before he flew out to Barbados, the Christmas family get-together not to be missed even back then. He’d never seen her again.
‘What the hell happened to you?’ he said.
***
He took his key card from the receptionist on autopilot, not even glancing her way, and took a step towards Ella, a light disbelieving frown touching his eyebrows as he looked her up and down. She pressed her teeth together hard and arranged her face into what she hoped was a neutral expression that would hide the fact that her brain was flashing a series of progressively more vivid recollections through her mind. Recollections that made her heart pound in her chest and her cheeks feel like they were on fire.
Oh my fuck he’s seen me NAKED! Oh my life did I really DO all those things? With a STRANGER?
The whole point of a one-night stand was that you didn’t have to worry about your behaviour being cringeworthy or about shocking your partner with uninhibited suggestions. Who gave a toss about a little thing like embarrassment when you were never going to see the other person again? You were in it for the moment, no consequences to think about. All you needed to do was make sure there were no repercussions that could come back and bite you on the arse in the future. She’d learned that from her parents, both of whom had failed epically on the no-consequences front, and there was no way she was going to repeat their mistakes. She’d made a clean break of it and walked away, no phone numbers, no addresses, no comeback.
Until now.
***
‘You remember me then,’ he said.
How could she not remember? One scorching night in her memory with nothing to taint it because she’d made sure she walked away immediately, before any of that could happen. She hadn’t hung around to listen to him backtrack and talk his way out of the situation. She knew better than anyone what one-night-stands turned into in the cold light of day, and there would be no awkward morning-after goodbyes in the cold for her as he exited her life as quickly as he’d entered it. She’d circumvented that completely.
‘I should have known it was you just from the complaining,’ she said, not looking him in the eye in the hope that he wouldn’t notice her blushing. ‘I’ve never met anyone else before or since who goes to eggnog parties. Still heading out to Barbados every year then?’
She saw his eyes narrow at that and another memory came from nowhere, filling in one of lots of fuzzy blanks that fitted around the not-so-fuzzy images of hot sex. He’d been negative about the Barbados Christmas back then too, while she’d been fighting down a spike of jealousy. Not about Barbados, although of course if someone ever happened to offer her a ticket there she would rip their arm off in her eagerness for a luxurious beach break. More about a Christmas filled with your entire family. Christmas 2008 had been particularly sparse for her on that front, though she was used to it now.
‘It’s a family tradition,’ he said. ‘The whole point is that you repeat it on a regular basis.’
Family had come first with Tom Henley, she remembered that too. And clearly it still did. One-night stands were meant to only be about sex, but there had been hours of talking too, lying awake with the soft background sound of the tide and the slant of moonlight in the velvet darkness of the seafront hotel room. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been relegated to totally forgettable in her mind. Sex was one thing, but they’d had more of a connection than just that. And maybe that was part of the reason she’d left, because she’d had a glimpse of what it could be like between them if there had ever been more than one night and it had been crystal clear at the time that one night was all it would be. No suggestion of more had made it to being verbalised by either of them.
When it came to leaving, all she’d really done was get in first.
He moved closer, not quite into her personal space but close enough to make her pulse jump. The intense expression on his face, as if he was remembering how she looked without her clothes, the way his eyes were fixed upon hers, the knowing smile touching the corner of his mouth, told her that hers wasn’t the only mind being treated to a hot rerun of their last encounter. The burn in her cheeks refused to stand down. She needed to get out of here, away from that boiling hot gaze that was making her stomach feel like it was melting.
‘So what are you doing in London?’ he said, an interested smile crinkling the gorgeous grey eyes. ‘How have you been?’
Oh my life it was beyond awkward. Her toes curled at his attempted polite small talk when surely his mind must be full of x-rated images from what happened last time they were in the same room. She glanced around her for an easy escape route and shifted her bag from one arm to the other, keeping her door key card in her hand as walked toward the curving staircase. He kept pace with her while she groped for a brush-off comment that would allow her to make a fast exit up the stairs.
‘It’s a long story,’ she said, in a closed tone of voice that she hoped would tell him she wasn’t remotely interested in relating it but he simply stood his ground and looked at her expectantly.
It was clearly going to take more than a hint to fob him off. She turned to face him.
‘I’d love to catch up but I’m meeting someone,’ she said.
***
A stabbing sensation deep in his chest felt like jealousy, but was clearly his pride kicking back in at her detached brush-off. Brief acknowledgement – check. Polite ‘hello,’ – box ticked. Tom Henley knew perfectly well that his next move should have been to continue with his stay at the hotel and let her do the same, keeping out of her way for the duration of his (hopefully short) visit. Separate ways well and truly intact.
That would have been the sensible next move, and the one suited to his life and to the way he thought he had categorised her in his head: fun evening, hot night, nice memory, no bearing whatsoever on the present.
Except that deep down he knew he was kidding himself.
Instead, the file in his mind that related to Ella Scott was unfinished business and it was her fault for simply disappearing. No contact, no saying goodbye. No woman had ever left him before or since and let’s face it, it wasn’t as if there’d been a shortage of opportunity. The demands of medical training combined with his regimented upbringing – boarding school, heavy on routine, heavier on expectations – had meant that the short-term relationship was the only type he had any interest in.
He knew absolutely zilch about her beyond her name and a bit of background. And the fact that there was a silky inch or two of skin just at her inner hip that was so soft against his lips it had driven him crazy. He tightened his grip around the smooth leather handle of his holdall at that particular thought.
After she’d left, he’d been plagued with doubt that their unbelievable night really hadn’t been all that great for her and this blow to his pride had bothered him for far longer than it should have done. Why should he care, as long as he’d had a great time? It wasn’t as if she was the first, or the last. And he’d intended on walking away himself just a few hours later, just not in the abrupt cut-all-ties way that she had done. He’d become so accustomed to being the one in control, the one who backed away, that her no-show had been a bolt from the blue. It simply hadn’t entered his radar for a second that she could walk away first.
Devon had been a stopgap for both of them. He’d been visiting a friend for a few days before his annual departure for the house in Barbados. She’d been on the Christmas break from her college course, working crazy hours in a restaurant on the seafront, making the most of the holiday overtime. Passing through, the both of them.
Instead of just leaving the encounter in the past where it belonged, it had remained a loose end in his mind. In the months that followed, his ears pricked up whenever he encountered a patient with the surname Scott, wondering randomly if it might be a relative of hers. Hankering after something he couldn’t have and didn’t need were diversions he couldn’t afford and he’d made an effort to push the what-if from his mind ever since. Tom Henley didn’t allow himself to be diverted from his path in life, not by anyone or anything. He hadn’t been raised that way.
Now he had a few days staring at four walls while he waited for the airport to reopen. No friends to visit; they were all doing their own usual Christmas thing. And when he eventually got to Barbados it would be the beginning of a new era as he stepped into his father’s shoes, the culmination of nearly thirty years of career preparation, and one which filled him with a crushing sense of being hemmed in.
With that prospect bearing down on him, the resurrection of a non-thinking, mind-blowing repeat of the most exciting, sensual encounter of his life felt suddenly like the Christmas gift to end all Christmas gifts. A brief respite before the walls closed in on his life in the New Year. Not to mention the fact that it would redress the balance and kill off that what-if once and for all.
She glanced at her watch and gave him a polite must-dash smile. Unfortunately, she wasn’t looking like it was that attractive a prospect from where she was standing.
‘Someone?’ he clarified.
She stole a glance at the revolving doors as they spat another snow-covered guest into the lobby.
‘A friend. She’s actually due any minute,’ she gabbled.
She? So not here as part of a couple then? His interest intensified at the revelation and he shrugged easily.
‘She’s probably delayed because of the snow. It’s bad out there,’ he said, stating the obvious. ‘Can I buy you a coffee while you wait?’
An awkward pause and then she gave him a perfunctory smile.
‘I don’t think it would be a good idea,’ she said, not really meeting his eyes.
‘I’m getting seriously mixed messages here,’ he said. ‘There I was thinking you were instigating a rerun and you won’t even do coffee?’
‘A rerun?’ she said.
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me it’s a coincidence that of all the places in the lobby, you chose to stop and chat to me right here?’
She stared at him through narrowed eyes, wondering what the hell he was going on about, then followed his gaze as he looked up, one eyebrow cocked knowingly. An enormous bunch of mistletoe tied with a red silk bow was suspended directly above them. Her stomach made a warm, melting flip and she hefted her holdall in front of her as if to ward him off.
‘Coincidence,’ she said, her cheeks warming. ‘Pure coincidence. I had no idea that was there.’
‘Oh really?’ His tone was amused, as if he didn’t believe a word of her excuse and was thoroughly enjoying this, toying with her. And let’s face facts, he probably was. Of course after her wanton behaviour of five years ago, Tom Henley thought she was an easy lay. And could she really blame him? Because five years ago for one night only, she’d been exactly that.
‘No! I really am NOT that kind of girl,’ she gabbled desperately, then saw his cocked eyebrow, his half smile, realised he was teasing.
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and grinned as she looked back at him.
‘I just realised how that sounds,’ she said. She sighed and put her bag down for a moment on the marble floor, passing a hand over her eyes. ‘Believe it or not I don’t do one-night-stands, I don’t actually do any kind of stand. What happened in Devon was a blip.’
‘A blip?’
A smile played on his lips, as if having her on the back foot amused him all the more.
‘A one-off,’ she clarified madly.
It was true, that night in Devon had been a one-off, never repeated before or since. For some reason that night the conditions had been perfect for one-night-stand requirements. Need to prove herself alive – check. Don’t-care attitude – check. Both had come from the loss of her grandmother a few months earlier, which in light of the fact that when it came to parenting skills, her mother and father had proved themselves on a par with a chocolate teapot, had meant Ella was truly on her own in life at the age of twenty-two. Add in the fact she was sacked from her waitressing job and that Tom had come to her aid, and mix in the fact that he was leaving the country the next morning. No repercussions to worry about when the other person was on another continent – right?
Result – a one-night stand that had been so hot it made her toes curl just thinking about it. And the whole point of one-night stands was they stopped at one night. The clue was in the name.
‘It’s nice to see you, Tom,’ she said. She kept her tone detached, polite. ‘But I really need to get settled in.’
This time he didn’t follow her, but she felt his eyes on her as she took the stairs to the galleried landing above.
‘Coffee,’ he called after her. ‘Open invitation, grab it while you can. The moment the snow melts I’ll be out of here.’
CHAPTER TWO (#u17ebe9ad-b830-5ed5-bf34-d414995f94df)
She had absolutely no intention of grabbing it while she could.
It was perfectly simple. This was the UK after all, not Lapland. How long could the snow possibly last before he would be winging his way to Barbados as planned? One day? Surely two at most. All she needed to do was keep her head down and stay out of his way until Liz got here, avoiding any further encounters. Unfortunately, her ready-made excuse of a travel companion still hadn’t shown up. A harried phone call later and she understood the reason why.
Turned out Tom Henley had a point. Liz’s train was delayed by at least three hours due to snow on the bloody tracks. Plans to simply hang out in the room for a bit until her friend showed up suddenly morphed into the most boring waste of time imaginable.
Half an hour later and she’d drunk two coffees and eaten all the complimentary biscuits in the room. She bounced on the bed and glanced through the hotel information brochure for the second time, thinking it over. She could stare at four walls while she waited for Liz or she could while away some time in the award-winning Spa.
No contest. She stood up and tugged her swimsuit from her case.
***
A gorgeously relaxing ambience, muted lighting, fluffy towels and complimentary robes. The Spa was virtually empty, it being that lull just around lunchtime, between check-in and check-out. With all the snowy London sights to take in swimming wasn’t a big daytime attraction. Ella swam a few laps of the pool, then climbed out and settled herself on a wicker lounger, magazine at the ready. Soothing background music filled the air. Bliss. Not a sign of Tom Henley anywhere. And of course there wasn’t. With a flight on standby at any moment, Tom Henley was hardly likely to change into swimwear and be parted from his mobile phone, right?
Wrong.
Ten minutes later and she glanced up from her magazine to see him stroll casually into the pool, a towel slung around his neck, dark blue swim shorts topped with perfect tight abs, broad muscular shoulders and damply tousled dark hair. It seemed that for all his grouching about missing eggnog parties, Tom Henley was in no rush whatsoever to get back to the airport. Her heartbeat immediately picked up as if she’d done a couple of circuits in the beautifully equipped gym. She saw him clock her from the opposite side of the pool and he sauntered over leisurely.
‘What, no friend?’ he said, when he was a few feet away as if he thought she was some billy-no-mates with a fictional travelling companion. He sat down next to her, although the room was full of empty loungers and her stomach knotted into a ball of tension.
‘Liz is delayed in the snow,’ she said. ‘A bit like you.’
She saw his eyes sharpen.
‘So you’re at a loose end, then? Time to kill.’
The look on his face was open and friendly. His smile was as melting as she remembered, the way it started slowly and then moved upwards to crinkle the corners of his eyes. And she’d forgotten he had a way of holding her gaze with his that made her limbs feel like they might turn to jelly. She forced herself to sound detached.
‘Not for long. Just until her train makes it through, then it’ll be on with the Christmas shopping weekend.’
‘I thought you didn’t do Christmas,’ he said.
He was referring to the fact that back in Devon she’d turned the festive season into nothing more than a work opportunity, waiting table or bartending all the hours she could muster, all geared towards glossing over the fact that there was actually anything to celebrate. She was surprised he remembered that kind of detail about her and had assumed his recollections would be all about the bedroom.
‘I don’t.’ She shrugged. ‘Liz won a competition. A weekend for two Christmas shopping in London. She asked me along.’ She glanced around the beautifully-finished opulence of the Spa. ‘It seemed a shame to turn her down for a principle. Shame she’s running late.’
He settled himself back on the wicker lounger next to hers, propped up on one elbow to face her, clearly intent on a proper conversation. And what the hell, maybe if she got it over with, did the whole small talk catch-up chat, he would leave her be.
‘So how’ve you been?’ he asked. She thought she saw genuine interest in his eyes now. ‘You had another waitressing job lined up didn’t you? Back in Devon. Did you finish college?’
A smile rose on her lips as she remembered her former self. Big dreams. Not on his scale of course with his medical training and his father’s footsteps, but big for her who’d dropped out of school and drifted from one temp job to the next.
‘I did,’ she said. ‘I did the jewellery course. I’m surprised you remember.’
A brief hesitation and then she held her small hand out towards him, a swirl of beaten silver on her forefinger. Without thinking he took it in his; the resulting flip in his chest at the touch of her soft skin took his breath away. When had he last been this on edge with a woman? His love life had been a bit of an afterthought these last months as his family piled on the work pressure. Without realising what he was doing he automatically checked beside the silver ring for a wedding band. There was none. She withdrew her hand and he let it go.
‘I sell some of it online now,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to build up a business but it takes time. I do craft fairs, that kind of thing. And in between I still give good waitress.’ She smiled. ‘What about you?’
He shrugged.
‘After you left Christmas went pretty much as planned. Then I went back and got on with my medical training.’
Again, pretty much as planned. As planned played a big part in his life.
She smiled. Her light brown hair was pinned up on her head and she wore a blue and white striped bikini which was far from skimpy but which still did nothing to hide her slender frame and long legs. Just looking at her like that made heat begin to course through him.
‘We’re from different worlds, you and me,’ she said. ‘You had your rugby playing, your future medical career, your public school background, your family, your life plans. I waited tables at a hotel in Ilfracombe that Christmas and I was sofa surfing my way around my friends. It’s amazing we ever hooked up at all really.’
He remembered that. How she’d had no real base, no family ties, and most of all how she made that seem liberating instead of lonely.
She looked away, and he followed her gaze back across the glassy surface of the swimming pool.
‘For a while I stayed with my Gran at this time of year but now I just go wherever the mood takes me,’ she said. ‘Last year I waitressed in a hotel in the Lakes – the Christmas lights were just the prettiest thing ever, but it was freezing cold. Even more than this. The year before that I did charity work in a soup kitchen and the year before THAT I was working my way round France.’
She counted off the Christmases on her fingers. He only needed one finger for his last four Christmases. Every single one had been the same.
‘And this year?’
‘I’m doing this weekend with my friend Liz. She entered some competition on the back of a breakfast cereal packet. It’s supposedly for Christmas shopping, all expenses paid and some spending money thrown in. But I’m going to try and drag her round the sights a bit. Shopping’s not really my thing.’
‘What about after this weekend?’
‘Well then I’m working again. I’ve got a waitressing gig back in Cornwall. In Looe. I lived there for a while with my Gran. Brilliant time for earning, Christmas, if you’ve got nowhere else you need to be. My speciality is unsociable hours. When this weekend is over I’m booked up right through Christmas and New Year, I’ll barely have a minute to think. Whereas you’ll probably be having cocktails at sundown and a leisurely break – right?’ She sat back in her lounger and looked at him with interest. ‘Come on then, give me a rundown of your last four Christmases.’
‘Well I don’t need to use my fingers to count them off, if that’s what you mean,’ he said. ‘Touch down in Barbados a few days before Christmas. Catch up with friends and family. Head back after New Year.’
His tone was throwaway, unenthusiastic. Then again, mustering up excitement when you’d done the same thing year on year since you were a kid couldn’t be easy.
‘Your life is one big déjà vu,’ she said, and seeing the fed-up expression on his face she couldn’t resist adding, ‘And where’s the fun in that?’
