Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘W HERE WE MET ...’ Carter said, as they walked through Kuala Lumpur airport and passed the bench where he’d found her sleeping. ‘For when you tell Violet.’
‘Check,’ Grace said, as if she was only now remembering, when that moment was already etched on her heart.
There was a car and driver waiting for them. After a week in the jungle the lights and sights of a busy city late evening were overwhelming. The car was moving at speed through the streets, and there were just so many people.
Carter, clearly delighted to be back in civilisation, had his diary up on a screen and was talking to his assistant, confirming appointments, meetings, flights...
‘What ring size are you?’ he asked.
‘I’ve no idea. Why?’
He rolled his eyes and got back to his call.
For Grace there was a feeling of excitement that she hadn’t expected, and she told him the same as they approached the luxurious hotel. ‘I thought I’d feel guilty,’ she admitted.
‘Why?’ Carter frowned.
‘It seems wrong. Well, it seemed wrong.’ She thought back to her abhorrence when he’d first suggested it, yet even before he’d dropped her back at the resort she’d turned things around.
Her last night spent with the group had been incredible.
Arif had been the guide, with Felicity steering the boat, and the pygmy elephants had been at the riverbank as if to wave goodbye...
And then Carter had collected her in the morning.
The story was that she would be working for Carter, collating data for his legal team.
‘Thanks for coming on board,’ Arif had said as he’d farewelled her. ‘I’ve given some of the data to Carter, but here are my contact details.’
Felicity had even hugged her!
‘I’m going to miss the jungle,’ she admitted.
‘I shan’t,’ he said, climbing out of the car.
He offered his hand as she went to get out, just as he had on the speedboat, and gave her a begrudging smile.
‘Okay, some parts were good.’
Even checking in to such a sumptuous place didn’t daunt, when usually it would have, even though for her it was quite an event.
As Carter sat at a desk and spoke with the guest services manager about their upcoming stay Grace sat, sipping pink tea and nibbling gorgeous wafers. And instead of feeling intimidated by the glamorous staff and gorgeous guests, she sat in her black shorts and dusky pink top and called the nursing home.
There was an agency nurse on, whom Grace didn’t know, but she told her that her mother was at singing practice.
‘Is she settling in?’
‘She seems very happy. Maggie’s in tomorrow—she’ll be able to tell you more.’
‘Thanks.’
It was such a relief to know she was okay, and Grace sat back, looking out at the dark city and to the glittering skyline.
‘Grace?’
She looked up to find Carter standing there. ‘They’re still getting the suite ready.’
‘Oh.’ She’d have expected them to have it ready and waiting for him from the way they were fawning over him. ‘No problem.’
‘We’ll go up to the bar.’
‘Carter, no!’
She pointed to her attire, thought of her hair, but he was already walking towards the elevators. Even the doors parted to his instant command, and she stepped into the dimly lit space.
‘I’m hardly dressed for a bar.’
‘I’m not waiting in Reception.’
‘It’s dark in here,’ she commented, looking around.
‘Subtle.’ He smiled. ‘The corridors are the same—hell when you’ve had a drink.’
He made the whole thing a little easier, somehow, although as they stepped into a gorgeous dimly lit corridor she tried not to think of Carter and the glamorous beauties who had surely walked this luxurious path with him before.
‘Mr Bennett.’ He was welcomed with a smile by the greeter. ‘Madam.’
They were led outside to some high tables set with pretty lights, where beautiful people were sipping cocktails, enjoying the balmy night. His entrance did not go unnoticed. For the first time in her life Grace felt heads turn as she walked by, and certainly they were for Carter. But then, as they walked to their table, Grace literally stopped.
‘Oh, my gosh!’
She’d heard of the Petronas Towers, had seen them in pictures and had been planning to visit them, but standing on the rooftop bar, seeing them close up, as if two giant crystal decanters had been placed in the sky, was simply incredible.
‘Like a new moon,’ Carter said, standing beside her, his hand around her waist. ‘It’s better if you don’t see it the first time through glass.’
‘Is that why you brought me here?’
She couldn’t take her eyes off them, yet she had to as they were being led to a private area, a velvet rope being moved aside.
‘Thank you,’ she said as he gestured for her to take the stool that faced the towers. ‘For giving me the best view.’
Carter could have chosen to debate that point.
Her hair was heavy with ringlets, her T-shirt was falling off her shoulder, and her face was glowing. His view was excellent! Her smile and her eyes were bright. He was so used to just a bland reaction when he brought a date here, and yet Grace was enthralled.
Her enthusiasm had him revealing more. ‘They were my inspiration.’
‘To be an architect?’
He nodded. ‘I used to look out for them when I came home on vacation.’
‘To see your grandfather?’
‘Of course.’
But as he turned his head to follow her gaze, Carter was starting to recall times long before that.
‘My family used to come most summers, but we rarely stopped here. My parents hated the city, but I begged them to take me up. I knew I wanted to design something like that even then.’
‘Cognac, sir?’
Carter nodded, and the fact that the waiter knew this nettled Grace a little. As ‘madam’ was handed a menu, she stared at it, unseeing. There were just too many reminders that, as special as this night might feel, it was commonplace for him.
Carter tried to help with her selection. ‘The gin pahit is excellent here.’
‘Better not.’ She glanced at him. ‘Mother’s ruin and all that. I’m sure I’ll be fine, but...’ She gave the menu better attention, pleased to see there was something familiar. ‘Mangosteen Mocktail, please.’
Grace smiled, only he didn’t return it.
God, please don’t let me be pregnant , Grace thought.
She rather guessed he was thinking the same thing.
‘I am going to Janana soon,’ he said.
‘Where?’
‘The Middle East,’ he explained. ‘I have a big project there.’
‘Oh?’
‘Jonathon, my lawyer, is flying in, but before he gets here there’ll be time to sort out a few things...’
He paused the conversation as their drinks arrived and the waiter placed a gorgeous pink drink on the table before her.
It was soft, yet fruity, and so icy and delicious. ‘It’s like peaches.’ She pushed the glass towards him, and then frowned, because he seemed about to decline. ‘Look, I’m sorry I brought it up.’ She was awkward. ‘I just don’t think I should be drinking.’
‘It’s fine.’
As if to prove he wasn’t annoyed that she might be pregnant he reached for the glass and, almost reluctantly, took a taste.
He screwed up his nose. ‘Not for me.’
‘I thought you liked mangosteen?’
‘No.’
‘But we had them...’ Her voice trailed off as she remembered he had only peeled one for her, rather than have any himself, and when she’d asked had said he didn’t particularly like them.
Carter took a sip of cognac, as if to rinse his mouth,
It was a sickly taste, a familiar taste—only it wasn’t this sweet, fruity version he was recalling, but the rotten, decomposing fruit on the jungle floor that had been most of his sustenance for a week.
He took another sip of cognac, looked up at her eyes. He wanted to tell her that memories were starting to come back, his recollections becoming more frequent by the day. Tell her how he’d hoped things would change now they were out of the jungle.
That wasn’t part of the deal they’d made, though.
Yet the taste of that damn drink was still on his tongue and churning in his stomach.
As she reached to take the glass he told her what was wrong. ‘They were the only food I could find when I was missing.’
She looked at the glass, the condensation trickling down the side, and then up to him. ‘You should have said that morning. I wouldn’t have asked you to peel one.’
‘We were meant to be a one-off then.’
‘Yes.’
‘And I’d only just remembered then.’
‘I’ll order something else.’
‘No, no,’ he said. ‘Finish your drink. I just thought it better to say...’
‘Before it becomes my nightly treat?’
She made him smile, even with the sickly scent still in the air, and he watched as she called for the waiter and asked him to take the glass away.
‘Is everything okay?’ the waiter checked.
It was Carter who answered. ‘It’s fine.’ He’d just got a message. ‘I believe our suite is ready.’
Their suite was so much more than a suite—it was beyond stunning. They stepped into a candlelit wonder, where the darkened lounge room showed the incredible skyline. But Grace loved it that he’d taken her to the roof to witness the towers first.
‘Wow!’ she kept saying as she explored the beautiful suite, trying out the low chairs, even dipping her toes in the sunken pool by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Carter headed to the dressing room just off the master suite.
‘Passport,’ he called, as he put his own in the safe, checking too that the rings he’d ordered were in there, but without sentiment.
He tried to avoid the churn of feelings as he placed the black pouch in there. Wished to God that the damn teething ring had stayed beneath ground.
‘Grace,’ he said again. ‘Passport.’
‘It’ll be fine.’
‘Said the woman who fell asleep and dropped hers...’
‘True.’
He was surprised that after several modes of transport and many hours with her he wasn’t aching to be alone, or annoyed by her running commentary as she flitted from room to room, but he caught her tension as she stepped into the candlelit master bedroom.
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘We’ll spend half the night blowing out all the candles.’
‘I don’t think you have to worry about that.’
‘Here,’ Grace said, handing over her passport and then heading back out.
She didn’t linger in the bedroom. The vast white bed was daunting. It was so beautifully prepared... There were ‘his and her’ kimonos draped either side, and just a sensual look to it that made her throat feel tight.
A mocking voice told her that Carter would soon grow tired of his very inexperienced lover, especially in surroundings as sophisticated as this.
It was all so subtly sexy and dark. Like Carter, she thought as she went behind a glass wall and saw more candles placed around a deep stone bath already filled with soapy water.
‘Look,’ she said as Carter wandered through, and dipped her hand in. ‘It’s hot!’ she exclaimed. ‘How?’
‘They would have prepared it while we were at the bar,’ Carter said, breaking the romantic mood and flicking the lights on.
‘I wish you hadn’t done that,’ Grace muttered, seeing not just her tatty toiletry bag on the gleaming marble, but her tatty reflection in the equally gleaming mirror. And, yes, she looked as if she’d been dragged through the jungle backwards. ‘My hair!’ she groaned, for it seemed to move as one. ‘Are the mirrors in Sabah kinder?’
Carter found the mirrors kinder here.
The world was in neat order—unlike in the jungle.
He liked Grace brightly lit, so he could see the dusting of freckles on her nose, and how her T-shirt gaped as she leant forward and moaned about her eyebrows. He liked her bare feet on the marble floors...
‘I’m going shopping tomorrow,’ she told him, taking tweezers from her toiletry bag.
‘I’ll leave a credit card for you. Or charge it...’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ She stopped plucking her eyebrows and caught his eye in the mirror. ‘I was always going to get rid of these clothes and buy some new things.’
‘I don’t think the high street is going to cut it.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you saying I’m to be more “Carter Bennett’s fiancée” suitable?’
‘I’m saying exactly that.’ He nodded. ‘Tomorrow night I have to meet with a senior financier.’
‘Am I to make small talk with his wife?’
‘No, I shall be doing most of the talking. Simi’s the one who I need to sweet talk—you get the husband.’ He watched her get back to her eyebrows and could not resist adding, ‘They’re in the top one hundred of the most successful, beautiful people.’
‘Shut up!’ She smiled. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Very.’ he nodded.
‘If you’re already so rich, why do you need to impress a financier?’
‘Because I intend to stay rich,’ he retorted. ‘Get some nice clothes, and whatever else you need...’
She might have been wholly offended, but staring at her woolly hair and dusty clothes she felt a shiver of excitement. It felt as if she’d spent for ever dressed in yoga pants, with her hair in a ponytail, having dinner in front of the television. Rarely going out, let alone dating.
This wasn’t dating, though, Grace reminded herself.
Carter began to strip his top off—as uninhibited as that—and she wondered if she was about to be summoned to the bath...
Could you use condoms in water?
She had no clue. So for something to do she opened up all the freebies and brushed her teeth with a very nice brush, selected all the lovely shampoos. She was delaying, nervous...
‘Grace...’
He turned her around. He was naked from the hips up, and he wiped a little toothpaste from her lip.
And she thought he must seriously hate mangosteen, because his gaze had changed, and it would seem her mouth was kissable now.
This wasn’t love, she thought as their mouths met, but nor was it shame. It was finding out how good a kiss could be, discovering her body, feeling wanted and sexy when she’d wondered if that side of her even existed.
His tongue tasted of cognac, and when it mingled with hers she tasted mint. And her hands were on his chest, feeling the dark hair, the flat nipples. And she didn’t want this kiss to end. But he was more measured than she...pulling that sexy mouth back from her own.
‘Why don’t we lose the jungle?’ Carter suggested, pulling at the hem of her dusky and also rather dusty pink top.
The tops of her thighs ached and her breasts felt tight with anticipation as he lifted her arms and removed her top, tossing it towards a basket. She watched her very tatty bra fly that way too, and then he left it for Grace to take care of the rest. Possibly because he needed to be naked as much as she.
Although not for the reasons she’d first thought.
‘Enjoy,’ he said, taking her hand and helping her into the bath.
She watched a little bemused as he headed to the shower, and perhaps he saw her blink of surprise.
‘Did I tell you I’m not romantic?’
‘Many times.’
‘That means I don’t do candlelit baths. I’m going in here.’
‘Bastard!’ She laughed and lay back, still semi turned on, but finally relaxed, letting the fragrant water wrap around her body. Sometimes her eyes would open and drift to look at his magnificent physique, his lean legs, the indentations at the side of his taut buttocks. And it was intimate to watch him from a distance, to see the thick length that had been inside her and to feel her throat go tight. He turned and she saw the scars on his back... She closed her eyes on the vision of scorpions and fire ants, knowing he’d hate the tears that had suddenly filled her eyes.
He turned off the water, came out and wrapped a towel around his hips, and flicked through all the toiletries. He started to lather up several days’ worth of growth on his chin, not even bothering to look at her when she asked, ‘Is there any more conditioner? My hair’s all knotted.’
‘Book a hairdresser tomorrow.’
‘Please!’ Grace mumbled, lying back in the bath and letting the water wash over her, knowing he couldn’t possibly understand how awful it was going to be to face a hairdresser somewhere as gorgeous as here. She usually trimmed her own hair, and the humid air really had wreaked havoc with it, as well as the near toothless comb.
Carter was now watching Grace.
The efficient extractor fans meant he didn’t even need to wipe the mirror to shave. Still, rather than his own reflection there was a far more appealing sight in the mirror, as Grace lay back in the bath and floated. Her hair fanned out, her eyes closed, and he saw her usually pale skin was pink from the warm water. The dispersing bubbles revealed her soft breasts and his eyes moved to the dark triangle of hair.
He thought of their one night...the heat they had made.
He understood a little of what Grace meant when she’d said she kept expecting shame to kick in... In Carter’s case, though, he was waiting for regret to arrive.
Waiting to rue the offer he’d made.
Even as they shared the bathroom he kept waiting to feel as if she was invading his space, and yet it was Carter who wanted to invade hers... To climb into the bath and feel that slippery body...to be with her again. Now!
‘What about this?’ he asked and she glanced over. ‘It says “Hair Masque”.’
She sat up and held out an impatient hand, but just as she grabbed it he pulled it away. ‘Please...’ he reminded her.
‘Please,’ she said, and with slippery hands tried to open it.
She soon gave in and now it was she who held it out, for him to open.
‘Please!’ she repeated, and then she caught his eye and they both smiled.
This was the smile she gave only now and then, and he found himself giving back a new smile.
Then the smiles faded, but their eyes remained locked.
The water was still, as was Grace, and there was no fan powerful enough to erase the unseen mist of desire descending.
As he handed Grace the opened hair masque he saw that her flush was darker and that the nipples that had been flat were now puckering and pointing as if the steaming water was cold.
‘Do you need help?’ he offered.
Carter loved the way her neck corded in tension as she nodded.
He didn’t do this, Carter reminded himself as he collected a comb from the selection on offer. Usually women arrived dressed and scented...or he woke to the spritzed version.
‘Move.’
He gestured and she scooted forward, and as he climbed into the bath behind her there was just a little slosh as his six-foot-three frame lowered. She leant over to survey the spillage, her skin gleaming, wet, and he reached for her waist, pulled her between his legs.
No, he had never done this, Carter thought, massaging the thick cream through her hair, then slowly combing it through.
‘My comb broke,’ Grace explained, feeling a little embarrassed, but far less so than she would have been under the critical eye of a hairdresser tomorrow. ‘Well, it kept snapping,’ she told him. ‘I’m nervous about tomorrow,’ she admitted, somehow finding it easier to talk as he combed her hair, to admit her thoughts. ‘Not just about the hairdresser.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know anything about make-up, clothes...not lately anyway. I feel like there’s a big gap in my knowledge—a six-year yoga-pants-and-baggy-T-shirt-shaped gap.’
‘Let the stylists here help?’ he suggested.
She nodded, but the gentle mood changed when he must have hit a rather difficult knot. ‘Ow!’
‘Sorry...’
He paused long enough to kiss her shoulder and the last traces of awkwardness and embarrassment simply faded away. Even if he thrilled her, there was something incredibly relaxing about Carter—a quiet knowledge that he wouldn’t be doing this unless he chose to. He wouldn’t be combing her hair and holding her between his thighs for any reason other than that he wanted to.
And she wanted him there too.
‘I’m not used to long hair,’ he explained as he resumed.
And perhaps it relaxed him, too, because he seemed to be dwelling on that thought.
He’d only ever combed his own hair.
Certainly he wasn’t used to combing long, thick, curly hair until it hung heavy, smooth and glossy down her back.
‘There,’ he said.
But as she went to turn around, he pulled her to lie back against him. Lifted her hair so it lay over his shoulder rather than in the water.
‘The packet says fifteen minutes.’
And he used every one.
Several of them spent with large slippery hands sliding over her breasts, toying with the peaks.
Grace lay there, feeling him so turned on behind her. She ached to turn around, to touch him, too, and yet it was bliss to just lie there.
To feel one hand slide down and part her legs a little, to rest her thighs against his and for his fingers to explore her.
She turned her head and he kissed her mouth. ‘I want...’ She was tense with the need to turn, but too laden with pleasure to move.
She felt guilty, because the focus was so much on her own pleasure, was unable to accept that the pleasure was also his.
‘God, you fight,’ Carter said, and he gripped her thighs closed with his, and then there were no more kisses, just moans as she leant her head forward and beneath the water gave in to the pleasure that rippled through her.
His thighs parted and she folded, clutching her knees, sated.
As he climbed out, he offered his hand. ‘Give me a moment...’ Her legs were shaky, but Carter wasn’t waiting.
‘Come on,’ he instructed. ‘We need to rinse your hair.’
She would have gone to his bed with the masque still in, every thought except for him seemed to have floated out of her head.
He took the gold shower attachment from the bath and she knelt on the towel he had dropped to the floor a little later than the fifteen minutes stated on the pack.
No regret as to her decision to come here.
Still no shame.
None.
‘We could go back in the shower,’ Grace suggested as she leant over the bath.
‘We could,’ he said, his voice with a thick edge, ‘but then you’d have to move and I don’t want you to.’
She felt his finger run down the length of her spine, opened her eyes to her hair dripping into the bath, to the feeling of his deft fingers in her scalp, then the tug as he squeezed the water out.
‘Do you want to go to bed?’ he offered. ‘Or...?’
‘Here,’ she said, her voice a bit of a squeak. She was just not wanting to lose the exquisite feel of his hands low on her back, sliding to her hips and moving her just a fraction. ‘Just here,’ she affirmed.
‘Good,’ he said.
She rested her head on her forearm, almost shaking with trepidation as he leant over her body and turned off the water. The feel of him aroused and erect matched her own swollen pleasure. She could feel his hand moving down, closing around himself, and she felt a desperate, delicious impatience flood her veins.
‘Hold on,’ he said.
And that desperate, delicious feeling flicked into frustration as he remembered to keep both of them safe this time. He stretched to the counter behind them, his other hand on her stomach, and there should have been relief that he’d remembered protection, or a little quip about the thoughtful placement of condoms, but the only thing she could think of was the gap placed between their bodies, the air that did not belong there.
Then he was back, his knees between her calves, his hands on her breasts. ‘Look,’ he said, and she lifted her head. But he corrected her. ‘To the side.’
She could see them in the mirror.
Grace barely recognised herself. Her skin was pink, her eyes dark and wide as they watched his hands on her breasts as they move to her waist.
‘Oh...’ She was shivering—a little from the cool air on her wet skin and a lot from the sight of Carter kneeling up, holding himself, rolling a condom on.
She raised herself higher, her bottom pressing backwards.
‘Are you still sore?’
‘No,’ she said, as he slid in his fingers.
She had been prepared to perfection, and his deft check was soon completed, fingers replaced. She felt the nudge of him.
‘Maybe a bit,’ she gasped, realising she was still a little raw from their first time. But the return to bliss was swift. ‘Don’t stop!’
‘Shh,’ he said, as if he were concentrating, and then she realised the effort he was taking to enter her slowly, felt the tension in his body and heard it in his breathing as he eased in.
Certainly it hurt less than the first time, and it allowed her to fully feel the stretch. And then he repeated the thrust, and repeated it, until it was she who moved her hips back a little, wanting more, ever more. Because he’d moved deeper, and she felt him nudge at her cervix, and she groaned at the decadent places he took her, slowly and very deliberately,
Each thrust had her closing her eyes tighter, and then he took her hips and moved her, and Grace found that she was back to looking in the mirror.
‘You like watching?’
She nodded, as he confirmed another thing she hadn’t known about herself, and then he pulled out, enough to move them so that she was kneeling facing the mirrored wall, with him behind her. He entered her again, and there was nothing to lean on, but he guided her arms behind her, so they were locked under his, and she watched as his hands explored her body, both saw and felt the pleasure he gave. And then his cheek came to hers, and he watched them for a moment, his hand in her most intimate place.
‘My knees hurt,’ she told him, because there was pleasure in every other pore.
And he laughed. And, carefully holding the sheath, removed himself again, spinning her to face him.
‘I’m going on the pill,’ she blurted out in her frustration.
How she wanted his skin...even the tiniest of barriers felt too much.
For Carter, her words took him back to the feel of her naked and tight around him, to the one time he’d been careless, and he adored how his inexperienced lover already craved that again.
He had never, ever wanted this closeness, this much of another person—not just the press of her naked on his chest, her hands on his shoulders, but on his back, where the scars were no longer a novelty, or something to avoid, just a part of him.
He kissed her hard, relieved that she did not know that he did not always kiss as passionately as this, that she was unaware that the feel of her wet hair on his face and sex on the bathroom floor, as inconvenient and hard as the marble felt, was a new discovery for him too.
He was a controlled lover, although he was losing control now—but then she could not know how rare this was, because she was falling apart too.
Her arms were locked around his neck, and she could feel his hot breath. His movements were urgent and intense, and then there was an incredible sense of being still. She was trying not to tremble, she felt the energy that was coming, and yet her body was already alight.
Grace gasped and screwed her eyes closed as he held her steady, moaned as her orgasm met his. He shuddered in a breathless shout and then moved her slowly, tender and aching, the length of him.
She could hear their breathing, her own heart and possibly even his. It was the most incredible, selfish feeling. Such a rich, giddy pleasure, and yet it felt like a shared one.
‘You’re cold...’ he observed, and it took a moment for Grace to acknowledge that she was.
For the first time since she’d landed in Malaysia her skin was cool, and with her hair still drenched she really was shivering.
‘Finally!’
Her legs were almost numb as she stood, and he took her hand and led her through the stunning rooms.
The bed was already turned back and it was such a relief to sink into it.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he went to the dressing room.
‘I meant to...’
He came out with a box—a flat black velvet and rather large box—and sat on the bed and unclipped it.
There were so many things about Grace that surprised him, thought Carter, and her reaction to the black velvet tray did too. For even though there were diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and rubies, and even though most of the women he’d dated would have squealed, she just stared.
She was like no one he’d met.
And the clinical proposal was a little nicer than he’d intended, what with the candles putting themselves to bed around them, fizzing out one by one, and her chest still flushed from orgasm and her soft, naked breasts a diversion for him as she stared at the selection.
‘Choose one.’
‘We haven’t even spoken to the lawyer.’
‘The marriage application is in; you need a ring.’
It wasn’t just that. The meeting with the lawyer could very well end them, Carter knew.
Grace was proud, and he wanted her to have something. Something she could sell. And this was the best he could come up with.
He flicked on the lights, hoping that would help. But now he could see the pucker of her areolae, so he moved his gaze up and saw that plump mouth.
‘What one would you choose?’ She met his eyes then. ‘After all, I’ll be returning it to you in twelve months.’
‘You get to keep it.’
‘Why?’
‘Gifts,’ he said. ‘Jonathon will explain.’’
He watched her fingers hover over the diamonds, the rubies, as the lights caught the precious gems and they sparkled beguilingly. And then he watched her pause over a magnificent teardrop emerald. It was beautiful, yes—stunningly so. But if she was thinking of her future...
‘The diamond next to it is exceptional.’ He pointed to it, several carats worth, and the one she was supposed to select. The one every other bride marrying for money would swoop on like a magpie.
‘It’s too big,’ Grace said, then frowned, because of course the emerald was even bigger, yet just so gorgeous. ‘Anyway, we’re not for ever,’ she said.
And, selection made, she took out the emerald ring, looking at the beautiful stone set in white gold, and felt as if she’d been struck in the throat.
She had never thought that selecting a ring for a fake engagement would cause her heart to implode—that she might have to keep her head down so he wouldn’t see the tears that filled her eyes as she examined it.
‘It’s beautiful.’
Her voice was a tremble as she looked at the stone, at the flashes of yellow and green, like tiny fireflies, and for a second, she was transported back to a time when all she had wanted was one night. Deep in the jungle she’d felt on the edge of for ever, utterly alone with him and without agenda.
‘I love it.’ She told him the truth. ‘I’ll want to keep it for ever.’
‘Don’t get romantic,’ he told her.
‘No, but I’m allowed to adore it.’
‘Grace, you’re going to sell it. For now, though, if it’s too big it can be resized,’ he said, taking her hand.
He looked at the gorgeous ring, slipping a little on her slender finger, and he felt something deep inside. What he felt, he didn’t quite know—but it was unwelcome.
Was it the painful thaw of black ice cracking?
It wasn’t desire, yet it was laced with it...
He did not want to care.
Not too much.
He snapped the box closed. ‘If you change your mind, they’re not going back till tomorrow.’
‘I shan’t change my mind.’
Grace wouldn’t. She was under the covers with one hand out, admiring her ring, when he came back from the safe. But when he climbed into bed she turned and faced him, ran a newly bejewelled hand along his smooth jaw. It was almost the same Carter she’d met that first day.
‘I forgot how good-looking you are,’ she said, and her honesty surprised her—it was as if she’d forgotten how to be shy.
‘You prefer me shaved?’
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I just...forget sometimes.’
She examined his features and they were as gorgeous as they had been that very first day, and yet then it would have been rude to fully stare, or to reach out and touch.
‘The first time I saw you...’ she smiled a slow, satisfied smile ‘... I thought I was dreaming.’
‘Really?’
She nodded. ‘I mean it. I thought you were part of my dream. I had no idea where I was. Bear in my mind I couldn’t hear a thing. I thought it was a very nice, almost inappropriate dream.’
He smiled. ‘The first time I saw you I thought of Sleeping Beauty.’
‘Liar.’
‘No.’ He pushed her damp hair from her face. ‘Well, actually I thought, when I saw your passport on the floor, that you were not my problem.’
‘I’m not your problem,’ Grace said.
Possibly, she pondered, that was the beauty of them. They weren’t each other’s problem—instead they were each other’s solution.
Maybe that was why it felt so right.
It was a nice thought to fall asleep on.
Grace woke up alone.
Well, she heard the door close and realised there were to be no morning kisses goodbye or...
Staring at her ring, she told herself she was being ridiculous, and rang for tea and pancakes. And then, as she always did, she took a breath before checking her messages.
None from the care home.
Phew.
And just as she was about to call Carter, ask what the plans were for tonight, her phone rang and it was the Ms Hill she’d heard mentioned several times.
‘The stylist is booked for midday, but I’ve left hair and make-up till five, given you’re meeting Carter at seven.’
She gave Grace the location.
‘He’s not coming back here?’
‘No...’ She seemed to be checking. ‘Seven p.m. reception. The car will be booked for six-forty-five.’
‘Thanks so much,’ Grace said. ‘Do you know...?’ She stopped. ‘Actually, I’ll call him myself.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’ll call Carter.’
‘If you need Mr Bennett for any reason, then you can contact me.’
‘I meant for a personal reason.’
‘You can contact me any time.’
Grace felt her lips stretch into an incredulous smile. ‘What about in an emergency?’
‘If I deem it an emergency, I’ll be certain to pass it on.’
Oh, my gosh!
Grace wanted to be Ms Hill, she truly did—even if she was cross.
So cross that the moment the call ended she called Carter directly—just because she could.
Or, she thought she could—‘How can I help you, Grace?’ Ms Hill answered.
Grace gritted her teeth. ‘Is it very formal tonight?’
‘I’ve given Mr Bennett’s schedule to the stylist. She’ll be able to direct you.’
‘Thank you.’
It was unexpected, and it jolted. She’d thought she had his number, had slept with him last night, and now she had to go through his PA in England to find out what to wear for dinner...
Her perfect dream makeover day was—oddly—not quite so.
‘Wow!’ Grace said, because her hair had been straightened and looked like silk.
Then she was shown it from the back, and if she hadn’t known, then she’d never have guessed it was her own reflection.
She glanced at her toenails which were no longer painted a faded coral—in fact they were back to their natural colour, only buffed and polished, as were her fingernails.
It really was like a theatrical production, with a break for light snacks before wardrobe was called.
Grace felt an odd pang of disappointment at the underwear selection. It was gorgeous, she was told. Sheer and so barely there...
She felt barely there.
She felt as if she’d been dipped in ink stain remover as she tried on endless clothes.
There were pale dresses, cool linen suits and beautiful shoes. But for someone who had lived the last two years in yoga pants or cargo pants, it was a little less thrilling than she’d imagined.
‘Beige?’ She flicked through the dresses. ‘Grey?’
They were ‘wheaten’ and ‘pewter’, apparently, but there was just no colour anywhere, save for a very pale blue trouser suit—so pale it was almost off the spectrum.
‘We’re just building a basic wardrobe,’ the stylist informed her. ‘You can then add your own signature.’
So she chose suitable outfits for day—cool linen trousers and light jackets—and then her hand hovered over an oatmeal linen smock with spaghetti straps that would be gorgeous to throw on after the pool.
‘That’s stunning,’ the assistant said, but then Grace looked at the layering, the beauty of the garment and the designer tag, and hastily put it back. No, that was not a dress to throw on when she was damp from the pool. Instead she turned her attention to the evening wear.
Ms Hill had indeed given the stylist Carter’s schedule—business dinners, performing arts, restaurants... She even had to choose outfits to wear should she have to join him in the Middle East...
And as she tried on clothes she felt as if she were dressing for a man she didn’t know—certainly not a man who didn’t seem bothered by shorts and tatty tops or bright red sarongs...a man who stood so quiet and still watching the dawn break...nor one who handed her a lilac flower.
Finally, it was time for make-up.
Or rather for her foundation to be matched and lessons on application to be had.
She rather failed with eyeliner and looked at the gorgeous eyes of the beautician, wanting them!
‘How do I do wings?’
‘You don’t,’ she was sharply told. ‘If you want a smoky-eyed look then it is better to call us.’
The car was there, as arranged, and it took her to another very nice hotel. She sat in Reception, nervous and unsure, leaping on her phone with relief when it rang with a video call.
‘Violet!’ Grace quickly changed hands so that she held the phone with her left one, so as to hide the enormous ring.
‘Oh, my God!’ Violet said, when she saw her. ‘Grace, you look....’
‘I just got my hair done.’
‘You’ve had everything done! Where are you?’
‘Waiting in Reception at some fancy hotel,’ Grace admitted, but then played it down. ‘I’m just going for drinks...’
‘With...?’ Violet asked eagerly. ‘Come on, Grace.’
‘Some guy I met on the tour.’
‘You look incredible!’
Violet was excited, and Grace wished it were a little more infectious.
‘Different,’ Violet said, cocking her blonde head to the side. ‘But amazing. I hardly recognise you.’
Neither did Carter for a moment.
Her curls were gone, swept in a slick chignon, and he’d never noticed Grace’s excellent posture before.
Correction. He’d examined her spine in detail, but he wasn’t thinking about that now. Just her legs, long and slim in heels, nicely toned calves...
The dress was...well, a dress. But to his surprise he missed the curls.
And further to his surprise was the fact he’d noticed.
‘Grace.’
She looked over, and as always her smile was more than her mouth. She smiled with her body, stepped towards him and raised an arm—a whole welcome with a smile.
‘They’re already here,’ he told her.
He handed his laptop and the precious blueprints that barely left his side over to the concierge, and asked him to lock them away.
Grace was waiting for him to comment—on her make-up, her hair, anything—but he didn’t.
‘Simi and Tengku,’ he told her as they walked through.
‘I tried to call you...’
‘Ms Hill said.’
She stopped—just stopped walking. And that was another thing Grace did—another damn thing he’d noticed.
‘If you ever do that on the underground in London you’ll cause a pile-up.’
He saw her angry face beneath the perfect make-up and found he missed her freckles too.
‘Grace, I don’t take personal calls at work.’
‘Ever?’
‘Never.’ There was no one important enough—he very deliberately kept it that way. ‘Now, are we going to do this?’
‘Yes.’
Grace nodded, wondering how to ‘do this’—how to sleep with someone at night who was completely unavailable by day.
A man who didn’t even notice the effort you’d made.
Even if he’d paid for it.
A man who, without effort, always made her smile.
‘Simi, Tengku—this is Grace.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you.’
They were surely not in the top one hundred most beautiful people—they were portly and happy and normal... Well, apart from their surroundings and their wealth.
And as she took a seat, and Tengku tucked a napkin under his ribs, she caught Carter’s eyes.
Got you! said his smile.
He very possibly had.