Chapter 10
10
His car was a cherry-red soft-top Triumph Stag. He loved it. He’d missed it whilst he was away and couldn’t wait to take it out for a spin. Pulling back the dustsheet, he uncovered the gleaming bodywork and soft leather interior. It was a piece of art: characterful and stylish, unlike some of the garish sports cars that dominated the roads these days. This car was a gentleman amongst peasants.
He ran a loving hand over it before unlocking the doors and holding Josie’s open for her. She’d noticed the caress and was smiling at him, one eyebrow raised.
‘Nice car.’
‘Thank you.’
She slid into the passenger seat and Connor caught a flash of her bare legs as she swung them in. He swore under his breath. What was he doing? He probably should have taken her straight back to bed instead of going along with this sham friendly trip to the seaside. Just a flash of her shapely calves had sent his responses into overload, and now he had to endure over an hour in close proximity with her without being able to take advantage of the fact.
Too late now.
He took his time clipping down the soft top of the roof to give his body a chance to settle down, before striding round to the driver’s seat and sliding in next to her.
‘You’d better cover your hair for the journey,’ he said, leaning across her to open the glove compartment. He kept his hand as far away from her legs as he could, acutely aware that temptation was a mere five centimetres away.
He pulled a scarf roughly out of the glove compartment and tossed it to her.
‘Nice.’ She looked at the scarf, then at him, a mirthful eyebrow raised. ‘Hermes. Not the sort of item I’d expect to find in your possession. Is there something you want to tell me?’
Her eyes were full of laughter. It was lovely to see her lightening up a bit.
‘Very funny.’ He smiled back. ‘It belonged to an old girlfriend. I forgot to throw it away.’
‘Really? Throw it away? Not give it back? Sounds like it ended messily.’
He bridled, uncomfortable with the turn in conversation. ‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly, ‘it did.’
They both shifted in their seats.
‘Have you been split up for long?’
‘About a year.’ He stared at the steering wheel, unwilling to allow this conversation to develop.
‘Katherine, right?’
He could sense her looking at him intently.
‘You thought I was her in your bed the other night, didn’t you?’
He so didn’t want to be talking about Katherine right now. He nodded curtly, hoping she’d drop the subject.
‘Why did you split up?’
He sighed, giving her a reproachful look, trying to scare her off the subject. ‘She wanted to get married, I didn’t.’ Hopefully that was the end of the inquisition.
‘Why not?’
Apparently, it wasn’t. ‘We were a bad fit.’
‘Because she was looking for some stability?’
He gripped the steering wheel, the tendons in his hands tensing against the pressure.
‘I didn’t want it enough.’
‘You love your freedom more?’
‘Can we drop the subject?’ he snapped, making her jump. He hated having to explain to new partners why his previous relationships had failed. Not that Josie was a partner. She wasn’t anything to him. Nothing at all.
‘Okay, I’m sorry.’ Josie held her hands up as a peace offering. ‘I was being nosy. It’s none of my business.’
Firing up the engine, he backed out of the garage, killing the conversation. Mercifully, the roar of the engine and the crunch of the wheels on the road made it difficult to talk again.
* * *
It took them an hour and a half to reach Cannes. They headed straight for the centre and parked up.
‘Okay. Let’s rock this place,’ Connor quipped with a wink, unfolding his large frame from the car and running a hand through his windswept hair.
The streets were crowded with summer visitors out enjoying the sunshine. They wove through them to get to the tree-lined Croisette , which was bordered on one side by the calm, sparkling Mediterranean Sea and on the other by some of the most exclusive hotels in the South of France.
‘Wow, this is amazing,’ Josie said, looking around in awe.
Connor glanced over at her. ‘You like?’
‘Sure do. Where are we going first?’ She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. This place was something else – vibrant with life and humming with possibility.
‘The Carlton Hotel. I need a drink.’
Josie would have preferred to head straight to the beach, but she didn’t want to get separated from him and find herself stranded. She’d decided in the car to go with whatever flow Connor chose today. That strategy seemed to have worked out pretty well so far.
Connor strode through the crowds, which parted to make way for him. He had such a dominating presence Josie wasn’t surprised people didn’t want to get in his path. There was a defiance about him that seemed to act like a force field, and apparently she wasn’t the only one to feel it. It felt good to walk beside him, as if he was her own private bodyguard.
They passed rows of designer shops, their windows all dressed with cutting-edge couture. Josie slowed down to gape at some of the crazy fashion on show.
‘Want to go shopping?’ Connor asked, a look of patent dread on his face.
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I suspect I’d regret paying five hundred euros for a T-shirt that’ll be out of fashion in a month.’
He swiped a hand across his brow, the relief evident on his face.
They approached the magnificent frontage of the Carlton Hotel and he led her in through the terrace, where groups of fashionistas were soaking up the rays whilst sipping elegant-looking cocktails. Josie squeezed past the crowded tables, feeling the eyes of the patrons on her. Her earlier euphoria at being here evaporated. Dressed as she was, in shorts and a vest, she felt totally out of place. It had been so long since she’d gone to a bar like this one, she’d forgotten how self-conscious they made her feel.
She was surprised Connor had chosen this place. Based on what she knew of him so far, she would have thought he’d be more at home in a dark, anonymous pub. But then she suspected she didn’t really know him. He hadn’t shown her his real self. It was all front and no substance. There was a private self in there somewhere that he wasn’t allowing out.
Josie followed Connor into the grand lounge, stopping at the entrance to take in the magnificent sight that met her while Connor went to the bar.
The high ceilings and large windows allowed the summer sun to flood into the room, striking the large pillars that ran through the middle of the space and reflecting light back from the subtle creams and yellows of the decor. Large chandeliers hung majestically above art deco-inspired seating arrangements that were sparsely populated due to the lure of the sunlit terrace outside. The clientele obviously came to the Carlton to be seen rather than to appreciate the beautiful architecture of the building. A large, black-lacquered grand piano in the middle of the room caught Josie’s eye and she became aware of her fingers as they twitched at her sides.
Connor approached carrying two drinks and handed one to her.
‘Champagne cocktail.’
The way he said it sounded almost like a dare.
‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’
Connor smiled. ‘On one glass of champagne? Surely it takes more than that to get the better of you?’
He kept a straight face, but the innuendo hung between them. Josie’s stomach did a double backflip as images from the night before ran through her mind. It had taken precious little persuasion to get the better of her then.
‘It takes a lot more than that,’ she bluffed, taking the drink from him with a slow smile. It was such fun flirting with him. ‘Thanks.’
He watched as she took a tentative sip and a shot of pure pleasure fizzed through her veins.
She didn’t normally drink much, having always been too busy to allow her control to slip and deal with the consequences. She didn’t have time for partying and hangovers, but all those curtailed birthday parties and missed nights out had left her with a dwindling base of friends whom she barely spoke to any more. She felt a twinge of shame at the thought. That definitely wasn’t something she was admitting to Connor.
‘Okay,’ he said, once she’d taken another sip, ‘Go and play.’
‘What?’ Was he crazy?
‘The piano. Go and play. I know you’re desperate to. I saw that look of longing when you first came in.’
‘I can’t just sit down in a hotel lounge and start playing their piano.’ Her heart pounded at the thought of it. She never played for other people; it was something very private to her.
‘Of course you can.’
He took the drink from her quivering hand and gently pushed her towards the piano, his palm in the small of her back. Her skin burned under his touch.
‘No. Connor. Seriously, I can’t. I don’t play in public. I’m not that good.’ Her voice wobbled with nerves.
‘Who’s going to care?’ He gestured towards the one remaining couple in the lounge. They were deep in conversation at the other side of the room.
‘I know the bar staff here. They said it’s fine. Go ahead.’
Josie weighed up her options. If she flat-out refused to play she’d ruin the companionable atmosphere they’d tentatively started to build between them. And if she was really honest with herself, she did want to play; her fingers ached to touch the beautiful ivory keys, to caress their polished surface and make them sing. If only Connor wasn’t there watching her, she’d be able to step out of herself and get lost in the music for a while.
She glanced up at him and he gave her a reassuring smile.
To hell with it. It didn’t matter what he thought. After last night there wasn’t much of herself left to expose to shame anyway.
‘Okay.’ She sat down on the stool and made herself comfortable.
He simply nodded and took a seat at a nearby table, twisting his glass between his fingers as he waited for her to start playing.
She felt his gaze on her as she collected her thoughts and tried to blank his presence out of her consciousness.
Not an easy task, given that her skin seemed to prickle with energy whenever he was nearby. He was not a man you could easily ignore.
The keys were cool and smooth under her fingertips and she revelled in the sensation of them against her skin. She smiled to herself before moving her hands across the ivories.
* * *
Connor sat back in bemusement as the theme tune to The Simpsons flowed from beneath Josie’s fingers. That was the very last thing he’d expected her to play. He’d anticipated a well-executed piece of classical music to fit with the sombre atmosphere of the bar, but she’d gone for a comic, upbeat tune instead, almost in defiance of her surroundings. She was clearly teasing him.
Once again, she’d proved herself to have hidden depths. He was beginning to doubt his judgement. Reading people was usually one of his strengths, but he was having real trouble with Josie. She surprised him at every turn.
She’d tied her hair back from her face today, and he watched her slim neck and shoulders glide from side to side as her fingers danced over the keys. The anxiousness in her body was gone, leaving only grace and elegance. It was a beautiful thing to watch.
Glancing back, she gave him a cheeky smile before segueing into a composition by Philip Glass – Metamorphosis One , a fitting choice. It was a haunting melody, heavy with longing. Mesmerised, he stared at her as she moved with the music, seemingly oblivious to anyone or anything else. He envied her that total absorption.
As he listened, the music affected him in strange ways. Memories of them together in the farmhouse ran through his head: her delight at beating him at chess; the way she’d looked in just her underwear after he’d brought her in from the heat; how she’d felt in his arms when she’d finally started to trust him. His body stiffened at the memory and his throat grew tight.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a small crowd of people begin to drift in from the terrace outside to listen to her play.
Jealousy hit him like a punch to the gut.
He didn’t want anyone else to be here. It was as if they were invading something private that was taking place between him and Josie. This performance should be just for him.
Unnerved again by the strange possessiveness he felt about her, Connor mentally shook himself and took another swig of his drink. What the hell was happening to him?
His pulse raced in his veins and his body temperature had risen to the point where he was drenched with perspiration. A heavy dread pulled at his head, like a lead weight dragging him down. Was this a panic attack? He hadn’t had one for years, but he recognised the symptoms. His heart beat wildly in his chest and his breath caught painfully in his throat. He needed to get out of there – get some air and put some distance between them before she noticed what was happening to him.
* * *
Josie only became aware of her audience as she neared the end of the piece. She blushed fiercely at the attention, but managed to keep her concentration. Now was not the time to get the notes wrong. Searching around surreptitiously, she noticed Connor sneaking off towards the terrace, with a hard, uncomfortable look on his face.
Mortification hit her stomach with a thump. He obviously wasn’t impressed with her amateur attempt at a difficult piece of modern classical music. She’d pushed things too far, tried to be too clever, and she’d embarrassed herself – and him too, by the looks of it.
Even so, it was pretty rude to walk out before the end.
She clenched her arms hard to her sides, fighting an urge to slam the piano lid shut in her anger. It shouldn’t matter if he didn’t rate her playing, she reminded herself, but she realised with a slow, sinking sensation that she did care. She cared very much.