Chapter 3
Chapter Three
R ebecca had wasted too much time trying to decide what to wear for her first meeting with her new boss and now she was going to be late.
She was here to teach Pilates– she’d wear yoga pants, a sports bra and a T-shirt.
At least she’d look like she knew what she was doing, which she did when it came to teaching Pilates.
Sadly not when it came to choosing clothes.
That had never been her thing and ever since that disastrous night at the Spring Ball a month ago, she’d been second-guessing everything she wore.
Eek. That pink floral number. It had looked so good on the model on the website– a vivacious brunette with a mass of thick dark hair, dark eyes and well-defined eyebrows.
Her colouring should have given Rebecca her first clue, given that she was blonde and blue-eyed.
The pale pink colour made her look washed out and sickly.
The bigger mistake had been not trying it on before the day of the ball and assuming that it would look the same on her as it did on the model.
It did not.
Realising that dwelling on unpleasant memories wasn’t going to do anything for her frame of mind and definitely wasn’t in the spirit of wellness– for which she’d been employed– Rebecca grabbed her phone and room key and set off to the main building where the admin offices were housed.
Walking through the grounds, she stopped to admire the glorious infinity pool which stopped just short of the rich umber cliffs that edged the rolling Atlantic beyond.
The wind rustled in the pines bordering the garden and fragrant bursts of thyme perfumed the air as she brushed past the herb-filled borders.
This place seemed to be every bit as idyllic as its description on the website, according to which there were twenty bedrooms each with their own private terrace or balcony, and a wellness and spa centre with an indoor hydrotherapy pool, two outdoor freshwater pools, several spa treatment rooms and, of course, the Pilates pagoda set in the grounds amongst the lavender fields, where she would be teaching each morning.
She would also be part of the hotel staff and undertake other duties, including waitressing and room cleaning.
She guessed that might have put other people off, but not her.
Such was her desperation to escape the small Buckinghamshire village where everyone was laughing at her that she’d jumped at the chance to put her Pilates training to good use.
Rebecca smiled to herself as she approached the rustic wooden door at the entrance to the old farmhouse.
She would forget about all the negative thoughts.
She’d made the break and got away from Will, and was finally accepting that he would never see her as more than a good friend.
Despite her bright smile bolstering her, the realisation never got any easier.
Why did love have to hurt so much? When would this constant ache weighing heavily on her heart finally relax its hold?
She lifted her chin. Fresh start. New challenge.
Even though she was a good half-hour early, she pushed open the door and stepped into the cool, dark interior with its thick whitewashed walls and worn terracotta tiled floor.
She glanced around the long corridor brightened by full-length occasional windows that looked out over the main pool.
Through the open doors on the opposite side, she could hear the furious cheeping of the hyperactive sparrows that darted through the trees.
‘Can I help you?’ asked a man in what she guessed was the hotel uniform: tan shorts and a cotton polo shirt bearing the hotel logo, topped with an apron a shade darker. He had kind eyes, and his dark hair shot through with grey suggested he was probably in his early fifties.
‘Erm, I’m a bit early. I’ve got a meeting with the spa manager at ten. I’m the new Pilates teacher. I was told to meet him here in the restaurant.’
‘Ah, welcome.’ His dark eyes crinkled encouragingly with friendly warmth. ‘I am Antonio, the manager of the restaurant. Can I get you a coffee or an orange juice while you wait?’
She grinned at him. ‘I wouldn’t say no to an orange juice.’
‘Come sit on the terrace. How about some breakfast?’
She gave him an uncertain look. Antonio grinned. ‘Don’t worry, we’re very informal. Go find a table. Anywhere you like.’
As it was such a gorgeous morning and Rebecca loved being outside, she needed no further encouragement. Part of the appeal of the job– who was she kidding– the biggest part of the appeal of the job was that she’d be teaching outside every day.
She took a seat under one of the sail shades.
Even at this hour, the Portuguese sun was fierce.
Someone had chosen well when they’d sited the original farm here.
The terrace surrounding the restaurant, built onto the side of the farmhouse, was perfectly positioned to take in the view.
Even though they were on the clifftop just above the beach, there wasn’t another building in the immediate vicinity.
Below the farmhouse, which stood on a small rise, was a grove of orange trees, the oranges beacon-bright dots amongst the deep green glossy leaves, and beyond that, open, dusty fields of pale straw.
Relaxing into her seat, she watched a pair of unfamiliar but striking birds, each with a pinkish-brown body, black-and-white striped wings and rakish pointed heads.
She was so absorbed in their fussy antics as they pecked sedately at the nearby lush green lawn that she didn’t notice the man approaching until he pulled out the chair opposite.
She looked over, startled by the grate of wood on stone.
‘Hoopoes,’ he said, following her gaze. ‘Funny little things. They always make me smile.’
‘They are sweet,’ said Rebecca, recognising Felipe from the pool. His friendly grin immediately made her feel more positive about her decision to come here. She was going to make lots of new friends this summer. Make the most of what could be a brilliant trip. ‘Hello again.’
‘Do you mind?’ he asked, indicating the chair.
She shook her head. Mind? Not at all. All dried off, he was even more gorgeous than he had been in the pool. ‘Although I do have a meeting in twenty minutes with the spa manager, my boss.’
She glanced at him, awareness suddenly dawning. ‘You’re not my boss, are you?’
That would be such a shame.
He paused and then shook his head. ‘I’m not the spa manager. And don’t worry about her. She’s a pussy cat, really.’ His eyes twinkled at her and she was surprised at the punch of relief she felt. Not her boss. Not off limits.
‘I wasn’t worried until you said that,’ said Rebecca, laughing.
Antonio came out through the row of French windows bordering the restaurant, carrying a large jug of orange juice in one hand and rather impressively balancing a big round tray in the other.
He nodded at Felipe with a warm smile. ‘Morning. Coffee? Breakfast?’
‘Hi, Antonio. Can I take a fresh coffee? No breakfast, thank you. I already ate far too many of Ana’s pastries.’
Rebecca noted the quick interchange and decided that Felipe must be a guest. Looking at the array of fresh fruit, pastries, ham and cheese, along with several types of bread in a separate basket and a little dish of what looked like home-made jam, her mouth watered and she wasn’t sure where to start.
‘Thank you, this looks like an amazing breakfast.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Antonio. ‘Orange juice?’
‘People travel for kilometres to come for breakfast,’ said Felipe. ‘Quinto do Mar is known for it.’
In response to her nod, the waiter poured the almost neon orange liquid into her glass and stepped back, waiting as she took a sip, almost like a sommelier.
‘Oh wow!’ she said, as the zing of citrus hit her tongue. He nodded with satisfaction as if his job here was done, and then retreated back to the restaurant.
‘I think that’s the best orange juice I’ve ever tasted.’
‘Of course it is,’ said Felipe, with one of those quick smiles she was already coming to associate with him. She liked his refreshing self-assurance. Confident rather than cocky. ‘The oranges were picked this morning and freshly squeezed.’
‘Really?’ She lifted an eyebrow.
‘Cross my heart. It’s made every day.’ His sincerity was rather endearing, especially the way that he crossed his hands over his chest to support the claim.
She eyed the plate filled with delicate slices of kiwi fruit, slivers of melon and a handful of tiny strawberries, before her eyes moved on to the selection of three pastries adjacent to several slices of cured ham and pale, creamy squares of cheese.
‘And the strawberries…’ He leaned over and helped himself to one. ‘The best you’ll ever taste and also fresh from the garden today.’ He popped it into his mouth, his dark, whisky eyes dancing with devilment. ‘Mmm, delicious.’ He beamed at her.
A tiny spurt of red juice leaked out of his mouth and she found her eyes drawn to it.
‘You’ve erm…’ She pointed to his lips and watched as he dabbed at them and then licked his finger, his eyes on hers the whole time. It could have been cheesy and a bit ick, except his eyes danced with mischief the whole time.
He stole another one.
‘Oy,’ she said, laughing in spite of herself, amused by his easy charm. She slapped his hand as he leaned over, clearly intent on stealing a third. ‘Keep your mitts off!’
He withdrew his hand, pretending to nurse it against his chest. ‘You’re fast on the draw.’
‘Ha!’ she crowed. ‘I have two permanently hungry brothers. I know how to be protective of my food.’ She’d learned quickly because her parents believed growing boys needed to eat– even at Rebecca’s expense.
She jokingly put her arms around her plate.
‘They’re really good. You should try one.’ He nodded down at the plate.
‘Mmm, it would be nice to find out for myself, but you keep pinching them.’
‘Snooze you lose,’ he said, in very good English.
She rolled her eyes and selected one, lifting it to her mouth. Within a heartbeat, she was suddenly very aware of his direct gaze. Aware of him watching her.
A thrill whispered through her.
She lifted her chin and looked back at him as she bit into the strawberry.
‘Ooh!’ A squeal escaped with the instant hit of pleasure, her eyes widening as the burst of juicy sweetness overran her tongue and lit up her senses.
He gave her a slow, approving smile. She blushed.
‘Looks like you enjoyed that.’ The low timbre of his voice set off a response deep in her belly.
‘I did,’ she said, lifting her chin again, trying to ignore the fizz running through her body and the fear that she’d definitely pulled a sex face. Could you equate eating strawberries with orgasms? It was the closest she’d been to one for a while.
‘We grow them right there. They’re picked every morning.’
‘We?’ asked Rebecca, realising she’d been very slow. Felipe nodded. ‘You’re one of the family?’
‘Yes, you met my mother, Maria, last night and my cousins. This farm has been in my family for many generations.’ Although there was a flicker of pride in his eyes, there was also something else, which Rebecca couldn’t quite put her finger on but at some instinctual level recognised as a sense of kinship.
‘Family business,’ she said, wondering what it was Felipe did.
Probably not a lot. He was obviously a charmer and, like her brothers, probably took the family business and its ongoing success for granted.
A bit like her father, who’d inherited the brewery from his father and brother but wasn’t interested enough to drive the business forward.
Luckily, he’d also inherited good, loyal staff who cared enough about the brewery to ensure that it ticked over, but it could be so much more.
‘Yes,’ said Felipe with a carefree wave at the land around them.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever had such fresh or sweet strawberries.’
‘I’d be happy to take you strawberry picking any time you like.’
‘Would you?’ she asked, responding to his flirty smile.
‘ Bom dia , you must be Rebecca.’ A shadow loomed over them and Rebecca looked up to find a very tall woman with long, dark hair and a piercing stare standing there. ‘I hope Felipe isn’t bothering you.’ She gave him a withering stare. ‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’
He sighed heavily, his bright eyes still full of fun despite her chiding tone.
‘Duty calls. I’ll see you later, Rebecca. Perhaps for a repeat match in the pool?’ His eyes focused on hers once again and she felt that silly roll of her heart. He was a charmer, that was for sure, but there was also something else about him too. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
‘Maybe I’ll give you a head start this time,’ she replied with a quick smirk.
He rose, saluted both women and wandered off in the direction of the garden.
Inês rolled her eyes and watched him leave as she sat down in the seat he’d just vacated.
‘Whatever you do, don’t take him seriously.’ Her mouth crimped in a disapproving line. ‘It’s about time he settled down. His pai would not have been impressed. He should be married by now.’
Rebecca nodded, feeling that Felipe was definitely not the sort to be married by now.
He seemed to be more interested in having fun, and it was infectious.
He clearly knew how to have a good time, which made him even more attractive because he was everything Will wasn’t– light-hearted, irreverent and he would never be interested in anything permanent.
Just the thing to take her mind off her heartache. Just the thing to help her forget Will.