Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
DANNY
Danny couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken with a hangover.
As the pain pounded through his skull and the light hurt his eyes, he remembered why he avoided over-drinking.
It was self-torture. It took a while to focus on his surroundings, and even longer to recall how he’d ended up in a hotel room with Elena Romero.
She was nowhere to be seen, only the sight of her flapper dress hanging on the back of the wardrobe door provided evidence she’d even been there.
Maybe she’d already left? He couldn’t blame her.
He couldn’t remember much about the previous night, but the fleeting snapshots he could remember were enough to make him cringe.
Had he really danced the Charleston? Fed Elena chocolate covered marshmallows?
And crawled around on his hands and knees looking for her earring when he’d dislodged it trying to wrap a feather boa around her neck?
It would be a blessing if she had left. It would save him a lot of embarrassment.
And then he heard singing coming from the bathroom and the sound of running water. His torture wasn’t over.
Pushing himself against the large headboard, his shoved away countless pillows and rubbed his eyes. He wore nothing but boxers. His clothes were neatly hung up and his shoes were tucked under the dresser, perfectly parallel, as if on their best behaviour.
If he’d been the one responsible for removing his clothes they’d be lying in a heap somewhere, so he must have had help. He vaguely remembered them laughing and falling onto the bed when she’d tried to remove his shoes. It was a blank after that. Had anything happened? Had he been inappropriate?
The shower cut off, and a few minutes later Elena appeared in the doorway wearing one of the hotel’s plush robes, her hair wrapped in a towel.
‘Morning,’ she said, looking fresh-faced as she searched in her bag, no hint of a hangover. ‘Sleep well?’
‘I guess I must have done.’ If nothing else, the excessive alcohol had knocked him out for a few hours, that was something. ‘Did I snore?’
She laughed. ‘No, but you did mumble a lot. It was quite enlightening.’
He pulled the covers higher, covering his bare chest. ‘What did I say?’
She rubbed face cream into her cheeks. ‘I have a nice smile, apparently, and pretty eyes, but my perfume makes your nose itch.’
His forehead scrunched into a frown. ‘Sorry.’
She smoothed the cream down her neck, her red nails stark against her white robe. ‘Why? For the most part you were flattering.’
He watched her unwrap the towel and rub her hair. ‘I didn’t … you know, do anything I shouldn’t have? We didn’t …?’
She paused rubbing, angling her head to look at him. ‘You don’t remember?’
He felt his cheeks heat.
‘How to bruise a woman’s ego … And I thought you enjoyed it.
’ She slumped onto the bed, making the mattress bounce.
‘I mean, you sounded like you enjoyed it, the people in the next room had to bang on the walls you were so loud. You said the earth moved. So for you not to remember is quite crushing.’ Her hand lay flat on her chest, the robe gaping a little at the front.
His eyes dipped to her chest, he couldn’t help it. ‘You’re teasing me, right?’
She threw a pillow at him. ‘Of course I’m teasing.
As if anything happened,’ she said, with such an exaggerated eye-roll he couldn’t work out whether he should be offended.
‘I’ve ordered a breakfast tray and swimming shorts.
Did you know they sell Rolex watches and cashmere loungewear in the hotel shop?
I stuck with the basics as it’s going on Hugh’s account, I didn’t want to take advantage.
’ She climbed off the bed and combed her hair.
‘I can’t face food.’ His stomach lurched. ‘And why have you bought swim shorts?’
‘The food is for me. The strong coffee and swim shorts are for you.’
When someone knocked on the door, she bounced off the bed to open it and beckoned the waiter inside, stepping out the way of his trolley.
‘Morning,’ she said, her sing-song voice making Danny’s head pound.
‘Good morning, madam.’ The young man’s tone was dutifully subservient. ‘Would madam like me to serve?’
‘We’re good, thanks.’ Tipping him, she closed the door and chucked a paper bag onto the bed. ‘I’m guessing that’s your swimwear.’
‘Again, why do I need swimwear? I’m going straight home.’
‘No, you’re not.’ She poured him a coffee.
He lifted his eyebrows. ‘Excuse me?’
She came over to the bed and handed him a delicate bone China cup. ‘You passed part one of your therapy session by loosening up last night, but that was down to the alcohol. Today’s challenge requires you to relax while sober.’
He sipped his coffee—it was good stuff. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘The room’s booked all day.’ She headed over to the trolley.
‘We have complimentary access to the hotel’s facilities.
If you think I’m missing out on a spa day, think again.
They have a range of treatments on offer.
I don’t expect you to indulge in anything too intrusive, but reflexology will do you the world of good, plus they have an outside jacuzzi.
’ She took a bite of croissant, spilling crumbs down the gape in her robe.
He stilled, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. ‘I’m not doing a spa day with you.’
‘Why not? It’s Saturday, do you have other plans?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then no reason to refuse.’ She poured a glass of juice. ‘I guarantee this will help you relax, why would you turn that down?’
If his brain wasn’t soaked in alcohol he might be able to think up a valid reason. ‘It’s not my thing.’
She tilted her head. ‘Have you ever had a spa day?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then how do you know you won’t like it?’ Her hand went to her hip. ‘As your physio, I’m recommending it. Plus, if you say no, I’ll leave, and you’ll be left to negotiate the lift on your own. And we’re several floors up, so you can’t use the staircase either.’
He could tell by the smug look on her face that she knew she’d won. ‘That’s blackmail.’
She took another bite of croissant. ‘I’m clever like that. So, are we going to the spa?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘No, but let’s pretend you do. More coffee?’
‘I’m good, thanks.’ He watched her devour the rest of the croissant, resisting the urge to wipe a flake of pastry from her lower lip.
He wasn’t sure what was happening between them, but the idea of spending more time with her didn’t scare him as much as it should.
The fact that he wasn’t scared was terrifying.
He reached for his phone and messaged Connor to say he’d be home late.
Connor’s one-word reply almost made him choke on his coffee. Date?
Danny typed a reply. Therapy session.
Connor shot back a reply. With Elena? A series of emojis followed, including hearts, crossed fingers, and a couple kissing. Lucky you.
Not lucky, she scares me.
Feel the fear and do it anyway. Another message followed straight after. Have fun. Don’t be shy. Use precaution.
Danny replied. Not funny.
He glanced up and realised Elena was watching him.
‘Everything okay?’ she asked, tilting her head.
‘I was letting Connor know I’d be late home.’
‘Did he tease you about being on a date?’
The shock nearly made him spill his coffee. ‘How did you know that?’
She perched on the corner of the bed. ‘You told me about your dating pact last night.’
He placed the coffee cup on the bedside stand. ‘I did?’
‘You don’t remember?’
He rubbed his forehead, trying to think. Did she have to sit so close? Knowing she was likely naked underneath the robe was distracting enough, he didn’t need the temptation of her soft skin and floral scent dangled in his face. ‘I’m wondering what else I said now.’
She wiped a drip from the edge of the juice glass. ‘You told me about getting trapped inside a lift, and how you feared for Connor’s safety.’
He pushed the covers away, suddenly hot. ‘I … I shouldn’t have told you that.’
‘And yet you did, which means it’s still an issue for you. Unresolved trauma, as they say.’
‘You sound like Hugh.’ He pushed out of bed, needing some space and feeling slightly nauseous as his head spun faster than last night’s roulette wheel. He made a hasty exit from the bedroom.
The bathroom was huge and shiny and an assault on his eyes.
Stripping off his shorts, he stepped into the shower and let the hot water punish him for his loss of control.
Spilling his secrets was not the best way to support Connor.
For some reason he kept opening up to Elena and talking about stuff he shouldn’t: private stuff, stuff better kept to himself.
But was it? He couldn’t deny he felt lighter afterwards, less taut around his temples. Maybe Hugh had a point and talking about his vulnerabilities made them less disabling.
Rubbing his hair dry, he jolted when the paper bag containing his new swimwear smacked against his back. ‘You’ll need these!’ Elena called from the bedroom, not actually entering the bathroom, thankfully.
He pulled on the new designer swim shorts and one of the hotel’s swish robes, sliding his feet into a pair of disposable white slippers.
As he glanced in the mirror, he almost didn’t recognise himself.
Downing three glasses of water, he cleaned his teeth before re-joining Elena in the bedroom. ‘I look stupid.’
‘You’d look more stupid visiting a spa in your suit. Once you’re there and relaxing you won’t care what you’re wearing, believe me. Ready to go?’
‘What floor is the spa on? I only want to use the elevator once.’
‘Fair enough.’ She unhooked her dress from its hanger, making her robe gape further as she reached up. ‘We’ll take our stuff down with us and store it in the lockers. That way, you can leave afterwards without retuning to the room. Okay?’
Her expression was so kind he felt an instant tightness in his throat. ‘Thank you.’
She folded her dress. ‘What for?’
‘For putting up with me. I’m being difficult.’