Cupcakes At Carrington's Part 15

Swinging my legs down onto the floor, I get up and go over to my suitcase and grab my toiletry bag. I push the bathroom door open and the lights come on automatically. I spot the hospitality box hidden behind a brochure advertising a variety of special Valentine-themed getaways. It's black lacquered wood and crammed full of goodies. The special monogrammed toiletries smell divine, fruity like peaches and cream with a twist of citrus. There's even a plastic case of a.s.sorted nail enamels that would look great on my dressing table at home. I wonder if anyone would notice if they disappeared into my suitcase. At the very bottom, discreetly placed under a packet of strong mints, is a box of extra-pleasure condoms. Hmm, I won't be needing those. My throat tightens and the sadness over James returns.

I wander back out of the bathroom and scan the room. There's an impressive minibar stocked with chocolate, various different nut selections and every alcoholic beverage one could desire. The sight of three red mini-tubes of Pringles makes me weaken and I lift out a tub and peel back the silver foil. Savouring the taste, I walk over to the other side of the room. There's a huge wardrobe almost covering the length of one wall. I pull open the doors with my free hand, one, two, three ... they're all the same. Rows of wooden hangers mingled in with a few pastel-pink satin-covered soft ones. There's an ironing board and a few spare blankets. I grab at the fourth door. It's another bedroom. Of course, the adjoining room. James must have forgotten to cancel it.

I can't resist having a peek inside and, seeing as the others are all over in the main part of the hotel, I decide to risk it. The room is a mirror image of mine, only with a different colour scheme, emerald green and chocolate brown. I tiptoe over to the bed and gaze down at it, thinking of what might have been if James was here. After peeping over my shoulder towards the door to check n.o.body is coming, I sit down. I pop another Pringle into my mouth and swing my legs over until I'm lying down. I gaze up at the ceiling; the crunching noise in my ears is deafening against the silence of the room. I close my eyes and let my mind drift off for a second, wishing our friendship wasn't ruined.

'What are you doing?' My eyes snap open with panic, and the Pringles cascade down onto the floor as I throw myself up into a standing position.

'Jesus, you scared the living daylights out of me,' I screech.

I'm standing by the side of the bed in my oldest, greyest bra, which many years ago used to be white, and my extra-comfortable-for-travelling, big red-and-white cow-print knickers that have the words 'Cheeky Cow' emblazoned across the back. Tom is standing right in front of me.

I clutch the Pringles tube to my chest like a miniature comfort blanket. My heart is pounding and panic is swirling through me like a baby tsunami.

'I didn't mean to startle you,' he replies, managing to look amused and concerned all at the same time. I open my mouth but the words won't come out. I have to get back to my room. I drop the Pringles tube and leg it as fast as I can, slamming the adjoining door behind me.

Back in my room, and I'm trembling all over with the shock and shame of the too-close encounter. I pull off the manky underwear and ram it into the rubbish bin before flinging open the door to the minibar and grabbing two Jack Daniel's miniatures. I run into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Feeling mortified, I guzzle one whiskey after the other, fling an enormous white fluffy towel around my body and punch out Sam's number.

'What's the matter?' In between hiccups I describe the moment of horror to her. 'OH MY G.o.d. OH MY ACTUAL G.o.d ...' She keeps shrieking it over and over. 'He's there. How exciting ... well, he'll certainly take your mind off James,' she giggles. 'Sorry, I don't mean to laugh, but look, keep calm, it's not that bad.'

Not that bad? It's a total embarra.s.sment, off the scale even by my standards.

'It's horrendous,' I manage to say, dramatically, before letting out another ricochet of hiccups. I put my phone down beside the bath and, pinching my nose, I hold my breath for a count of five in a desperate attempt to steady my breathing.

'Are you still there?' Sam's voice trills out from the phone. I pick it back up.

'Yes, just trying to clear these b.l.o.o.d.y hiccups.' I hiccup again.

'Oh dear, it must be bad,' Sam giggles, remembering how this happened at school whenever I got totally overwhelmed.

'b.l.o.o.d.y right it is. I have to spend the whole night here with him in the next room thinking I'm some kind of lunatic stalker woman with a fetish for themed knickers,' I say, and burst into a fit of nervous laughter, punctuated by more hiccups. Sam is laughing too, and for a moment neither of us can talk. I can't believe I've made such a show of myself in front of him yet again. 'Oh G.o.d,' I groan, as fresh waves of mortification wash over me.

Sam is the first to recover.

'Right! Fetish woman, get yourself together, and if Tom says anything about, the ... err, encounter,' she pauses momentarily to have another chuckle, 'then, like I always tell you, just laugh it off.'

'Laugh it off?' I say, incredulously. 'Oh Tom, I just love prancing around in other people's bedrooms in my manky underwear, it's such a hoot.' We both chortle again, with me venturing into hysteria territory.

'Well, you could always pretend you don't know anything about it. Like you were sleepwalking or something.' There's a short silence. 'I know! Tell him you have narcolepsy.' We both crack up laughing again.

'But I was still in his b.l.o.o.d.y bedroom and I shouted at him for startling me, so that's not going to work, is it?'

'Well, just brave it out. But don't whatever you do apologise. He probably couldn't believe his luck in any case.'

'Now you're being ridiculous. He's probably on the phone to Maxine right now, telling her what an idiot I am, and to bin me as soon as she's got enough sales commission out of me.'

'Hardly. Stop being so paranoid.'

'I can't. Ever since she turned up, my nerves have been all over the place.' I let out a feeble laugh.

'Well, you deserve a bit of fun then ... and it was only a couple of dates with James. And I have to say that he wasn't exactly slow in condemning you, was he?' I mull over what she's said, and I know that she has a point. I'm just not sure I'm quite ready to hear it.

'Oh, I don't know, part of me thinks that James just needs more time, he's bound to be suspicious and unwilling to trust after what he's been through with his wife cheating, but Tom ... well, he's sooo hot, but he's s.h.a.gging Maxine.' I pause to fantasise about him for a bit, he really is gorgeous. 'But whenever he and I are alone there's a spark ... something. I don't know what the game is.' There's a silence while I try and work it out. 'Listen to me, like I even stand a chance with him,' I say, rapidly coming to my senses. 'Anyway, it doesn't say much about my loyalty if I just turn my attentions to Tom now.'

'But you don't owe James anything, and so what if Maxine and Tom have got some stupid game going on? Personally I don't think so. No, I think you're letting your paranoia get the better of you. You fancy the pants off him, so just go for it. Grab him with both hands ... one on each b.u.m cheek,' she urges. 'You never know, he could be your Valentine date, imagine that?' And for a brief moment I try, but the thought is just so ridiculous I can't even seem to get an image of it in my head.

'Have you finally gone mad?' I laugh, trying to change the subject.

'Well, think about it at least. Anyway, how do you know he's s.h.a.gging Maxine? I'll ask Nathan.' And before I can shout 'NOOO!' I hear her m.u.f.fled voice quizzing him. My insides churn what if it gets back to Tom that I've been asking about him? The shame of it. 'Right, Nathan says that as far as he knows he's not a player. A true gentleman, apparently. But then he only knows him from the club ... but he agrees with me, and I say just go for it.'

'Stop it. I can't believe we're even having this conversation,' I say, wishing I'd never mentioned it.

'Remember what I said about James, and I was right then, wasn't I?'

'Yes. But that was totally different. He was happily married, or so I thought, and besides he asked me out. And we've been friends for ages.'

'OK. So next time you're alone with Tom ... well, just try flirting a bit.' There's a scratchy sound, as if Sam has dropped the phone, but then I hear her telling Nathan that it's 'girls' talk'. 'Sorry about that, I don't want him hearing my seduction secrets,' she laughs.

'So are you having a good weekend?' I ask, keen to change the subject.

'Faab-u-lous.' I hear Sam squealing, followed by a squelchy sound that I guess to be Nathan's lips. 'Georgie, I have to go. But try to have fun. And remember ... one on each cheek!'

The line goes dead. For a few minutes I ponder on everything Sam said. The idea is ludicrous. But perhaps I am just being paranoid even Eddie seems to think so. I allow myself a moment to indulge in fantasising about Tom, before dragging myself back to reality. He's probably in his room right now, laughing his head off.

25.

The hotel lounge is deserted when I eventually make it back down, but then I am half an hour late.

'Can you tell me which way the pier is, please?' I ask a pa.s.sing uniformed girl, figuring it won't be too hard to catch up with the others, given the size of the group.

'Sure, I'll show you on a tourist map. We have some behind the reception desk.'

'Thanks,' I say, wondering if anyone would notice if I sloped off home instead. It's a miserable day outside. All grey sky with bruised-looking clouds.

'It's OK. I know the way.' It's Tom, and he must be standing right behind me. My face freezes, and then panic swirls through me. Blooming typical. I brace myself, waiting for him to say something about earlier, desperately willing my cheeks to stop burning. I swallow hard and remember Sam's advice to brave it out before turning around. But it's no use ... the minute I see his gorgeous smiling face, I crumble.

'What are you doing here?' I ask, nerves making me sound ridiculously shrill. I cringe. His name definitely wasn't down on the list. Looking taken aback, he hesitates before answering.

'I thought I'd wait for you. You don't mind do you?'

'No, no, I ... I guess not.'

'Great.' He smiles. 'Let's make our way over to the crazy golf then. The others were heading there first,' he says, cheerfully, gesturing for me to lead the way. I force my legs into action and head over towards the exit, willing my cheeks to stop burning. I'm speechless, and his coolness throws me. It's as if my utterly embarra.s.sing performance in his bedroom never happened.

We make it to the promenade and manage to find the crazy golf, but the others aren't there.

'You OK?' Tom asks.

'Sure, why wouldn't I be?'

'No reason. You're very quiet, that's all. You barely said a word on the way here.'

'Well, you walk very fast,' I say, trying not to gasp as I rest my elbow on a nearby wall. It was all I could do to keep up with him, let alone hold a coherent conversation too. Besides, I'm not entirely convinced I want to talk to him, if he's in cahoots with Maxine.

'Oh, you should have said. Sorry,' he says, obliviously.

'Never mind. Look, they're obviously not here, let's go,' I say, turning to leave.

'Ahh. But it would be a shame not to have a game at least,' he says, smiling and making a pleading face.

'Are you kidding? It looks like it's about to pour down,' I say, peering up at the thunderous black clouds.

'No. Come on, it'll be a laugh,' he gestures with his head towards the ticket booth. I hesitate. 'I love crazy golf,' he grins again and my guard subsides.

'Take one of the buggies love ... if you're worried about getting wet,' the tattooed guy on the booth hollers out to us, pointing to a queue of miniature buggies. I frown, seriously wondering if we'll both actually fit on the minuscule seat. It would be just my luck to get wedged in and end up making an idiot of myself in front of Tom again.

'Go on! Live a little. My treat. I'll sort out the clubs and b.a.l.l.s,' Tom adds, eagerly, already walking towards the ticket booth. I nod. So Nathan was right, he is the perfect gentleman. But then I remember how cosy he was with Maxine in the corridor that time. This is probably all part of their game. Well, they're not going to catch me out. Oh no no no.

'So, have you played golf before?' Tom asks. He locks his dark brown eyes onto mine as I turn to face him. My resolve from earlier floats away. He looks incredible. He smells incredible. Vanilla and chocolate. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to stop my body from tingling all over with desire for him.

'Well, a little. My dad used to show me,' I say, trying to sound normal in spite of my pounding heart. 'He was a great player,' I then add, biting my lip at the sudden bittersweet memory.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Has he pa.s.sed away?' he asks, gently.

'Oh no, nothing like that.' I shake my head. 'We, err ... just don't see much of each other any more,' I finish, wishing there was more room in the buggy. His thigh is pressed against mine, and the intensity of his touch feels like a furnace scalding through the fabric of my trousers.

'I'm sorry,' he says, looking as though he genuinely cares as I remember the happy times with Dad. Once again I reflect that, with everything that's happened recently, I've seen a glimpse of what it might have really been like for him all those years ago. I reiterate my promise to myself to call him when I get back.

We arrive at the first tee, and Tom leaps out of the buggy and hands me a club.

'Thanks, but I'm left-handed, so this won't be any good. I'll just watch.' Ha! I feel pleased with myself for managing to call his bluff.

'I know you are,' Tom says smoothly. 'But it's a double-sided club. I checked with the guy on the ticket booth.' Hmmm. He looks taken aback, and I instantly feel embarra.s.sed by how curt I'm being with him, and secretly flattered that he noticed I was left-handed. He hands me the club, followed by a bag of b.a.l.l.s, before heading off. I follow along behind him, studying how his perfectly cut jeans fit nicely around his impressively taut bottom. I remember Sam's b.u.m-cheek comment, and grin.

'Are you sure you're OK?' Tom asks as I arrive next to him.

'Yes, yes I'm fine,' I reply, trying to get my l.u.s.t under control and keeping my head down as I pretend to be engrossed in the red, white and blue painted wooden windmill at the first hole.

'After you,' he says, placing the ball down at my feet. I take a few steps back and get myself into position, even indulging in a few practice swings. He's standing right next to me now, distracting me with his delicious scent. I take a moment to try and garner some concentration before swinging the club, but I lose my grip and end up narrowly missing his groin when the club flies out of my hands.

'Whoa! Easy tiger.' Tom laughs.

'Oh my G.o.d, I'm so sorry,' I say, trying to keep a straight face as he cowers down pretending to be petrified. And for a moment I see the face of a much younger man. It's as if his cool exterior has thawed to reveal a very sweet boy, and it's so appealing. He picks up the club and, handing it to me, he says, 'I could give you a quick lesson before we start.' He looks so eager and enthusiastic.

'Um,' is all I can manage as he dashes around behind me and, with his arms either side of my body, he gently, but very firmly, positions my hands into place around the club.

'OK. Now align your thumbs gently down the shaft,' he instructs, completely oblivious to the effect he's having on me. I can feel his warm body pressed against me and then he bends his knees into the back of mine and carefully thrusts them forward a few times to simulate a relaxed pose for the perfect swing. My heart is racing and an exquisite sensation between my thighs makes them tingle with longing. 'There, that should work better ... remember to keep your body relaxed.' Oh sweet Jesus! I just about manage to nod my head. The silence lingers, apart from the sound of my pounding heart and his breath against the back of my neck. And then a buggy comes into view and the moment vanishes.

'Thought I might find you here. Not interrupting anything, am I?' It's Eddie, and he has a wicked glint in his eye as his buggy performs a spectacular swerve before stopping alongside us. He flashes me a naughty look and Tom springs away from me. I quickly turn and glance at his face. He looks nervous, bashful even. Eddie lets out a stagey cough, winks and smiles at me before mouthing 'lucky cow' when Tom isn't looking.

'Catch you later. Just came to see if you were OK, but I can see you're doing fine. The others are in the karaoke bar when you're ready.' And he whizzes away on his buggy. I smile at Tom and he smiles back, looking more a.s.sured now.

'I'm ready when you are,' he says, staring straight into my eyes as if he's trying to tell me something more. Pondering on the innuendo, I open my mouth to respond, but an ear-splitting clap of thunder beats me to it and rain lashes down upon us. We fling ourselves inside the buggy and Tom speeds off, yanking the plastic weather shields down around us.

'That was close you're not too wet, are you?' he asks, turning his drenched face towards mine. Blimey, if only he knew. His shirt is clinging to his hard body, making him look even more spectacular. But before I can answer, the buggy hits a rock on the pathway and throws us sideways. Tom quickly leans into me, deftly manoeuvring the steering wheel to keep us from toppling over. 'Oops, I'm so sorry, I didn't hurt you, did I?'

'No, I'm fine,' I tell him, but I can feel something poking into my thigh. I look down. It's a striped notebook.

'Oh, it must have fallen out of my pocket,' he says, tentatively. I hand it to him. 'Thanks, it ... helps me to relax,' he explains.

'What is it?' I ask without thinking, and my cheeks blush. 'I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to pry,' I add, quickly.

'Just a few sketches,' he says, glancing away.

'Sketches? As in drawing?' I say, before mentally kicking myself for stating the obvious and sounding like an utter plum.

'Yes,' he laughs, looking more relaxed now, 'as in drawing.'

'Cool,' I say, thinking what a s.e.xy hobby, and what a dark horse he is. 'Do you mind if I take a look?' I ask, holding the notebook up.

'OK ... but don't tell anyone, it can be our secret,' he jokes, and then grins at me. His shoulders are relaxed and he looks different somehow younger, and less 'work like'.

'I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.' I give him an exaggerated wink before pulling a very serious face. He shakes his head with laughter.

'You're so funny,' he says. I frown. 'In a lovely way,' he quickly adds, making my tummy flip over and over. I flick through the pages. They're filled with pencil line drawings of animals and various European city landmarks. I pause on a magnificent one of a Venice waterway.

'Wow, these are really good.' I turn to look at him. He looks uncertain, his eyes seeking out my approval almost, and seeing this side of him feels so nice, as though I've been let in on a secret. My tummy performs a big somersault. Our eyes lock, the rain beats against the buggy, making the moment feel really intimate. But then I remember James, and Maxine, and that I need to keep my wits about me. I quickly pull myself back to reality.

'Thank you,' Tom says, and carries on driving.

We make it to the karaoke bar and Melissa comes dashing towards us.

'Where have you two been?' she shouts over the music, looking at me with a smirk on her face, and then at Tom.

'Playing crazy golf,' I yell defensively and far too quickly, as I scan the bar looking to see if Eddie is here.

'Well, you're just in time, get your laughing gear around these.' She hands us each a shot gla.s.s full of fluorescent green liquid. 'When Bonnie Tyler up there has finished banging on about needing a hero, there's a treat for Ciaran.' She rolls her eyes towards the little stage at the end of the room where Suzanne is revving up for the last chorus she's got a pink crystal-encrusted microphone in one hand and a large c.o.c.ktail with about three paper umbrellas, a plastic giraffe and a bunch of cherries on the side of the ma.s.sive gla.s.s in the other. She sn.i.g.g.e.rs.