Honeymoon With A Stranger - Chapter Two

Anna sprawled sideways across the full width of the huge bed as if it were made for one, trying to block the fact that Johnny wasn’t lying next to her. And wouldn’t be lying next to her ever again.

They’d been together since she was fifteen.

He’d taught himself Beatles songs on the guitar and dreamed of being famous one day. She’d dreamed of having a home and family. And both goals had seemed perfectly realistic until his dream came true and suddenly normal just didn’t seem to fit anymore. She stared up at the voile-draped canopy. Just the lack of his physical presence was going to take some getting used to, never mind the years of shared experiences, shared history cut off sharply as if with a knife.

His voice on the phone filled her mind. ‘I tried to tell you it wasn’t working…I wasn’t happy…You bury your head in the sand, Anna, that isn’t the same as making it work.’

She would not let him pass the buck. He was the one in the wrong here, not her. He was the unfaithful one. All she’d ever done was pour her heart and soul into their relationship, what was so wrong about that? Her parents had thrown the towel in on their marriage when she was just a kid and she’d been determined not to repeat their mistakes.

No, she refused to be beaten by this. Having the whole bed to herself would be wonderful. No more putting up with his snoring when he’d had a few beers. No more picking up his socks. And come to think of it she’d never liked the way he grew his fingernails. OK it was great for the guitar but a girl shouldn’t have to compete with her fiancé on fingernail length for Pete’s sake.

Her mobile phone buzzed suddenly on the nightstand, making her jump.

Johnny’s transferred the money!

She grabbed the phone. Her shoulders sagged.

Her mother.

***

Jack stared in exasperation at the blank computer screen. How did she do this? It was almost as if she had a gift.

Marie pushed her glasses up on her nose with a forefinger and peered through them at the screen. The lobby was empty, the guests making the most of the late afternoon sunshine.

‘Stupid machine,’ she said. ‘Can’t imagine what’s wrong with it this time.’

‘It was OK ten minutes ago,’ he said through gritted teeth. All he’d done was ask her to pull up the outstanding bookings and within seconds the whole lot had disappeared.

‘It’ll be all right in a minute.’ She jabbed a couple of random buttons.

He crushed the urge to snap at her. Her loyalty meant more to him than her IT skills.

She gave a sudden triumphant squeal. ‘There! That did it! Now, what did I do…’

Rows of figures miraculously reappeared and his exasperation evaporated. He pulled up Anna Clark’s booking details and rechecked the payment information.

‘Same name as that reality show chap,’ Marie remarked, glancing at the screen over his shoulder.

‘Reality show?’

‘Mmmm…’ She was sifting through a pile of papers. ‘That TV show back home. The Next Big Thing.’

Marie was a bit of a slave to satellite television.

He gave her no sign that he was even listening. He stood next to her at the desk for the next ten minutes until he’d checked through every single booking. Because he had absolutely no special interest in Anna Clark beyond the two thousand Euros she owed him.

And when he Googled Johnny Tornado in the quiet of his office half an hour later it was purely to check address details and definitely not to find out why Anna had turned up here alone and broke.

He ran a distracted hand through his hair and stared in disbelief at the search results, the top one of which was only hours old. A gossip website.

The years fell away. His own headline flashed back to him. ‘Jack Sutherland named in World Cup Betting Ring’. The fury he’d felt as people he’d known and trusted looked at him with the unspoken question in their eyes. Guilty or innocent? His answer was never good enough. They saw what they wanted to see. The truth just didn’t make for the best gossip.

He grabbed his car keys. A drive would clear his head.

***

‘I’ve got hardly any money and I’ll be thrown out of here tomorrow. I don’t suppose there’s any chance that the fuss has blown over?’

Anna found she was unable keep hope out of her voice. Maybe if things had gone quiet she could go back home.

‘Not since Johnny’s on the front of Gossip! today with that busty blonde.’

Hope plummeted.

‘Next Big Thing winner Johnny Tornado and lingerie model Viveca Holt declare their love for each other in their new luxury flat,’ her mother read aloud. She was known for her blunt talking but this was a new high point in insensitivity, even for her.

A wave of angry nausea rose in Anna’s throat and she gulped down the glass of water from the nightstand to fight it off.

‘I regret the pain I caused Anna but this is true love…’

She gasped. ‘For Pete’s sake Mum, will you quit it before I throw up!’

‘Anyway, when that hit the shelves the press started calling again asking where you are, wanting you to comment. Oh, and the temp agency called. You know the accountants wanted to rebook you after you finished your honeymoon? Well that’s off. They don’t want the fuss.’

Terrific. So now I’m unemployed. Could things be any worse?

She pulled herself up from the bed and went to the window. It would be dark soon, the end of a beautiful day. It had been crisp and sunny and perfect, the only thing that had lifted her spirits. Checking and rechecking her bank balance and credit card limits was completely pointless. Johnny hadn’t deposited so much as a penny anywhere that she had access to. She pressed her hot forehead against the cool glass.

‘There is a way of getting even, you know,’ her mother was saying.

Anna dragged her attention back to the phone.

‘Gossip! want to print your side of the story. It’s the perfect solution. You get a makeover and they make him sound like a rat. It’s your chance to tell it like it is and walk away with a fat pay-packet. I suggested a photo shoot with your family, discussing how we’ve helped you through.’

‘My family? You mean you?’ She managed to suppress a burst of laughter. ‘Mum, I’m not doing some sleazy kiss-and-tell just because you want your hair and make-up done.’

‘But you’ve just got through telling me you don’t have any money or anywhere to stay. What are you going to do, live in a French hedge?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get a job or something.’

That would be easier said than done. The nearest village was miles away and her French was school standard at best. This hotel really was in the middle of nowhere, off the beaten track, which had rather been the point.

Her mother gave an indignant snort. ‘Don’t be so quick to dismiss the magazine offer. With the kind of money they pay you could start over. Just think about it.’

Think about it.

Had there been a moment when she’d done anything else since the gutter press headline had been flashed in front of her by a work colleague. ‘Johnny Tornado Is My Next Big Thing’, with accompanying photo spread.

She closed her eyes. Her initial blinkered denials had been swept away by the sight of it in black and white. Just thinking about it was enough to make her heart race and her breath shorten.

She clenched her fists defiantly. She would not give in to it. She would not let this drag her down. She would damn well enjoy the luxury while it lasted. Because this time tomorrow she really would have nowhere to go.

***

Jack ran his hands over the leather-covered steering wheel of the Maserati and tried to lose himself in the smooth purr of the engine. No good. Uneasiness gnawed at his gut.

He knew perfectly well what the problem was. Denying it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Anna Clark stayed on his mind, her humiliation plastered over the British press for all to see.

Damsels in distress. His Achilles heel. He’d thought he was cured of that weakness when Helen deserted him. When he’d needed her.

He pushed the thought of Helen away. His discovery of Anna’s situation should make no difference. He’d made a bad decision, let her under his radar, but he could rectify that right now. He would park up, find her and chase up the money. Make it clear she was staying here only on his terms, and not on terms she’d imposed on him.

***

Candlelit baths were supposed to be relaxing weren’t they?

Anna had tipped in more than half the complimentary French bath oil before sinking into the water but it didn’t seem to have any effect other than coating her body as if she were about to swim the Channel. Why had she ever thought that coming here would make her feel better? She’d told herself it was a good opportunity to get away, but that wasn’t the only reason. A big part of her had wanted to show Johnny that she didn’t care. That she was fine without him. Pah! Look at me! I don’t even need him on the honeymoon!

But still there was a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach and bravado and strength and I-don’t-care weren’t enough to fill it. She wasn’t sure she could help that, at least not in these surroundings where everything was designed for two. The huge bed, the his-and-hers sinks in the bathroom, the twin crystal flutes next to the ice bucket with the chilled champagne that she didn’t dare open, because without Johnny she had about a hundred Euros left to her name. All of it mocked her.

She’d never imagined that loneliness could be furnished in luxury. Even if Johnny came up with the cash she wasn’t sure she could face staying here now. But where else was there? What else was there? The thought of going home to the media chaos and the pity filled her with dread.

Fighting talk wasn’t easy to keep up when you couldn’t see a way forward.

She climbed out of the bath more stressed than ever. Forcing herself to behave as if she was on some holiday was just ridiculous. She blew out the candles and opened the blind to let the evening sunshine back in. Her mind picked endlessly at the conversation with her mother. New luxury flat? Is that where the honeymoon money had gone? On some love nest for him and his tart? The burning fury at this new betrayal blocked out her surroundings until she was snapped back to reality by the bathroom door of all things. Stuck.

Oh for Pete’s sake.

She yanked irritably at the doorknob. Nothing. She tugged harder, really putting her shoulder into it, and stumbled backwards as the knob came away in her hand. She looked down at it in disbelief.

Amazing the stupid things that tip you over the edge.

My childhood sweetheart has been playing away and his betrayal is plastered all over the press. I can cope. My wedding dream is in tatters and I’m stuck in France with no money. I can cope. My insane mother is negotiating a deal for an at-home photo spread where I thank her for her unwavering support. I think I can still cope. But the bathroom doorknob snapping off in my hand? I’m not sure…I’m just really not sure…

The wave of anger that had been building at the very edge of her consciousness these past few weeks finally broke and swept through her at a million miles an hour. She hurled the useless doorknob into the bathtub and let fly at the door, bashing the hell out of it with both fists and shoving her shoulder against it. Tears flew from her eyes at the sheer effort of it. Then she made the mistake of kicking it with her bare foot and the sudden burst of pain in her toes jolted her back to reality. With a yelp she hopped away from the door.

Exhausted, she sank onto the cold tile floor, calmer and more focused than she had been in days. The bigger picture was swallowed up for a moment by this new ludicrous situation. After all what was the point in worrying about going home when she couldn’t even get out of the bathroom? She glanced around the room but there was nothing small enough to push inside the hole and work the door mechanism. There was no other option. She would just have to shout for help and hope that someone would hear her.

She didn’t like her chances.

The stone walls were solid and it wasn’t as if she had a spouse to miss her. She looked up at the window. That had to be her best shot. It was high up but she was pretty sure she could get close enough to lean out and call for help if she put one foot in each of the his-and-hers sinks.

***

Jack drew the car to a standstill outside the hotel. His mind was clear. Straight back inside and demand the balance of payment from…

What the hell…?

On an upper floor, just below the rounded turret of the roof, a woman was sitting on one of the window ledges and leaning out. Corner suite, second floor. An unruly mop of honey-coloured hair.

Anna!

Horror leeched all the moisture from his mouth. The money she owed was forgotten. Feminine wiles were forgotten.

Oh God, she’d been screwed over before her wedding. No money, no husband. Walked all over by someone she trusted. Ridiculed in public by the slavering media. The bitter taste of injustice he tried so hard to forget flooded back. He would never be free of the damned question-mark over his innocence and all because he’d trusted the wrong person. He could understand that kind of despair.

He scrambled from the car.

‘Anna stop!’ he shouted. ‘This isn’t the answer! Don’t move, don’t do it! Stay right where you are…. I’m coming!’

He rushed in through reception. By the time he reached the stairs his mind had her hanging from the window ledge by her fingernails. He took the risers two at a time.

Trust could be your downfall, it could smash everything in an instant if you pitched it wrong. He knew that all too well. A wave of sympathy for Anna pounded through him as he fumbled the key chain out of his trouser pocket, pawed through the bunch to find the right pass key. He jammed it in the lock and burst into the room.

‘Anna stop!’

The bathroom! He rushed to the door, came up against solid wood and the doorknob came away in his hand. He stared down at it idiotically. God, she was serious about suicide if she’d disabled the door. He beat on the wood with his fist.

‘ANNA!’

He took three good steps backwards and threw his entire body weight at the door. With a loud splintering sound it burst open. Momentum carried him into the room and he landed with a painful crunch against the bathtub. The steamy scent of floral bath oil made his eyes water. The bathtub was slippery under his palms as he used it to lever himself back into a standing position.

That was when he saw her. Not hanging out of the window and clearly not suicidal.

‘A screwdriver would have done,’ she said.

Her creamy skin was pink and glowing from the bath, her hair was pinned messily up on top of her head, and she was wearing nothing but a bath towel. His eyes darted downwards before he could stop them. Past her neck to the soft pink of her shoulders.

His mouth felt suddenly dry as if he’d sunk his teeth into one of the fluffy bath towels.

Anna didn’t miss the dip of his eyes and the way he immediately forced his gaze back up and fixed it unwaveringly on her face. Not many men could be so controlled with a semi-naked woman in the room. Then again she wasn’t a 36DD lingerie model, was she? She supposed if she had been, Johnny wouldn’t have strayed.

The thought of Johnny dragged her instantly back on task. In twelve hours’ time she’d be standing at the front desk with her bags packed and a taxi on its way to take her back to the fray. She had the hotel owner on the hop here. The perfect opportunity to blag a few more days. Anything had to be worth a try.

She deliberately shifted the towel half an inch or so lower.

No visible response.

Typical! Celebrity Jack really must be used to a whole different class of woman. She’d have to try a different approach.

He waved a dismissive hand at the door with its splintered lock as if breaking the door down was nothing out of the ordinary.

‘I saw you at the window and I thought…’

‘What?’

‘I thought you’d had some kind of accident.’

She shook her head in mock amazement.

‘Accident?’ she snapped. ‘Is that what you call this? There’s nothing accidental about it. Call yourself a top-class establishment. First you screw my booking up, and then the doorknob just breaks, yes breaks off in my hand. And while we’re on the subject, where the hell is the emergency alarm in here, hmmm?’ She took a step towards him and leaned in to add some extra impact. ‘Three words, Jack. Health. And. Safety.’

She leaned back, folded her arms and fixed him with a challenging look.

For a moment he just stared at her in stunned silence. Then in two quick strides he was across the room. Before she could duck out of the way he grabbed her by the shoulders and ignoring the spark of heat that leapt from her skin to his imagination, marched her out of the bathroom and into the main suite. He snagged her bathrobe from the bed as they passed and threw it around her shoulders before putting a few good paces back between them.

He turned suspicious eyes on her. ‘Is this some kind of scam?’

‘Pardon me?’

‘A scam.’ He formed the words very carefully. ‘You broke that doorknob deliberately, didn’t you? You might as well own up, I’ve got your number.’

She pulled an exasperated face. ‘For Pete’s sake, why would I bother?’

‘Because you’re out of here tomorrow, that’s why. Maybe you thought you’d blackmail yourself a two-week holiday, is that it?’

She was so offended that she could hardly get the words out.

‘How dare you!’ she exploded. ‘If it weren’t for your money-grabbing obsession with that measly two thousand Euros, you’d never even have come up here would you? I could have been stuck in that bathroom for days. No food, no clothes…’

He ran a hand roughly through his hair and his eyes slipped down to her body for the briefest moment. He looked quickly back up and his dark blue gaze seemed to lock onto hers perfectly. Deep in her stomach a traitorous fluttering began. She’d been with the same man since her teens and now she was half-dressed in a bedroom with a man who looked like an Adonis. No wonder her body didn’t know how to react. Fortunately she was in total control of her mind.

‘Anna, please. Be reasonable. This is a business, not a charity. You’re right, it does come down to whether or not you can pay, but it’s nothing personal.’

‘Prove it,’ she said immediately.

‘What?’

‘I said prove it. You’re saying it isn’t personal but look at it from my point of view. I’ve been made to feel totally unwelcome since I set foot in this place.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

She looked him boldly in the face and let the robe slip down her shoulders a little. Anything to keep him on edge.

‘A job,’ she said clearly.

‘What?’

‘You heard. A job. Give me a job. I’ll do anything. Scrub floors. Chop veg. Dust.’ She paused and when he didn’t jump in with instant agreement reluctantly added, ‘clean toilets.’

He rolled his eyes and she rushed on before he could interrupt.

‘I’m not asking for charity and I’m not trying to blackmail you. Let me pay you for staying here by giving me a job.’

‘Anna, you can’t possibly think that some menial task will be adequate payment for this exclusive honeymoon suite.’ He spoke slowly, as if she were a toddler. ‘I own the place and even I don’t have a suite that looks like this.’

‘I bet your doorknobs work though,’ she said.

Jack bit back a smile. How did she manage to stir up his mind like this? She seemed to flip from irritating to appealing without the slightest warning. He was out of practice with women. Close female company these last five years had been limited to Marie and she really didn’t count.

‘Don’t you already have a job?’ he asked. ‘Back in England?’

She looked down at her feet. It was the first time she’d broken eye contact and suddenly she looked very vulnerable, her slight figure swamped by the huge bathrobe. He wanted to lift her chin, look at her again. He dug both hands hard into his pockets.

‘Did have one,’ she said. ‘Past tense. Just like everything else in my life.’

The list of internet headlines flashed into his mind and he knew no one would want to employ her.

‘I don’t want pity. I just want some time out. It’s not about the suite. It’s actually not even about the holiday.’

She looked up at him and his heart turned over softly at the despair on her face.

‘I don’t want to go home,’ she said.