A Slippery Slope (11 page)

‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ Josh asked, an odd expression on
his face.

‘Not in the least,’ Verity lied.

‘Okay. Just one dance, Christelle.’

Christelle smiled at Josh but as she wrapped her arms around him,
the look she gave Verity was the same one Daniella had given her just a few
short weeks before. Verity was sure of that.

***

‘There you are!’ Josh exclaimed, ‘I’ve been searching for you for
the last half hour! I was getting worried.’

Verity tried to focus on his face but the room just wouldn’t stop
spinning – or perhaps she was the one who was spinning? She wasn’t completely
sure. Either way, she couldn’t seem to stop it. She looked down at her feet. At
least she wasn’t on a table; she had no idea where she was but it definitely
wasn’t a table. 

‘Why?’

‘Why? Because when I looked back, you’d disappeared. Will you
please stand still!’

‘Why?’

‘What? Because, apart from the fact that you’re making me feel
dizzy, I’d like to talk to you.’

‘Why?’

‘Are you ... drunk, Verity?’

‘Very possibly. Why?’

‘Please stop asking why. And please stop spinning!’

‘Why? I’m dancing! You go back and dance with ... Christelle,’
Verity said icily.

‘Dance with ...? I don’t want to dance with Christelle. I want to
talk to you. Is ... is that what this is about? Is that why you disappeared?
Because I danced with Christelle? You said you didn’t mind.’

‘Well, I lied. And you don’t like that, do you? And it’s not the
only thing I’ve lied about. I can’t cook! But I didn’t lie about that really
because you didn’t ask. You just assumed. Like you assumed you can kiss me and
walk away and you assumed you can go off and dance with the most beautiful
woman in the world, and I’ll be waiting in the corner for you. Well, I wasn’t,
was I?’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Josh
wasn’t sure whether he should be pleased or furious. Was Verity really jealous
because he’d danced with Christelle? If so, that must mean that she felt
something for him and that was definitely good news ... wasn’t it? But had she
also just said that she couldn’t cook? And that she’d lied about it? Memories
flashed through his mind. That first evening – Lucy was clearly in charge of
the kitchen. And the crème brûlée incident, amongst other little hints.

He shut his eyes tight for a moment as the truth slowly dawned on
him and his spirits dropped like a sunken soufflé. She’d lied to him for the
last three weeks. She’d turned his world upside down and all that time, she’d
been lying. Why hadn’t he seen it?

Well, they say that love is blind, and he had clearly been blind.
But he wasn’t in love. Was he? Wasn’t what he felt for her just some crazy,
spur of the moment, madness brought on by the sight of her half-naked body on
the very first day they’d met? Wasn’t this just lust?

Admittedly, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. And when he’d
kissed her that day he realised he had to get as far away from her as he could.
He couldn’t get involved with one of his chalet girls. Not again. Look how that
had ended last time.

But going away hadn’t worked. All he’d done was spend his time
wondering what she was doing. What she was wearing. Who she was smiling at. How
she was coping.

How she was coping! Hadn’t he known that something wasn’t quite
right? Deep down, hadn’t his intuition told him that it wasn’t just nerves she
was suffering from? And she was right. Technically she hadn’t lied. He hadn’t
asked if she could cook. He hadn’t asked her anything, really. He had just
assumed. He watched her spinning and his mind spun with her.

‘Okay. That’s quite enough,’ he said, reaching out and grabbing
her arm to make her stand still.

‘Oh!’ she said, coming to an abrupt halt. She glanced at his hand
and began to sway. ‘Am I still spinning? I feel like I am. Am I?’

‘No. The room probably is though. Toffee vodka?’

‘Uh? No thanks! Had some!’

‘That’s what I meant. You’ve been drinking toffee vodka.’

‘I’ve ... been drinking ... lots of things. I’m getting in the
Christmas Spirit! Or maybe the Christmas Spririts have got into me! I’ve had
lots and lots and ...’ She promptly threw up over Josh’s shoes.

‘Dear God,’ he sighed. ‘This night just keeps getting better and
better. Take this. And come with me.’

She lifted her head and took the handkerchief he gave her as he
led her out into the cold night air. He took off his leather jacket and wrapped
it around her shoulders. With one arm around her waist he made her walk, first
in one direction and then the other.

‘Breathe!’

‘I am breathing!’

‘I mean take deep breaths. The air will make you feel better.’

‘It isn’t,’ she said giving him a doubtful look.

‘Trust me. It will.’

He’d try and sober her up a bit before taking her back to the
chalet. The best place for Verity right now, in his opinion, was home in bed.
Why did the woman insist on drinking toffee vodka? One was enough for most
people. She’d said she’d had more than toffee vodkas though. She’d clearly been
sampling a variety of alcohol – and much of it now appeared to be on his shoes.
He stopped and wiped them in the snow as best he could.

Now stationary, Verity leant into him and rested her head against
his chest, letting out a little sigh as she did so.

Josh felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him and it took him
completely by surprise. How could something as mundane as a sigh have his
testosterone levels soaring? His pulse was racing and his mind was already
imagining ways to make her sigh like that again; only louder and longer and ...

His phone rang and he ran his free hand through his hair. His
other arm was still wrapped around Verity, as was his jacket – and that
contained his phone. It was in the inside pocket which was currently just below
Verity’s left breast. Could he retrieve it without touching her? Just the
thought of accidently brushing his fingers against her breast was filling him
with sexual desire.

‘Verity,’ he murmured, easing her away from him and trying to rid
his brain of the images it seemed intent on displaying in his mind’s eye.
‘Verity, I need to get my phone. It’s in my jacket. Okay?’

She nodded sleepily, her eyes half closed and her lips slightly
apart.

‘Verity!’ he snapped, more to bring himself to his senses than
her. ‘My phone!’

Her eyes opened wide and she shook her head. ‘What?’ she said. She
cast her eyes down to the jacket and the ringing phone and as if realisation
dawned, she held the jacket open.

She’d clearly done that to let him get to the phone but his brain
gave him other ideas. He quickly grabbed the phone and turned his back on her
hoping ‘out of sight, out of mind’ would actually work.

‘Etienne!’

‘Haven’t you found her yet?’ Etienne asked, obviously misreading
Josh’s curt greeting.

‘Oh. Yes. Yes I’ve found her. She was in the workshop leading off
the garage.’

‘What was she doing in there?’

‘Other than spinning, I have no idea. Perhaps she was trying to
find her way out or something and got lost.’

‘Spinning? Spinning as in ... going around in circles?’

‘Yes. And she’s not the only one. Listen. She’s had rather a bit
too much to drink and I think she should go home to bed. I’ll take her because
I need to take Mistral for a walk so I was leaving soon anyway. You and Lucy
stay and have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Merry Christmas, Josh!’ Etienne said, chuckling loudly,

‘Thanks,’ Josh said drily. ‘The same to you. Oh, and you’d better
tell Lucy that her mother may not be up and about very early tomorrow – if her
last drunken session is anything to go by.’

He heard a distinct whump behind him as he ended the call. When he
looked round, Verity was sprawled on her back in the snow. The look of surprise
on her face immediately turned to one of amusement and she moved her arms and
legs repeatedly to make a snow angel.

‘And now she’s soaking wet,’ Josh said in an exasperated tone. He
ran a hand through his hair and slid his phone into his trouser pocket. ‘Yep.
This night just keeps getting better and better!’

***

‘Don’t look at me like that, Mistral,’ Josh said some while later
as Mistral sat at his feet staring up at him. ‘It was the right thing to do! I
couldn’t take her back to the chalet. What if she woke up and wondered where
she was? What if the guests returned and found her sprawled out somewhere? What
if she did something embarrassing? Or hurt herself? I had to bring her here.
You know I did.’

Mistral smacked her jaws together, yawned, farted and curled up in
front of the fire.

‘Oh! Thanks, Mistral,’ Josh said, wafting his hand in front of his
nose. ‘If that’s your opinion you can keep it to yourself next time.’

‘Josh!’ Verity was standing in the doorway wrapped in his dressing
gown and looking very worried indeed. ‘Where am I? What am I doing here? Is ...
is this your home?’ Her eyes darted to Mistral. ‘Did we ...?’ Her voice rose by
several octaves as she pulled the dressing gown tighter around her.

Josh leapt to his feet. ‘No! Nothing happened. Well, nothing like
that anyway. Come and sit by the fire. I’ll get you a drink.’

She remained where she was. ‘I think I’ve had enough. What do you
mean, “nothing like that”? What
did
happen? How did I ... get
undressed?’

He smiled in an attempt to put her at her ease. ‘Nothing very
much. You had a few drinks too many, wandered off and when I eventually found
you … you ... were flat on your back making snow angels and completely soaked.
I brought you here because it’s much closer to Louis’ than the chalet and I
needed to get you out of your wet clothes before–’

‘
You
undressed me!’ She was clearly horrified.

‘Well, I did ask Mistral to but–’

‘That’s not even remotely funny, Josh. How dare you!’

‘How dare I? Would you rather have caught pneumonia?’

‘Yes!’

He blinked several times. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. We’re both
adults – and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.’

‘Nothing you ...! You haven’t seen
mine
before. My body may
not be anything special but it is
mine
and I only show it to people of
my choosing. And you’re not one of them!’

‘Really? You seem to have forgotten the day we met. You showed me
quite a lot of it then. That T-shirt didn’t leave much to the imagination,
believe me.’

‘That ...! You are unbelievable. Where are my clothes? I want to
go. Right now!’

‘Your clothes are still wet. You’ll have to go as you are if you
want to go.’

He saw her eyes flash and her lips tighten. ‘Fine,’ she hissed.
‘Where are my shoes?’

‘They’re beside the bed you woke up on. I left them there after I
cleaned your vomit from them – and from mine.’

Her expression softened just a fraction and turned to one of
remorse. ‘I ... I was sick?’

‘Violently. Don’t worry though. I removed all traces from your
things.’

She looked unsure now. ‘I suppose I should thank you for that.’

‘No need.’

She turned to go but immediately turned back. ‘My ... my shoes
weren’t beside the bed. I ... I looked for them – and my clothes – before
coming downstairs.’

It was Josh’s turn to be unsure. ‘I put them there. I know I did.
I’ll go and look.’

He walked towards her and she pulled the dressing gown even more
tightly around her. He knew he’d probably regret it but he couldn’t help
himself and he smiled lasciviously.

‘You’re forgetting,’ he said with a pointedly salacious drawl,
‘I’ve already seen everything you have to offer. Oh – and I disagree. Your body
is very special – in my opinion at least. I found I couldn’t keep my eyes off
it!’

She let out a sound between a scream and a gasp as he passed her
and headed towards the stairs.

He wondered if he should tell her that he didn’t see very much at
all when he undressed her. Not because he was being chivalrous but because he didn’t
want to have to go and take the very cold shower he knew he’d need if he did
look. She drove him to distraction with her clothes on; if he saw her without
them, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to erase that image from his mind.

He walked into the guest bedroom and glanced at the rug. She was
right about her shoes. They definitely weren’t beside the bed. He went over his
movements since returning home with her. He’d brought her straight up to this
room, undressed her quickly and covered her with a dressing gown and the duvet.
Took her wet clothes and dirty shoes downstairs with him. Rinsed out her
clothes and cleaned her shoes. Put her clothes on the radiator and brought her
shoes back upstairs.

He scratched his head and looked around the room. Unless he had
poltergeists –which he knew he didn’t – her shoes must be here. No one else was
in the house except ... Mistral! He’d left the kitchen door open for Mistral to
go out because he couldn’t leave Verity and take Mistral for a walk. Had she
come up, taken Verity’s shoes and hidden them somewhere? Or worse still, buried
them? Her former owners said she did that. Was her memory returning?

He ran back downstairs and found Verity sitting in his chair
beside the fire, stroking Mistral. Something seemed to hit him hard in his
chest as she turned her eyes to him. She looked so lovely with the firelight
reflecting on her soft skin; her cheeks flushed by the warmth from the flames
and her large blue eyes filled with anxiety and doubt and ... something else he
couldn’t quite fathom.

‘I hate to tell you this,’ he said when he could finally speak,
‘but I think Mistral may have buried your shoes.’