An Autumn Affair (19 page)

Weaving their way through the tables and bodies, Faye’s heart lifted as they approached the bar and she recognised Miguel as one of the staff. She really wished she was wearing something more appealing than jeans and trainers, but there’d be plenty of time for that later. After all, if she was going to stay here for a while, he’d soon be acquainted with all the more exciting pieces from her wardrobe. Turning to arranged a row of bottles on the back wall, he didn’t notice Faye as she drew nearer, which allowed her just enough time to smooth down her hair, run a finger over her eyebrows, moisten her lips, and fix what she hoped was a seductive smile on her face.

‘Hi, Miguel,’ she yelled above the music.

Miguel spun around to face her. ‘Er, hi,’ he said, in a tone which sounded worryingly like he didn’t recognise her.

Faye’s smile wavered, at exactly the same time her stomach plummeted. But of course he wasn’t expecting her, she quickly reassured herself. It was like whenever she used to bump into one of her teachers in the shopping centre or somewhere. Seeing them out of context like that always required a couple of seconds for recognition to kick in.

She rallied her spirits and forced the corners of her lips upwards again. ‘Surprised to see me?’ she asked, flicking back her hair.

‘Um, yes. Very surprised,’ he mumbled, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied her face.

‘I don’t think he knows who you are,’ Josie bawled into Faye’s ear.

Faye shot her a dismissive look. ‘Of course he does.’ She turned her attention back to the barman. ‘You remember me, don’t you, Miguel? From the tennis party. In England. Your friend Eduardo is Josie’s tennis coach.’

Relief washed over Miguel’s handsome tanned features. ‘Ah.
Sí, sí
. Now I remember.’

Thank God for that, Faye muttered under her breath. Although the reunion hadn’t gone quite as planned. In fact nothing had gone quite as planned from the moment she and Josie had stepped off the plane. Still, that didn’t mean things had to continue in that vein. They were in Marbella now. Mixing with the locals, not the stupid tourists. And they’d found Miguel. Which meant things could only get better.

‘What you doing here?’ he asked, shaking his head slightly.

Faye shook back her mane of hair. ‘Well, you know at the party you said I’d fit in well here … and that if I ever wanted a job you could find me one? Well, here I am.’ She concluded the statement with a huge grin and a flourish of her hands.

Neither of which appeared to impress Miguel. He turned to his colleagues and said something in a stream of Spanish. Which evidently, by the snort of ensuing laughter from said colleagues, must have been hilarious.

Faye only hoped it wasn’t anything to do with her. But why would it be? She was only repeating what he’d said to her at Josie’s party.

‘You, er, want drink?’ he asked, turning back to her.

Tired of hollering over the music, Faye looked enquiringly at Josie.

‘Coke, please,’ said Josie.

‘And same for me, please,’ added Faye.

Miguel winked at her. ‘Oh, but you are in Marbella now. You can’t just be drinking the Coke. How about I make it a little more … how you say …. interesting?’

Faye gulped. She didn’t want anything ‘interesting’, she just wanted a Coke. In fact, at that precise moment, with the heat of the room, the cloying smell, and the waves of tiredness washing over her, she could happily have imbibed several pints of the stuff. But she didn’t want Miguel to think she was a wuss. And she was young. Supposedly up for all sorts of ‘interesting’ things.

‘Whatever you like,’ she replied, running her tongue over her lips.

While Miguel made up their drinks, Josie tugged on Faye’s arm.

‘Look, I don’t want to be a party pooper or anything, but this place gives me the creeps. It’s full of weirdos. Let’s just go. You can catch up with Miguel tomorrow. If you still want to.’

‘Of course I’d still want to,’ countered Faye. ‘Why on earth wouldn’t I?’

Josie lifted her eyebrows. ‘Maybe because he didn’t even know who you were?’

A stab of irritation pricked Faye. ‘Of course he knew who I was. And you can go if you like, but I’m staying here.’

‘Well, I’m hardly going to leave you here, am I?’ snapped back Josie. ‘Anything could happen to you. Look, there’s a seat in that corner. Why don’t we move over there?’

‘I’m not moving anywhere,’ said Faye. ‘You go and sit wherever you like.’

Swiping up the glass of whatever it was Miguel had just placed on the sticky bar top, Josie whipped up both backpacks and marched over to the cosier-looking sofa in the corner of the room.

‘Your friend okay?’ enquired Miguel.

‘She’s, er, just a bit tired,’ Faye replied. ‘It’s been a long day.’

Miguel winked at her. ‘In that case, I recommend you drink your drink. It will … how you say … invygorate you.’

Faye didn’t bother correcting his pronunciation. Anything that would invygorate – or indeed invigorate – her at that particular moment would be most welcome.

She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. The liquid slid down her throat, seeming to take the lining with it.

‘What’s, er, in it?’ she croaked, blinking back the tears it had brought to her already watering eyes.

‘Surprise,’ Miguel informed her. ‘You drink. It will make you feel better.’

Not wishing to appear uncool, Faye forced down a few more sips while Miguel shared yet more apparently hilarious banter with his mates behind the bar. She glanced over to Josie. She was curled up on the seats, using the backpacks as pillows, fast asleep. Her drink sat on the table top, looking untouched.

Faye wished she was curled up asleep too. She was exhausted. The alcohol was making her woozy. And she needed the loo.

‘Where are the toilets?’ she asked Miguel.

‘The door on the right.’ He pointed across the room.

‘Thanks.’ Faye slid off her stool. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

Making her way across the room, Faye realised she was incapable of walking in a straight line. Eventually reaching her destination, she unzipped her jeans, pulled down her knickers and sank down on the toilet seat. God. She’d never felt more weird in her entire life. She’d been tipsy before on cider, and she’d drunk far too much wine at Josie’s party, but this was something other than the effect of alcohol. And although she’d never touched drugs in her entire life, she strongly suspected there might be something of that ilk infiltrating her bloodstream right now.

Having emptied her bladder, she arranged her clothing and staggered out into the corridor, her legs feeling like they belonged to someone else.

Miguel was leaning against the wall opposite, holding what was obviously a joint. ‘
Hola, guapa,
’ he said, on a long exhalation of smoke.

‘Oh, er, hi,’ mumbled Faye, completely taken aback.

‘You okay?’ he asked, his dark eyes roving over her body in a way that made her want to spin around and lock herself in the toilet cubicle again.

‘Actually, I don’t feel too, er, good,’ she began. ‘I think I might just …’

‘You come up to my room,’ said Miguel, in a tone that sounded much more like an order than a suggestion.

As odd as Faye felt, something told her instinctively that this wasn’t right. ‘Er, thanks for the offer,’ she mumbled. ‘But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go and wake Josie and …’

‘No. You come to my room.’ This time he grabbed her arm and dragged her along the corridor to a door at the opposite end to that which led back to the bar.

‘Let go of me,’ shrieked Faye, desperately trying to wangle herself from his grip.

Miguel ignored her, strengthening his hold. He headed towards another door, pushed it opened and yanked her inside. Where he released his grip.

Faye, her head now spinning, breathed a sigh of relief. Until she noticed him flick a bolt across the door.

‘Wh … what are you doing?’ she demanded, finding it increasingly difficult to coordinate her brain and her mouth.

‘Making us comfortable,’ Miguel replied, pushing her up against the wall. ‘I think if you come all this way to see me, then it is least I can do.’

He pressed his body to hers and slid a hand up her T-shirt.

‘Get off me,’ Faye shrieked.

Miguel silenced her by covering her mouth with his, and sliding his tongue between her lips.

For all her spinning head, hollow limbs, and now roiling stomach, Faye’s inner radar switched to red alert. She was in grave danger here. Very grave danger. And, if she didn’t do something quickly, the ensuing event would be disastrous.

Summoning every ounce of strength she could muster, she pressed both her hands against Miguel’s chest and gave one almighty push. He staggered backwards, toppling over a tub chair and banging his head on the floor.

Faye didn’t wait to see if he was all right. All she could think about was getting out of there. Fast. She slid open the bolt on the door, pulled in open and hared down the corridor. In the bar area, she somehow managed to negotiate her way through the maze of tables, heading for Josie.

‘Josie! Wake up! We have to get out of here now,’ she yelled, above the still-booming music.

Josie opened her eyes and gazed up at her friend, looking completely nonplussed. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, bringing herself to an upright position.

‘I’ll tell you later.’ Faye grabbed her rucksack and shrugged it onto her shoulder. ‘Get up quick. We have to go.’

Doing exactly as she was bid, Josie jumped to her feet, grabbed her own bag, and followed Faye to the outside door.

‘We have to run,’ Faye told her. ‘He might come after us.’

‘Who might?’

Faye didn’t reply. Panic surging through her body, her head feeling like it might take off into orbit any minute, she grabbed Josie’s arm and began haring down to the main drag. Leaving Josie no choice but to hare along with her.

They turned a corner, completely forgetting about the steep set of steps directly around it. As she tumbled down them a sharp pain shot through Faye’s right temple.

Before everything went completely black.

It took a moment for Faye to realise where she was when she regained consciousness. She’d never been in an ambulance before. But she was most definitely in one now. With Josie beside her – white as a sheet, her arm strapped up against her chest.

‘Oh my God, Faye,’ she gasped, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Are you all right? I’ve been worried sick.’

‘What happened?’ croaked Faye, her mouth feeling like it was full of sawdust.

‘We fell down some steps,’ replied Josie, swiping away her tears with her free hand. ‘You cracked your head and passed out.’

‘Shit,’ muttered Faye, the nausea she’d experienced earlier now returning with a vengeance. ‘And what happened to your arm?’

‘They think I’ve broken my wrist. We’re on our way to hospital now. A Spanish woman heard me screaming and ran out to help. God, Faye, this entire trip has been a nightmare. I knew it was a bad idea. I dread to think what my mum is going to say.’

Faye had a good idea what her own mother would say but, at that moment, she didn’t care. She wanted her with her. Faye Blakelaw, determined to prove just how capable and independent and grown up she was, wanted her mum.

*****

As delicious as the kiss with Max in the pub had been, it was nothing compared to kissing him now.

Lying on his sumptuous leather sofa.

With him on top of her.

How many times had they done this as teenagers? Too many to recall, Julia decided, as Max trailed kisses down the side of her neck, turning her insides to warm honey.

‘Just tell me when you want me to stop,’ he murmured softly.

How about never?
Julia wanted to reply.

‘Tell me if I’m going too far.’

Nowhere near far enough
, Julia resisted saying.

Despite her shaky start to the evening, she’d never felt more languid in her entire life. Max had typically put her at ease. More than at ease. Every one of his kisses had melted another part of her body, making her feel wonderfully languorous. And horny as hell. And the best part was, she didn’t even care. She felt wonderful, sexy, desirable. Like she was twenty years old again and had the world at her feet.

‘Let’s go to bed,’ she purred, in a voice that sounded nothing like her own.

Max jerked up his head and looked her straight in the eyes. ‘You sure?’

Julia opened her mouth to tell him she’d never been more sure of anything in her entire life, when the sound of ringing detonated the moment.

What the hell was that? And of all the moments it could have gone off, why did it have to pick this one?

‘I, er, think that’s your mobile,’ muttered Max, rolling off her.

Shit. She’d meant to switch it off. But she’d been in such a state when she’d arrived that it had completely slipped her mind. She looked from Max – all gorgeous and dishevelled, whose clothes she wanted to rip off that very instant – to her handbag on the coffee table from which the ringing emanated. The only people who called her were Paul and the twins, and she had no desire to speak to any of them. She could just ignore it. Flick it off. Pretend it hadn’t rung at all. Let Max lead her to his bed and carry on where they’d left off. It was unlikely to be anything urgent after all. Probably Leo asking where his mini Mars bars were. But what it if wasn’t? What if somebody had died? Or had an accident? Damn. If she ignored it, she’d be wondering all evening. And, even if it was something completely anodyne, it had already broken the wonderful moment. Furious that she couldn’t even enjoy one evening of peace without her family spoiling it, she snatched up the bag and whipped out the phone.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi, Mum. It’s me, Faye.’

Julia rolled her eyes. ‘This had better be important.’

Chapter Thirteen

Julia had almost dropped the phone when Faye told her what had happened. That she was in Spain had been a shock in itself. That she’d been drugged, almost raped, and admitted to hospital with suspected concussion was quite another.

Julia had immediately headed home and booked herself on a flight out that evening. Naturally, she’d tried to contact Paul. But his phone had been switched off. Obviously he was far more adept at this adultery game than Julia. She didn’t want to think about what he’d be doing. On a business trip. With Nat-bloody-alia. Then again, she couldn’t talk. She’d been on the verge of hopping into bed with Max. With two philandering parents, Faye had been lucky to get hold of one of them. Not that she would feel lucky when Julia got hold of her. Furious didn’t come close to describing how she felt. She had no idea how her daughter had managed to book the flights – but she harboured a strong suspicion her credit card may have played some role in the proceedings. She should’ve known better than to let her have the details a few weeks ago. She’d probably made a note of the number and used it for God knows what since.