Your Room or Mine? (3 page)

Not that her underwear should matter. Because this was just dinner – right?

She looked at her reflection in the scroll-edged upright mirror. Her hair had behaved itself for once, the unruly waves lying softly over one shoulder.

Did she really think a man like him, on his own for the night in a luxury hotel, would ask a girl he didn't know to dinner with nothing more in mind than eating a meal? Her stomach gave a slow and delicious flip at the thought and she pressed her hands hard against it to make it stop. Rubbish. Why the hell was she reading any more into it than just dinner? And wasn't it irrelevant anyway? What mattered was the alternative – sitting alone in the restaurant at a table for two surrounded by couples playing footsie.

Whether he expected something in return or not, she didn't have to give it. She could have dinner with him, enjoy an evening of flirting and then walk away with her self-esteem happily boosted.

Unless she wanted more.

Item nine on her GET-OVER-THE-BASTARD LIST pranced through her mind.
Don't get even, get even better…

She sat down hard on the bed. Where had that come from? By the time they reached the end of compiling the list, she and Shauna had been pretty drunk. A one-night-stand had been added as more of a laugh than anything, because of course they both knew that Izzy Shaw didn't
do
that kind of thing.

She shook her head lightly to clear it. Dinner didn't have to lead anywhere. She was safe, dependable play-by-the-rules Izzy. Impetuous flings with strangers were not part of that remit.

Because of course that remit had really worked for her in the past.
Not
.

The fluttering in her stomach was back with a vengeance.

****

A tiny heart-shaped chocolate made up the centrepiece of each place setting in the candlelit dining room, soft piano played in the background and the set menu was a special romance-themed selection.

Oliver stared at the pink embossed menu, eyebrows raised.

‘Romantic Getaway Three Course Menu For Two…' he read.

Her cheeks felt a little too warm and she didn't look up. Instead she picked up her heart-shaped chocolate and dropped it into her purse. After a pause, she added his chocolate too. With no need to diet ever again, she could scoff them at leisure.

‘Like I said, it's a package deal break. Dinner, bed and breakfast for one all-in price.'

Oliver beckoned the waiter and issued swift orders for a bottle of champagne and the standard menu while she tried to control the mad squiggling in her stomach.

‘Like
I
said, sod the knocked-down package break.' The waiter returned and handed her the full restaurant menu. ‘Choose whatever you like.'

****

Oliver watched her as she tucked into the main course of roasted sea bass with celeriac and truffle with obvious enjoyment. She'd finished every bite of the starter, too. He liked her uninhibited delight in the food. And he liked her relaxed outfit. She wore her hair loose, and just a touch of makeup highlighted the grey-green eyes and long eyelashes. Her lips looked peachily softer than ever with a touch of gloss. He was used to high maintenance – glossy, manicured women who picked at their food and obsessed about their appearance. So used to it in fact that it had become the norm. Being with her was like eating a sharp sorbet after a very cloying main meal.

‘You said this place is convenient for work,' she said, between mouthfuls. ‘What is it that you do?'

‘I'm a lawyer,' he said. ‘I travel a lot, but I'm based in London. This hotel is close to my office.'

She frowned.

‘Why the need for a hotel then, if you live in the city? Don't you keep a house here?'

He thought of his beautiful new house, supposed to be finished a week ago to a stunningly high spec. His irritation at the delay seemed to have dissipated a little in her company.

‘I have a house, bought it a few months ago, in Highgate.'

He didn't miss the brief widening of her eyes. Highgate was one of the most exclusive and beautiful suburbs of the city.

‘Lucky you,' she said.

‘I would be, if I could move into the damn place,' he said.

‘What do you mean?'

‘It's been gutted and refurbished from scratch,' he said. ‘The whole thing needed stripping back. So redecorating, floors laid, kitchen and bathroom installation, everything. I've been away because of work so I've missed the worst of the disruption. It was meant to be finished a week ago. That's why I'm staying here, because my building team have overrun.'

‘Do you have a project manager?'

He shook his head.

‘I'm in control of it myself.'

‘That's why it's overrun then,' she said. ‘It would be like me handing over the plans for a garden and just letting the project cruise along rudderless. Things just don't get done sometimes if you're not there to kick butt.'

The implication that the delay was down to him irked a little and he made himself ignore it. To be fair, she had a point. He might have total focused control over his work but leaving things to chance in any other area of his life was clearly also a bad move.

‘It should be finished in a day or two,' he said. ‘And it'll be great to have somewhere to stay that feels like home,' he said. ‘When I'm in London at least.'

‘So you stay in hotels a lot then. For work?'

He thought he picked up a slight edge to her tone, but her face hadn't changed.

He nodded.

‘I'm pretty good at living out of a suitcase. After a while it becomes second nature, luggage gets pared down, you start to use the same places in the same cities. It gets to be a way of life.'

‘Doesn't it get lonely, being away like that?'

Something in that sentence touched him, and he paused for a moment to sip his drink and rationalise it. Loneliness was just a word. It meant focus and drive. It was a positive not a negative if you wanted success. And he could always find company if he wanted it, a non-committal brief encounter was easy to come by on the international hotel circuit.

‘It helps if you like your own company,' he said. ‘Sometimes you come across the same work contacts. It varies. Sometimes you meet new people. It doesn't have to be isolated if you don't want it to be.'

She sat back a little in her seat, her gaze holding his, a hint of knowing in the grey-green eyes that he couldn't fathom.

‘Like tonight, you mean. Like me.'

He nodded.

‘Yes. Room service or dinner with you. No contest.'

Her posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, as if some thought had occurred to her. The gaze didn't waver and she tilted her chin as she looked at him, an almost judgemental look in her eyes. Then she looked down at her champagne flute and the moment was gone.

Izzy took a sip of her champagne. Serial hotel guest… lots of travel for work…doesn't have to be isolated if you don't want it to be.

She pushed her plate to one side.

Don't get even. Get even better…

Curiosity needled at her. Hotels, girls, one-night-stands. Was this the way Joe had behaved when he was away supposedly working towards their future? Did he single out the best prospect and ask her to dinner? Was that how it had started? Was she seeing that dark mirror image of her own life?

She wanted,
needed
to see more. This had nothing to do with revenge, this was about understanding. For the first time she had a flash of the type of woman who inhabited Joe's alternative fun life, that foil to herself - the type of woman who held things together at home. An image of her mother flashed unbidden into her mind, the person she'd vowed never to become. Fifties cupcake housewife living in the wrong decade. Izzy might have bucked that trend with her traditionally male-dominated work, but she'd fallen right into the same trap in her relationship.

This was her chance. Her opportunity to flout the rules and be the other woman for once instead of the homemaker. Exactly what
was
the fun she was missing out on? Her heart picked up speed in anticipation of where this thought process might lead.

‘It must be difficult to keep a relationship going when you're travelling a lot,' she said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Oliver finished his main course and pushed the plate to one side.

‘I imagine it would be,' he said. ‘I don't do them.'

She stared at him.

‘Not at all?'

‘Not in the long-term sense.' He took a sip of his drink. ‘My work comes first, it always has. I need that focus and I can never predict the hours I'll be working or where I'll need to be. It wouldn't be fair to drag another person along on that ride.'

Nothing detracted from the need for irreversible success, that aim which never quite felt within reach. Allowing a relationship to distract him from work would be unheard of, would go against every instinct he'd learned growing up.

‘Relationships are not all they are cracked up to be,' he said.

She gave a rueful laugh.

‘I'll drink to that.' She raised her drink and he nodded and picked his own glass up in response.

‘Relationships, relationships,' he said. ‘All that grief, all that input.'

‘It's not a one-way street,' she said. ‘You're meant to get something back.'

‘Doesn't sound like
you
did,' he countered, but she didn't reply, just met his gaze with her grey-green eyes.

‘Relationships sap the energy from what can be a perfect meeting of the physical,' he said.

He watched carefully for her response to that and noticed her shift almost imperceptibly in her seat.

‘You mean a fling.'

He shrugged.

‘If you want to call it that. It's perfectly simple. You've obviously been messed around by some idiot who's treated you badly. Doesn't sound remotely like fun to me. The way I play it, things never get beyond the fun stage. You never discover the loathsome habits. You never even make it to your first argument. I don't have time to deal with any of that.'

‘You don't even date?' she clarified.

He shook his head.

‘Why let things get that far?'

A tiny smile touched the corner of her mouth and his pulse began to climb.

‘That's very interesting,' she said.

‘Is it?'

She toyed with her glass. As he watched the slender fingers slowly and rhythmically turning the stem of it, heat began to tingle low in his abdomen.

‘I'd be lying if I said I haven't been feeling a bit low,' she said. ‘The break up came out of the blue, smacked me between the eyes.' She looked up. ‘It's all fine though, I have a planned strategy.' She gave him another smile.

‘Dinner with a stranger part of that strategy?' he said.

‘Not dinner exactly,' she said, and he saw a flash of something in her eyes.

‘What then?'

She blushed prettily and took a sip of her drink. Saying nothing said it all and he zoomed in immediately. Knowing when to pounce was key.

‘Ah, I see.'

‘Do you?' She looked up at him, eyes slightly narrowed.

He held her gaze.

‘No better way to draw a line under a break-up,' he said. ‘What you need now is concrete approval from someone with no agenda that you're beautiful and appealing and sexy. Which, by the way, you are. All those things you've been secretly questioning about yourself.'

The suggestion, oblique, not direct, was clear enough that he might as well have announced it to the restaurant. Izzy's heart thundered in her chest so fast she could hear it in her ears. Every nerve sparked with excitement, heat tingled between her legs, she felt more alive than she could remember.

A couple of hours in the company of Oliver Forbes and she felt like she could conquer the world.

How might you feel after the night with him?
Her mind whispered, and a rippling shiver sparkled the length of her spine. She met the hazel eyes, holding herself steady despite her shortening breath.

‘Don't you ever feel like being reckless?' he said.

She saw the heat inherent in his eyes and instead of feeling wary, she felt unexpectedly inspired.Whatever his motivation was, it had no relevance to her. She could make this situation whatever she wanted it to be. When had she ever done anything for the pure fun and pleasure of it, without analysing the hell out of it first? When had she last lived in the moment?

You couldn't get much more living-in-the-moment than a no-strings one-night-stand.

Dessert arrived. A delectable pot of creamy lemon posset with raspberry running through it that she really didn't want and that neither of them ate.

Oliver beckoned the waiter.

‘Would you like coffee?' he asked them.

She looked Oliver straight in the eye.

‘Why don't we have coffee upstairs?' she said.

She was acutely aware of his hand at the small of her back as he accompanied her through the velvet and marble of the lobby and up the sweeping staircase. At the top of the stairs next to the sign where they'd parted after check-in, she paused.

Still time to back out.

Izzy Shaw didn't do reckless and impulsive. She did spot-on timekeeping, she did savings accounts, she gave bloody good girlfriend.

The soft fluttering of excitement in her stomach was tempered by a vague feeling that this was somehow wrong. She clamped down hard on that thought. How could it be wrong? Just who or what was she being unfaithful to here? Some stupid idealised future that she'd been so committed to she couldn't see what was going on under her nose? She shoved all thoughts of unfaithfulness away. She was free and single and she could do as she chose.

‘Your place or mine?' he said.

The last stop before she left sensible Izzy outside the bedroom door. Common sense kicked in with a list of considerations. Her friends knew her room number, her phone and her belongings were in there and she knew for a fact there were condoms lurking in the zip pocket of her case, left over from a long ago weekend away she'd spent with Joe.

‘Mine,' she said.

At the door she paused to look up at him in the soft light from the hallway. Nerves were there, of course they were, sharpening her senses to a needle point. But alongside them was desire to break out of the mould she was in. And more. As he locked eyes with her, his hand circling the base of her spine generating sparks of promise, she was shocked by the strength of her physical desire for him.

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. The moment they were inside the room she closed the door behind her. All the romance of the made-for-two suite stood beyond, the bed now turned down and pink tissue paper-wrapped chocolates on the his ‘n' hers fluffy pillows.

Was she really going to do this? Sleep with someone she'd only just met?

Never in a million years would she have picked someone up in a bar and had a one-night-stand. The whole situation she was in lent itself to this, as if it was somehow meant to be. The anonymity of the hotel room, the fact he had no idea beyond her first name and a bit of background who the hell she was. No knowledge of her hangups, her failings, her aspirations, her past or future. It was like existing in a bubble. The inherent danger of what she was doing seemed far away – her friends knew where she was, she hadn't gone back to his place, he'd told her he was a lawyer and she had no reason to disbelieve him. The only thing stopping her was the idea that this was out of character or somehow wrong.

To hell with that.

If Joe could do it, then so could she.

And that was why she'd let things get this far. Why she wasn't stopping things in their tracks. Because a one-night-stand was the perfect antidote to the poison Joe had tainted her with. No strings. One night of therapy. Call it payback. Call it an ego boost. Call it what you like. She couldn't conceive right now of trusting another man with the intricacies of her life. She had no need for a man she could turn to or rely on only to have her hopes crushed somewhere down the line. She needed some fun, and he was perfect for that because the type of man who went in for one-night-stands was exactly the type of man she would never give life-space to again.

Why not taste the other side just this once. Being reliable, loving Izzy had got her zilch. Less than zilch in fact. A broken heart.

Before she could lose her nerve, she turned towards him, stood on tiptoe and touched his lips briefly with her own, registering his surprised intake of breath and relishing it.

His hand moved to caress her jaw as she looked up into his eyes. Clear hazel, speckled with yellow. She breathed in the faint spice of aftershave on warm skin. He took control, tilted her chin gently and kissed her, softly at first and then with growing hunger, his fingers tangling in her hair, his free hand sliding around her waist. She could taste the faint twist of red wine from dinner on his lips.

She felt light headed, and as the last tendrils of sensibility began to slip away she made herself break the kiss. She took a couple of calming breaths, her hands on his chest, sharply aware of his hands circling her back and the hardness of his body against hers.

‘Ground rules,' she managed, trying not to pant.

He gave her a look of intensity and amusement.

‘Ground rules?' he said. A smile touched the corner of his mouth. ‘When you say ground rules maybe you mean second thoughts.'

She shook her head immediately.

Out-of-character was intoxicating in a way she had never imagined. She was sweet, dependable, hardworking, loyal Izzy.

Joe's Doormat.

In this room she could be none of these things, especially that last one. Oliver would know her as whatever she wanted to be. The excitement that thought invoked made her stomach flutter deliciously and she was glad of his arms around her because her knees felt suddenly like they might fold underneath her.

‘No second thoughts,' she said. ‘Ground rules.'

She waited until he nodded.

‘This is a one-off. No strings, no comeback. No follow-up date, no swapping phone numbers, no poking me on Facebook. This is a one-night-only take-it-or-leave-it experience. Agreed?'

He looked into her grey-green eyes, at the bold, defensive expression in them. She was utterly adorable. He felt an absurd desire to press rewind just so he could be sure he'd heard her correctly. The novelty of being on the receiving end of the proposition wrong-footed him. Of course he'd read the signals, would have made a move himself if she hadn't kissed him like that. He had nothing to lose, this being the usual deal.

Except that she'd turned out not to be the usual deal. She had her own agenda.

Miss Sensible Garden Expert. Maybe this was her getting back at her boyfriend, whatever he'd done. A one-night-stand to make her feel better. Whatever it was, he blocked consideration of it from his mind. Why make this more than it needed to be? No strings suited him down to the ground, a fling was the only kind of relationship he indulged in. Yet he'd never had a girl set the tone from the outset before.

He was used to driving the situation, making his intentions clear, distancing himself afterwards. To have her take that role was an enticing novelty and it flamed his desire for her on a visceral level that made him want to scoop her up and take her right now, no preamble. Instead he made himself go slowly, sensing there was fragility beneath her bravado. He could tell by the way she trembled under his hands that she was out of her comfort zone, however determined she might be not to show it.

‘Agreed,' he said and stopped her mouth with another kiss. Deeper this time, a chance to feel and taste.

Decision made now. Stupid misplaced guilt shoved away. This was her time, the ultimate indulgence. She could take from him whatever she wanted with no fear of comeback afterwards. She could use him however she wanted to.

Tentatively, slowly at first, nerves competing with desire in her fluttering stomach, she let her curiosity take over, let her hands go where they wanted. His hand moved to caress her cheek and slide behind her head, tilting her face to the perfect angle. He had caught the curve of her lips perfectly in his, easing them apart and caressing with his tongue, sending waves of heat through her body to tingle between her legs. His other hand traced her spine and cupped the curve of her bottom to press her against him, melding her body hard against his so she could feel his growing arousal.

In the slide of her hands up his chest she could feel hard muscle beneath his shirt, and she moved fingers to buttons, tugging them open until she could slide greedy hands beneath, across the warm taut contours of his chest. She eased his shirt off and dropped it on the floor. How different he felt. He was much broader than Joe and far more toned. Three years with the same man and the very newness of this sparked her hunger for him even further.

In one shrug her sparkly cardigan fell from her shoulders to the floor. She gasped against his mouth as he kept her hard against him with one hand and slipped the other from her hair, across tingling skin to pull the straps of her camisole from her bare shoulders. He traced his lips from her mouth slowly down her neck in a trail of tiny soft kisses, making her writhe as he reached the hollow spot above her collarbones. Her top slipped down into a silky pool around her waist. Instead of undoing her bra, he eased the cups down to gently reveal and push up her breasts, the hard buds of her nipples now exposed for the taking as he slid his mouth lower still. She sucked in a sharp breath as he closed his lips over a nipple and stroked its tip gently with his tongue, sending dizzying waves through her right down to her toes.

The knowledge that this was a one-off unleashed inhibitions so ingrained she'd thought them unshakeable, had assumed they were simply part of her. Her hang ups about her appearance were shoved to one side. Who cared that she'd never gotten around to losing that extra couple of pounds from her thighs? Why would it matter if she made some move that might shock, if she took the lead? Sex with Joe had been shrouded by a duvet, had been horizontal, even way back when they'd first met. Unimaginative beyond what he assumed did it for them, she never indicated otherwise, not wanting to hurt his feelings, satisfied enough with her assumption that this was how it was between two people. She had enjoyed it, the intimacy of it, the sensation of it, but it had never blown her away. No, it had never done that.

She had no one here to please save herself. No need to worry about hurting Oliver's feelings because she didn't know him, didn't care about him, no need to worry about shocking him because she'd never see him again after this. When had she ever felt this free? So eager to take all the pleasure she could get?

Smoothing her hands over his taut abdomen, she let them go lower, eager now to explore every inch of him. She tugged at his belt until it came free and waited for him to step out of his clothes. Her own maxi skirt fell softly into a puddle at her feet. She stroked her hands softly over the length of his erection, testing the texture, the size, the feel of him with tentative fingertips. His sharp intake of breath in response to her touch thrilled her.

I did that.

She eased her stroking into a slow, deliberate rhythm, feeling him react in the hiss of his breath against her neck and the tension of his body, loving the way she could evoke a response. Feeling desirable for once, knowing he wanted her and that she was toying with that want, she felt deliciously empowered.

Gently seizing control back, he curled his hands beneath her and lifted her gently, her hard nipples grazing his chest, her legs hooked behind his waist. His mouth slid back against hers with more passion now as he crossed the room and lowered her gently back onto the softness of the huge bed.

The sheet was cool and smooth against her back and his mouth was back against hers, his hands removing her bra, tugging her top off and casting it aside, exploring her body. Her mind followed the progress of his fingers downwards, anticipation rising as he caressed her softly through the damp lace of her panties. Teasing, circular motions that made her ache for him to go further. Her breath hitched against his lips as he eased her panties down and away and then he was stroking his way up her inner thighs until his fingertips teased featherlight strokes over her most sensitive place. Hot desire flooded her, pushing everything else out of her consciousness as she squirmed to cover his hand with her own, wanting his fingers inside her, wanting more than that. He refused to be rushed, simply took her hand away and held it lightly in his free hand as he continued to circle the nub of her with his thumb, making her wait until she was dizzy with need, all other thoughts gone from her mind. Then he slid two fingers inside her all the way. She cried out as he moved them in a slow rhythm, his thumb still stroking, the delicious friction driving her to heights of pleasure she hadn't known existed.

As she regained control bit by bit, he tugged gently at her hip until he'd turned her over. The sheet felt momentarily cool against her stomach and breasts and then he slid his hands to the front of her thighs and pulled her back against him until she was on her knees. A pause as he ripped open a condom and then she felt his erection, big and hard between her thighs. She bit her lip in anticipation as he rubbed it against her slick entrance and then he thrust smoothly forward, as far as he could go, deep inside her. She heard herself cry out softly and then he pulled back with smooth, tantalising slowness almost all the way, and began to thrust forward deeply again and again at a slow delicious pace. Her pleasure began to climb again.

Tangling a hand gently in her hair he tugged softly.

‘Look,' he whispered. ‘Look how gorgeous you are.'

She lifted her head, unsure of what he wanted, and then saw. The huge gilt mirror leaned against the opposite wall, depicting them in the honeyed glow of the single table lamp as he took her steadily from behind. He held her reflected gaze steadily with his own as he thrust into her again and again, one hand cupping her breast and teasing the nipple as the other moved between her legs to circle her most sensitive sweet spot with one finger. She moved against him, working towards the height of her pleasure, feeling it there for the taking, unable to tear her eyes away from the mirror, watching him take her. She felt the tension in his body change, his breathing up the pace, and as she finally tipped over into a sublime deliciousness she had never known he was right there with her.

****

The light filtering through Izzy's closed eyelids was brighter than she was used to, and her first thought was that she'd forgotten to shut the bedroom curtains in her flat.

She opened her eyes. The light was brighter because the high sash windows of the hotel room were dressed with the flimsiest of silk curtains. They put the tiny windows and concrete view of her flat to shame.