Page 15 of Another Lucky Number (Lucky Number #2)

Chapter Fourteen

W e’re enjoying our final wind down drink over some light-hearted chat, when I spot Sébastien entering the bar terrace.

‘ Oh shit . Hide .’ I instinctively duck down under the table.

‘Honey, what are you doing?’ Cat looks at me in bewilderment.

‘It’s Sébastien. He can’t see me sitting here drinking. He’ll think I’m not taking this seriously.’

‘What? No, he won’t. He probably won’t even notice us. The bar’s quite… oh … no … he’s spotted us. He’s coming over.’

‘ Shit. Shit. Shit . Do something. Stop him.’

‘Emma, don’t be ridiculous,’ says Amber. ‘The man won’t expect you to take a vow of abstinence from fun because you have an interview on Monday.’

‘ Amber, please ,’ I plead with her. ‘I’m begging you.’

‘All right.’ She gets up from her seat and I peer over the table top as she sweeps towards Sébastien like a heat seeking missile.

Moments later, when I’ve ducked down out of sight again, I hear her greet him .

‘ Sébastien , how nice to see you again. How are you today? Having some time to yourself, I hope.’

‘ Salut , Amber,’ he says. ‘My day is busy, but good. You are still enjoying your stay?’

‘Absolutely. It’s exquisite here,’ she simpers, in a very un-Amber-like way.

‘ Bien . I am very pleased to hear this. Though I see Emma is not with you this afternoon.’

Sébastien may be making a statement, but it’s very much a question. I cower lower under the table, praying he won’t spot me.

‘No, she’s not,’ says Amber. ‘She’s in her suite working on her presentation. Wouldn’t hear of coming to the bar. She has some work ethic – though sometimes I wish she’d chill out and enjoy life a bit more.’

I purse my lips in irritation. This is a pointed comment aimed at me – not just Amber playing out her role as diverter in chief.

‘Emma is staying in her room to work?’ Sébastien sounds perplexed. ‘ Mais, pourquoi? Why, when there is all this sunshine and these beautiful surroundings?’

‘That’s what I said to her. But would she listen? No .’

I awkwardly shift position, while filing a mental note to give Amber a proper briefing next time I ask her for a bailout. I’m willing her to wrap things up and send Sébastien on his way, when the conversation takes a turn in an alarming direction.

‘If Emma will not listen to you, then perhaps she will listen to me,’ says Sébastien. ‘I will go to her suite now and tell her she must still enjoy her holiday.’

Oh, for god’s sake. Amber had better pull off an Oscar winning performance now.

‘I don’t think that’s necessary,’ I hear her say. ‘Cat and I will talk to her later. Get her to see sense.’

I hold my breath, waiting for Sébastien’s reply .

‘No, Amber. I will follow up with Emma. She needs to hear this from me. Please excuse me while I go and speak with her.’

‘Really, there’s no need,’ Amber tries again, but there’s no reply, indicating that Sébastien has already left.

I cock my head above the table in time to see him striding through the door to the main resort building. Amber shoots across to our table.

‘ Amber, what the hell ?’ I say. ‘He’s gone to my room? You were meant to deal with it.’

‘I did deal with it, dumbass. He didn’t see you here, did he? How was I meant to know he’d go for a personal visit? Ooh, maybe he’s got more than—’

‘ Enough . Now’s not the time. What do I do?’

‘There’s a short cut to our suites from here,’ says Cat. ‘Through the gardens, past the tennis courts. I used it yesterday. If you run, you’ll beat him. Go, honey, quick .’

I look at Cat, then Amber, who simply offers a shrug of ‘go for it’, and I don’t need any further encouragement.

I dart across the bar terrace, canter down the wide stone steps to the poolside and take off across the resort gardens at a speed I didn’t know I had in me.

Sprinting past the meandering holidaymakers, I attract more than a handful of odd looks, but I don’t care.

Only one thing matters: I must make it to my suite before Sébastien .

On reaching the accommodation block where my room is located, I creep through the door from the garden into the corridor and sneak up the stairs to make sure that Sébastien isn’t already there.

He’s not. I’ve made it.

I slip inside my suite, panting heavily from the unexpected exertion, and empty the contents of my handbag onto my bed to find some chewing gum to mask the smell of the alcohol. I’m chewing furiously, while simultaneously fanning myself with a magazine, when the bell to my suite rings .

After a leisurely count to ten, to appear like someone so ‘in the zone’, I didn’t even register the interruption at first, I wander across to the door and open it.

‘Sébastien, what a surprise. What can I do for you?’

‘ Salut , Emma.’ He greets me with a twinklingly sexy smile that almost sends my overheated body into meltdown. ‘I was wondering if I might speak with you?’

‘Eh… yes, of course.’ I look at him expectantly and we stand awkwardly for a moment, before I realise that he’s waiting to be invited inside. ‘Come on in.’

He gives an appreciative nod as he walks past me and I close the door.

‘Take a seat.’ I gesture to the sofa. ‘Would you like a drink from the minibar? Some water, maybe?’

‘ Non, merci . I will not take up your time. But I thought it important to speak with you.’

‘Oh? Why’s that?’ I sit a safe distance from him, hoping I’m giving off the air of someone not in the know. ‘You’re not cancelling the interview, are you?’

‘Ah, no, not at all. My apologies, Emma, I did not mean to cause you concern.’ Sébastien fixes his intense gaze on mine and suddenly my temperature is rising again, this time because we’re alone, with a bed no more than five metres away.

He may have made it clear he has no romantic intentions towards me, but unless my radar is completely off, this moment is turbo-charged with sexual chemistry.

‘Maybe we should sit outside,’ I announce, jumping up from my seated position. ‘I could do with some fresh air.’

Before Sébastien has a chance to say anything, the patio doors are open and I’ve stepped outside, leaving him with no option but to follow. Then, halfway through the doorway, he stops, steps back inside and looks around.

‘Everything OK?’ I ask.

‘ Eh… oui .’ He joins me on the balcony terrace and we take a seat at the table. ‘I was… thinking about your preparation. I do not see any notebook, laptop, pen.’

Because they’re all at the bar. Bugger. What’s my excuse?

‘Oh, right.’ I chuckle, stalling for time. ‘They’re… um… in the bathroom.’

What the hell? Why did I say that? Now he’ll be imagining me sitting on the pan swotting up on the hotel’s vision and values.

‘I see.’ Sébastien is too polite to question this further, but there’s a trace of amusement in his eyes. ‘Amber tells me that you will not take time to enjoy your surroundings, while preparing for your interview, and I find this concerning.’

‘You do?’

‘ Bien s?r .’ He fixes his gaze on mine once more, but this time the earlier sexual chemistry I sensed is distinctly absent; perhaps due to my unfortunate bathroom admission.

‘Emma, as the owner of this resort, I know you have paid a lot of money to be here. I am also assuming that you do not take voyages like this often, yes?’

‘Well, yes, but it’s no big deal. My career is more important than any—’

‘ Emma, s’il te plait .’ Sébastien holds up a hand to silence me.

‘I do not agree. Rest is as important as a career. Without rest, we cannot do our best at work or in life. I understand that – as your interviewer – I must not interfere with how much preparation you do, but I can make some suggestion towards how you do it. I propose that you make the most of your surroundings: do your thinking while swimming in the pool, practise your presentation in the bar, have your friends test your interview skills on the beach. Please do not stay in this suite and miss the opportunity for some relaxation and enjoyment while you prepare for your interview. And perhaps also some inspiration.’

Sébastien’s words are like a beautiful symphony to my ears. He’s suggesting more or less exactly what Cat and Amber have planned for me. Now I have full licence to go ahead with our plan without him thinking I’m not taking this seriously.

‘You know what…’ I make a show of thinking this through. ‘You’re absolutely right. That’s what I need to do. Thank you, Sébastien.’

‘ De rien . You are welcome.’ Sébastien gives a satisfied nod. ‘I will leave you alone now.’

I see him to the door, cringing as I pass the bathroom, and an instinctive urge to fix my earlier faux pas takes over me.

‘Thanks for coming round, Sébastien. I appreciate your concern. Guess I’ll need to transfer my stickies to Cat’s iPad then, if I’m going to be out and about.’

‘Your “stickies”? What is this?’ He looks at me quizzically.

‘Sticky notes. I use them for my preparation. Didn’t want to risk marking the paintwork in here.’ There, that’ll do it.

Sébastien’s face flickers in recognition. ‘ Ah, oui , sticky notes on the bathroom tiles. Very creative, Emma. Though please know you may use our other resources as well as stationery. A laptop might offer better functionality for developing your presentation.’

‘Thanks, I’ll definitely do that. The stickies method I just find useful for my early thinking when I’m working on something big.’ This is actually true, despite me not using them right now – and having never used them in a loo.

Giving him a bright smile, I quickly usher him out of my suite before this conversation can go any further or he asks to see my creativity in practice.