Page 12 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay (Sturcombe Bay Romances #3)

Shelley had been doing her best to keep out of Alex’s way since that awkward moment in Debbie’s café.

She was familiar with his routine by now.

He would usually go down to visit his grandfather at around ten o’clock, and sometimes stay for lunch with him, or sometimes he would go into town to eat, to Debbie’s or the pub.

Which left her plenty of time to clean his room extra thoroughly. Sometimes she when she was changing his pillowcase or tidying away one of his sweaters, she would let herself pause and breathe the unique male scent of his skin.

Stupid. But it was too tempting to resist. For that short time she could safely let herself indulge in foolish fantasies . . .

“Shelley?”

“Hi.” She turned quickly. “I’m in here.”

Tracey, the housekeeping supervisor, appeared in the doorway. “Ah, there you are. Lisa wants you to pop down to the office.”

“Oh, but . . .” She glanced back at the room.

“Go on. You can come back and finish off in here later.”

“What does she want?”

“I’ve no idea. Hurry up. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Shelley hurried down the stairs, anxiety coiling in her stomach. Maybe she was a pessimist to always think there was going to be trouble, but life had taught her that there usually was.

Jess was at the reception desk. “Hi. They’re in the lounge.” Her smile was bright — that was reassuring, anyway. “I’m bringing coffee. Do you want one?”

“No . . . um . . . yes, please.” Coffee? Surely that had to be reassuring too?

Lisa was seated in a corner of the lounge with two smartly dressed women that Shelley recognised. One of them was the Chair of the Ladies’ Golf League. As she hesitated, Lisa glanced up and beckoned her over.

“Ah, here she is. Sit down, Shelley. I asked you down to meet Mrs Lewis and Mrs Booth.”

“Ah, yes. We’ve met before, haven’t we, dear?” The two women were smiling at her. “We just wanted a moment to thank you in person.”

She stared at them, startled. “Thank me?”

“Roland Gibbons. He’s been a thorn in our side for some time, with his inappropriate behaviour, but it was difficult to do anything about him as the other women were all reluctant to make a formal complaint. You going to the police about him has given them the courage to speak out.”

“Oh!”

“He’s been suspended from the committee,” the second woman went on. “And the police are charging him with several counts of assault. It’ll be some time before the case comes to court, of course, but at least it’s being taken seriously at last.”

Jess had brought the coffees over and set them down on the low table between them. As she turned away, she gave Shelley an encouraging wink. Shelley smiled back. She had never really had a female friend, but she really liked Jess.

One of the ladies — Mrs Booth? — picked up her coffee cup and took a delicate sip. “It must have been a most unpleasant experience.”

Shelley was tempted to tell her that dealing with their sleazy Mr Gibbons hadn’t been the most unpleasant thing. Dealing with the police had been the difficult part. But these two genteel ladies wouldn’t understand that.

So she just smiled and sipped her coffee, wondering how soon it would be okay to make an excuse to get away.

They were probably very nice women. It wasn’t their fault that they made her feel uncomfortable.

It was just that they reminded her of the magistrates she had encountered as a child — well-meaning but completely unable to understand the reality of her life.

At last they finished their coffee, and one of them glanced at her watch. “Well, we’ve time to get in a practice round before lunch,” she declared. “Come on, Iris.”

The two of them rose to their feet, smiling graciously at Shelley. “Well, goodbye, my dear. It was so nice to meet you. And thank you again.”

“Yes. Um . . . thank you.” She put on a smile which she hoped looked genuine. “It was nice to meet you too.”

She moved to pick up the empty coffee cups, but Lisa shook her head. “No, leave that. I’ll do it. I haven’t had a chance to speak to you since Wednesday. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Really. It was nice of them to say thank you like that.”

“It was probably the least they could do. As for suspending him, I’d like to suspend him. By his ankles. With cheese wire.”

Shelley laughed. For all she was the assistant manager, Lisa had no side to her. “That would be good. Anyway, I’ve got rooms to clean. See you later.”

She hurried back up the stairs to the second floor, and along the corridor. Tracey had locked the door to Alex’s room, so she opened it with her pass-key . . . and stopped dead on the threshold.

Alex was in there. There was a suitcase on the bed, and he was packing it.

Something cold swept through her, like being caught by a rogue wave on the beach. “You’re leaving.”

He turned and smiled. “I’m leaving the hotel. As I’m staying in Sturcombe longer than I’d initially intended, I thought I might rent a flat for a while instead.”

“Oh . . .”

“I’ve found quite a nice one, on Pear Tree Road. It’s got a sea view.”

“Oh . . . That’s nice.”

“It’ll be good to have my own space, to be able to spread out a bit. Make a cup of tea in a kitchen instead of the bedroom.”

“Yes.”

Such a simple conversation, but it felt so stiff, so awkward. She took a step back, ready to escape, reluctant to leave. If he moved out of the hotel, she probably wouldn’t see him again. Which would be good. Wouldn’t it?

“Well, I . . . I’ll leave your room for now then, till you’ve finished. I have a couple more on this floor to do.”

“Right.”

Oh, that smile. Did he feel the same sizzle of attraction? Sometimes the gleam in his eyes when he looked at her made her begin to hope that he might. Dammit. Be sensible. He just wanted a friend, company while he was here on holiday.

And probably convenient sex.

Oh, yes. She could be tempted into that, easily. But sooner or later he’d be gone, back to Canada, leaving her feeling more rejected and lonelier than ever.

With an effort of will she returned him a cool smile as she turned away. “See you around then.”

* * *

“There. That ought to do it. I’ll just reboot it.” Paul turned the computer off and waited a few seconds before turning it on again. The screen opened instantly.

Mike beamed. “Oh, that’s much better. Thanks, Paul.”

“No problem. You just need to clear your cache every now and then to stop it clogging up.”

The older man shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m pretty useless when it comes to computers.”

“Don’t worry. I’m always happy to help if I can.” And all the more so as it gave him an excuse to drop into the hotel. Jess was on reception. He’d breezed past her on his way in, ignoring the dirty look she’d shot at him.

He checked again that the computer was loading properly, then rose to his feet and invited Mike to take back his chair. “There you go. All done. Any more problems, just give me a call.”

“Yes, yes.” Mike was already intent on the screen. “I’ll see you later.”

Paul laughed softly to himself as he strolled from the office and out to reception. Jess was chatting to a couple of guests, so he wandered over to the lounge and poured himself a coffee at the small bar.

He waited until she was free then sauntered over and leaned casually on the counter. “Good morning.”

Those amethyst eyes were ice cold. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled blandly, knowing it would annoy her. “Just helping Mike with a little computer glitch.”

“That’s nice. Have you finished? Good. Goodbye.”

“Now that’s not very friendly,” he protested, putting on a hurt face.

She glared at him down her nose. “Why would I want to be friendly?”

“Because secretly you like me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You should.” He rested his chin on his hand, turning on his most charming smile. “I’m a really nice person once you get to know me.”

“I have no wish to get to know you,” she returned dismissively, turning her attention back to the computer screen.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Actually, I do. Your sister told me about you. Warned me, to be more precise.”

“Oh?” He grinned. “What did she say?”

“That you change your girlfriends more often than you change your socks.”

“Ah, now that’s not fair. I change my socks every day. My mother taught me that.”

She snorted. He suspected that she was trying not to laugh.

“I’ll tell you what,” he coaxed. “Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight? It’ll give you a chance to get to know me properly.”

“I told you, I don’t want to get to know you.”

“Scared?” he teased, grinning.

“Scared?” She arched one finely drawn eyebrow. “Why would I be scared?”

“Maybe of finding out that the shark-infested moat you’re hiding behind isn’t quite wide enough after all?”

She sighed with impatience. “For the last time, I do not want to get to know you, I don’t want to go out to dinner with you, and if you don’t go away, I’ll ask Mike to throw you out.”

“He wouldn’t do it. He’s too nice.” That won him a flicker of a smile.

“Lisa then.”

“Oh, yes. She’d throw me out,” he acknowledged, laughing. “Even though she’s my sister.”

She conceded another reluctant smile. “Are you always this arrogant?”

“I like to think of it as persistent.”

“You’re certainly that.”

“Ah, now you’ve hurt my feelings.” His desolate expression was entirely bogus — he knew she wouldn’t be fooled for a moment.

“I doubt you have any feelings,” she snapped.

“I have lots of them. Like I feel all fuzzy when I look at you. Like I just want to run my fingers through that gorgeous flaming hair.”

“Try that and I might have to break your arm.”

“That wouldn’t hurt as much as if you broke my heart.” He laid a hand over the threatened organ. “And you’ve already bruised it by refusing to have dinner with me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Is this how you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Wear a girl down until she agrees to go out with you just to shut you up.”

“Are you going to go out with me?”

Her mouth thinned. “Will it shut you up?”

“Of course. How about tonight? I know a nice little place on the edge of Dartmoor. Very classy, very romantic. Great food.”

“Not tonight. I’m working late.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“I’m washing my hair.”

“That takes a whole evening?”

“It takes as long as I want it to take.”

“Well, it’s very nice hair, so I guess it can take as long as it takes. Okay then, Wednesday?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“I told you, I’m known for my persistence.”

She sighed. “Okay, if it’ll shut you up. Make it Thursday.”

“Good decision. I’ll pick you up at seven.” He winked, and sauntered away.

Jess shook her head in exasperation as she watched him stroll out of the front door, the set of his wide shoulders conveying pure arrogance.

Dammit, why had she agreed to have dinner with him?

He was exactly the type she didn’t want anything to do with, but it seemed that she had some kind of stupid addiction to good-looking, arrogant men.

Somehow she was going to have to find a way to wean herself off them. Though letting Paul Channing wheedle her into agreeing to a date probably wasn’t the best way to go about it.

For a few moments she turned her attention back to the computer, noting that an elderly couple were due to arrive tomorrow.

A note attached to the booking told her that they were another couple like Mr and Mrs Wright, regulars who had been coming for years to celebrate their anniversary, having spent their honeymoon here.

She loved that about this place, that little personal touch. Housekeeping would put fresh roses in their room, and there would be a complementary bottle of champagne with their dinner.

She glanced up as a man came through the front doors, then frowned slightly — he wasn’t their usual type of guest. Apparently on his own, he was wearing a smart charcoal-grey business suit, highly polished shoes and a pristine white shirt with a dark-blue striped tie.

It was hard to guess his age; she’d peg him at maybe around his middle forties.

His hair was closely trimmed with not a hint of curl.

Everything about him — including the slim leather briefcase he carried — proclaimed him to be a high-powered businessman.

But what business could bring him here to sleepy Sturcombe?

He paused halfway across the hall and looked around as if wondering how he had found himself in a place which was probably not up to his usual standards.

Jess pinned a professional smile in place. “Good morning, sir. How can I help you?”

“I’d like a room.” His voice was crisp, no-nonsense.

“Certainly, sir. How long will you be staying?”

“Just one night.”

“That’s fine.” She clicked on the computer. “May I have your name?”

“Forsythe.”

“Thank you, Mr Forsythe. Room 11 is on the first floor, just at the top of the stairs, opposite the lift. Do you have any luggage?”

“Just one bag.”

“Would you like to have the porter take it up for you?”

“Yes, please.”

Ah, the first ‘please’ she’d got from him. She rang the bell for Eric the porter, and handed over his key card. “Have a pleasant stay.”

“What time is dinner served?”

“From six o’clock.”

He nodded briskly and took the key card. Jess watched him as he crossed the hall and climbed the stairs. For some reason she felt an uncomfortable sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She didn’t think his arrival was going to bring good news.