CHAPTER TWELVE
The chill air conditioning in the hotel reception hit Sapphire as an affront to her already freezing body. Her dress clung to her thighs and dragged between her legs. ‘It’s like having a wet fish flapping against me.’ She grimaced, pulling at the hem ineffectually as she struggled to keep up with Marco.
Marco prepared to reply, the words dying on his lips as he glanced across at her body. Whipping off his jacket, he demanded, ‘Put this on. Now.’
‘I’m fine. We’re here now.’ She shrugged off his concern, but his eyes signalled an urgency she didn’t understand. She followed his gaze down to her breasts, which were clearly visible through her dress, nipples standing out proud. ‘Oh, God.’ She folded her arms quickly across her chest.
‘I’ll get your key card and you can go straight to your room. I’ll do all the formalities. I’ll call you later.’ He strode to the reception and spoke rapidly to the girl behind the desk, indicating Sapphire. The receptionist passed him a key card and he marched over to the lift, beckoning Sapphire with a flick of the wrist in his typical Italian way. ‘It is number two on the top floor,’ he announced briskly, as he slid her the card and indicated the lift.
For once she did as he ordered; revealing her breasts in the reception area was not the sort of thing that would go down well in a smart hotel. She called the lift, and as she watched Marco head back to reception she saw the check-in girl give him the once-over through her long fringe. She wasn’t surprised – he exuded authority and wealth, not to mention the dark Mediterranean good looks that haunted her dreams.
This is purely business, she reminded herself, pulling his jacket close to her chest as another icy blast of air conditioning hit her. The unmistakable scent of Marco tantalised her senses and she drew the jacket tighter still, enjoying the remnants of his body heat over her shoulders.
She waited for the lift to arrive and admitted to herself that something had indeed passed between herself and Marco to change their status quo. She knew that she was attracted to him and had been pushing the thought away, as if that would make a difference, but now she sensed a change in his attitude too. The air between them pulsed with something she couldn’t quite pin down, and it brought about a sense of excitement mixed with panic.
She needed to remember the old Marco, she thought, as she stepped inside the lift: the unforgiving Marco who had considered sacking her; the Marco who was a ruthless business man and might yet be trying to take advantage of her, as Finbar had suggested. She must stay professionally aloof and work towards gaining his respect as an employee, not let him think she was up for anything. If she could only convince her hormones too, she’d be fine. All of this stuff going on and they hadn’t even unpacked.
She half wished she had never agreed to come on the trip with him, but it was too late for regrets; she would have to stay focused and try to keep her distance. She glanced at the mirror in the lift, horrified at what a fright she looked. Her cheeks were blotchy and her hair was practically touching the roof – sticking her fingers in an electrical socket could not wreak more havoc than the Scottish rain had inflicted on her hair. Worst of all, it wasn’t just her boobs on display – her knickers, too, were visible for all to see. She checked her rear in the mirror and more than a hint of her bottom cheeks showed through the material of her dress. VPL had nothing on her: she had the whole caboodle on show.
Sapphire needed to change, and quickly, but the lift didn’t seem to appreciate her sense of urgency as she pressed every button that had an up arrow on it. She peered closely at the dials on the lift panel. No floors, just names. The McFlynn and MacDuff Superior Suites stood out in red lettering, while McGregor and McDougal seemed to have a whole floor to themselves. What did it mean? Why didn’t they just have numbers like normal hotels, and why wasn’t the bloody lift moving?
It was too annoying. She shivered as the air conditioning continued its assault on her skin, whispering around her legs and bare arms, until her very core was chilled to the bone.
She pushed a few random buttons, trying to get the door to open, and was ready to kick it down in frustration when, smoothly, it slid open.
Only it wasn’t her technological wizardry that had managed it. Marco, surprise registering as he took in the shivering form of Sapphire within, furrowed his brow. ‘Oh, you’re still here.’
‘So it seems.’
‘Do you need some help?’ he asked, his lips twitching.
‘No, it’s fine. I’m just seeing how long it takes before my blood turns to ice. I thought it would be an interesting experiment.’
Marco gave her a puzzled look, but then his confusion cleared. ‘Ah, the English sense of humour.’
‘Quite, as you would say. There are no floor numbers either, and I couldn’t open the door once it had closed.’
‘I see.’ His lips twitched again as he slid his key card into a thin slot by the door. The lift started its smooth ascent.
‘If you’re laughing at me …’ Sapphire threw him a malevolent glare as the twitch on his lips turned into a full-on smirk.
‘I didn’t know you needed a key card to make the lift move, or that everything was called MacDuff or Mc Doughnut or whatever, did I?’ Marco leaned against the lift wall, taking stock of her. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, trying not to laugh.
Aware that he was observing her, Sapphire pushed her hair away from her face and crossed her arms again, having forgotten momentarily about her see-through dress. ‘I’m just embarrassed – and a bit hungry.’ She tried not to glower. ‘And don’t say a word about me not eating my meal on the plane, okay?’
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Marco answered, his voice quivering with suppressed laughter.
She gave him a rueful smile, the absurdity of her situation finally hitting her. Chilled and bone-weary, she would have loved to lean against Marco’s chest, to lose her senses in his warm and comforting arms instead of the cold lift wall. She leaned her head against it and closed her eyes, pulling Marco’s jacket tighter around herself.
***
Marco took the opportunity to study Sapphire while her eyes were shut, noting the wayward hair tumbling over her shoulders and her cheeks glowing in a bloom of pink. Her neck was creamy against the darkness of his jacket and an unwanted memory of soft skin under his fingers surfaced, unbidden.
His gaze followed the column of her throat to the swell of her breasts and he forced himself to avert his eyes, taking in her face once more. Her lips were soft and pink and looked eminently kissable. He swayed towards her, pulling up short when he took stock of his actions. He cleared his throat and pushed his back against the lift wall, where he intended to stay until the excruciatingly slow lift reached its destination.
Sapphire must have sensed the movement as she looked directly at him with those smoky, sultry eyes that suggested she was thinking the same wayward thoughts. He took a deep breath; they needed to move away from this shaky ground, return to a comfortable work status. If only she wasn’t so close.
She pushed herself away from the wall, her eyes focused on Marco’s. He took a step towards her – the gravitational pull stronger than his common sense – to meet her halfway.
Without warning the lift jolted to a halt, and they both slanted their eyes towards the door as it opened. A young mother shoved two children inside the lift and pulled a large buggy in behind them.
Marco blew out a breath, dragging his fingers through his hair and silently thanking the harassed mother who had stopped him from making a rash move.
He smiled briefly at the woman as she smoothed down a tuft of hair sticking up on her small son’s head. ‘Terrible weather,’ she said conversationally, jiggling the buggy as her baby started grizzling.
Marco agreed. ‘For the time of year.’ He was perfectly au fait with the English obsession for the weather. The woman leaned over the buggy to placate her baby and Marco was forced to edge closer to Sapphire. The heady scent of her damp body and the memory of her breasts jutting out of her summery dress sent his thoughts into overdrive once more.
‘Stop that!’ the mother shouted, and Marco jumped at the command.
‘Sorry.’ The young woman turned to Sapphire and Marco as her son resumed his kicking of the pram wheels, complaining, ‘Boring, boring.’
Marco thought that what was playing out between Sapphire and himself was not the least bit boring, but sanity was almost restored and he pushed his clenched fists into his pockets to stop them from touching her of their own accord, as he vowed to keep his distance.