Crazy, Undercover, Love (5 page)

Broad shoulders loosening, he flashes me a wicked grin, kind of wolfish. ‘Wrong.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. I don’t like this car, I
love
it.’

‘I can tell.’ Pausing, ‘I didn’t think you’d drive.’

‘Why, because I have Evan?’ He shrugs, long legs flexing on the pedals as he changes gear effortlessly and pulls away. ‘It makes sense to have a driver back home because I can handle calls and send emails, but on shorter journeys I prefer driving. It’s relaxing.’

‘Even on the wrong side of the road? Do you come to Barcelona often?’ I cringe as soon as it’s out there. It sounds like a cheesy pick-up line.

He doesn’t notice. ‘A few times a year, maybe.’

‘Do you travel a lot for work?’ Curiosity kindles. What’s life as a CEO really like?

‘I’m based in London and Corfu and spend about sixty per cent of my time travelling.’

‘That must be inconvenient for your wife or girlfriend.’ It just slips out.

‘What makes you think I have one?’ Alex throws me a questioning glance.

‘Well, someone like you is bound to.’

‘Someone like me? Elaborate.’

Dangerous territory, back away. ‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter.’

‘It does. I want to know what you were going to say.’

I puff out a breath, fringe ruffling up with the expelled air.
Keep it simple.
‘You know,’ I shrug casually. ‘Rich, powerful, professionally successful.’

Alex lets out a harsh laugh. ‘Is that all you think I am?’

I’m not sure what he means. ‘Isn’t it enough? They’re attractive  …  attributes to some women.’

‘You sound like a politically correct adviser from a dating agency.’

‘Well, what would you have me say?’ I flash. ‘Top Ten Things to Look For in a Guy?’

‘If it’s the honest answer.’

‘Fine.’ I straighten, as much as I can in the tiny seat. ‘For some women—’

‘You included?’

‘What does that matter?’

‘I’m interested,’ he shoots back, ‘humour me.’

I sigh. ‘Okay. For some women those things would be essential, but I think sharing common ground, experiences and beliefs is more important. And I’m more impressed by intelligence, ambition and a good sense of humour than power or money.’

‘Isn’t ambition the same as power?’

‘No. Ambition is about making yourself a better person, wanting to get somewhere. That place doesn’t necessarily have to be somewhere you’ll hold power. What about people who study to become teachers?’ I think of Jess. ‘They’re ambitious enough to get a degree and qualified teacher status but it’s not necessarily about working up to a Head teacher post, it’s being passionate about educating children, getting them ready for life.’

‘If you say so.’ He chuckles. It’s not a kind sound. ‘Still, going back to the things you value, you sounded more like an employment agency looking for staff than a woman looking for a man.’

‘You asked for my opinion, I gave it.’ I cross my arms. ‘Besides, I’m not looking, so it doesn’t matter.’

‘My apologies, how dare I suggest it.’ He glances in the rear-view mirror, signals and changes lane. ‘We’ll talk theoretically instead. If you
were
looking, you’re expecting me to believe those qualities would have priority over a man having a good job and fat wallet?’

Turning to him, I open my mouth to spit out an answer. His eyes are narrowed, bitterness twisting his mouth. He’s obviously had a bad relationship, and it’s made him cynical. I can’t help wondering what happened, who she was. The woman who texted him?

Whatever. It doesn’t mean he’s entitled to make assumptions about me. Breathing in deeply, I do my best to stay calm. ‘I’d rather be with someone who respects me and supports me pursuing my goals and who’s a struggling artist, than be with someone who showers me with gifts but has a massive ego and demands complete control.’

‘Is that a fact?’ he drawls as we roll to a stop at a junction.

‘Yes!’ I sigh again. ‘Maybe we should change the subject.’

‘No, come on, I’m interested.’ He glances both ways before signalling and pulling out with a low roar of the engine. ‘Not many people are so generous with their opinions.’

Crap. Rapid back-pedalling required. ‘If I’ve spoken out of turn Mr Demetrio—’

He cuts me off with a sideways look. ‘It’s Alex, remember? And you haven’t. So, are you saying money doesn’t matter at all? If you met two men, liked them both and the only difference was one was rich and one wasn’t, you wouldn’t pick the one with the money?’

There’s no right answer. Given his cynicism, I will look like either a gold-digger or a liar.

‘See,’ he mutters, ‘you can’t deny it. You’re as motivated by money as the next woman. The only difference is some admit it.’

‘That’s not fair,’ I shoot, shaking my head. ‘And I won’t admit to something that’s not true. The money would be a bonus but it wouldn’t be the deciding factor. I’m not one of those women who go out with the intention of bagging a billionaire.’ Attempting to lighten the mood, ‘Although if I
were
looking, a man with the ability to buy me a few more pairs of shoes wouldn’t be completely unwelcome.’

‘So it is important then.’

‘I was joking! It’s not about the money.’ But I’m a hypocrite. Part of the reason I’m here is cold hard cash. Though it’s got no link to any attraction I feel for him.

‘If you say so.’ He accelerates and I'm pressed back into the seat. ‘Let me put it another way. If you won the lottery, you’d take it?’

‘That’s not the same and you know it,’ I retort. ‘I’d be an idiot not to claim the money  …  and FYI I’d probably share it with my family.’ Crossing my arms. ‘Fine, you’ve got me. In the grand scheme of things, money
is
important, especially when you haven’t got any. Not that you'd know anything about that. But I’m talking about being able to pay the mortgage and put food on the table, not spending thousands of pounds on one item of clothing or blowing silly amounts on lavish parties.’

Alex nods as we pull up outside the hotel, yanking the handbrake on and cutting the engine. He shifts in his seat to look at me. ‘Not all of us draw huge salaries or are stupid about spending,’ he surprises me by saying, ‘but well done, very passionately delivered.’ He searches my face for something, then the shutters come down. ‘I could
almost
believe you.’ Climbing gracefully from the car, he leaves me frozen in my seat, mouth hanging open.

Did he just call me a liar?

I’m angry and hurt but my conscience tugs at me. I
am
a liar, until I find the right moment to tell him who I am and the reason I’m here.

But he doesn’t know that. So why is he assuming I’m being dishonest?

If it was anyone else who’d said it, my instinct would be to argue, but it won’t help, so I take a moment to cool down. Grabbing my mobile from my bag, I check for a signal. The little tree icon and message welcoming me to Spain show I’m linked to the local network. I send Jess a quick text.

Hi, here safely :) Got off plane in one piece! Know you think I’m wrong to do this but I need to. Speak later. C x

Dropping my phone into my bag, I hope I’ll still have a best friend by the end of the weekend.

I wiggle from the car, aided by a red uniformed concierge who rushes over to hold the door open for me. If I’d expected Alex to wait I’d be disappointed. He’s already gone into the hotel. Charming.

Studying the grand white frontage of the building, I thank the man, receiving a nod and smile in reply, before I click up the broad stone stairs and through the gold-gilded door into the lobby. Spotting my infuriating but dishy boss at the front desk, I stride across the vast, high-ceilinged, black marbled room. The differences between the traditional façade and the modern interior of the hotel work surprisingly well together.

Hoping Alex will acknowledge me and perhaps apologise turns out to be pointless; he’s deep in laughing conversation with the pretty brunette receptionist who’s tapping quick fingers over a computer keyboard, their gazes tangling. Not that I’m bothered.

‘Here you are, sir,’ she says with a flirtatious smile and some exotically rolled r's, ‘the Mediterranean. I have two key passes. There are two guests staying,
si
?’

My eyes widen. He’s not expecting us to share a room? No way. Not appropriate, a bit sleazy, and how would it look if anyone found out, given the rumours Tony’s spread about me? It’s absolutely nothing to do with how my rebellious hormones might cope with the challenge of sleeping a few feet away from Alex.

He looks round at me. ‘Oh, there you are. Sorry I didn’t wait for you but I wanted to get started on check-in. I thought you might be wrung out after the plane journey.’

Meaning my nerves on landing. Drats. He has his faults, but he’s actually pretty thoughtful.

His gaze flickers over me, making my skin fizz, and he frowns. ‘Are there any other rooms available?’ he quizzes the receptionist.

She checks her screen. ‘No, sorry sir. We are fully booked.’

‘What about other hotels in the area?’

‘I can make some calls but it is unlikely given the time of year. It’s very busy.’

‘Right.’ He runs a hand through his dark hair. ‘Of course.’

I start to feel self-conscious. ‘What’s the situation?’

‘We were expecting Stuart to accompany me,’ he throws over a broad shoulder. ‘For a woman, different arrangements would have been made.’

He usually shares rooms with male colleagues? But he’s mega wealthy, could probably buy the whole hotel with his pocket change. He doesn’t
seem
gay  …  and he warned me off earlier. Was it all a cover?

Embarrassingly, he catches me studying him. His eyebrows fold down together, then his mouth quirks up on one side. ‘It’s a suite with two separate bedrooms.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s for convenience. Your room would be accessible from the outside corridor as well as the lounge of the suite.’

I release a breath. Separate rooms and he’s not into men. Not that I care, about the latter, I’m just pleased he isn’t suggesting we share a room, as Tony probably would have done.

‘Charley?’

‘In that case, no problem. Take it.’ It’ll be a pain to try and find somewhere nearby and I doubt we’ll be in the suite much anyway.

‘If you’re sure? That’s helpful, thank you.’ After a moment Alex hands me a key card and I take it, careful not to let our fingers touch. I so need dinner and then bed. I’m exhausted, and annoyed with him. Some time to get my head together would be heavenly.

‘I will call someone to take your bags up,’ the receptionist says in her lovely lilt as the concierge rolls up with our luggage in a gold trolley.

‘We can manage,’ Alex replies, ‘but thank you.’

I raise an eyebrow. For a billionaire he’s oddly humble. From the bewildered expression on the receptionist’s face she thinks the same but simply nods, handing Alex a slip to sign and asking if he knows where he’s going.

‘Yes, thank you.’ Walking round me, he starts unloading our luggage, looping the strap of his bag diagonally across his broad chest, retrieving his briefcase and folding the suit carrier over the same arm. When he bends over to grab the handle of my case with his free hand, I step forward.

‘That’s okay, I can get it,’ I say hastily.

‘It’s not a problem, honestly,’ he looks up at me.

His dark lashes are so ridiculously long. I edge away. ‘Honestly,’ I echo, ‘I’m fine.’

‘I’m trying to be a gentleman. Are you always this stubborn?’

‘I’m not being stubborn,' I defend. ‘I just like taking care of myself.’

Picking my case up, he gives me a small smile that curls my toes. ‘Being independent is admirable but it’s okay to accept help sometimes. Now let’s get upstairs and get rid of our bags so we can eat. We have a table booked for eight thirty.’

‘We do?’ I squeak. Being with this guy in a professional setting is one thing, but at a cosy table for two?

‘It’s what usually happens when people go on business trips together.’ He gives me a pointed look. He’s right, damn it. Leading the way to the lift, he stabs a small round button set in a gold panel. ‘Besides, we need to discuss the schedule and how we’ll work best together.’

With me blindfolded so I can’t see your gorgeousness?
The knee-jerk thought flashes across my brain.

‘Or do you suggest we sit separately and shout across the restaurant at each other?’ he asks drolly.

‘No, of course not,’ I mutter. Couldn’t he have filled me in on the plane? Although I guess he had other work to do then, and it’s not for me to challenge. But won’t dinner be a bit uncomfortable? My cheeks go hot with irritation as I mentally rehash his snotty remark in the car about almost believing me.

His blue eyes focus on my face like a satellite tracking device. ‘You’re a funny colour again. Are you all right?’

‘Uh-huh. Just a bit warm.’

He stares down at me, eyes narrowed, but thankfully the lift arrives with a discreet ping. He gestures for me to go first and once we’re both in stabs the
P
button. Excitement leaps up. I’ve never stayed in a penthouse before. Have I fallen asleep and woken up in the middle of
Pretty Woman
? But of course, I’m not a prostitute and sex is definitely
not
going to form part of the arrangement for the next few days.

We sink back against opposite walls of the lift. I fan myself, trying to cool down. The memory of his words reverberates through my head and a pressure builds behind my jaw.

‘Did you mean it?’ I blurt.

He raises an eyebrow, ‘Mean what?’

‘What you said in the car? About not believing me? What I said about men and money?’

‘I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. I said I almost could.’

‘Same difference,’ I shoot back. ‘And not very nice.’ Then I snap my teeth shut so I don’t say anything I might regret.

He looks at my hands where they’re clenched at my sides and then back at my face. ‘As far as I’m concerned that discussion was simply an interesting debate.’ Shrugging broad shoulders, ‘But if I upset you I’m sorry.’

It’s hardly the apology of the century but sometimes you have to work with what you’ve got. ‘Thanks.’ I pause, ‘An interesting debate?’ Hmm. ‘Have many of those?’

‘No,’ he looks thoughtful, ‘not really.’

The lift doors open and we walk to the end of a long black-carpeted corridor decorated with white and cream flocked wallpaper and elegant crystal chandeliers.

‘You can access your room here.’ Alex indicates a door set into the wall adjacent to the main suite entrance. ‘But come in through the suite and take a look around. You’ll be free to use the lounge and bar. You’ve got to see the view, it’s spectacular.’ He swipes his key card over the reader on the door frame and takes our stuff in without waiting for an answer.

The door clicks shut quietly as I wander through the hall with its luxurious gold-toned carpet. Alex deposits our luggage against a wall as I enter the lounge, but I’m barely aware of him.

The suite’s gorgeous, more like a posh flat on the Thames than hotel accommodation. The room is done out in calming beige tones, with plush gold-hue carpet. Two white oversized leather sofas form an L-shape, strategically placed in front of panoramic windows overlooking the brightly lit city below us and the wide blue Mediterranean beyond it. At the end of each sofa is a glass vase filled with white roses on a black table and there’s a small bar with optics in the closest corner of the room.

The only hotel room I’ve ever stayed in with its own bar was bright yellow with orange and blue swirly covers on narrow twin beds. The bar consisted of a tiny fridge full of miniature bottles costing a bomb and a wonky wooden shelf above it holding a selection of neon plastic tumblers. I may have been a manager but the money wasn’t fantastic and London is so expensive unless you live on the outskirts and commute. Our flat is pretty much in the heart of the city so holiday budgets never stretch to much.

Inhaling the scent of polish and subtle fragrance of the roses, I try to look unimpressed but epically fail by zipping over to the window and pressing warm fingers against the cool glass to take in the view. Amazing. It feels like I could fly. I’m lost in the moment, swept away in the heady sense of freedom and feeling of weightlessness from being so high up. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I murmur at last, turning round to find Alex right behind me, only a foot away, ‘absolutely breathtaking.’

He steps forward. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ But he’s not looking over my shoulder out of the glass, he’s staring at me, eyes intense.

Breathless and crowded and incredibly excited, I step back but hit the window. There’s nowhere to go. A wall of heat builds in the space between us, a magnetic force field pulling us together.

But Alex obviously doesn’t feel the same. Shaking his head as if rousing from a dream, he swings away. ‘Dining room through here.’ His tone is abrupt. Without waiting, he marches into the next room.

Stumbling in my high heels to catch up, my brain is so muddled when Alex halts in his tracks I slam into him, my boobs crushing up against the warmth and hardness of his back through his suit jacket. ‘Sorry.’ My face and certain areas below my waist heat instantly.

Going rigid, he throws an accusatory glance over his shoulder as he puts space between us. He looks so stern I want to giggle, but hold back. Stepping away, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, glaring out the window. I frown. It was his fault for stopping like that, so one apology is enough. Leaving him to brood, I run a cursory glance over the long glass table and red velvet chairs which could comfortably seat a football team, before hurrying back into the lounge. I gasp as I notice the baby grand piano tucked away in the other corner and go over to it. Sweeping my hand over the curved lid, I recall the weekly piano lessons Mum insisted on. She was right to make me take them. Being able to play an instrument is a joy and music has always been there for me, giving me the escape I longed for as a teenager.

Alex marches in, an unreadable expression crossing his face.

I snatch my hand away. ‘Sorry, it’s probably just for show isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.’

‘Never? But if you’ve stayed here before … ?’

He smiles wryly. ‘I hardly even noticed it’s in here. I might have the first time, but that was a long time ago.’

He looks suddenly exhausted, the lines bracketing his luscious mouth more noticeable. An overwhelming need to order him to sit down, fix him a drink and tell him to lay his head in my lap sweeps through me.
Hang on a sec. What?

As he shakes his head, it drags me from my thoughts. ‘Can you play?’ He looks genuinely curious.

I nod, latching onto the question gladly. ‘I’m reasonable, had lessons when I was younger. Occasionally I teach myself songs. I’m lucky enough to have a good ear. Still, if I’d kept tuition up I’d be much better now.'

‘Do you get much of a chance to play?’

‘Only when I visit my family and use the one in the village pub.’

‘The pub has a piano?’

‘Yes. It’s a bit of a mishmash really, traditional versus quirky. Chess matches on Mondays and Rock Karaoke on Wednesdays and Saturdays, live music on a Friday, but it works, you know?’

‘Not really.’ For an instant he looks wistful, but the expression passes. ‘But I can imagine.’ Nodding at the piano: ‘Use it whenever you want.’

‘Thanks.’ I don’t like that I’m touched by his suggestion. ‘I uh, think I’ll go and unpack.’

‘I’ll show you to your room.’ He strolls over to an unmarked door tucked away in the corner.

Grabbing my case, I follow him. When the door clicks shut behind me the room suddenly feels tiny even though it’s huge. Alex in my bedroom. Unsettling. Tempting.

‘Here you go.’ Oblivious to my feelings, he throws the curtains open to reveal a sensational view of the teeming port. I swing my case onto the queen-sized bed, unzip it and hover. I can’t unpack in front of him, it’s too personal.

Alex checks his watch. ‘I’m going to take a quick shower and change for dinner.’ He starts tugging at his tie.

‘Right. I guess I’ll do the same. How long before I need to be ready?’

The tie comes off and is tucked away inside a pocket. ‘Half an hour?’ He undoes his top button as he saunters past me to the door.

I catch a glimpse of olive skin over broad collarbone with a hint of chest hair in the open neck of his white shirt. Hormones take over. He’s mouth-watering.
Stop undressing
. I beg silently.
No, keep going.
Oh, heck. His lips are moving but I’m deaf to any words. ‘Pardon?’ I ask.