The Unexpected Consequences of Love (12 page)

Twenty minutes later, steamed and rested in the foamy green water, Sophie realized she was in trouble.

Three times now she'd attempted to grip the sides of the bath and haul herself upright. And three times she'd failed miserably. Her back had seized up; instead of the sprained muscles relaxing, they appeared to have gone into spasm. She was stuck here in the water, unable to get out.

On the plus side, Josh was in the living room.

On the minus side, he was in the living room.

Plus, she was naked.

Okay, this was officially awkward.

She tried one last time to lift herself out, without success. The pain just made it impossible. Light-headed with the effort of holding her breath and not shrieking aloud, she sank into the water once more.

Then she tilted her head back and called out, “Josh?”

Footsteps. Then he was there on the other side of the door. “Yes?”

“You know what I really hate?”

“What?”

“When you're right and I'm wrong.”

“I see.” There was a pause. “So basically, you can't get out of the bath.”

He sounded as if he
might
be finding the situation amusing.

Well, she supposed she couldn't blame him. Sophie said, “Basically, that would be correct.”

“Riiiiiight.”

“It's not funny.”

“No, of course not. Have you completely seized up?”

“Completely.”

“And you locked the door, did you?”

“Of course I locked the door, I'm not stupid!”

Now he was definitely laughing.

“Okay, do you have a screwdriver?”

“Not
on
me at this moment, no.”

“Well, that's probably a good thing. How about out here in the flat?”

“There's a toolbox in the cupboard under the stairs.”

He was back less than a minute later with the necessary screwdriver. Sophie watched from the other end of the bathroom as one by one the four screws and the exterior door handle were removed. Then he was able to reach the locking mechanism and release it. There was a satisfying click and the door was unlocked but still closed.

“Right,” said Josh. “Before I open the door, how do you want to do this?”

“You could call the hotel, see if Tula can come down here.”

“Or I could close my eyes,” Josh countered. “Which would be quicker.”

Oh
help.
Sophie closed her own eyes, mentally weighing up the options. After several seconds she said, “Okay, listen. In my bedroom, in the second drawer of the chest of drawers, there's a big gray T-shirt. And on the top shelf in the wardrobe are some winter scarves.”

“Are you cold?”

“Get the black knitted scarf down. Go and do that now.”

“Please,” prompted Josh.

Bastard. Despite her predicament, Sophie smiled. “Please.”

A minute later he was back. “Okay, now what?”

“Tie the scarf around your head so it completely covers your eyes.”

“Couldn't I just keep them shut?”

“No. When you've done it, bring the T-shirt into the bathroom.”

She watched the door open. Josh entered the room, blindfolded with her scarf and carrying her T-shirt. Hesitating, he said, “You'll have to talk me toward you.”

“Straight ahead… Right a bit… Forward again… Left a bit.” Okay, this felt really weird. She was naked, but he couldn't see her; it was all very
Fifty
Shades
. Getting a bit flustered at the thought, Sophie said, “Hold the T-shirt out in front of you… Down a bit… And left again…”
Got
it
. “Now move back and wait there.”

It felt all kinds of wrong, putting a T-shirt on in the bath. Finally she'd managed to get her arms through the arm holes and pull it down over the rest of her until she was covered to the knees. All the while Josh stood there with the scarf over his eyes and a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Right, you can look now,” said Sophie.

“Are you sure? I'm scared. What if I take the scarf off and you're still naked?”

“Ha-de-ha. Are you terrified I might launch myself at you?”

“You never know.” Smiling, he removed the scarf. “What if you're only pretending you've hurt your back?”

“I wish. Okay, how are we going to do this?”

“Hold your arms out,” Josh instructed. He leaned over, placed his own arms around her, and braced himself against the side of the bath. “Now hang on tight. I'm going to lift you up…”

Sophie was acutely aware of her lack of underwear. Water sloshed over the sides, and for a moment it seemed they might both end up in the bath. Then with a superhuman effort, he had her upright, if disconcertingly pressed against him.

Oo-er, chest to chest and no bra…

“Thanks.” She managed to lift her legs out, then steadied herself and surveyed his now-sodden shirt front. “Sorry.”

Josh fetched the bath towel and wrapped it around her. “Don't mention it. Need a hand with anything else?”

“No thanks.”

“Want me to stick around?”

“I'm fine now. There's no need.”

“What are you going to do about tomorrow?”

“Cope.” This was a combination of bravado, desperation, and mind over matter. It was a major job, and she couldn't let down the people who'd hired her.

“Okay, but would it be useful if you had an assistant?” Josh raised his hand. “Think about it before you just say no out of habit.”

Sophie closed her mouth and considered the offer. Her gaze wandered past him, through the open bathroom door to the boxes of photographic equipment piled up against the wall in the hallway.

“Yes.” She smiled slightly. “An assistant would be…great.”

“Right.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't mention it.”

“It's going to be a whole day.”

“I know. You already said.”

“And you're sure you can take that much time away from the hotel?”

“You're assuming the assistant will be me,” said Josh.

“Oh! Sorry…”

“I need to get back and check the diary, see what's happening. If I can't make it tomorrow, I'll find someone else who can. What time will you need to set off?”

“No later than eleven.”

“Fine. You get some rest. Call me if you need to. I'll see myself out,” said Josh. “And good luck for tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Sophie was still feeling stupid for thinking he'd been volunteering himself to help her. “Sorry about getting your shirt wet.”

“No problem. Always happy to help.” As he left the flat, Josh added over his shoulder, “Especially when it proved that you were wrong and I was right.”

***

Lawrence had carefully positioned his car in the parking lot to give him a view of both the driveway and the entrance to Mariscombe House. If Dot and Antoine had gone out to dinner at seven, it stood to reason they'd be returning to the hotel before too long.

He felt like a private eye. It was ten fifteen and he'd already been sitting out here in the dark for an hour. God knows why he was even doing it, but there had just been an inner compulsion to know what was going on. His stomach had been in knots too; it was that teenagery preexam sensation of knowing that what happened next had the power to change your life.

And then he saw the headlights of a car coming up the drive. Sinking down in the driver's seat, he watched as it was driven into a parking space over to the left of the hotel.

Yes, it was them. Antoine Beauvais emerged from the car, moving around and opening the passenger door for Dot.
Smooth
bastard
.

When you'd been married to someone for decades, opening car doors for them became a nicety that fell by the wayside. Watching with a tortured mix of envy and guilt as Dot smiled and said something to Antoine, Lawrence realized he was holding his breath.

Okay, exhale
.

The two of them made their way to the entrance of the hotel. Once inside, he viewed them through the lit-up windows as they faced each other, exchanged a few more words, then parted company. Antoine Beauvais headed up the staircase while Dot, turning away, disappeared in the direction of the bar.

Thank God for that. She'd done her duty and now it was over; she'd gotten rid of him. Overcome with relief, Lawrence jumped out of the car; after all this private investigating, he definitely deserved a drink.

“Hello, hello, fancy bumping into you two here!” He beamed at Dot, who was chatting to Spike, the barman. “Thought I'd pop in for a quick one. Dot, let me buy you a drink. I say, your hair looks fantastic. Now, what are you having? How about a glass of Cloudy Bay?”

“Lawrence, you don't need to—”

“Oh, come on, just the one. I like what you're wearing too. Is that a new dress? The color suits you. I'll have the same, Spike.”

“I've been out to dinner, Lawrence. And don't pretend you don't know who with.”

The trouble with Dot being such a popular boss was the way people always told her everything. Oh well.

“I do know. I just saw the two of you come back. Pretty awkward evening, was it? What was it all about, anyway?”

“What makes you think it was awkward?” said Dot.

“You got rid of him pretty sharpish.” Lawrence shrugged. “He went up to his room; you came in here. What did he have to say?”

“He went up to his room to put his phone on charge. And if you're really that interested in finding out what he had to say,” Dot went on, “why don't you ask him yourself?”

Shit. She was looking behind him. Lawrence took a swift glug from his just-poured glass of wine. He heard the sound of footsteps, breathed in a waft of expensive-smelling cologne.

“Antoine, look who's here. And what a coincidence, after we were just talking about him earlier.”

Lawrence turned, by now really wishing he hadn't come along.

“Hello, Lawrence.” Antoine's tone was even but polite. He didn't sound as if he were about to pull out a dueling pistol and aim it at his head.

Then again, how could you tell?

Lawrence said, “Hello, Antoine.”

“You're looking well,” the other man said.

Still no sign of those dueling pistols. “Thanks. You too. May I offer you a drink?”

Antoine inclined his head. “A small cognac. Thank you.” He hesitated, then added, “I'll be staying here at the hotel for a while, so we may as well be civilized. It's been wonderful seeing Dot again. We've had an excellent evening, haven't we?”

“Fantastic,” Dot said happily. “And the food at the Rose was great too. I had the most amazing scallops in Pernod.”

“You and your scallops.” Lawrence smiled, because she'd always had a thing for them. What he really wanted to say was,
What does
that
mean? You had a fantastic time with the smooth Frenchman and the food was great too?

But if he did, it was unlikely to go down well. Instead he forced another pleasant smile and said, “Well, glad the food was good. D'you remember that lunch we had at Gidleigh Park?” Turning to Antoine, he explained, “I took Dot there on her birthday last year. Now that was a meal to remember.”

“You didn't take me there on my birthday,” said Dot. “It was the following weekend.”

“But that's what we were celebrating,” Lawrence reminded her. “And it was worth it, wasn't it? Spectacular place,” he told Antoine. “The chef has two Michelin stars.”

“Ah.” Antoine nodded. “Michael Caines. I've heard great things about him and his restaurant. If you recommend it so highly,” he said to Lawrence, “maybe I should take Dot there too.”

Bastard,
bastard
. “Absolutely. I warn you, though, it's pretty pricey.”

“That won't be a problem, I assure you,” Antoine said with a brief smile.

“And what Lawrence isn't mentioning is the reason it ended up being so pricey,” Dot chimed in. “Basically, because he was too vain to wear his reading glasses.”

Oh
shit
. “Don't—”

“He looked at the wine list and decided he liked the sound of the Perrier-Jouet Belle Epoque 2004.” Dot wasn't to be stopped. “Didn't realize thirty-five pounds was for a glass of the stuff, not a bottle.”

Thanks, darling
.

“For Perrier-Jouet Belle Epoque 2004.” Antoine was now visibly struggling to keep a straight face.

Lawrence said defensively, “I'm not that wild about champagne. I don't read up on it.”

“Clearly not. Anyway, thank you for the drink.” Antoine paused, then raised his cognac glass. “Your health.”

Which was either a simple salutation or a Mafia-style warning to make the most of his health while he still had it.

“
Santé
,” Lawrence murmured, before taking a drink. “So, are you here for long?”
Please
say
no
.

“Haven't decided yet. Just seeing how things go. I'm working on a movie score at the moment, but that's the joy of computers. These days you can create music anywhere you like. And when I'm not doing that,” Antoine said pleasantly, “I can enjoy my free time in Cornwall, take a look around, see how the place has changed.” Briefly resting his fingertips on Dot's waist, he added, “And I have an expert offering to accompany me, which makes it even better.”

This evening wasn't turning out
at
all
as Lawrence had planned.

“It's still warm out on the terrace.” Dot was smiling up at Antoine. “Shall we go and sit outside?” She glanced across at Lawrence. “You're welcome to join us if you like.”

Said in such a way that it was blindingly obvious she was only being polite.

“Thank you,” said Lawrence. “So kind, but I'll leave you to it.” A part of him wanted to acknowledge the past, to apologize to Antoine for what he'd done, but he'd tried before, without success. It had, in fact, only made an intolerable situation worse. Which meant that this evening, here in this hotel, it was immeasurably easier to avoid the subject.

Sometimes the right words simply refused to present themselves.

Sometimes an apology wasn't—could never be—enough.

Antoine Beauvais hopefully understood that.

“I owe you a drink,” he said now. “Let me get—”

“No, no, not necessary.” Lawrence was firm as he put down his half-finished glass of wine. “I have to go. You enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Dot, sashaying out onto the terrace with Antoine in tow, said gaily, “Don't worry, we will!”

***

The car pulled up outside the flat just before eleven the next morning. Sophie looked out of the window and felt her heart do a Pavlovian skip of pleasure.

Okay, this was something she was going to have to keep an eye on. Enjoying someone's company was one thing, but it mustn't be allowed to get out of hand.

Then again, anyone with half a brain would agree that spending the day with Josh was preferable to being stuck with some stranger who chewed gum with their mouth open and was bored to tears with doing a job they hadn't volunteered for.

Just
stay
in
control
and
everything'll be fine…

“Morning. How are you feeling?” Josh followed her into the flat.

“Better than last night.” Possibly because she'd taken more painkillers. “Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem. Tell me everything you need to take with you and I'll start loading up the car.”

For the next few minutes Sophie pointed out the bags and cases of equipment and waited in the hallway while he carried them outside. It had taken ten minutes to ease herself out of bed this morning; a long day at work was the last thing she needed, but she'd do it if it killed her.

Although hopefully it wouldn't.

The sun was out; it was a warm and breezy day with cotton-wool clouds scudding across the sky. “It's the opening of a new restaurant in St. Austell,” she told Josh as they sped across country toward the south coast. “I'm taking photos of the place itself, then the food being prepared in the kitchen, plus pictures of the staff; that's for the brochures and the website. Then there's the party in the evening, with local dignitaries and as many glamorous guests as they can rustle up, and those photos are going to be published alongside a piece about the restaurant in one of those lifestyle magazines.”

“Which is why you couldn't let them down,” said Josh.

“It's a big deal for me,” Sophie said candidly. “I didn't want to miss out on a chance like this. Those kinds of magazines usually use their own photographers. If I do a good job, they might hire me again.”

“Let's hope you do a good job, then.”

“I will. I always do.”

“Modest.”

“Focused and professional,” said Sophie.

“All work and no play…”

“Call me dull if you want. I don't care. This is the career I've always dreamed of and making it work is my number one priority. I'm not going to do anything to risk messing it up.”

“I can see that.” Josh nodded. “And what did you do before setting up the business?”

“Worked in a call center.”

“Right.”

“Exactly. It wasn't my dream job. But I saved every penny, started buying photographic equipment, and learned as much as I could. And I've gotten this far,” said Sophie. “I'm doing okay. Plenty of satisfied customers who recommend me to their friends. You can't understand how much that means to me.”

They were driving across Bodmin Moor, miles of uninterrupted countryside empty of people and golden with gorse. Josh slowed the car as they encountered a flock of sheep wandering like indolent teenagers across the narrow, winding road ahead of them.

“What?” said Sophie, aware that he'd turned his head and was watching her.

Josh's eyes were glinting with amusement. Finally he said, “You're definitely not dull.”

***

The restaurant, Pierrot, was done in shades of bottle green and deep purple, with white-painted floors and sleek, modern tables. The lighting was an eclectic mix of futuristic spotlights and antique French candelabras. The owners, Maddy and Max, had thrown all their money into the venture and were in a frenzy of excitement that the launch date had finally arrived.

“This is Josh, my assistant,” Sophie told them. “He's untrained but willing to learn. I had a bit of an accident yesterday, put my back out. That's why he's here.”

“Poor
you
,” Maddy exclaimed. “And look at your poor
face
!”

“I know,” Sophie said with a grin. “But try not to stare at him. He can't help it.”

***

After the initial setting up, the next couple hours were spent on photographing various aspects of the restaurant, the staff, and the food being prepared in the kitchens. At three o'clock they stopped for a break outside.

“I could get used to this,” said Sophie. “Sitting back and bossing you around, making you do all the hard work.”

“That's what I used to do with the kids from Go Destry.” Josh shielded his eyes from the sun. “Drink coffee, watch them perform, tell them what they needed to do to be better. Easy money.”

Sophie smiled, because on their way over here, they'd talked about his time managing the band and it had been anything but easy.

“Good news!” Maddy emerged through the French windows clutching her phone and doing a little victory dance. “I didn't want to jinx it so I didn't say anything before, but we've just had the call to confirm it's happening. Perry Elson's coming along to the party!”

“Ooh.” Sophie was impressed. “The actor?”

“He's a friend of a friend, over from the States for a few days and staying in the area. It'll up the coverage no end.” Maddy's eyes were shining. “People will be that much more interested in a place if they think celebs like him have been here. And we've got him for a whole hour.” She beamed excitedly. “You'll have to take
loads
of photos of him.”

Sophie conjured up a mental image of the young actor, who had starred in a couple of unexpectedly successful films last year and fell into the category of fast-rising star still new enough to appreciate it. He was intelligent, quirkily attractive, as yet unspoiled by fame, and universally considered one of the good guys.

Since it would be fun to photograph someone properly famous, she said, “Don't worry, I will.”