Cupid's Way Read online

  ‘Can’t you phone them and let them know?’ Michael gestured to the waiter and ordered coffee for himself and another for Evie. She smiled gratefully, then shook her head.

  ‘There’s this meeting in the morning. It’s really important to them, and I have to be there. I really, really need to get to Bristol tonight.’

  ‘Bristol? I’m going there tomorrow, too.’

  ‘Really?’

  Michael nodded and took a glug of coffee. ‘I live there. Well, some of the time. And I’m supposed to be at a meeting first thing as well. I’ll have to get it put back.’

  ‘You must be pretty important,’ Evie said, half joking. ‘What, you just click your fingers and everyone rearranges their whole schedule?’

  ‘Well, if I’m not there the meeting can’t happen. It’s got nothing to do with being important.’

  On the TV, a politician was being interviewed on the steps of a tall white building. The interviewer looked frozen solid.

  ‘Do you live in Bristol?’ Michael asked.

  Evie pushed her cold coffee to one side and picked up her fresh one, letting the steam warm her face. ‘I grew up there. Now I live in Manchester.’

  ‘Where you work for Lee, Lee and Meredith,’ Michael said, pointing to her chest. ‘I see you got Martha to relent and give you your badge. A badge for …’ he looked again, then sat back and grinned. ‘Someone called Phoebe Sloan.’

  Evie pulled a face. ‘Martha’s revenge. She wouldn’t change it, no matter what I said. And she knew perfectly well what my name is. Said she must have misheard me.’

  ‘Evie Stone, Phoebe Sloan. I can see how she might have got confused.’

  ‘Well, I can’t. She did it on purpose. She’s definitely got it in for me.’

  ‘But you’re wearing it anyway.’

  Evie shrugged. ‘Not one single person other than you has spoken to me. Don’t suppose it makes much difference what my name is.’

  Michael smiled. ‘What do Lee, Lee and Meredith do? I assume you’re not a partner – yet.’

  Nor am I ever likely to be, Evie thought. She said, ‘It’s a bit of a mouthful already, don’t you think? They’re architects. And total pains in the …’ Evie stopped herself and flushed. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be calling down my employers. It’s not exactly professional.’

  ‘Despite the fact they sent you here, like a lamb to the slaughter.’

  Evie’s head jerked up in surprise. But Michael’s expression was kind, not mocking. She sighed. ‘Was it that obvious?’

  ‘That you hadn’t given a talk like that before? Only a bit.’ He grinned at her raised eyebrow. ‘Well, okay. Maybe a lot. That’s why they went easy on you. I think they felt a bit sorry for you.’

  ‘That was them going easy? Jeez, I’d hate to see them when they’re giving someone a hard time.’

  ‘Yes, you would. Honestly, they ripped the last guy to shreds.’

  ‘I’m glad I was late, then. I’d never have gone on at all if I’d seen that.’ She swallowed. ‘Thanks, by the way. You really helped me get through it.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘You did. You were …’ Evie tailed off. This was so weird. She felt a kind of intimacy with this man, but he was practically a stranger. She wanted to tell him how much it had meant to her, having him there while she gave her talk, but that would sound totally ridiculous.

  She said nothing and sipped her coffee. Michael filled the silence, telling her how the first speaker had so enraged the more militant delegates, they’d ended up shouting him off the stage.

  Evie pulled a face. ‘But this conference is all about green issues. The environment and conservation. I thought they’d be, well, nicer people.’

  Michael laughed. ‘What, into free love and saving the planet? Eco warriors and activists?’

  Evie shrugged. Apart from the free love, it was how she herself might have been described a few years ago. These days she preferred less confrontational methods when it came to environmental issues, but she was no less passionate.

  ‘These people are industry professionals,’ Michael said. ‘Hard-nosed businessmen. And women, of course,’ he added when Evie bristled. ‘The conference circuit, it’s like a game. They’re not here to learn anything new, they’re not interested in green issues or any other issue. They’re here to network like crazy, and score points off each other.’

  What does that say about you? Evie wondered. But then again, by the look of the other delegates, Michael was as much an outsider as her.

  ‘Presumably my boss knew exactly what she was letting me in for when she sent me here,’ she said.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Well, it was good experience.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’

  Evie grimaced. ‘Actually, it was the only way she’d let me take two weeks off. As I’d be in the area I might as well save her the trip, was how my boss put it to me. Which meant, get your arse down there or else.’

  Michael spluttered out his drink in a sudden fit of coughing. He gestured helplessly with one hand, trying to mop up the table with a napkin. Evie patted him on the back, tentatively at first, then a little harder. His body was warm, his shoulders straining against the fabric of his white cotton shirt.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Evie asked when he’d recovered.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, wiping his eyes. ‘It’s just that you don’t look like the kind of woman who would say “arse” like that. You’re so petite, so … Well, anyway. It took me unawares.’

  ‘You should never judge a book by its cover,’ she told him, and she wondered what else he had been about to say – so petite and so … what?

  He stood up and stretched. ‘Are you attending any of the seminars this afternoon?’

  Evie, now level with his thighs, tried not to notice how they, too, strained at the fabric of his tailored trousers. He was clearly a guy who worked out.

  Don’t go there, Evie, said a voice in her head. She pinched her lips together in annoyance. Of course she wasn’t going to go there. Not after what had happened with James. But it didn’t do any harm to look, did it?

  She slid out of the booth and swung her bag over her shoulder. ‘Unfortunately not. Just popping in and out, was the plan. Besides, I’m hardly dressed for it now, am I?’

  Michael’s eyes travelled from her feet to her face slowly enough for Evie’s cheeks to flush again. ‘You look fine to me. But listen, if you’re still here when I finish – I mean, if you don’t manage to get your train after all – do you fancy having dinner together? There’s a free bar for delegates, and the food’s not bad, or so I’ve been told. You should sort yourself out with a room, though. Just in case.’

  She nodded, wondering how her face could be so hot when the rest of her body was freezing. ‘Thanks. Okay. Yes, I would. I mean, I will.’

  ‘Right then. See you later. Probably.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Evie said.

  She watched him walk out of the bar, then turned her attention back to the TV screen, where the twenty-four hour news scrolled on interminably.

  ‘All trains servicing South Wales have been cancelled until further notice,’ the newsreader told her with a knowing look.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Evie whispered. She’d have to call her grandparents and give them the bad news. Hopefully she’d still be able to make the meeting – there might be a train out of here first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, she’d just have to make the best of it. There was, after all, nothing she could do about the weather.

  She headed to the reception area, wheeling her suitcase behind her, and was relieved to see that Martha had been replaced by a cheerful-looking woman with curly grey hair.

  ‘I might need to stay here tonight,’ Evie said, rooting through her bag for her credit card.

  ‘We’ve only got a couple of rooms left, my dear. And they’re both executive suites, I’m afraid. But there is another hotel around the corner – I could phone
them and see if they have a single room?’

  Evie stopped, the card clutched in her hand like a talisman. Should she? The sensible thing to do – the practical thing to do – was to get a room at a hotel nearer to the station so she’d be able to jump on the first train to Bristol as soon as possible. This woman with the twinkly eyes and the curls would be happy to help her find one, she was sure. And an executive suite would cost a fortune. A fortune she didn’t have.

  And Michael was really far too good looking to have dinner with, however innocent it might be. He was a temptation she’d be wise to avoid. Those eyes, that ready smile. The easy intimacy she already felt existed between them.

  Not a good idea.

  Yes, she really should do the sensible thing and put as much distance between her and Michael as possible.

  On the other hand, this hotel wasn’t that far from the station – the taxi journey had taken less than five minutes, once the driver figured out where he was going – and at least it was comfortable, and safe. And she’d given her grandparents the number so they’d know where she was if they needed to call her.

  It would be crazy to start looking around for somewhere else to stay, in a snow storm, in an unfamiliar town, when there was a perfectly suitable hotel right here.

  Evie slapped her card on the counter and gave the woman a beaming smile. ‘That’s okay. I’m sure I can claim it back on expenses. Besides, I’ve got a dinner date for tonight.’

  Chapter 3

  Evie stretched out her legs against the cool cotton sheets and smiled to herself. Her body felt loose and relaxed, like she was floating on a raft of fluffy cushions in a warm, friendly sea. She ran her hand over her stomach and thought about another hand, a much bigger hand, with rougher skin and insistent fingers, exploring her body eagerly.

  She smiled a delicious, contented smile, and thought about a pair of brown eyes gazing down on her, a gorgeous mouth with full, perfectly shaped lips kissing her on her forehead, on her nose, her mouth, and then moving down her body. Looking back up at her adoringly while she ran her fingers through thick, dark hair.

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  Evie sat up, wincing as some kind of heavy object slammed against the inside of her skull. At least, that was what it felt like. She pressed her palms to the sides of her head to try and contain the pain, and squinted against the early morning sunshine.

  Pain. Pins boring into her eyes. A cement mixer churning in her stomach. Disorientated, Evie squeezed her lids together then opened her eyes. She was in a hotel suite, that was clear. There was the standard-issue desk and chair, plus the extra seating area that transformed it from a bog-standard room; there was the tea tray with jiggers of milk and sachets of coffee. And lots of empty biscuit wrappers. But was it her hotel room or …? She tried to remember if Michael had said whether his room was also a suite, but her mind refused to help her out. There were only parts of images, of hands and lips and hair and flesh pressed against flesh. Whether these were the remnants of a vivid dream or actual memories, Evie had no idea.

  She steeled herself and looked at the pillow beside her. The other side of the bed was empty. She breathed out in relief, noticing her case spilling open on the floor and her phone charging on the executive desk. It was her suite, and she was pretty sure she was alone.

  But why couldn’t she remember what had happened the night before?

  Alcohol, that was why. It didn’t take a genius to work out the reason for the banging head and the lurching stomach, but Evie resisted admitting it for another ten minutes, staggering around the room searching for painkillers, all the while telling herself she was coming down with the flu. She came to a stop in the bathroom, shielding her eyes from the blinding over-sink light, and filled a tumbler from the tap. She swallowed two paracetamol, then sank to her knees and rested her head on her hands on top of the toilet seat.

  After a few minutes, Evie pushed herself up and looked in the mirror. Her hair was tangled, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

  ‘You’ve looked better,’ she told herself. ‘A lot better.’

  She reached for the shower control and turned it to cold. Time to try and wake up her memory.

  *

  By the time Evie stepped out of the lift and picked her way to the restaurant for breakfast, she’d fixed her hair and managed to hide the worst effects of the hangover with a healthy coating of make-up. She figured some coffee and toast would make her feel better in no time.

  The threatened eight inches of snow had turned out to be no more than a scattering of white fluff on the ground, even though the storm had raged all night. She remembered the wind howling and rattling the secondary glazing, while the rain clattered off the flat roof of a building outside her window. But that was still all she could remember.

  At least it was still early – hopefully she wouldn’t have to face Michael until she’d managed to remember what, if anything, had happened between them.

  ‘Evie! Over here.’

  Oh, no. Just her bad luck. Evie tried to smile, but it was little more than a baring of teeth.

  ‘Morning,’ she said, flopping into the chair Michael held out for her.

  ‘Morning,’ he boomed. Evie winced and shrank back. She took the menu from him, then placed it down without a glance.

  ‘Coffee, please,’ she said to the waiter. ‘And toast. Lots of coffee and lots of toast.’

  Michael grinned. ‘Are we feeling a bit the worse for wear this morning?’

  ‘I don’t know how you’re feeling, but I feel like I’m coming down with the flu.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The flu. You probably are. It’s a common reaction to drinking two bottles of wine, three cocktails and goodness knows how many shots.’

  Evie winced again and hid behind her hands. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘You did. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘I don’t remember anything.’

  ‘Nothing at all?’ His voice was soft, teasing.

  Evie shook her head, glad he couldn’t see her face.

  ‘Don’t worry. You weren’t the only one who overindulged. You won’t see many of the delegates looking too chirpy this morning.’

  ‘You seem chirpy enough,’ Evie said, peering out from between her fingers. ‘You don’t seem to have the flu at all.’

  ‘I have a strong constitution. And a remarkable tolerance for alcohol.’

  ‘Unlike me,’ Evie said with a groan.

  ‘Yes. Unlike you.’

  Michael carried on eating his cooked breakfast – which Evie couldn’t even bring herself to look at – while she munched her toast and gulped down two cups of strong coffee.

  ‘What’s the news on the trains?’ she asked. ‘I checked my timetable and there should be one to Bristol at eight thirty.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, I think. There was some snow on the line, but at least they’re running again. Evie, I was thinking – as we’re both heading in the same direction, why don’t I give you a lift?’

  Evie put down her cup and stared at him. ‘You have a car?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Don’t you?’

  ‘Well, yes. But not here, with me. You have a car here?’

  Michael nodded. ‘Parked outside. And I won’t even have to dig it out of the snow, which is good news.’

  ‘But …’ Evie struggled to organise her thoughts into words. ‘But you could have driven us both to Bristol last night, couldn’t you? Don’t you have an important meeting as well?’

  ‘I told you, I had it rearranged. Anyway, it wouldn’t have been a good idea to drive in those conditions. And I’m pretty sure they closed the bridge. Besides …’ He tailed off, grinning.

  ‘What?’ Evie said.

  ‘Well, I’m quite glad we were stuck here. I wouldn’t have missed out on last night for the world.’

  Evie swallowed, suddenly feeling sick all over again. She looked at his face for clues, but all she saw was his wide smile and those dimples. Surely she would remember if they’d slept together?
>
  But then what were all those pictures in her head when she woke up?

  ‘It’s all a bit of a blank, to be honest,’ she told him. ‘Perhaps you could fill me in?’ And be gentle with me, she didn’t add. If I made a total idiot of myself, I’m not sure I want to know.

  ‘Well,’ Michael said, looking at her thoughtfully, ‘we had dinner, which was lovely. We talked, which was also lovely. You told me all about your grandparents, Mavis and Frank, and how you’re really worried about them because they’re in some kind of pickle and you’ve been called in to help them out. You told me you’ve been accused of having a “rescuer complex” and that your last boyfriend left you because once you’d rescued him he didn’t want to be reminded of what a stuff-up he’d been when he met you.’

  Evie groaned and dropped her head onto the table. ‘I can’t believe I told you all that,’ she said, her voice muffled by the napkin.

  ‘You also told me that you’re the only one of your friends who isn’t in a serious relationship, but that as you’re only twenty-nine you don’t see why that should be such a massive problem. And you had an argument with the MD of BuildSurge about the relative merits of George Clarke. That was quite impressive, actually. I’ve never seen that old dinosaur lost for words before.’

  Evie mimed banging her head against the table, then sat up and looked around. ‘He’s not here now, is he?’

  Michael shook his head. ‘He already checked out. But he told me to tell you that if you ever need a job you should give him a call.’

  ‘Wow. So I didn’t totally embarrass myself?’

  Laughing, Michael reached across the table and touched her arm. ‘You were brilliant, Evie. You were fantastic company. Is any of it coming back to you?’

  She nodded. In fact, most of it had come flooding back as soon as he’d started to speak, but it was interesting to find out what he remembered. Whether he’d been paying attention. She could feel her ears turning red with the memory of how drunk she’d been. She remembered leaning on Michael’s arm, gazing into his eyes. They’d laughed a lot, and talked and talked. But nothing else. She was pretty sure about that. She had a clear recollection of being gallantly escorted to her room and letting herself in – and closing the door behind her. Alone.