“Ow,” said Stan, as she stood on his foot again.
“Sorry,” Carrie murmured, and bit the inside of her cheek to keep her focus on the dancing and not on Nathanial bloody Green.
After another hour or so, Carrie began to feel slightly more enthusiastic about the whole dancing idea. She hadn’t trod on Stan’s toes for almost ten minutes and Cyb was no longer standing behind her, guiding her movements. Instead, she was watching from the side, hands clasped together in front of her chest, grinning. Perhaps she could do this after all.
The music came to an end, and Cyb clapped her hands together. “That was wonderful, Carrie!”
Carrie looked to Stan for a less biased assessment. “It was definitely better,” he assured her. “And now, if you two ladies don’t mind, I do have other things I need to do today.”
Cyb nodded, and he disappeared out of the dining room and back into the lobby. “He loves it, really,” Cyb told her, as she began packing away the tapes. “He loves any excuse to dance.”
“I’m not sure he’d call what I was doing dancing.” Carrie pulled the first few tables into their usual position. “But it was very kind of you both to help me with this.”
“It was a pleasure.” The smile on Cyb’s face said that, against all odds, she actually meant it. “You’ll be a perfect partner for Nate, now.”
The smile on Carrie’s face froze, although Cyb didn’t seem to notice. The older woman was instead preoccupied with a hat she’d found on the stage. “Oh, look what Stan’s left behind. I’d better chase him...” And she was gone, with considerably more speed than Carrie thought she could have managed after an hour and a half of dancing.
Maybe Cyb didn’t need to tell Stan at all. They already acted like partners. Other than the sex, what was she missing? But that train of thought led Carrie back to her one night with Nate. She knew exactly what she was missing.
A hell of a lot.
With a sigh, Carrie thumped down to sit on the stairs leading up to the stage. Did everyone think she and Nate were a couple? Or at least an inevitability? Did they think this was a lovers’ tiff? Was it? Hadn’t they noticed they’d barely spoken since Anna’s visit?
Even if she wasn’t his boss, and there weren’t a thousand reasons for them not to be together–starting with the fact they’d only known each other a few months and ending with her needing him for the gardens, and what if something went wrong and he left?–Carrie wasn’t sure she wanted to be in a relationship purely because everyone else thought it was a good idea.
But then she remembered the feel of Nate’s skin against hers, the heat of his mouth on her body, the way he moved against her in the dark of the attic, and she knew that wasn’t the only reason. They fit together, there was no point denying it. But was it just physical? Was there something more?
And could she take the risk of finding out?
Sighing again, Carrie got to her feet. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed with Puss and a book and forget the whole day. And maybe, for once, she was just going to do just what she liked, and damn everyone else.
* * * *
Carrie was avoiding him.
It had been two weeks since Anna bloody Yardley’s visit, since Carrie told him her focus had to be on the inn, and while he’d known she was serious, he hadn’t expected her to be so literal about it. How was he supposed to convince her to take a chance on him if every time he got near her, she started studying the furnishings and finding another urgent job to do? It was getting disheartening. If it hadn’t been for the smiles she’d given him the morning after their night together, he’d have worried he wasn’t doing it right.
But he’d been over every moment of that night in his head, for endless nights now. Every time his head hit the pillow, it started running through his mind again, his own personal porn movie, from the moment Carrie led him up the stairs to the kiss goodbye when he’d had to physically drag himself away from climbing back into bed with her. It had been the most incredible night of his life. And he refused to believe it had been anything less than spectacular for her too.
None of which explained why he couldn’t get her alone for a moment. Even if she insisted on working like a drone, he was part of her work. Perhaps he just needed to find a good enough business reason to get her alone.
Or, more likely, perhaps he needed to help her fix her business first, so she had time to focus on other things.
Nate sat back on his heels and tossed his paintbrush into the pot beside him on the terrace. Which brought him right back to his original problem. How was he supposed to help her if she was avoiding him?
A tinny ringing noise started in his back pocket, and Nate pulled out his phone with a scowl. Melody’s London number blinked on the screen. She’d said she would ring, he reminded himself. And he was still perfectly capable of saying no.
But maybe a few days away from the Avalon was just what he needed. His finger hovered over the answer button, and he wondered briefly what Carrie would make of him absconding to London to see his ex-girlfriend in the middle of a work week.
Then he reminded himself that Carrie was ignoring him. She probably wouldn’t even notice.
He pressed Answer.
* * * *
“Have you seen Nate?” Carrie asked Izzie, not without reluctance. Just typical that, after dodging the guy for weeks, the one time she actually needed him, he was nowhere to be found.
“Uh, what do you need him for?” Izzie swivelled her chair sideways and started leafing through a pile of papers Carrie happened to know were actually destined for the recycling bin. Whatever the receptionist was avoiding, Carrie was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like it.
“The terrace needs another coat of paint,” Carrie said, leaning across the counter, curious as to what had Izzie fondling the rubbish. “Where is he, Izzie?”
Lying wasn’t among Izzie’s talents, Carrie had discovered early on when they’d had a discussion about not telling all callers that Carrie was available until she’d asked her if she was available, even if it looked like she was just chatting with Cyb in the drawing room. “Uh, well, I think he had to leave town.” Izzie stared up at the ceiling.
“Leave town?” Carrie had known she wasn’t going to like it. “Did he say when he’d be back?”
Izzie shook her head. “But, um, he left you a note.” She gave Carrie a sympathetic look, and Carrie could feel her jaw clench and her teeth start to grind together. When were people going to realize she and Nate were not carrying on some epic love affair under their noses? She opened the note and found her answer: when they heard about Nate’s dirty weekend in London. Not that the note said that, of course. It merely said that a good friend had asked him to spend a couple of days in London sorting out som
e business, and he hoped it wasn’t too inconvenient.
“I could try his mobile for you,” Izzie offered.
“No, thanks.” Carrie tried a smile. “I’m perfectly capable of painting the terrace myself.” She wouldn’t give Nate the satisfaction of knowing she cared about whom he spent time with.
Even if she did.
* * * *
Three days later, the night before the grand re-opening party, Nate finally came home.
Carrie had been hiding out in the front drawing room for most of what was left of the evening, laptop on her knees, wrestling with some of the figures Alex the accountant had sent over. It wasn’t looking any better than when she’d started.
Still, from her seat by the window, she saw the taxi pull up in the darkness and Nate’s broad shoulders and tall frame ease out under the cast iron lamppost at the front entrance. She closed her laptop and waited.
He looked tired, she thought, when he appeared in the doorway before her. She refused to imagine what had worn him out. It was none of her business now, anyway.
“Nice trip?” she asked, putting her laptop aside as Nate hovered in the doorway.
“Productive, I hope.” Nate gave up his prevaricating, came into the drawing room, and chose the seat opposite hers. Not too close, she thought, but near enough that he wouldn’t be able to avoid her gaze. Good.
She looked up at him, hands folded in her lap. “So it was a business trip, then?” She waited again, wanting to know what he’d admit to. Moira had already told her the truth, with only minimal persuasion. He’d gone to visit his producer ex-girlfriend, Mel. Moira thought she wanted him back. And Nate was obviously considering it.
Nate gave a heavy sigh. “Some business. Some tying up loose ends.” Carrie blinked. That wasn’t quite the response she’d been expecting.
“Loose ends?” she echoed, trying to make sense of the past few days from this new point of view.
“Mel... She called a few weeks ago. Trying to get me down to London.” Nate rubbed a hand across his forehead. “She’s persistent.”