She nodded. ‘Sort of...’
Pain in his eyes. Regret.
Nothing she wasn’t feeling too in huge, desperate spades.
She licked her lips quickly. ‘It wasn’t the only reason, though...’ Which might soften the blow for him, if not for herself. ‘I thought it’d be good to spend some time here exploring the city. I’ve got this idea, see, to draw inspiration for the individual bedrooms from the city itself. Colours. Textures. That kind of thing. I’m going to look around, see if it could be a viable approach.’
He received this with a slow nod. ‘So, where are you staying?’
‘The Metropole.’
‘Right.’ His lips pursed and then he was drawing himself up. ‘Well, maybe we could get together in London then, next week, or whenever suits...’
She felt an ache tugging, wretchedness winding through, but if she didn’t force herself to seem bright about the prospect then he was only going to feel worse.
‘Sure.’ She smiled to warm him. ‘I’ll hopefully have some firm ideas by then—only for discussion, obviously.’
‘Obviously...’ He smiled a pale confounded smile and then, as if he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do or not, he stepped in quickly and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Have a good one, Quinn!’ And then he was turning on his heel, striding away up Rua Augusta, disappearing from sight.
She touched the place he’d kissed, swallowing down tears along with the scream she could feel rising inside.
How could they not catch a fricking break? Why did everything have to keep going wrong?
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘UNBELIEVABLE!’
‘Sorry, senhor?’
Curses! He must have said it out loud. And now the taxi driver was staring at him through the rear-view mirror, obviously thinking he’d missed some fresh instruction.
‘It was nothing.’ He shook his head at the man, waving his hand to dismiss it. ‘I was talking to myself.’
‘Ah!’
The driver’s expression said it all: Like a madman!
Like a mad man who was trying very hard right now not to put his mad fist through the window.
He clamped his mouth shut to make sure nothing else slipped out. Unbelievable! Why was everything with Quinn one step forward, two steps back? Just when he’d turned himself round, allowed himself to see some merit in her bespoke boutique idea—just when he’d started seeing things from her side, feeling things from her side, fate had drawn a line, dumping him on the wrong side.
He looked out of the window, taking in nothing. Or maybe it was the right side. For him. For her. Because he had just come pretty close to blowing it back there, hadn’t he?
His stomach roiled. He had only set out to comfort her. A pure impulse from a pure place because she was crying—because of him, and Dad, and the position they’d put her in—and he couldn’t bear it. And she had let him touch her, let him wipe her tears away. No recoiling. No stiffening. Just looking up at him, reaching in with that warm liquid gaze of hers, and then he had got stuck, couldn’t shake himself loose, couldn’t stop his eyes going to her mouth, imagining how her lips would feel under his, wanting so badly to taste them that he’d almost succumbed...
He shut his eyes. Thank God he hadn’t because this was Quinn Radley. In itself a complication too far, never mind that they were working together, hence colleagues, hence off-limits to each other. And even if, for a tantalising second, it had seemed that she was looking at him with longing in her eyes, seemed that maybe she wanted him to kiss her, it was probably just his febrile imagination tripping because she was lovely, because being with her, spending time with her, was reminding his body that it had wanted her ever since the night of Dad’s sixtieth.
He rubbed his hands over his face, reconnecting with the view. Just an old thread getting tangled up with the new ones, almost landing him on the wrong side of the line. His heart clenched. But if this was the right side, then why didn’t it feel right? Why was his pulse going hard, his fist itching to break something? Why was he feeling devastated that she wasn’t here with him, filling his head with her ideas for the hotel? Dad’s dream—calling him out for being against it simply because it was that! He swallowed hard. She was right, of course.
He drummed his fingers on his thigh. At least Dad had had a dream, though. What was his? A pang caught him in the gut.
And what the hell was he going to do with himself in London all weekend? Rattle around in the big old house feeling the irksome absence of Dad? Call Mum for a few minutes of awkward catch-up conversation? Hang out with his partnered-up friends, pretending he was cool with being thirty-one and single? Or he could fritter his time away at Aspinalls. Tempting, not! And meanwhile Quinn would be here, in the warmth and sunshine, searching for creative inspiration—alone. Drinking alone, dining alone, possibly being approached by some random guy. His heart lurched. Not possibly, probably, because she was stunning, and far too friendly for her own good...
An airport welcome sign flashed past.
He felt a hot wave rising, pulsing up his spine and then suddenly it stopped.
What the hell was he doing?
Just because he was booked to fly didn’t mean he had to! He could cancel, go back, book into the Metropole, spend the weekend with Quinn, searching for colours or whatever, listening to her ideas, thrashing things out. This was business after all. His business! Why wouldn’t he want to be involved? And it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to see more of the city...
And if he stayed he could keep an eye on her, because she was bound to go off the main drag, intentionally or otherwise, not thinking of danger. From her own lips—that was what she did all the time! He could keep her safe, protect her from random strangers. And as long as she didn’t mind him tagging along then wouldn’t it be the perfect opportunity for them to get to know each other better? After everything they’d been through, that couldn’t hurt, could only help on the project front, especially now it was sprouting arms and legs.
He felt a smile coming. He wasn’t sold yet, but it was quite the curve ball she’d thrown. A smart take on things. It was giving him a buzz anyway, or maybe the buzz was in collaborating, working with someone who had creative vision. He didn’t have much to offer in that department, but he was curious, wanted to learn, and at this very moment his favourite teacher was walking through Lisbon without him. Not a situation he could allow to continue, at least not without giving her an alternative option!
The driver was pulling in now, cutting the engine, turning round. ‘Twenty euros, senhor.’
He flicked a glance through the window. The taxi queue was heaving, snaking back for miles. If he let this cab go, it would take him ages to get another once he’d retrieved his bag and he didn’t have time to waste. He had to get back, find Quinn, see if she was open to the idea of a partner in crime.
He pulled out a hundred, offering it up but keeping hold. ‘Could you wait, please? I’m going in, then coming back out.’
The man looked confused. ‘You come back, senhor?’
‘Yes.’ He felt his hands moving, trying to illustrate. ‘I’m going in to collect a bag, then I want to go back to the city.’ He circled his finger so the guy would get it, trying and failing to stop a smile breaking his face apart. ‘I’m not leaving Lisbon today.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IT WAS STUPID to be feeling this deflated. A solo weekend in Lisbon was exactly what she had planned, after all. Time to explore and gather ideas—ideas which, from the sound of it, Will might actually consider. Lots to feel positive about.
