After lunch we return to the hotel and we agree to meet by the pool in half an hour, but after a few laps in the afternoon heat I am already exhausted. Billie takes the nanny and Sorab back with her, and Blake and I go back to our suite. Blake gets on with some work while I go up the flight of black wooden stairs and get into the shower.
It is nearly three when I come out. I can hear Blake downstairs on the telephone. I switch on the hairdryer. The water or the heat has made it a little flyaway so I end up clipping the sides with two brown slides. I apply some lip gloss and some mascara and then I stand in front of the six dresses I have brought with me indecisively.
I try them all on, discard all six, and then go back to the first one, which is a short-sleeved, rather bold affair with large, bright flowers. It slips over my head like liquid. I smooth it down my hips and look at myself critically. Perhaps the plain blue dress will be a better choice. I look at the blue dress. Maybe it is a tad too short. I flash a smile at my reflection. And then a scowl. Oh, what the hell! I’ll just wear this.
I take the slides off and tie my hair back with a red ribbon and add a shimmer of fragrance. When I come down the stairs, Blake is sitting at the dining table working. He looks up from his work and whistles, which is a good thing, because if he approves then Helena probably will, too.
He puts his elbows on the table, next to his green coconut drink, and smiles an angelic smile. The sun is coming in through the large glass wall behind him and he looks positively edible. ‘Come here,’ he mouths.
Oh man, this man could charm birds out of a tree. ‘No way,’ I mouth back.
‘Are you seriously disobeying me, Mrs. Barrington?’
I nod.
A dark chuckle rips through him. He raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asks.
I glance at the door. It is no more than ten feet away, and he is at least thirty away. And he is seated. I can definitely make it. Grinning cheekily at him I make a dash for the door.
I run like every horned devil in hell is after me. I am breathing hard and laughing as I grasp the doorknob. An iron-strong embrace crushes me, still laughing and breathless, into a big male chest. My eyes travel upwards and collide with his. His are magnificent, dancing with laughter and mischief. Nice mischief. And a wicked, wicked sliver of desire. His scent is like a sweet mist around me. Hot fingers tease my nape. Other fingers are at my skirt, dragging it upwards.
‘Don’t you dare,’ I warn breathlessly, but my voice is fluttery, lacks any real conviction.
‘No woman should go and see her mother-in-law without a little lick.’
I groan, ‘No,’ and try to wriggle out of his hold.
‘Or yes, that feels good.’
I stop wriggling. ‘This is a bad idea. You’re going to muss up my clothes,’ I scold, even though, like a starved little thing, my sex is already yearning for his tongue.
He laughs, the sound deep and coconut-scented. ‘It’s the best idea I’ve had all year. No one will ever know,’ he purrs silkily.
My skirt climbs steadily. Fuck it. He is going to have his way. I know it. I can taste it. I can sense it searing in his blood… And mine.
‘I can’t let poor pu**y go to a chilly hotel suite with the air conditioning turned up too high. Poor thing, all alone, and barely covered.’
I crack a smile and lean back against the door. ‘Good job, Barrington, dragging me kicking and screaming to exactly where I want to go.’
The wandering hand arrives at my inner thigh. His palm is warm on my bare skin. Suddenly he is no longer over and above me, but underneath my skirt. I throw my head back and laugh. I’m not going to be laughing for long. Fingers creep under the gusset of my knickers and pull it to one side. Other fingers part me open. A warm mouth latches onto my cleft, and sucks me out as if I am an oyster, raw and about to lose its insides.
Oh, yeah.
See? Told you I wouldn’t be laughing for long.
Radiant heat glows between my legs. I close my eyes and allow the never-stopping, never-easing shimmering magic to work. He doesn’t mess about and I crest quickly.
He licks up the juices, replaces the material over my slit, and comes up, lips wet and smiling. Wonderfully warm and glowing, I stretch languorously and smile up at him mistily.
‘Now that’s how a girl should be sent to see her mother-in-law.’
‘Blake?’
‘What?’
‘What if she doesn’t like me?’
He shrugs nonchalantly. ‘And so what? You’re not married to her.’
‘She’s not going to like me, is she?’
‘Why do you need her to like you?’
‘I don’t know. I just thought it might be nice. Nobody wants their mother-in-law to hate them.’
‘Well, my darling, just remember what I told you. The less you try to placate her, the more chances you have of being “liked” by her.’
‘Do you think this dress makes me look like a municipal flower bed?’
He smiles. ‘You look like a prize-winning mixed seed packet blooming in summer.’
‘Is that a compliment?’
‘You bet it is,’ he says and opening the door gently pushes me into the corridor.
Nine
I ring the bell of her suite and a woman in a mannish suit and a brisk efficient air opens the door. She invites me into the suite with a professional smile and introduces herself as Ann Rivers, Helena’s personal assistant. The air conditioning has been turned up so high I shiver slightly. She leads me into the dining room. A Thai waitress waiting by the sideboard bows from the neck and puts her palms together as if in prayer.
I return the gesture and look around me to a table that has been set to the nines. There are all kinds of cutlery and all kinds of food that I don’t recognize. There is also a sideboard full of dishes in covered stainless steel warmers. I bite my lip with consternation.
Of all the settings Helena could have picked, this I consider the most intimidating. As I am standing there she walks in from the opposite doorway. She has timed it brilliantly and I look at her with some awe. There is something very commanding about this beautiful woman. She has what my mother called star quality. As soon as she walks into a room she dominates it utterly, the way a full moon dominates the entire night sky.
She is wearing a classic tan and black hounds tooth suit over a black turtleneck sweater, and her hair and face are immaculate. Her choice of a turtleneck sweater in this climate surprises me a bit. She smiles at me. The smile carries genuine warmth in it, and I smile back. Maybe this will turn out all right. Ann retreats unobtrusively.