“You know me better than I know myself?” Alice challenged, still smiling.
“No, but—”
“I’m a grown woman, Nathan. I can do whatever I want.” Alice watched him, full of power. It was time to find out if there was anything solid behind the flirtation. “So is that a yes or a no?”
He was silent for a long moment, but just before Alice could wonder if she’d made a mistake, the edge of his lips curled upward in an unmistakable smile.
Relief surged through her. “I’ll check about their vacancies.”
Alice walked away from the table with a swing in her hips, almost drunk with exhilaration. Rafael had been her practice run—an experiment in sheer, reckless pleasure—but this was different. She wanted Nathan for more than a foreign fling, but even she knew that this new bravery might not last back in England. No, it had to be now, before her calm logic returned.
Nathan caught up with her in the lobby.
“You’ll miss work,” he warned, placing a hand low on her back.
Alice slowed, relishing his touch. “So will you.” She grinned. “Whatever will we do?”
He moved even closer. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
Alice felt his phone vibrate before she heard it, pressed against his side. They paused, momentum suddenly interrupted. Nathan looked at her, questioning; it was her choice.
“Take it,” she decided. “We’re not in any hurry. This is a holiday, after all.”
He checked the screen. “I won’t be a second,” he promised, backing toward a quiet anteroom.
Alice forced herself to breathe. She wandered to a quiet corner of the lobby, trying to calm the tremble of anticipation that seemed to have gripped her body, but too soon, doubts began to filter through her thrilling haze. Was she going too far? She could still remember the feel of Rafael’s body against hers; Nathan wasn’t a random man in an unknown bar—he was real, and decent, and what if this wrecked any chance that they could have something proper between them? Alice gulped.
“Anything good?”
Nathan’s voice was sudden in her ear, and Alice startled. She’d been idly staring at the foyer exhibition of photographs, black-and-white prints in ornate frames. “Lifestyles of the rich and famous,” she replied. There were the Clintons, splashing by the pool, and a candid snap of a Kennedy or two, back in the day. Even Hollywood’s latest superstar Chris Carmel was lounging on the terrace, a martini glass in hand and—
“Wait.” Alice peered closer at the last photo. There was a woman sitting at the table behind him, her back to the camera and no more than a sliver of her body in the far right of the frame, but Alice could have sworn… “Does she look familiar to you?”
“Nope.” Nathan gave a cursory glance before turning back to her, his smile full of suggestion. “So, about that room…”
Alice ignored him, fixated on the flash of pale skin, and the wisp of a dress in the picture behind the heartthrob. The woman’s hair was gathered up in a messy kind of knot; leaning back with wine glass tilting from one outstretched wrist.
“Alice?” Nathan slipped his hand into hers and tugged lightly.
She stood firm. “Give me a second.”
“There are postcards of the photos, if you want. See?”
Alice tried to decipher what it was that had caught her eye. It may only have been a fragment at the edge of the photo, but there was something about the pose that was oddly familiar: the nonchalant, almost-carefree posture. She’d seen it before, Alice realized, as the memory finally surfaced—that glass tilted out just so as they relaxed in a bar after work or met for drinks at the weekend.
Alice gasped.
“It’s her!” All thoughts of seduction were suddenly forgotten as Alice stared at the photo in amazement. “It’s Ella!”
“What?” Nathan jerked his head around to the lobby, as if he expected to see their quarry strolling through to the pool for an afternoon dip.
“There, in the photograph, behind Chris Carmel.” Alice jabbed her fingertip toward it. “Do you see?” She beamed at Nathan triumphantly.
“Alice”—his voice softened—“it’s OK. It’s been a crazy few days. Let’s keep the rain check for another time and get you home.” He took her arm and tried to guide her away. “You’ll feel more like yourself after a good night’s sleep.”
“I don’t need sleep,” Alice protested, shaking off his hand.
He thought she was backing out, Alice realized: that she was looking for an excuse not to follow through with her proposition, but none of that mattered now, not when she was so close to a breakthrough. “Look!” she pushed him closer to the display. “That woman with her back to the shot: I’m telling you—it’s Ella.”
Nathan glanced back at the photo. “Alice, she’s barely in the frame at all—I can’t make out a thing.” He gave her a pat on the shoulder. “I know you want to find her, but this is going too far. That could be anyone.”
Alice refused to yield so easily. She snatched a leaflet of the exhibition details from the side table and eagerly scanned through the small print until she found the titles. “It’s from May,” she announced. “The dates match. It’s her!”
Nathan blinked. “Let me see that.” He reached for the program, as if her word wasn’t enough. Looking from the photograph to the details and back again, he shook his head in surprise as the possibility finally dawned. “You know, you could be right…”
“Of course I am,” Alice replied. “The manager said we needed proof she was here, and now we have it.” She felt a thrill rush through her, better than any seductive urge. It had been the smallest clue, perhaps the only one Ella had overlooked, but she had found it. Nobody could erase themselves completely; you just had to look hard enough. “Ask for access to the security footage,” she told Nathan, beginning to push him toward the gleaming marble front desk. “And the guest logs for that week, and—”
“Hey, I’ve got it,” Nathan cut her off, amused. “I have done this before, you know.”
“Right.” Alice nodded, practically vibrating with impatience. A bored, wealthy-looking family was trailing through the front entrance; if they reached the desk before them, she would have to wait hours for assistance, she was sure. “So, can you? Now?”