‘It is Couples’ Night, sir. No single diners allowed.’ I could hear an apologetic tone in the maître d’s voice, which differed from the tone he had taken with me.
I looked at the host closely, letting him know I was unimpressed.
The stranger, whose eyes, I realised, had not left me, which only caused my blush to deepen, turned suddenly back to the host allowing me time to get my breathing under control and attempt to get a normal colour back into my face.
‘Ms …?’ He looked back at me.
‘Parker,’ I offered, struggling to remember my name.
‘Ms Parker will dine with me, Antoine.’ He turned back to me. ‘If that is all right, of course, Ms Parker?’
‘Abbey. It’s just Abbey.’
‘Nicholas Northby,’ he said in return. He held out a large hand.
I slid mine into his, ignoring the electrical volt that shot up my arm and landed in my gut. It was a good name. Still, I offered him an out. ‘I don’t require saving, Mr Northby.’
‘Just Nick is fine, Abbey.’ He paused and the ghost of a smile rearranged his face, lifting one side of his closed mouth, making me want to see him with a full smile. ‘We both need to eat.’
As if on cue, my stomach piped in, grumbling loudly. ‘Fine,’ I said, resigned.
The small smile graced his closed lips again, and he nodded, satisfied. I followed the host and Nick moved through the restaurant close behind me, a hand on my lower back guiding me. The heat from his large hand radiated hot under my dress. The host led us through the restaurant to a table on the balcony. It had an unimpeded view of the ocean and, not only that, it was the only tableonthe balcony, so although it was Couples’ Night, we were completely alone.
Nick held out a chair for me and by the time I had sat down, a waiter arrived with a bottle of champagne, pouring us two glasses. Nick waited silently until the man left. I used the time to study him, sober and in a better light than our previous meeting. His eyes weren’t nearly as dark as I had thought. Instead, they were a very light brown, mossy and hazelnut in colour. His hair also surprised me with its slightly lighter shade. It had appeared black when wet last night, but now I could see it was actually brown with tawny highlights from the sun. He was tanned and very attractive, though perhaps not classically so.
‘Thank you for dining with me. It would have been a lonely room service if you hadn’t agreed, given that I do not qualify for Couples’ Night. How is your holiday going?’
Jesus,his voice was lovely.
I threw my head back in the air and took a huge sigh. ‘I feel’ – I paused, deciding how honest I was going to be – ‘like I’m having to try too hard to remind myself that I should enjoy it.’ The admission came out way more honestly than I had intended, but somehow the honesty continued as I added, ‘It also feels like it has been a long time since I relaxed and that I’m out of practice. Relaxing feels weird, out of character, I guess.’
He nodded slowly, and I could see my answer surprised him. He had probably been expecting me to gush about the resort or something.
‘Do you have a busy life at home?’ he asked.
‘Yes. And yet compared to some, no. I have a child and a job. It’s an unexciting life.’
‘It’s hard to be “exciting” when you’re raising kids.’
I waited for him to elaborate, expecting details about his life, but he lifted his glass to his mouth and did not continue.
‘So you’re here by yourself as well?’ I queried.
He nodded.
‘How are you finding your holiday? Are you better at relaxing than I am?’
‘It’s been okay. Work follows me wherever I am and then I had to rescue a half-naked, drowning woman from the water last night, which was admittedly different from previous holidays I’ve had.’ He said this quietly, a smile escaping his mouth.
I gave him a genuine laugh, and he laughed too, his face transformed. His smile was broad, and he looked like a little boy.Okay, Nick is a certified hottie.
‘I didn’t need rescuing,’ I pointed out. ‘I just needed to leave some shit I was carrying around in the ocean last night.’ My honesty had overspilled again. I’m not sure what it was about him that made me expose myself so truthfully, but I decided to stop stressing about it.
‘Did it work?’ He leaned forward across the table, genuinely interested.
‘Yes.’ I took a large sip of champagne; the bubbles burned my throat a little.
His gaze was assessing me this time, as if he could tell my answer didn’t ring true. ‘I don’t think it did work,’ he said softly.
