‘Why is your face all red now?’
‘It isn’t,’ I say, my mouth stretched to capacity into a wide, awkward smile.
‘It is.’
‘No. I assure you, it isn’t.’ My face literally feels like an out-of-control forest fire. I want to throw my own drink over myself and rub my cheeks with ice cubes. But that would look even weirder.
‘It is red though, isn’t it, Jackson?’
‘Yep. She’s the colour of tomato soup.’ Jackson sniggers theatrically.
Emir is quick to catch on. ‘She’s the colour of my underpants.’ He lifts his T-shirt and pulls down his shorts waistband to reveal vibrant red underwear.
Oh, good. They’re making a game out of it.
‘Okay, I get the point. It’s a little hot tonight, and I’m still acclimatising.’ And while I love how great Jackson is with children and I could fantasise until the cows come home about family life and being married to this gorgeous man, the game has gone on long enough.
‘Why do you ask, Emir?’ Jackson grins at him.
‘Because you keep looking at each other,’ Emir says, innocently.
Could he be any cuter?I risk a brief glance at Jackson. I can already imagine telling the story years from now.And when I came out of the plane toilet, he was covered head to toe in baby vomit, and that, kids, is how I met your grandfather.
I snap back to attention as Emir finishes his sentence with glee. ‘And she keeps looking at your bum-bum.’
Christ.
Jackson visibly struggles not to smirk. ‘Is that so…? Right, right. Uh-huh.’ He looks down at the chessboard. ‘And whose turn is it?’
Three more games of chess, a mountain of pastries and me repeatedly looking anywhere but at Jackson, and Emir begins yawning. When his eyes begin to close and his head jerks forward, I put my arm around him. ‘Okay, time for bed. Let’s go.’
I half expect Jackson to get up and leave but he stays. His gaze is fixed on mine. ‘See you in a few minutes? Or however long it takes to jackhammer the sugar off his teeth.’ His eyes crinkle with mirth in such a sexy way it sends a shoot of electricity throughout my entire nervous system.
I try to nod casually and lead Emir slowly down the spiral staircase and to his absolutely palatial suite. He has his own mini room, bigger than the one we have for three adults, adjoined to his parents’ bedroom. His clothes have been unpacked, and someone has thoughtfully put his pyjamas on his pillow. I help him get changed and brush his teeth vigorously before they rot in his gums.
‘Emir, why did you really run off earlier? When everyone was getting off the boat?’ He is half asleep and floppy in my arms. ‘Why were you pressed up against that window? What were you watching?’
As his head hits the pillow, his eyelids drooping closed, he mumbles to me. ‘I followed Garry to spy on him, but he was talking to a lady with tomato soup for hair.’
‘Was he? A lady with red hair?’ I say gently. No one springs to mind. Not one single guest had anything other than dark brown or bleached blonde hair.
‘I wanted to see if he was buying Rolex watches.’
‘Like the fake one he wears?’
Emir opens one eye. ‘No, Garry’s watch is a real Rolex. Market value over a hundred and five thousand dollars,’ he says before sleep takes him completely. If that’s true it would mean Garry’s watch is worth more than a three-bedroomed, south-facing house with front and back garden and a garage!
* * *
‘This spot check,’ I say as soon as I sit down opposite Jackson. ‘How do you think Garry found out about it? He warned us all you were coming.’
Jackson looks surprised. ‘Did he? But I only decided yesterday. There was one person I told because I assumed I’d be gone a half-day.’
‘Was it Erika?’
He nods. ‘Yes. She’s in Izmir with two of her team checking on the quality of a new hotel we’ve acquired. So I left a message with Banu at reception.’
‘Emir just said that he ran off to spy on Garry, but he was talking to a red-headed woman.’
