Zeke refilled their glasses as the waiter whisked their empty plates away. Christmas carols were playing softly in the background, and outside the restaurant windows the small courtyard the room overlooked had been transformed into a winter wonderland, the one tree it contained proudly displaying its new clothing of glittering white. The flakes of snow, as thick and luscious as in a child’s painting, were still falling fast, and already an inch or so carpeted the ground.
Without really thinking about what she was saying, she turned to Zeke. ‘The snow’s settling fast. As soon as you’ve eaten you ought to think about leaving.’
The hour’s drive to their big sprawling manor house on the outskirts of Reading would take double the time in this weather, and the Ferrari—beautiful though it undoubtedly was—wasn’t ideal for Arctic conditions. He could easily get stranded in the middle of nowhere.
Zeke’s smile was little more than a quizzical ruffle. ‘Can’t wait to get rid of me?’ he murmured.
He was at his most sexy in this mocking mood, but Melody refused to be charmed. ‘That and the fact you could well find yourself stuck in the middle of a snow-drift somewhere. The wind’s getting up—or hadn’t you noticed?’
‘I’d noticed.’
Melody shrugged. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘Considering you’ve done nothing but warn me about things since first thing this morning, I wouldn’t dream of it.’
He was still
smiling, but she hadn’t imagined the edge to his voice and it did nothing to reassure her he had decided to accept defeat. She felt a wave of intense weariness sweep over her for a moment. She didn’t want to have to fight him. She felt so emotionally bruised and battered she just craved peace of mind, and she wouldn’t achieve that until she was far, far away from Zeke. Once she had got herself together and organised a few essentials she intended to disappear for a few months. She wouldn’t take a penny of his fortune to support herself—she had worked for her living in bars and restaurants before, and she could do it again, and she’d already thought about setting herself up as a dance teacher in the future.
The waiter appeared again with their main course, but suddenly her appetite was gone and she had to force herself to eat. It didn’t help that Zeke was watching her like a hawk with its prey, his eyes boring into her as though he was trying to dissect her brain. Which he probably was, she reflected darkly. He would be looking for a chink in her armour—it was the nature of the beast.
‘You’re struggling.’ As Melody glanced at him, Zeke motioned with his fork at her own plate. ‘Tired?’
She nodded. The effort of leaving the hospital and not least this confrontation with Zeke, which she had been hoping to avoid until she was stronger, had taken more out of her than she would have thought possible. The doctors had predicted that she would experience bouts of extreme exhaustion in the early days of her release, but she hadn’t expected to feel so completely wiped out. All she wanted to do was to crawl into bed.
‘Want to skip dessert for now?’ he asked softly.
She didn’t know quite what he meant by ‘for now’, but was too weary to take him up on it. She had eaten more at one sitting than at any time over the past weeks, and the champagne had done its bit to drug her too. Dessert was beyond her. She nodded again. She could lay her head down and sleep right now.
Zeke lifted his hands. The waiter appeared at his side and within moments they were leaving the restaurant. She had known she was going to find it difficult to stand up and walk—her muscles still weren’t functioning as they once had, and she got stiff easily although her physiotherapist had assured her that was just a temporary thing—but in the event Zeke’s firm hands at her elbows and the way he took charge smoothed the way. Nevertheless, she was painfully aware of her pronounced limp as they left, and wondered what he was thinking. He had always said she had the grace of a young gazelle—well, no more, Melody thought wretchedly.
Once in the foyer of the hotel, she stopped and faced him so he was forced to let go of her arm. He was wearing an expensive dark grey suit and a pale peach shirt and tie and he had never looked more attractive. The dark magnetism that was at the centre of his appeal was so strong she could taste it. Numbly, and with formal politeness, Melody said, ‘Thank you for lunch. It was very nice. And although it may not have seemed like it I appreciate your kindness in meeting me from hospital today—although it wasn’t necessary. I hope you have a good journey back to Reading.’
Zeke’s jaw was a tight line, but his voice was easy when he said, ‘You need to rest. I’ll get the key to the room.’
‘I can do that—’ She stopped. She was talking to herself. He was already striding to the reception desk.
Too tired to summon up the annoyance she felt his high-handedness deserved, she watched him exchange a few words with the pretty receptionist before pocketing the fob for the room. Then he was back at her side, taking her arm as he said, ‘I’ve ordered tea and cake from Room Service for four o’clock. That’ll give you two or three hours’ sleep, okay?’ Not okay. So not okay. What was he doing, taking charge like this after everything she’d said? ‘Zeke—’ she began.
‘Don’t cause a scene, Dee. Not with all these nice people round about. You don’t want to spoil someone’s Christmas, do you?’ The mockery was mild, but with a hidden barb in it.
Short of wrenching herself free, which she had no confidence she could accomplish, anyway, Melody found she had no option but to walk with him to the lift. She didn’t want Zeke accompanying her to the room. The foyer had been a fairly neutral place to make their goodbyes, with plenty of people around; her room was an altogether different proposition.
As it turned out it wasn’t a problem, because once the lift had deposited them at the requisite floor and Zeke had walked a few yards down the corridor and opened a door Melody found he had no intention of leaving straightaway.
He stood aside for her to precede him, but she stopped dead on the threshold of what was clearly a suite of rooms. ‘This isn’t my room. I didn’t book this,’ she gasped. ‘I asked for a standard double.’ And that had cost an arm and a leg.
‘You’ve clearly been upgraded,’ he said silkily, drawing her into the large, luxuriously furnished sitting room, complete with real Christmas tree dressed in festive red and gold decorations, before her wits could return.
When they did, she swung to face him accusingly. ‘This is your doing.’ She glanced round wildly, as though the manager of the hotel was going to pop up like a genie out of a bottle. ‘I want my own room. I want the one I booked originally.’
‘I understand from the receptionist that was snapped up minutes after I transferred to this when we arrived,’ Zeke said with unforgivable satisfaction. ‘Look on it as your Christmas good deed. Those folk probably wouldn’t have been able to afford this penthouse, which was the only other available accommodation when I asked, so us having it has meant a happy Christmas for someone else. It is the season of goodwill.’
Melody said something very rude in response, which shocked them both. And then the full significance of his words hit her. ‘What do you mean, “us”?’ she bit out furiously. ‘This is my room and I’m staying in it alone—and I’ll pay for it.’ Somehow.
‘Payment in full has already been made,’ Zeke replied, seemingly unmoved by her anger.
‘Well, it can be darn well unmade.’