‘Sorry I didn’t check in with you yesterday. I didn’t get a chance.’
‘Why the hell would you have checked in with me yesterday? I was fine, Gareth. Completely fine. I know you’re waiting for me to have some kind of breakdown or something but I don’t give a shit that you’re getting married. That you got married.’
He’s quiet for a couple of seconds. Then, ‘I meant just to see how things are going with Ryan.’
‘Ryan?’ It takes me a second to connect the dots. ‘Oh, Mr Hart.’ My own heart does a little triple step and then my tummy whooshes like I’ve just crested over the top of a roller coaster and I’m pitching back to earth. ‘Fine. Why?’
‘I kind of threw that to you, I know. Do you have everything you need?’
I lie back against the pillows. ‘Of course I do, Gareth. I’m not an idiot. I’ve read the documents. I can sell this place. It’s a good fit for him.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’
Silence.
I open my mouth to offer something tactful, to end the call.
‘I thought about you yesterday.’
Emotions zip in my chest.
‘What?’
‘It was strange. Not having you there.’
Something like sadness gives way to something like anger, and then a bubbling hysteria lurches to the fore. ‘It would have been wildly inappropriate for me to come to your wedding.’
‘No, it wouldn’t. You’re my friend, Gracie...’
I shake my head. We’ve had this argument before. ‘I’m thousands of kilometres away. Can we not do this now? Besides, it’s your honeymoon. Why the hell are you calling to tell me you thought about me? On your wedding day?’
‘I just wanted to know you’re okay...’
‘I’m fine.’ I glare at the kettle across the room as though it’s personally done me a great wrong. ‘You don’t need to worry about me. Just go back to your honeymoon and your wife and don’t call me again.’
I disconnect the call, wincing because actually we generally do a much better job of being professional and polite to one another.
But his wedding was yesterday. It’s too fresh.
I push out of bed, showering, and when I step out onto the tiled floor I stare at myself in the mirror.
And stare.
Because my body is marked all over with signs of the way I spent last night. Scratches at my hips, stubble rash on my breasts, a hickey on my shoulder.
Holy crap.
I lift a finger and trace it, a smile throbbing on my lips. Flashes of memory spear through my mind. The way he sucked at my flesh, right there, as he moved inside me, our bodies locked together.
The way he walked into the hotel room and I pounced on him—it’s never, ever been like that for me. I like sex. I love it. But I can live without it.
Except with Jagger. Even now, looking at myself in the mirror, remembering the way he went down on me last night, the way he took my body last night, remembering the way he kissed me on the plane... I want him with an intensity that blows my mind.
Disappointment almost leads me to swear into the room because I have a full day to get through first, and this one is big. There are meetings between the CEO of Karakedes Corp and Jagger and I expect they’ll take all day, going over the basic operations of the course, the accommodation, the maintenance. Everything.
I can’t be thinking about how badly I need him between my legs.
I flick the coffee machine to life and wait impatiently for a cup to fill. I drink it, reading the brief, reminding myself of the details so that I’m in command of the pertinent facts.