Jessica Steele - The Feisty Fiancée

With her eyes glued to the door, Yancie saw Thomson, briefcase in hand, come in. Whimsically she felt she might have done him a favour. If he intended to work through the night, wouldn't a chair in the office be ideal?

He saw her at once and came through the scrum to where she was standing. And Yancie knew then that it wasn't whimsy, but nerveshe was going to kill her; she knew it for a fact. `I've filled in the registration form,' she said hurriedly when it looked as if he might go from her and over to the reception desk. Tell him, tell him. He can't kill you while all these people are about. `I've got the keys,' she added, and quickly made for the lift area. Had she said keys, plural?

Thankfully there were other people going up with them in the lift. Then the lift doors opened, and she stepped out-and so too did Thomson. She went along to her room-he went with her. She stopped outside her doorand knew she could delay telling him the glad news no longer. Especially when, her key already inserted in the door lock, Thomson waited for her to open the door, and held out his hand for his key. She turned to face him.

'The thing is…' she began. His eyes narrowed-oh, grief, he knew something he wasn't going to like was coming.

'The thing is?' he prompted grimly when her words seemed to have got stuck.

'I gave your room away!' she said in one blurted-out mouthful.

He stared at her. Disbelievingly, Thomson just stood and stared at her. A second ticked by, and then another, and when his voice came it was dangerously quiet. `You did-what?'

She was going to have to repeat it. 'I-ergave your room away,' she managed bravely.

For perhaps another three seconds Thomson still continued to stare at her as if he just couldn't believe his hearing. Then, without wasting words, he was moving her to one side, and was turning the key in the door, opening up the room, and stepping inside.

'What…?' she gasped, following him in, her eyes taking in the chair, the table, the double bed.

He turned and looked down on her from his lofty height. `Correction,' he stated. `You gave your room away.'

'Oh, come on, Thomson.' She was tired, and she knew he was; it had been a long day; she was too tired to `Mr Wakefield' him anyway. 'You'd have done the same.'

'I wouldn't.'

'There was this elderly couple-she'd just had her hip done. They offered her the office chair… You'd love the office chair. You could work all ni…'

He was not even tempted, she could tell. 'I'm having that bed,' he butted in.

'No, you're not! I am!' she insisted-and didn't like at all the way when, looking testily at her, a gleam of something other than irritability suddenly entered his eyes.

He transferred his gaze from her to the double bed, then back to her again, and his glance was definitely mocking, she realised when he suggested silkily, `We could always share it, I suppose.' And Yancie wanted to hit him.

'You toad!' she berated her employer. `You know what you can do to me, and how I don't want you to.'

He smiled an insincere smile, and she knew then that that was precisely why he'd made the offer to share-because he knew that she would never take him up on it. Not that he would again kiss her the way he had before. Well, she certainly wasn't going to ask him ever again for a goodnight kiss.

But she could be as crafty as him. `If you insist, I'll go as far as sharing the room with you,' she called his bluff.

'No way!' he snapped curtly, as she had thought having no intention of sharing either bed or room-but oddly that made her angry suddenly.

'I'm not likely to want to have my wicked way with you!' she snapped.

He didn't answer for some seconds but was obviously weighing up his options. He must know, Yancie was positive, how the hotel was cram full with unexpected guests, and the possibility of getting a room elsewhere-should one care to go out again into the dreary, cheerless night-hopeless.

His mind was made up, apparently. `You start anything and I'll sack you!' he threatened nastily-and Yancie's emotions were in an uproar.

She had only meant to call his bluff-but he had accepted! But-that aside-it made her furious that he should remind her she had been the one to start `things' the last time. `You should be so lucky!' she erupted, and thought for one weird moment that he was going to burst out laughing. Must be the weather affecting my brain terminals, she decided a moment later, because he was more glaring at her than laughing.

And then, as Thomson went and put his briefcase down on the table, Yancie all at once realised that-oh, heavens-she must have just agreed to share the room with him. She put her brain into overdrive mode. Her bluff to call his bluff by offering to share the room with him hadn't worked! While he'd initially decided it was out of the question, somehow she had talked him into changing his mind. Oh, crumbs!

While Yancie wasn't thrilled with the arrangement, she accepted that perhaps it was the only logical thing to do. But, while she felt that she knew enough of him to know she could just as well be sleeping on the planet Mars for all he was likely to come closer than he had to that night, she also felt it important that they get everything else settled here and now. Number one being that if anybody was going to have that double bed it was going to be her, not him. She looked at the one dumpy little chair in the room-if he thought she was going to sleep in that while he had the bed, did he have another think coming.

'Actually, Thomson-' she attracted his attention, wishing she'd missed off the `Thomson,' but too late now `-I asked at Reception about dinner-but apparently they've had a run on food and there isn't any left.' She lied nicely. `But I could swap you the bed for a cheese sandwich if you like?'

He studied her for long seconds. Then, `Done,' he said, and, suddenly awash with guilt, Yancie gained the impression that Thomson had intended she should have the bed anyway.

She looked away from him, finding the bedside phone of much interest. 'They'll probably have handed out all the spare blankets too,' she said. `It might be an idea to bring the car rug from the boot.'

'Anything else?'

Was he being sarcastic? She rather thought he was. `Don't forget to ring your mother!' she snapped, and went storming off to the bathroom, certain that was a hastily smothered laugh that followed her. No wonder she hated him.

She rinsed her face and, for something to do, cleaned her teeth as well, and was soon in love with him again, hate having small chance of staying around for long when she loved him so much.

She went and listened at the door; all seemed silent in the next room. She opened the door and went in. Thomson wasn't there. No doubt he'd gone to get the car rug, and possibly to drown his sorrows with the rest of the herd at the bar.

Yancie took the sandwiches from her bag, opened one packet and ate a sandwich, leaving a packet and a half for him. She looked at her watch, and could hardly believe that it was half past nine already. She'd better ring home.

'You're fog-bound?' Fennia guessed when Yancie told her she wouldn't be home that night so not to worry. `You stay where you are; with luck, it will be clear by the morning.'

Yancie rang off, hoping Fennia was right. She didn't know how she was going to get through one night sharing a room with Thomson; to have to share the room with him for a second night was unthinkable.

Where was he? It didn't take all that long to collect a car rug, did it? An abrupt and unwanted notion suddenly occurred to her. Oh, my giddy aunt, supposing, just supposing, he took it into his head to take a look around! Just supposing he took a look at the dining room. Oh, grief, he could, at this very moment, be having his dinner. In which case when he came back he might very well tell her she could keep her sandwiches; the deal was off, the bed his.