Stephanie Howard - Waiting For Mr. Wonderful!

At the hotel reception desk, however, she received a bit of bad news.

‘I’m sorry,’ the receptionist told her, casting a quick glance behind her at the row of numbered cubby-holes where the guests’ keys were kept, ‘but Mr Lasalle appears to have gone out.’

Damn. ‘I don’t suppose he said where he was going?’ If she knew where he’d gone, maybe she could go after him.

But the receptionist shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I have no idea. We don’t keep track of our guests’ movements,’ she added sniffily.

Georgia took a seat in a corner of the lobby with a good view of the door. Chances were he’d gone out to dinner, but it would be pointless to try and track him down, for there were any number of restaurants he might have gone to. No, she’d just have to sit here and wait till he got back.

She leaned back and suppressed a sigh. It would probably be a long wait. Jean-Claude Lasalle, with his designer suits and shiny Porsche, was not the type of man to make do with a quick bite. No takeaway Chinese or instant hamburger for him. He’d be treating himself to three leisurely courses of Bath’s best, with a bottle of good wine and a shot of brandy to follow. Suppressing another small sigh, she reached for one of the magazines on the table.

An hour and a half later, there was still no sign of him. Georgia stood up to stretch her legs and stifled a yawn. She’d read every single magazine on the table from cover to cover and she was starting to grow tired of the sniffy receptionist’s beady stare. Maybe she thinks I’m some high-class hooker who’s arrived a little early for my appointment! she thought.

But there was a more worrying consideration. It was far too hot here in the lobby and she’d caught herself very nearly nodding off a couple of times! That really was serious. Imagine the disaster if she was sitting there in a state of oblivious slumber when he finally walked into the lobby! For it was perfectly possible that the beady-eyed receptionist might not actually bother to tell him she was there. He could be fast asleep in bed by the time she discovered he was back.

Georgia frowned. Maybe I ought to stay on my feet and pace about, she told herself. That would keep me awake, as well as entertaining the receptionist! But then she had a much better idea.

She crossed again to the reception desk. ‘I wonder if you’d mind checking if Mr Lasalle has left a message for me?’ She smiled a long-suffering smile. ‘You see, he was supposed to meet me here, and I can’t believe he’d be this late without letting me know.’

With a haughty little smile, the receptionist obliged, turning to the row of cubby-holes behind her. Then, as Georgia held her breath, terrified her ruse mightn’t work, she proceeded to do precisely what Georgia had prayed she’d do. She reached up and inserted her hand into one of the cubby-holes.

A moment later, she was examining the slip of paper she’d removed. ‘No, I’m afraid there’s no message. This is a fax for Mr Lasalle.’ And she returned the slip of paper to the cubby-holes.

Georgia was struggling not to grin. Of course there was no message for her! But she’d got what she wanted. She now knew his room number, something the sniffy receptionist would never voluntarily have told her. So she could go ahead and put her brilliant idea into action!

She went back to her seat, picked up a magazine at random and waited till the receptionist disappeared into the office behind the desk, as she did from time to time. Then Georgia leapt to her feet, tore across the lobby and dived through the doorway that led to the lifts and stairs. Scarcely pausing for breath, she sprinted up to the top floor.

What she’d do was wait for him outside his room. There, she’d be able to pace about in private and, when he finally arrived, she’d be able to speak to him more easily, away from curious, prying eyes.

As she approached his room, however, she was taken by surprise. A maid suddenly emerged through the half-open door, carrying an armful of used bath towels.

‘Good evening.’ She smiled at Georgia. ‘I’ve just been tidying the bathroom.’ And she held the door open to allow her to pass inside.

Georgia’s immediate, instinctive reaction was to point out the mistake.

‘It’s not my room,’ she was about to confess. ‘I’m not even a guest here.’

But, for some quite unfathomable reason, she didn’t.

She hesitated for only a second. ‘Thank you,’ she replied. Then, with barely a thought for what she might be walking into, she quickly squared her shoulders and strode through the open door.

CHAPTER TWO

GEORGIA blinked open her eyes, suddenly realising that she’d fallen asleep.

Horrors! What had she been thinking of? She squinted at her watch and discovered to her dismay that it was very nearly midnight. And Lasalle still wasn’t back yet. What the devil was the man up to?

Stiffly, she sat up, pushing her hair back from her face. Just be grateful that he is up to it, whatever it is, she told herself. Imagine how it would have looked if he’d come walking through the door and found you fast asleep at the foot of his bed!

It was at that moment that, through the bathroom door, she heard the sound of the shower.

Georgia froze, refusing to believe her ears for a moment. Surely not? He’d come back, calmly walked past her—for there was no way in the world he could have failed to notice her!—and then, as though everything were perfectly normal, he’d gone into the bathroom to have a shower! If nothing else, he deserved ten out of ten for cool.

She heard the shower switch off, and jumped up from the bed. What on earth ought she to do now? Flee while she still had the chance? It was tempting, but it would be a pretty silly thing to do at this stage. No, the only course of action was to stay right where she was and try to act as cool as him. For one thing, it was rather necessary that she explain what she was doing here, for heaven knew what must be going through his head!

Shoulders squared and quickly smoothing the rumpled skirt of her cerise wool suit, she turned to face the bathroom door just as Lasalle came walking through it.

‘So, you’re awake?’ He was wearing nothing but a white towel around his hips. He smiled with amusement into her carefully composed face. ‘I hope I didn’t disturb you. I tried to be as quiet as I could.’

Very funny. So, he was planning to play this for laughs at her expense? Well, at least he was being civilised. It could have been worse.

Georgia smiled an ironic smile. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised, struggling to keep her eyes on his face as she spoke, though the temptation to examine the bronzed, muscular body, with its broad, powerful shoulders and taut, flat stomach, was very nearly irresistible. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But the room was so hot. I must have dozed off.’

‘You certainly must have. But don’t worry about it. You made an extremely charming, if unexpected, picture curled up there on the bed when I walked in.’

‘I only sat on the bed because the chair was so uncomfortable.’ She cast a quick, accusing glance at the low-backed chair in question and saw to her dismay that it was now draped with his clothes. Good grief. He must have undressed right here in the room in front of her. Thank heavens she hadn’t wakened in the middle of that!

‘I only meant,’ she added lamely, ‘to sit down for a minute.’

Inwardly, she was cringing at the grossness of her faux pas. Tired of pacing about the room, she’d gone to sit on the end of the bed, then, just to be more comfortable, had stretched out for a moment, certain she had the will-power not to fall asleep. She’d fully intended being on her feet when he finally came walking through the door! But she’d blown it. What an absolute idiot she’d been!