Miranda Lee - It Started With A Look

‘Of course you can. That way, when I set up my own company, I’ll promote you to being a proper personal assistant with a salary to match, and we’ll hire another girl to work on Reception and data entry.’

‘Justin! I…I don’t know what to say.’

‘Just say yes, of course.’

She beamed at him. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘That’s another thing I like about you. You don’t argue with me. Aah, there’s the boarding announcement. Come on, let’s be one of the first on board. Then I can settle back to reading the newspaper and you can read that book you’ve got in your bag.’ He was on his feet in a flash and off.

‘How do you know I’ve got a book in my bag?’ she asked after they’d been through the boarding-pass check and were striding down the tunnel towards the plane.

‘Rachel, give me credit for some powers of observation,’ he said drily. ‘I do realise I have my nose buried in computer screens most of the day but I’d have to be a total moron not to notice some of your habits. You read every single lunch-hour. And I imagine every day on the train to and from work. Am I right?’

‘Yes.’

‘What kind of books do you like?’

‘Oh. All kinds. Thrillers. Romances. Sagas. Biographies.’

‘I used to read thrillers obsessively when I was at uni,’ he said in a happily reminiscent tone. ‘But I have to confess my reading rarely extends beyond the newspapers and business-based magazines these days.’

‘I think that’s a shame. Reading’s a great pastime. And a good escape.’

‘A good escape, eh? Yeah, you’re right. It is. Maybe I should try it,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘instead of the gym.’

Rachel just caught this last possibly meant-for-his-ears-only remark, and wondered what he was trying to escape from. The memories of his marriage?

If his mother was to be believed then his ex-wife had been the bitch from hell. But if that was the case, then why would Justin have married her in the first place? He didn’t strike Rachel as being a fool, or a pushover.

Relationships were a minefield, Rachel mused as she trailed after Justin past the welcoming flight attendants and into the body of the plane. And most marriages were a right mystery to all but the people involved. Justin’s mother would naturally blame her son’s wife for their break-up, but did she really know what had happened between the pair of them?

Justin stopped abruptly next to row D and turned to her. ‘You have the window seat,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind sitting on the aisle. Actually, it gives me a bit more leg room.’

‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully, and slid into the window seat. She liked to see where she was going.

Once settled, Rachel took out her book then stowed her black shoulder bag under the seat in front of her, ready for take-off. ‘I hope it’s not raining up there too,’ she said as she peered out at the rain-soaked tarmac.

Justin looked up from the newspaper. ‘It isn’t according to the radar weather map I looked up on the internet just before I left the office. It’s fine on the Gold Coast today with a top temperature of twenty-seven degrees. And more of the same is forecast for the weekend.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ she said with a happy sigh.

When Justin resumed reading his newspaper, Rachel opened the family saga she’d been reading the last couple of days. It wasn’t riveting so far, but she liked the author and trusted her to get her in eventually.

Soon, she was off in that imaginative world of the story, so she didn’t see the man who boarded the plane shortly afterwards. Or his female companion. If she had, Rachel would have recognised both of them.

She missed seeing them again at Coolangatta Airport, as it was so easy to do in crowds. Though, admittedly, she had been occupied chatting away with Justin at the luggage carousel and hadn’t looked round at the other people waiting to collect their bags. She missed them again in the foyer of Sunshine Gardens, because she and Justin were already riding the lift up to their ocean-view apartment by the time they arrived.

Rachel might not have seen them at all till the following night at the dinner—which would have been an even greater disaster—if she hadn’t discovered on reaching the door of their apartment that her door key didn’t work.

‘It must be faulty,’ Justin said when his worked fine. ‘I’ll call the front desk when I get inside and they can bring you up another one.’

‘No, I’ll go back down now and get one myself,’ Rachel said. ‘You saw how busy they were.’

‘Rachel, you’re much too considerate sometimes.’

‘Not really. I’ve always found it’s quicker and less irritating to just do things myself, rather than wait for someone else to do it.’

‘True. That’s why I carried the luggage up myself instead of leaving it to the porter. I’m like you, I think. I can’t stand waiting for things. When I want something I want it now. Off you go, then. I’ll put your case in your bedroom and find the coffee-making equipment. Or would you rather I pour you a drink drink?’

‘Coffee for now, I think. But you don’t have to make it.’

‘I know that. Call it repayment for services rendered.’

‘Justin, you are much too considerate sometimes,’ Rachel quipped as she hurried off, smiling when she heard his answering laugh.

Rachel had no sense of premonition as she rode the lift down to the ground-floor level again. Why should she have?

The lift doors opened and she walked out into the terracotta-tiled foyer, glancing around again at the décor as she made her way over to the reception desk.

Actually, this hotel reminded her of an island resort she’d gone to once with Eric. High ceilings, cool colours and glass walls overlooking lush green gardens with lots of water features.

Eric…

Now, there was a right selfish so-and-so if ever there was one. If she’d known how shallow he was she’d never have fallen in love with him in the first place, let alone agreed to marry him.

Rachel gave herself a swift mental shake. She wouldn’t think about Eric. Ever again.

But, perversely, when she walked up to the reception desk the man booking in reminded her strongly of Eric, despite only viewing him from the back. He had the same sandy blond hair. The same way of holding his shoulders. The same elegance.

The attractive brunette standing next to him seemed familiar as well. Rachel listened to them chatting away together as they checked in, their voices horribly familiar.

And then, suddenly, they both turned around.

JUSTIN was suitably impressed the moment he stepped inside the apartment. It had a cool, comfy feel, with plenty of space, even to having its own foyer, which was unusual in hotel apartments.

As he dropped their two suitcases next to the hall stand—a sturdy yet elegant piece with a smoked-glass top and carved oak base—Justin caught a glimpse of himself in the matching mirror above. His hair, which possibly needed a cut, was all over the place. That’s what happened when you had to walk across windy tarmac, as they had at Coolangatta airport. No tunnels to spoil you.

Straightening, Justin smoothed back the wayward top and sides with the flat of his hands, then moved a little closer to the mirror to peer at the bags under his eyes.

Could do with a good eight hours’ sleep, he thought as he turned and went over to slot his room key into the gizmo beside the door. The lights came on automatically, as did the air-conditioning. That done, Justin strode into the main living area, where he stripped off his jacket and tie, tossed them over the back of one of the nearby dining chairs then took himself on a quick tour of the rest of the apartment.