It Started With... Collection. Miranda Lee
epitome of tall, dark and handsome. And just look at you. Talk about drabsville. A few years ago, things might have been different. You were a real looker then. Now you’re a shadow of your former self. No, not even a shadow. A shell. That’s what you are. A cold, empty, sexless shell!
Rachel sagged back against the seat, a huge wave of depression swamping her earlier excitement.
‘I think this trip’ll do you good,’ Justin said suddenly by her side.
‘Oh?’ she replied wearily. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘You’ve been a bit down-in-the-mouth since your friend’s wedding last weekend. I dare say you’re missing her. And it can’t be much fun, working for a work-aholic bore like me.’
She stared over at him. ‘You’re not a bore. I like my job. And I like working for you.’
He smiled at her. ‘And I like you working for me. You are one seriously nice woman. Which is why what my mother said the other day has been bothering me. Tell it to me straight, Rachel. Do you object to bringing me coffee and running little errands for me? If you do, then I want you to say so. Right now.’
‘Justin, I don’t mind. Honestly. It’s a change sometimes to get up and do something physical instead of just sitting at the computer, updating files.’
He frowned. ‘That’s a good portion of your job, isn’t it? Updating the files. That must be boring for someone of your intelligence. I should involve you more in what I do, explain my programs, show you how to analyse the data yourself, make proper use of that good brain of yours. Would you like that?’
‘Oh! I…I’d love it! If—er—you really think I could do it, that is,’ she added, her chronic lack of confidence not quite keeping up with her instant enthusiasm over his proposal.
‘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…