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Polly slowly pulled herself up to a seating position, glad that the nausea seemed to have abated after that first rush.
‘I thought we had a deal,’ she said.
‘A deal?’ He looked surprised.
‘That you were going to keep your shirt on.’
A slow appreciative smile spread over his face. It wasn’t fair, Polly thought as the breath hitched in her throat. He already had soulful eyes and a well-cut jawline. Adding a smile that made you want to respond in kind, that sent a jolt of appreciation into the pit of your stomach, gave you a sudden urge to reach out and trace the firm mouth was too much.
‘That agreement was only for the office,’ he said. ‘We are no longer in the office.’
‘No.’ Polly looked around at the generic bland furnishings. ‘We certainly aren’t. I’m sorry.’
‘No need.’
‘There’s every need,’ she corrected him. ‘I dragged you out here. I’m pretty sure this isn’t your usual style.’
Gabe’s eyes swept over the room, coming to rest on Polly. She fought the urge to fidget, to straighten her mussed hair, pull at her baggy top.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’ve had worse evenings.’
Polly stared at him, an unexpected bubble of laughter rising. ‘Of course you have,’ she said. ‘What’s more fun than a little vomit, a crazy late-night car ride and a night with a weeping woman in a downmarket hotel?’
‘It was more than a little vomit. How are you feeling?’
Polly put a hand to her stomach, allowing it to linger there for a moment. Somewhere in there was the beginning of new life. A life she had created.
‘Better,’ she said, surprised that it was true. She thought for a moment, savouring the hollow feeling that had miraculously appeared. ‘Hungry. Really hungry.’
‘Room service?’
Polly shook her head. ‘I need to get out,’ she said. ‘Although...’ she looked at herself ‘...I’m not really fit to be seen.’ But she didn’t want to go home yet.
‘How hungry are you?’
She was grateful that he didn’t insult her intelligence by telling her that she looked fine. She had eyes and she still had the tattered remnants of her pride.
‘Why?’
‘If you can wait half an hour,’ he suggested, ‘I’ll pop back to that supermarket and pick up a toothbrush and hairbrush and anything else you need. Then I think we should go out for the day.’
‘Go out?’ Polly leant back and eyed him suspiciously. ‘To do what? We have papers to write, remember?’
‘We’ve both put in a ridiculous amount of hours this week.’ Gabe rolled off the bed unperturbed and picked up his T-shirt from the floor, shaking it out fastidiously before putting it back on. ‘And it was an emotional evening.’ He smiled across at her as he said it, taking any possible sting out of the words. ‘I need a walk, some fresh air and a change of scenery. Are you in?’
A vision of her laptop floated into Polly’s mind. The half-written report. The statistics and recommendations and examples. The spreadsheet full of costings and projections and risk analysis. ‘I should work,’ she said, pulling her hair out of its ponytail and running her fingers through the tangled lengths.
Gabe didn’t say anything, just regarded her levelly. Polly glared back.
‘Last chance.’
She should work. She’d just had three months off, for goodness’ sake. So what if she felt as if a steamroller had run her over physically and emotionally before reversing and finishing the job? She wasn’t paid to have feelings or problems or illnesses.
She should work.
Polly glanced over at the window. The sun was peeping in around the blinds. Was that birds she could hear singing, their tuneful chirps not quite masked by the roar of passing traffic? She’d spent all of the previous summer indoors, working. The strangest part about travelling had been adjusting to being outdoors, the blissful heat as the sun soaked into her weary bones. She had missed out on so many summery weekends.
And next summer everything would be completely changed. There would be another person to take care of.
She glared at Gabe, who was still waiting, arms folded and an enquiring eyebrow raised.
‘Oh, okay then. Let me write you a shopping list.’
* * *
Polly spent the entire half-hour of Gabe’s absence in the hotel’s surprisingly powerful shower, letting the hot jets blast away the kinks in her shoulders and back, beat the tangles out of her hair and massage the worry out of her mind. By the time Gabe rapped softly on the door she felt vaguely human again.
Wrapping the towel tightly around her, she took the proffered carrier bag Gabe handed through the bathroom door. Polly was conscious of an unprecedented intimacy. Gabe had selected her clothes, underwear, her shoes.
