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‘Yes. You see, all the singletons have been assigned the villas. You have been given a yurt. You will love it. Full of luxury and romance. It is five-star.’
The scenery became so much irrelevant colour and the brilliant sunshine faded as Imogen struggled for breath. ‘A yurt?’ she coughed out.
‘Do not worry. This is a state-of-the-art yurt. All mod-cons. Leila and Howard have had them specially put up for the occasion. You will be able to fall asleep together, gazing up at the stars.’
Tension ricocheted from Joe’s body and no doubt collided with hers; in fact their mingled tension could probably power a rocket. All the way to the ruddy stars.
‘Here we are,’ Luis said cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the atmosphere as he parked the car and turned to look at them. ‘Howard was very particular about your accommodation, so I hope I can report back to him that you are happy. Yes?’
Oh, hell and damnation. They were supposed to be a loved-up couple and Imogen had no doubt that Howard Kreel would much rather that was exactly what they were. It couldn’t be much fun for the groom, having his bride’s ex-boyfriend there for ‘closure’.
This was clearly her cue to be adoring, when in actual fact the desire to strangle Joe with her bare hands was making her palms itch. ‘Of course we’re happy,’ she said. ‘How would it be possible not to be happy? Don’t you agree, sweetheart?’
‘Absolutely,’ Joe said, with a credible attempt at enthusiasm and an overdose of heartiness. As if Joe had ever been hearty in his life. ‘Imogen and I are sure to appreciate every second of our stay.’
‘Excellent.’ Luis sprang out of the car and opened Imogen’s door. ‘Then I’ll take you on a guided tour of the site and leave you to it.’
Imogen tried to appreciate the fairytale beauty of the site—she really did. It was a good few steps up even from a glampsite. Lord knew how much it must have cost to convert the area so spectacularly. Tipis and luxury tents dotted the area—all individually decorated and all, Luis assured them again, equipped with a variety of mod-cons. Two large wooden huts had also been constructed.
‘There is the bar and the dining area. Meals and refreshments will be available all day.’
In addition to what money could buy was the wealth of nature’s offerings—the colourful flowers, the vibrant vegetation, the lap of water from a small brook that wound its way down a rocky precipice and then meandered through the lush lime-green meadow.
And there in a secluded corner …
‘Here we are,’ Luis announced, gesturing at a pink canvas palace. ‘You have guaranteed privacy. All the details about the wedding and the reception and the available activities are in a folder inside. The coach will arrive at four to take you to the beach ceremony.’
‘Fabulous. Thank you so much, Luis,’ Imogen trilled, forcing her lips upward, keeping the smile … aka rictus … in place as she watched his departing back.
Two more strides and Luis had climbed into the four-seater.
‘Not! This is not fabulous, Joe. Look at it. It’s got turrets! It’s the yurt of love. What happened to the twin beds in a villa?’
‘Yes, well, I obviously got upgraded from singleton to one of the loved-up people.’ He thrust a hand through his hair. ‘Let’s not panic until we’ve actually looked inside.’
‘Fine.’ Imogen tugged the canvas door open. ‘Um …’
Pink canvas walls were draped with beaded curtains and gauzy material. There were tasselled cushions, luxury pile rugs, an overstuffed sofa, a dressing table … and an enormous sleigh bed.
Below a porthole.
With a view of the stars.
For a fleeting second she wished that there could be a rerun of Paris—another rash decision to break the rules. But she knew that wasn’t possible. Once was fine—could be chalked up to a magical experience. Twice … That was way too dangerous and she wouldn’t go there. Couldn’t go there for the sake of her own sanity.
She was not going to end up bedazzled, befuddled and controlled by lust.
Turning to Joe, she swept her hand towards the bed. ‘Now can I panic?’
Joe exhaled heavily and forced his features to neutral. What had he ever done to deserve this? A twin room in a populated villa would have been tough, but manageable. Worst-case scenario: he’d have stayed up in the lounge playing video games. All night.
There was nowhere to go in a yurt.
Chill. He needed to chill. He was a ruthless corporate businessman, for goodness’ sake—not an adolescent.
Plus he had no one to blame but himself; this whole jaunt had been his damn fool idea. Now he would just have to suck it up.
‘No need …’ He stopped and cleared his throat, forced more words past the knot of panic in his throat. ‘No need to freak out. I’ll sleep on the sofa; you can have the bed.’
