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‘Shall we make sure it’s solid and look inside?’
Gabby nodded and together they approached the aquamarine front door, where he halted, leant down and retrieved a key from under a flowerpot.
‘The owner should have left full instructions and some provisions inside.’ Turning the key, he pushed the door open and they stepped inside.
The stone walls were unpainted, a higgledy-piggledy pattern of shades of cream and brown and grey. The living area was small but comfortably furnished, with a white love seat scattered with scarlet cushions and two plump armchairs in cool cream. There was a small kitchen area in the background, with a display cabinet holding an array of brightly patterned plates, cheerful curtains at the window. Tucked away was the bathroom—a small room cleverly designed to include a marble sink and a state-of-the-art shower. A winding staircase led the way up to a mezzanine level under the gables where a double bed sat.
‘You can have the bed,’ he said. ‘I can easily manage down here.’
‘How?’ They both scanned the size of the sofa. ‘There is no way you’ll fit on that.’
‘Yes, but neither will you.’
‘Then we’ll take turns,’ she said firmly.
‘Well, you have upstairs tonight and then we’ll see.’
He followed her up the winding wooden stairs, lined with bright red iron banisters wrought in thin wavy lines. Once on the mezzanine, they stood in silence. The entire area was dominated by the double bed, which had an ornate curved headboard and was tucked snugly under eaves and gables.
Turning away from it, she said, ‘What a beautiful bed.’ Instantly heat touched her face. ‘That is not what I meant. I meant to say view. What a beautiful view.’
‘It is.’ He couldn’t help it. He kept his gaze focused on her face and her blush deepened.
‘Out there,’ she said, and he followed the pointing of her finger.
Gabby was right. The window framed a burst of flowers, a kaleidoscope of colours and scents that wafted inside. Yet right now he’d prefer to look at Gabby. Not good.
He headed for the stairs.
Once downstairs, Gabby sat on one of the armchairs. ‘Right. As discussed, I did some research and...’ She paused. ‘What?’
He realised that without meaning to he had started grinning. ‘“I’ll do a bit of research.” It’s the Gabby Johnson catchphrase.’
‘Go figure.’ But she was smiling, too. ‘I like research. I like to have a plan. And, honestly, I enjoyed it. Sintra is an incredible place—there’s so much to do. A palace, a medieval castle, and it all looks so very magical. I wish—’ She broke off and regrouped. ‘I’ve basically come up with a few things we can do, take some
photos and garner enough information so that we can make sure your family believe we had a proper romantic break. And you will still have time to work.’
‘Perfect. I’ll make coffee, then we can figure out what to do next.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS HE SCOOPED coffee into the cafetière, Zander pushed down a sudden, inexplicable, ridiculous sense of regret. There was nothing to regret—this was an enforced break and he needed to work. Yet Gabby’s enthusiasm, her sense of the magical, had infused him with an unmistakable tint of dissatisfaction at the prospect of work, and with an urge to explore Sintra and see it through Gabby’s eyes. Daft. He’d never been one for beach holidays or romantic breaks and now was definitively not the time to start.
With a shake of his head he poured the coffee and returned to the lounge area, where Gabby sat on the sofa, laptop resting on her knees.
‘OK. So what’s the plan?’ Handing her a mug, he sat down in the other armchair.
‘Well, there is so much that we can do it’s been quite hard to narrow it down. This place is like a tourist treasure trove—fairy-tale castles, beaches, fishing villages...’
As he watched her, something tugged in his chest. Her enthusiasm, the way she described the places, was still doing something strange to him.
‘You choose—I’m good with any of them.’
‘Nope. It’s important you choose.’ Her face was serious now. ‘The whole point of this charade is to make your family happy, so we need to do this properly. What would you like to do? Apart from work.’
It occurred to him that he had no idea. ‘I really don’t mind.’
She frowned, hesitated. ‘What sort of holidays did you and Claudia go on?’
