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What a night. There’d been too much of everything—nerves...tension...anxiety about playing a role to which she’d signed up on the spur of the moment, only to regret it when she’d stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection in a floaty blue dress that was so unlike the outfits her boss was accustomed to seeing her in.What had she done?
But of course, the second she had confirmed to her parents that Mateo would be coming, there had been no turning back. Had it been Angus, as originally planned, then it would have been fine. Angus she could have handled. Mateo, on the other hand, had kept her nerves in a state of high-wire tension so that, when she’d hit the club with Amy and her friends, the release of no longer having him at her side had catapulted her into just a little too much of everything—too much drink, too much loud music, too much dancing.
And too much of a raging headache at three in the morning when she’d just about managed to stagger to the bathroom and swallow a couple of tablets before crawling back into bed.
On the plus side, heading straight out to the club after Mateo went meant her parents had not had the opportunity to quiz her. Yet. Time wasn’t on her side when it came to that thorny problem but Maude would cross that bridge when she came to it.
More immediately, the knocking on the bedroom door wasn’t going away, and she eventually dragged herself out of bed, caught a glimpse of the time on her mobile and with a groan realised that it was after ten.
She flung on her dressing gown en route to the door, unlocked it and peered out, expecting to see her mother, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and with a list of questions about Mateo filling a side of A4—none of which she felt equipped to answer when she was still nursing the remnants of her hangover.
She wasn’t expecting Mateo.
In a rush, the dull hangover disappeared and she was suddenly as sharp as a tack, open-mouthed and stunned into shocked, disbelieving silence.
She was frazzled and bleary-eyed, her hair a tangled mess, while he looked as though he’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine. He was unfairly and sinfully sexy in black jeans, a faded grey polo and handmade loafers.
Maude yanked the bathrobe tightly around her and arched her eyebrows.
‘What are you doing here?’ Her mouth was dry and her crisp greeting emerged as a croak.
‘You look lousy.’
‘Thanks very much, which doesn’t answer my question.’
‘Can I come in?’
‘No!’ In case he had other thoughts on the matter, she inched the door shut a little more.
‘You might want to rethink that, Maude.’
‘Why? And youstillhaven’t answered my question. You should be in London! When did you get here anyway?’
‘Over an hour ago, to answer your last question first. Let me in.’
‘Over an hour ago?’
Her heart was beating like a sledgehammer. She had no idea what was going on and the expression on his face was hardly reassuring.
‘And before you ask,’ Mateo continued in a low voice, ‘I’ve been downstairs, chatting to your parents, having three cups of coffee and declining several offers of a full English breakfast. You really have to let me in, Maude. There’s been...what shall I say...an unexpected development.’
Maude fell back. Her wide blue eyes were glued to his face as he brushed past her and strolled into the bedroom before swinging round, urging her to close the door behind them with a nod and a gesture.
She leaned against the closed door, folded her arms and stared at him.
‘I’d sit if I were you,’ Mateo drawled.
‘You’re panicking me. What’s going on?’
‘Before I launch into that, is there anything you want me to get for you?’
‘Anything, like what?’
‘Mug of strong, black coffee? Paracetamol? A glass of whisky, in case you want to try some hair of the dog? How much did you have to drink last night?’
‘Not a huge amount—and I’m fine.’ She’d subsided onto the chair by the bed and now stared at him in discouraging, stony silence. He was still standing in the middle of the room, elegant, sophisticated and utterly in control, whatever slice of bad news he happened to be bearing.
More than ever, Maude was conscious of her state of undress. Aside from knickers, she was naked under the thin bathrobe, and she was aware of the weight of her breasts and the push of her nipples against the abrasive towelling fabric of the robe.
