The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [92]
Alice swallowed, her heart already racing. “So why don’t we stay a night or two?” she said, her voice even despite the weight of what she was suggesting. “Think of it as collecting on that Paris rain check.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Nathan’s mouth dropped open, but Alice held his gaze.
He shook his head. “You’ve, uh, had a crazy few days. You’re not yourself.” Nathan took a swift gulp of beer, as if that were the end of the conversation. But he didn’t seem quite so cavalier.
“You know me better than I know myself?” Alice challenged, still smiling.
“No, but—”
“I’m a grown woman, Nathan. I can do whatever I want.” Alice watched him, full of power. It was time to find out if there was anything solid behind the flirtation. “So is that a yes or a no?”
He was silent for a long moment, but just before Alice could wonder if she’d made a mistake, the edge of his lips curled upward in an unmistakable smile.
Relief surged through her. “I’ll check about their vacancies.”
Alice walked away from the table with a swing in her hips, almost drunk with exhilaration. Rafael had been her practice run—an experiment in sheer, reckless pleasure—but this was different. She wanted Nathan for more than a foreign fling, but even she knew that this new bravery might not last back in England. No, it had to be now, before her calm logic returned.
Nathan caught up with her in the lobby.
“You’ll miss work,” he warned, placing a hand low on her back.
Alice slowed, relishing his touch. “So will you.” She grinned. “Whatever will we do?”
He moved even closer. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
Alice felt his phone vibrate before she heard it, pressed against his side. They paused, momentum suddenly interrupted. Nathan looked at her, questioning; it was her choice.
“Take it,” she decided. “We’re not in any hurry. This is a holiday, after all.”
He checked the screen. “I won’t be a second,” he promised, backing toward a quiet anteroom.
Alice forced herself to breathe. She wandered to a quiet corner of the lobby, trying to calm the tremble of anticipation that seemed to have gripped her body, but too soon, doubts began to filter through her thrilling haze. Was she going too far? She could still remember the feel of Rafael’s body against hers; Nathan wasn’t a random man in an unknown bar—he was real, and decent, and what if this wrecked any chance that they could have something proper between them? Alice gulped.
“Anything good?”
Nathan’s voice was sudden in her ear, and Alice startled. She’d been idly staring at the foyer exhibition of photographs, black-and-white prints in ornate frames. “Lifestyles of the rich and famous,” she replied. There were the Clintons, splashing by the pool, and a candid snap of a Kennedy or two, back in the day. Even Hollywood’s latest superstar Chris Carmel was lounging on the terrace, a martini glass in hand and—
“Wait.” Alice peered closer at the last photo. There was a woman sitting at the table behind him, her back to the camera and no more than a sliver of her body in the far right of the frame, but Alice could have sworn… “Does she look familiar to you?”
“Nope.” Nathan gave a cursory glance before turning back to her, his smile full of suggestion. “So, about that room…”
Alice ignored him, fixated on the flash of pale skin, and the wisp of a dress in the picture behind the heartthrob. The woman’s hair was gathered up in a messy kind of knot; leaning back with wine glass tilting from one outstretched wrist.
“Alice?” Nathan slipped his hand into hers and tugged lightly.
She stood firm. “Give me a second.”
“There are postcards of the photos, if you want. See?”
Alice tried to decipher what it was that had caught her eye. It may only have been a fragment at the edge of the photo, but there was something about the pose that was oddly familiar: the nonchalant, almost-carefree posture. She’d seen it before, Alice realized, as the memory finally surfaced—that glass tilted out just so as they relaxed in