response to his touch. And for all the other emotions he ’ d made churn inside her.
He knew exactly what he was doing, she thought bitterly, as she reached for the phone to call Reception. And I allowed it. Even though I am not — repeat not — into one-night stands.
‘ This is Miss Adamson in Room Ten, ’ she said briskly, when her call was answered. ‘ I ’ ve decided not to stay the night after all, and I ’ d like my bill to be made up, please. ’ She glanced at her watch. ‘ I ’ ll be leaving in about three quarters of an hour. ’
She went into the bathroom, cleaned off every speck of make-up, then took a leisurely shower, letting the warm water stream over her.
Washing away, she hoped, the residue of the day. And any lingering resonances there might be.
She towelled herself down, applied some of the lily-scented skin moisturiser she ’ d found in the array of toiletries provided, then, wrapping herself sarong-like in a fresh towel, she wandered back into the bedroom.
Collecting the hairdryer, she seated herself on the broad cushioned seat under the window while she finger-dried her hair into its usual sleek shape. The view below was of formal gardens, with gravelled paths bordered by teeming summer flowers.
The local Lothario seemed to know a lot about his job, too, she thought with an inward grimace, her eyes straying half-unconsciously to the golden gleam of the lake in the distance. He ’ d certainly created the perfect romantic backdrop for a little intimate adventuring.
So it would do him good to find himself ditched and left high and dry.
And it would make her feel better too, knowing that her moment of weakness had passed and she was back in control again.
She dressed, added a touch of blusher to her face and a hint of lustre to her mouth, slid her feet into low-heeled navy pumps, then collected her bag and jacket and went downstairs.
The place seemed deserted, she thought, looking around her. Everyone had disappeared, off in their different directions, and Belinda ’ s wedding was well and truly over at last.
There was no one at the desk either, so she rang the small silver bell. After a minute a girl in a dark suit emerged from the inner office, looking harassed.
She checked when she saw Cat. ‘ Oh, ’ she said. ‘ Are you the lady from Room Ten who wants her bill? ’
Cat ’ s brows lifted. ‘ Yes, ’ she acknowledged. ‘ Is there some problem? ’
The girl ’ s colour deepened. ‘ We ’ re having problems with the computer. It ’ s a new system, and it ’ s swallowed some of our data. We ’ ve got an engineer coming, of course, but we can ’ t make your bill up just yet. ’ She moved her hands awkwardly. ‘ I — I ’ m very sorry. ’
Not half as sorry as I am, Cat thought, glancing at her watch with inner dismay. Time was passing rapidly and she needed to be gone.
‘ Don ’ t you have some kind of back-up? ’ she asked. ‘ Or couldn ’ t you just calculate what I owe you with a paper and pencil? Anything? ’
‘ I ’ m afraid not, but I hope we won ’ t have to keep you too long. The engineer is on his way. ’ The girl hesitated, looking uncomfortable. ‘ Would you like to wait in the lounge? ’ she suggested. ‘ Or the bar, maybe? ’
‘ No, ’ Cat said. ‘ I think I ’ ll go back to my room. ’ She paused. ‘ And if anyone enquires, will you tell them I ’ ve checked out and gone, please? ’
The receptionist looked wary. ‘ Yes, ’ she said slowly. ‘ I suppose we can. ’
Well, don ’ t knock yourself out, Cat thought, torn between annoyance and amusement.
‘ And can you send up a tray? ’ she requested. ‘ Just coffee and some sandwiches. A selection of what ’ s available would be fine, ’ she added, with a shrug.
‘ Certainly, Miss Adamson. ’ The girl spoke more confidently. ‘ I ’ ll see to that right away. ’
This has not been my luckiest day, Cat told herself ruefully, as she let