The First Mistake(70)

As Alice had tried to picture the scene, which she’d been able to conjure up all too easily, she’d lost concentration and collapsed into a fit of giggles. ‘But they’re never what you think they’re going to be, are they?’

‘Are you speaking from experience?’ Beth had squealed in astonishment.

‘No,’ Alice had replied in mock horror. ‘I mean, whenever you hear them on the tannoy on the plane, they always sound so gorgeously smooth and authoritative, and then when you get off, there’s a puny little fella who looks far too young to be flying a metal tube thirty-six thousand feet up in the sky. They’re not all Richard Gere, is all I’m saying.’

But looking at the man in front of her now, Alice notes that he isn’t that far off. His dark hair curls ever so slightly at the collar and his steely eyes follow the barman’s every move.

‘Can I get a Scotch and soda?’ he asks.

Alice raises her glass to him and he gives a smiling nod.

‘Will the Scotch do the trick?’ she asks. ‘Get you to sleep?’

‘I’d like to think so, but right now all I want it to do is stop my eyeballs from burning.’

He smiles, and she laughs a little louder than she’d intended. She pulls herself up, then wonders why she should.

‘I don’t know what’s worse – the inability to sleep, or the need to sleep far longer than you’re permitted to. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.’

‘How long have you been a pilot?’ Alice asks, showing herself to be a willing player in his game.

‘Fifteen years,’ he says, with a glint in his eye. ‘So, what brings you here?’

‘Business, actually.’ As soon as she says it, she’s overcome with panic as she remembers that she’s signed contracts for a site worth a million pounds. With a faithful husband and business partner by her side, it had felt manageable; nerve-wracking, but manageable. Now, adrift in the ocean, without Nathan’s anchor, the thought leaves her nauseous.

‘What kind of business?’ he asks.

‘I’m in property,’ says Alice, clearing her throat and sitting up straight in an attempt to shrug off the impostor syndrome that always seems to linger whenever she achieves something she doesn’t feel she deserves. ‘Interiors and development,’ she adds, taking ownership of the words this time.

‘Interesting,’ he says. ‘Are you buying or selling?’

‘I’ve just bought a site today,’ she says. ‘I’m building twenty-eight apartments on it.’

He looks like he’s been given an electric shock. ‘Wow, really?’

‘You seem shocked,’ she says lightly. ‘Did you not realize that women are able to do that in this day and age?’ She didn’t dare let on that without Nathan, she would never have entertained the idea. She brushes off the insecurities that snake through her and tries to silence the voice that says, And without Nathan, you’ll never complete.

‘Not at all,’ he says carefully. ‘I’m just genuinely impressed. Does that make me a male chauvinist?’

Alice shakes her head.

‘So, you’re doing this all on your own?’ he asks, stepping into dangerous territory again.

‘Without a man, you mean? Well, it’s my company, my talent, my money.’ She didn’t feel the need to share that most of the funds had been raised by a loan from the bank.

‘Well, hats off to you,’ he said, holding up his tumbler. ‘And I’d say that to a woman, man or child. It takes a brave person to do what you’re doing, especially in a market as competitive as here. I’m in awe.’

And so you should be, she says silently, before asking herself why she’s even contemplating not being able to go ahead without Nathan being on board.

‘So, I’m guessing you’re from England?’

Alice nods as she takes a sip of her drink. ‘London.’

‘I love British women,’ he says. ‘The accent drives me wild. There’s just something so damn sexy about it.’

‘We can talk real dirty as well,’ she says.

‘Oh yeah . . .?’ he says, encouraging her to go further.

Alice raises her eyebrows suggestively before leaning in to whisper, ‘Mud, Dirt, Soil . . .’

The man throws his head back and laughs. ‘You Brits have also got a wicked sense of humour.’

Alice smiles, her eyes boring into his. She’d forgotten what it felt like to flirt; to feel attractive and desired. The power it gave her was an aphrodisiac in itself. Maybe she was now beginning to understand how unfaithful partners were able to let their guard down. Was it really this easy?

‘Look, I don’t normally do this,’ he says. ‘But –’ she smiles sweetly, pretending that she believes him – ‘would you like to join me for a drink in my room?’

‘For just a drink?’

He smiles, and her insides flip over.

If her husband wasn’t cheating and lying to her, then she wouldn’t be in this position, but he is, so . . .

The thought of what Nathan might be doing right now breaks her heart, and as she looks at the handsome man in front of her, she wonders why she shouldn’t allow this stranger to glue a little of it back together. Would going to bed with him make me feel better? she thinks. Would I feel that I’d somehow got one over on Nathan? That we’d be on a level par?