Your Room or Mine?:. Charlotte Phillips

and spa relaxation. Just what I need.’

      ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘And tonight?’

      He held her gaze intently with his own. She didn’t drop her eyes. Encouraging.

      ‘A luxury meal in the restaurant,’ she said.

      ‘Alone?’

      ‘I’m quite happy with my own company.’

      ‘Understandable.’ He paused, then added in another compliment. ‘I like it too.’ He paused to gauge the effect and when she smiled softly he zoomed in.

      ‘How about having dinner with me? The place is full of couples. We can keep each other company.’

      There was a sudden loud clatter as she dropped her cup into the saucer from a height and then tried to cover up her mistake by fiddling with the spoon. He watched, enjoying putting her on edge.

      ‘Don’t you have some kind of other plans?’ she said, not looking up, furiously stirring the remains of her coffee.

      He leaned back against the lounger and took a sip of his own drink.

      ‘Nope. Dinner alone for me too. And I’d much prefer your company to my own.’ He waited and then added in extra encouragement . ‘It would be my treat of course.’ He paused. ‘Unless you want some time alone to – you know – get over things.’

      That finally seemed to galvanise her into action. The implication that she was here to lick her wounds, that she might spend the evening crying into her pillow and enjoying the martyrdom of sitting alone in the sumptuous restaurant among the loved-up couples.

      She put her coffee cup down on the table, no clatter this time, and sat back taking in the surroundings. A pause this long was not a good sign. Win some, lose some. Not that he ever lost out on a dinner date, or more, when he put his mind to it. For some reason the thought of missing out on this one brought a disappointed stab in his chest. Must be the thought of being stuck here overnight with no entertainment when he should be settling into his newly-finished luxury pad.

      Then she looked at him, a tiny smile playing about her full lips, and his heart turned over softly.

      ‘Dinner is thrown into my booking,’ she said. ‘It’s a package deal. Spa treatments, dinner, bed and breakfast. So maybe you’d like to have dinner with me?’

      He stared at her, momentarily wrong-footed. Had she really just counter-offered him on dinner? There was a hint of challenge in her eyes that made his mouth leech of moisture, as if he’d sunk his teeth into one of the hotel’s fluffy towels.

      ‘Sod the thrown-in dinner,’ he said. ‘You’ll get the package-deal dinner menu, nothing worth having. Have dinner with me and choose what you like.’

      ****

      Izzy pawed through the contents of her overnight bag and laid out the only possibility on the bed.

      If she’d known she’d be having dinner with male model material, she would have packed something a bit more alluring than the maxi skirt, top and cardigan. She’d planned on eating early to avoid any pitying stares, followed by a likely return to the spa with a stack of magazines. At least she’d packed matching underwear instead of any greying old cotton.

       Not that her underwear should matter. Because this was just dinner – right?

      She looked at her reflection in the scroll-edged upright mirror. Her hair had behaved itself for once, the unruly waves lying softly over one shoulder.

      Did she really think a man like him, on his own for the night in a luxury hotel, would ask a girl he didn’t know to dinner with nothing more in mind than eating a meal? Her stomach gave a slow and delicious flip at the thought and she pressed her hands hard against it to make it stop. Rubbish. Why the hell was she reading any more into it than just dinner? And wasn’t it irrelevant anyway? What mattered was the alternative – sitting alone in the restaurant at a table for two surrounded by couples playing footsie.

      Whether he expected something in return or not, she didn’t have to give it. She could have dinner with him, enjoy an evening of flirting and then walk away with her self-esteem happily boosted.

       Unless she wanted more.

      Item nine on her GET-OVER-THE-BASTARD LIST pranced through her mind. Don’t get even, get even better…

      She sat down hard on the bed. Where had that come from? By the time they reached the end of compiling the list, she and Shauna had been pretty drunk. A one-night-stand had been added as more of a laugh than anything, because of course they both knew that Izzy Shaw didn’t do that kind of thing.

      She shook her head lightly to clear it. Dinner didn’t have to lead anywhere. She was safe, dependable play-by-the-rules Izzy. Impetuous flings with strangers were not part of that remit.

      Because of course that remit had really worked for her in the past. Not.

      The fluttering in her stomach was back with a vengeance.

      ****

      A tiny heart-shaped chocolate made up the centrepiece of each place setting in the candlelit dining room, soft piano played in the background and the set menu was a special romance-themed selection.

      Oliver stared at the pink embossed menu, eyebrows raised.

      ‘Romantic Getaway Three Course Menu For Two…’ he read.

      Her cheeks felt a little too warm and she didn’t look up. Instead she picked up her heart-shaped chocolate and dropped it into her purse. After a pause, she added his chocolate too. With no need to diet ever again, she could scoff them at leisure.

      ‘Like I said, it’s a package deal break. Dinner, bed and breakfast for one all-in price.’

      Oliver beckoned the waiter and issued swift orders for a bottle of champagne and the standard menu while she tried to control the mad squiggling in her stomach.

      ‘Like I said, sod the knocked-down package break.’ The waiter returned and handed her the full restaurant menu. ‘Choose whatever you like.’

      ****

      Oliver watched her as she tucked into the main course of roasted sea bass with celeriac and truffle with obvious enjoyment. She’d finished every bite of the starter, too. He liked her uninhibited delight in the food. And he liked her relaxed outfit. She wore her hair loose, and just a touch of makeup highlighted the grey-green eyes and long eyelashes. Her lips looked peachily softer than ever with a touch of gloss. He was used to high maintenance – glossy, manicured women who picked at their food and obsessed about their appearance. So used to it in fact that it had become the norm. Being with her was like eating a sharp sorbet after a very cloying main meal.

      ‘You said this place is convenient for work,’ she said, between mouthfuls. ‘What is it that you do?’

      ‘I’m a lawyer,’ he said. ‘I travel a lot, but I’m based in London. This hotel is close to my office.’

      She frowned.

      ‘Why the need for a hotel then, if you live in the city? Don’t you keep a house here?’

      He thought of his beautiful new house, supposed to be finished a week ago to a stunningly high spec. His irritation at the delay seemed to have dissipated a little in her company.

      ‘I have a house, bought it a few months ago, in Highgate.’

      He didn’t miss the brief widening of her eyes. Highgate was one of the most exclusive and beautiful suburbs of the city.

      ‘Lucky you,’ she said.

      ‘I would be, if I could move into the damn place,’ he said.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘It’s been gutted and refurbished from scratch,’ he