Page 36 of The Player

I smile at her. “What seems to be the problem?”

“We only have one room reserved for you,” she says anxiously.

I gape at her. “What?” I finally say.

“We only have one room,” she says, giving me a worried glance and talking slower.

Con gives a soft snort, and I shoot him a glare before turning back to the lady.

“Yes, I thought that was what you said. But how?”

“Joan only booked one room,” Con informs me, and when I look over at him, he puts both hands to his face like a piss-taking version ofThe Screampainting.

I bite my lip to stop myself smiling at the idiot and turn back to the woman. “Well, that’s our secretary’s fault,” I say briskly. “But surely there must be another room available?” She shakes her head slowly. “What? Not one? It’s midweek.” My voice is gaining a slightly shrill edge, and I breathe in to modulate it. “Maybe a tiny room. I can sleep anywhere. Even a broom cupboard,” I add desperately.

“No, sir,” she says solemnly. “We have a cheesemaker convention in the hotel.”

“Well, can’t they share? That sounds like a very friendly profession.”

“There are one hundred and fifty of them, sir.”

Con chuckles and leans down to grab our bags. “We’ll be fine,” he informs her. “It’s only one night.”

I stare as she smiles at him in relief and bustles about giving him the key and the breakfast and Wi-Fi information like he’s a tattooed knight in shining armour. Finally done, she gives us directions to our room and hotfoots it out of the room before I can speak and object.

“She’s moving fast,” I observe with my brilliant deduction skills.

“Probably scared that you’ll try and sleep on her desk.”

“Shut up,” I say and follow him up the stairs. “Oh well. It’s just us. I’m sure we’ve slept together before.”

I stop abruptly on the stairs as he turns and bends down to me. “If we had slept together, you’d have remembered it,” he says throatily.

I stand with my mouth open like a fish before realising that he’s turned and is moving upstairs again. “You’re a gigantic boaster,” I say. He chuckles, and I shake my head. “You’re very good-humoured about this.”

“Sometimes life has a way of rewarding us for years of toil.”

“You won’t be saying that when you realise how long I take in the shower.”

I follow him down a long hallway with very creaky floorboards until he pauses outside a huge oak door.

“Ready?” he says with a dramatic flourish as he opens the door.

I glare at him and sweep past, only to come to a stop. “Jesus,” I say.

The room is papered in a pale aqua-green silk wallpaper and stuffed with antique furniture. However, my attention is grabbed by the four-poster bed. It’s absolutely massive, with ornately carved bedposts from which hang jade patterned silk curtains. They echo the silk bedspread, and the fluffy white pillows and sheets complete the ostentatious look.

I gaze at the huge expanse of the bed, whose surface is covered with red petals.

“What the fuck?” I breathe. “Has Joan booked us into the fucking honeymoon suite?” He starts to laugh, and I shake my head. “The woman is a bloody menace. Well, I’ve got a good mind to sack her. See how she likes feeding Hank Marvin on water biscuits then.”

He runs his hand along the bed and presses the mattress. “Firm,” he says approvingly.

What for? Fucking me into it?For a wild second, I almost think I’ve said it, but fortunately, it was in my head, and I watch as he moves around, unpacking his bags and looking in cupboards and doors. As much as I’m panicking at sharing with him and maybe letting my guard down and showing him how Ifeel, a large part of me wants to smile. Con has this joy in life and knowledge. Everything is interesting to him, and it’s very endearing.

I become aware that I’m staring at him and immediately jerk into action, grabbing my bag. “I’ll have the first shower,” I say huskily. I pause, looking at him. He has his hand on the door of an oak wardrobe in the corner of the room. It’s carved with fantastical animals and stands easily six feet high.

“It looks like you could find Narnia in here,” he observes.

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