Page 7 of Best Laid Plans
There was no reply.
Poking his head around the doorway, he saw that the bed was empty, with the sheets pulled haphazardly back and the door to the en suite bathroom flung open.
She was gone.
That was a relief.
Feeling the tension leave his shoulders, he went back into the living area and pulled out the clothes he was going to wear for his walk today, before heading off for an invigorating shower.
There had been something about her that intrigued him, though, he mused as he felt the soothing water cascade over his aching back – her determination and bolshie confidence perhaps. She certainly wasn’t his usual type, with her leggy, voluptuous figure and short, feathery bobbed hair in a shocking shade of red, which had reminded him of the colour of the sea of poppy fields behind the house in Provence where he’d grown up. Historically, he’d always been attracted to petite women, usually blondes, with more of a delicate air about them, but there was something incredibly alluring about Indigo, with her wide, open smile and playful gaze.
She was sexy.
He shut off the water and reached for a towel, drying himself vigorously. If he was being honest, she’d probably only captured his interest because it had been refreshing to meet a woman who didn’t want to take something from him and just walk away for once. He was used to being the one to sort out other people’s problems and it had been a long time since someone had done something benevolent for him.
It would be better if he didn’t see her again though, he told himself, flinging the towel into the bath in the en suite. He wasn’t in any state to be sociable at the moment.
After shaving off his morning stubble, he pulled on shorts, a light breathable T-shirt and the brand-new walking boots that his PA had bought for him and gave himself a nod in the mirror.
Okay. Now he was ready to face the day and whatever it might bring.
He checked his email on his phone as he travelled down in the elevator ready to grab some breakfast in the restaurant, pleased to find there wasn’t anything that needed his urgent attention. That was sure to change by the end of the week, though.
After dropping by the reception desk to confirm they’d have the suite that he’d booked available for him when he returned from his hike, he was about to walk away to get his breakfast when curiosity about Indigo’s situation stopped him. He should probably check whether he was likely to come across her again, just so he could prepare himself for it.
He turned back.
‘Did you find another room here for the woman I shared the honeymoon suite with last night?’ he asked the receptionist.
Confusion flickered across her face, until recollection seemed to strike her. ‘The lady from your suite checked out, signor.’
That must mean she wasn’t doing the Ravello circuit and coming back to Amalfi today, which meant there wasn’t any danger of bumping into her again.
Good, that was good, because he’d feel compelled to acknowledge her if they saw each other again, which would encroach on his much-anticipated alone time.
‘Okay, thanks,’ he said, giving the receptionist a nod before heading over to the breakfast room at the other end of the lobby.
Considering it was still pretty early, the place was already buzzing with guests and he grabbed the only spare table near the back wall. After seating himself, he took a look around him, soaking up the animated vibe. Quite a few of the guests seemed to be dressed in walking gear, like him. Clearly the coastal walk was a big draw to the area. Hmm, perhaps it wouldn’t be as solitary an experience as he was hoping, he reflected with a twinge of annoyance.
A flash of bright red on the other side of the room caught his eye and, heart thumping, he quickly leant back, using the couple sitting at the table next to him as cover. Grabbing the menu in front of him and holding it to hide most of his face, he gradually leant forwards again to take another look. As he suspected, it was Indigo, standing at the breakfast buffet with her back to him, her hair damp and gleaming and her small rucksack slung over one arm.
She looked refreshed and energised this morning, her skin glowing with health and her posture relaxed. His gaze followed her as she moved smoothly along the buffet, seemingly checking over her options before making her choice. She grabbed an apple and a couple of bread rolls from the display and he watched in amusement as she slipped them into the gaping opening of her bag. After a quick check around, she seemed to discern that no one had clocked her and popped a couple of slices of Parma ham and a small bottle of mineral water from the cooler section in there too. Next went in a pat of butter and a little package of cheese.
Evidently deciding she had enough food stashed away, she strolled nonchalantly away from the buffet, slinging her bag over her shoulder and shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her shorts. He half expected her to start whistling ‘Food, Glorious Food’ as she made her getaway.
She was staying in a five-star hotel but she was too cheap to buy her own lunch? What was that about?
He allowed himself one last look at her long, shapely legs as she disappeared out of the room, then turned to gesture for the waitress to bring him some coffee.
And that, he guessed, feeling an odd twinge in his chest, would probably be the last he’d ever see of Indigo Hughes.
* * *
Indigo had thought she was in pretty good shape. She went running at least a couple of times a week and opted to walk around London as much as possible instead of jumping on public transport, but by the time she’d climbed what seemed like a thousand steps leading away from Amalfi – pausing on her journey to walk through the ancient brick-walled walkways hung with canopies of vibrant greenery in the Villa Cimbrone gardens – then on to the quaint little town of Ravello, she realised her fitness levels were nothing like as good as she’d imagined.
Still, she’d made it here without incident, and after wandering around the quiet streets crammed with cool artisan shops and visiting the simple but atmospheric cathedral, it was a relief to walk downhill to the little village of Pontone and stop for a rest and to eat her lunch.
Sitting on a wide grassy viewpoint which looked out over the dramatic drop down to the coast, she was just about to take the final bite of the sandwich she’d made out of the food she’d filched from the breakfast buffet when she noticed a familiar figure making his way across the grass in the direction of the trattorias that, according to her guide, were favoured by walkers on the route because of the incredible views from their balconies.
