From Notting Hill with Love...Actually (20 page)

Hmm…I thought hard for a moment. Let’s assume Sean will probably just go straight to bed now, that means I will just have to wait here a little longer until he falls asleep. But what if he hangs his clothes in here before going to bed? I panicked a little. No, that wasn’t likely to happen, men never hung their clothes up. They just left them lying over a chair—or, more likely, in a heap on the floor.

But if he
didn’t
visit the wardrobe before bedtime, and I
was
lucky enough to have him fall asleep without finding me, how on earth would I get back to my room again? I couldn’t go out of the door—even if I did get through it without him stirring, I didn’t have my key with me to get back into my own room again.

I heard Sean moving about and then I heard him mumble something that sounded like “What’s this?” and there was a rustle of paper.

Oh
no—my note!

“Meet me at the Eiffel Tower…” His voice trailed off. “Oh, Scarlett,” I heard him say softly.

I listened intently, my ear pressed up against the wardrobe door, but all I heard next was another door open and close.

What’s he doing now? I wondered impatiently. Then it dawned on me…

Quickly I opened the wardrobe door and ran toward the balcony. Through the open windows to my room I could hear Sean knocking hard on my door.

With
any
luck
he’ll assume I’m asleep when I don’t answer and leave me alone
, I silently prayed, as I grabbed hold of the drainpipe again.

The knocking subsided.

Phew
…I carefully swung my leg over toward my own balcony, got it safely over, and was just about to swing the other one across when I heard Robbie Williams’s “Let Me-ee…Entertain You…” booming from my back pocket.

Shit, Sean was only calling my mobile now.

Hastily I swung my other leg across the gap and reached into my back pocket just as Sean appeared on his balcony.

He looked at his phone and then he looked at me. “What are you doing out here?” he asked. “I was just at your door, knocking. When you didn’t answer I assumed you were still out.”

“I was out—well, out here taking a call…from David. I didn’t hear the door. I must have just hung up as you called.”

“Oh, I see. Are you OK, Scarlett? You look a bit…flustered.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Did you have a good night?”

Here we go, I thought. Wait for it…

“It was…all right,” I answered hesitantly.

“Only, I just found this.” Sean held up my note.

“Ah…that.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ve only just got back from…my meeting. I didn’t see it before.”

“No worries,” I said with a shrug. “It was a bit of a joke really. Just another movie moment for me to add to my list.”

“Oh.” Sean looked thoughtfully at the piece of paper. “Look, do you want to come over here for a while, or shall I come to you? I feel a bit silly talking to you across our balconies.”

“I’ll come over to you.” I was relieved, yet puzzled as to why Sean hadn’t ribbed me about the Eiffel Tower. Maybe he was saving it until he’d found out for sure I’d spent all night up there alone.

I grabbed hold of the drainpipe and began to climb back over to Sean’s balcony.

“Scarlett! What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh…yeah,” I said, blushing as I quickly pulled my leg back. “Maybe it would be easier if I just came around to your door.”

I’d fled inside, leaving Sean still standing on his balcony. Now as I stood outside his room, thinking what a dope I’d just been, he opened the door to let me in.

“What on earth were you thinking of?” Sean asked, still looking at me strangely.

I shrugged as I walked past him into the room. “Don’t know, really—just seemed the natural thing to do at the time.”

“Right…” Sean said, closing the door behind me. He held up my note again. “I’m so sorry, Scarlett—if I’d known where you were tonight…”

“You’d have what?”

“I’d have cut short my dinner and come at once. I did try and phone you.”

“I know, but I accidentally left my phone in my room when I went out.” I walked over to the window and looked at the street below. They were just pulling the shutters down on the bistro opposite. I hoped they hadn’t seen me earlier, doing my Spiderman impressions. “So how was business tonight?” I asked casually, turning back to face the room again.

“Fine, why?”

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere interesting really. Listen, you didn’t spend
all
night on top of the Eiffel Tower alone, did you?”

“I might have done.”
Two
can
play
at
avoiding
the
questions, Sean.

“I’m really sorry, Scarlett. Honestly I am.”

Why was he being so nice to me? It must be guilt, because he certainly wasn’t telling me the truth about Jen.

“Have you eaten tonight?” Sean asked, looking about him for the room service menu.

“Have you?”

“Scarlett, what is this? Why aren’t you answering
any
of my questions?”

“Why aren’t you answering any of mine…truthfully?”

“What do you mean?”

Without looking at him, I walked away from the window and sat down at the desk. I picked up one of the hotel pens and doodled on the headed notepaper that lay in front of me. “Does the name Jen ring any bells with you, Sean?”

Sean jumped. “How do you know about Jen?”

Oops, how did I know? Oh yes…
“I saw the two of you earlier—in the restaurant over the road.”

Sean’s eyes flickered toward the window for a moment. “Oh, I see. Yes, I did have dinner with Jen. It was a thank-you for her helping us out with the information about your mother—she’s the contact I was telling you about.”

“Did you not think
I
might like to thank her too?” I asked, swinging round in the chair to face him.

God, I was good. I could almost have been Reese Witherspoon at the end of
Legally
Blonde
putting my client under pressure. But strangely, winding Sean up like this wasn’t as much fun as it should have been—he looked extremely uncomfortable as he tried to justify his actions to me.

“Yes, perhaps I should have asked you along as well. But,” he added brightly, as an excuse occurred to him, “I couldn’t, could I? Because I couldn’t get hold of you—the dinner was what I was trying to call you about earlier.” Sean gave a satisfied nod of his head and visibly relaxed again.

Damn
you, Sean—touché!

“Hmm, that’s true, I guess. So this Jen, is she just a work colleague?” I asked, pushing on ever further.

“Actually she…wait a minute,” Sean said, narrowing his eyes. “How do you know the person I was having dinner with was called Jen if you only saw us through a window?”

“I…er…”
Now
he’d got me
.

“Did you hear us in here earlier, when you were out on the balcony? I didn’t think we were that loud—our voices must have carried.”

That
would
be
the
reason—yes!

“Yes, they did. I didn’t hear everything, though—only her name really because I was on the phone to David for most of the time.”

Sean looked relieved again. “Good. I mean I’m glad we weren’t too loud.”

“Why?” I inquired politely. “Were you shouting then? Was there a problem?”

“No, no problem. Look. I asked before if you’d eaten. Would you like me to order something up for you?” He reached across the desk for the room service menu.

“No, thanks, I had a snack at the top of the tower.”

Damn, I didn’t want to bring that up again.

“So you
were
up there a long time?”

“A while…maybe I am a little peckish after all.” I pulled the menu away from Sean and began to examine it, eager to steer the subject quickly away from
that
embarrassing topic.

Sean snatched it back and knelt down in front of me.

“Hey, I was looking at that!” I cried, trying to take it back from him.

Sean held the menu away from me at arm’s length. “Not until you answer my questions.” He looked up at me in earnest. “Why did you ask me to meet you up there, Scarlett?”

“I told you, there’s a movie where—”

“Forget the movies for once. Is that the only reason?”

I looked down at Sean—his eyes were fixed firmly on my face; they didn’t waver. “I don’t know,” I said flippantly. “What other reason would there be?”

Sean closed his eyes, sighed, then sprang to his feet again. “
That
is just what I was rather hoping you might tell me, Scarlett.” It was his turn to walk over to the window now. He stood with his back to me, supposedly gazing out of it.

“Maybe I’m not telling you for the same reason you didn’t tell me about Jen being your ex-girlfriend?”

I saw Sean’s back stiffen, then he turned around.

“You heard that?”

I nodded. “I heard all of it, Sean. I know she was the one you told me about in Glasgow—the one who broke your heart.”

“I’m sure I didn’t say that,” Sean said lightly. “That sounds more like something Oscar would say.”

“I never discussed you and Jen with Oscar.”

“Oh.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I said, standing up and joining him at the window. “I don’t mind if you want to see your ex while she’s in town, why would I?”

Sean shrugged. “I didn’t want to see her particularly. When I rang her for help, I thought she was in New York, not in Paris. I’d forgotten she’d be over here for fashion week. As far as I was concerned, if I’d never seen Jen again for as long as I lived, it would have been too soon. In fact, it was bad enough speaking to her over the phone.”

“Then why do it?” We were facing each other now and it was my turn to look up into his eyes. “Why did you even call her?”

“For you, Scarlett, you know that. I swallowed my stupid pride and called my ex-girlfriend to help you.”

We were moving closer to each other all the time. I should have moved away then, backed off before something happened I’d regret. But I couldn’t—Sean’s intense gaze paralyzed me. It buried itself deep within me, taking a hold in places I shouldn’t have allowed it to go.

“Now I’ve told you the truth about Jen, it’s your turn, Scarlett,” Sean said in a low voice, still not taking his eyes away from mine. “Why did you leave me this note?” He pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it up in between our two faces.

“I wanted to see if you’d come.”

“Why? You know I would have if I could. I wouldn’t have just left you stranded up there all alone.”

“No, I mean…oh, I don’t know what I mean, Sean. I just needed to prove something to myself.”

“Let me try proving it to you another way.” Sean released the note from his fingers and we both watched it flutter down on to the carpet. Then in perfect unison, our faces lifted to look at each other once more. Sean reached up his hand and gently stroked my cheek with his fingers. I felt my eyes close at his touch—it was almost too much to bear.
Pull
away, Scarlett. Pull away now!
a tiny voice inside me urged.
Before
something
happens
you’ll regret!
Now Sean was cupping my face in his hands…But I didn’t want to pull away. I wanted Sean to kiss me. I wanted to know what it felt like to have his lips on mine, to taste him, to—

There was a knock at the door.

My eyes snapped open as our heads both spun toward the intruding noise—then back toward each other again.

Sean shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know. We didn’t get around to ordering any room service in the end, did we?”

“Well, I have no idea,” I said, staring wildly at him. “It’s your room!”

Sean took a look through the peephole. His expression was puzzled as he pulled open the door.

“
Bonsoir, monsieur
,” a waiter said. He was carrying a tray laden with champagne, chocolates, cakes, and pastries.

“I didn’t order this,” Sean said, looking even more confused. “You must have the wrong room.”

A smarter-looking man wearing a suit and carrying a huge arrangement of flowers followed the waiter into the room. “Excuse our intrusion so late in the evening, sir, madam,” he said, nodding at me as he placed his flowers on the table. “Allow me to introduce myself—I am Francois, the duty manager.” He gave a small bow. “These,” he said, waving his hand over the tray of food and the vase of flowers, “are with the compliments of the hotel. We were unaware when you booked with us that you were on your honeymoon.”

“But…”

“It was only when two of our elderly guests informed us earlier tonight of some strange goings-on in our honeymoon suite that we realized our mistake, as we have no one staying in the suite at present. When they mentioned this room number, and said you had just got married, we felt we had to do something special for you. There will, of course, also be a champagne breakfast for you both in the morning, again with our compliments.”

Sean looked at me in astonishment.

I shrugged.

“Er…thank you, Francois,” Sean began to say, “but I really think I should explain—”

“What my husband is trying to say, Francois,” I quickly interrupted, “is that it is most kind of you to spoil us in this way, and we are very grateful, of course, to both yourself and the hotel.”

“It is our greatest pleasure, madam.
Bon
appétit
.” Francois gave another little bow. “Come along, Tomas.” He beckoned to the waiter.

Tomas obediently followed Francois. They paused at the door and wished us a good evening before quietly closing it behind them.

“Well,” Sean said, looking at the tray in front of him. “What on earth gave them the idea we were newlyweds?”

“Beats me,” I said innocently. “But let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, eh? Come on, Sean, this looks lovely. Let’s tuck in.”

Sean hesitated.

I hoped he wasn’t going to mention what had happened—or what was just about to happen before Tomas and Francois had arrived.

“Not hungry?” I asked, picking up a plate and placing one of the cakes on it. “Can’t I persuade you into something a little bit naughty but nice?”

I blushed when I realized what I’d said.

Sean grinned. “You almost did, Scarlett,” he said, coming over to the table and picking up the bottle of champagne. “And I’m sure it would have been an awful lot nicer than any of these cream cakes are ever going to be.”