Tripping on Love (11 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The heat was intense, far more so than I’d remembered it to be in late
spring. I still hadn't heard from Edward. Three days of anxiously waiting for his call, whilst having to endure my mother's remarks. It had been a mistake telling her that I was waiting for him to get in contact. Even Sampson had begun to shoot my mother warning looks when she continually raised the question of Edward's whereabouts. It wasn't an easy task to flippantly respond, whilst trying to conceal my bitter disappointment. 

Once again, he had left me hanging. The niggling doubt of whether he was already involved with someone
was beginning to surface, despite my best efforts to squash it.

My meeting with a member of Sasha's project team on the day after my arrival in
Spain had gone particularly well. Ronnie was pleased with my report on the status of the project. It was a relief to hear that the hotel was on schedule for its launch, especially as Time & Travel magazine had allowed us space to run the article in the June edition. We couldn’t afford to mess things up; I'd had to pull enough strings already.

There was also the launch prize giveaway to arrange. A trip for two, complete with accommodation in the newly refurbished hotel. I'd put it to one side, c
onscious that there were still nine remaining days of my trip to get things underway. More than enough time.

The biggest shock had bee
n meeting Sampson whom I had naïvely assumed from my mother's description, would be of her usual taste and status.

I couldn’t have been further from accurate. Sampson was a tall, athletic, mixed race man who appeared to be at least five years younger than my mother.
  From the distinction of his large biceps and broad chest, which he preferred to be on show at all times, he spent many an hour lifting weights and working out.

Since arriving, I had been treated countless times to his warm smile and jovial personality.
  For the first time in years, I was pleased my mother had found somebody likeable and grounded. She may not have been the best mother at times, but she deserved some happiness.

Mitsy, Treacle and Lavender, joined by a tiny Coco charged out from the s
ide path and bounded towards me, their excited Chihuahua tails wagging back and forth. Four small pairs of legs jumped up at my clothes leaving tiny, dusty foot prints as I bent down to pet them. Even though I had asked my mother to enforce restriction and not allow them near me, she'd taken no notice. Surprisingly though, I hadn’t started to show any familiar signs of my allergy.

The current self help book I was reading focused on mental intentions. Curious as to its authenticity, I had followed the instructions to affirm and visualise that my physical ailments were no longer present. Oddly, it appeared to be working. I picked up
Coco and cradled her in my arms. It wasn't often I got the chance to indulge my inner child with fluffy pet cuddles.

'Lizzie
, darling' my mother's voice sounded from behind me on the terrace.

I spun around to face her and noticed she had changed from her casual linen trousers into a white chiffon kaftan dress. She looked as glamorous as a model stepping off a catwalk.

'I think you'd better hurry and get ready. Our guests will be arriving soon and I’m sure you don’t want them to see you like that.' She did her best look of disdain at my sweaty, bikini clad appearance, before sauntering off to join Sampson on the large, outdoor wicker lounging bed. 

I hadn’t been allowed to forget the gathering that was being hosted that evening. I'd even been roped into helping to prepare the food and drinks. Did my mother really have that little faith in my hosting skills, that she believed I would greet her guests dressed in a bikini a size too small, showing four days worth of bikini line growth?

I heard the first of the guests arrive downstairs as I put the finishing touches to my make-up. Pulling the price tag from my new silk coral dress, I slipped into it, careful to avoid the still wet deodorant on my armpits. I checked my reflection in the wardrobe door mirror. My mother would be hard pressed to find fault. The delicate silk dress hung beautifully in its halter style. Whoever Mark was, I hoped my mother would appreciate the effort I had made on his behalf. She needn't know that I had been intending to save the dress for my third date with Edward. 

My heart fluttered at the thought. I quickly s
lipped on my shoes and went downstairs before the sadness and disappointment could envelope me once again.

The terrace area had been lit by large fire flames, held by intricate wrought iron holders.
Music pouring out softly from hidden wall speakers and tea lights scattered around every surface offered a warm ambience. The marble dining table was awash with a feast of cold meats, fish and salads. 

A handful
of people I didn't know were milling around chatting at ease amongst themselves. I noticed Mark immediately from my mother’s description. Slightly separate from the rest of the group, he was sat by the pool area, beer in hand. I walked across to him.

'Mark?' I asked tentatively.

He looked up from his beer, eyes widening, clearly taking me in. He quickly looked away again, taking another gulp of his beer. The beer missed, trickling down to his chin. He wiped it with the cuff of his jacket.

'Depends who's asking' he replied arrogantly.
 

I watched as he greedily drained the remainder of his beer, pl
acing the empty bottle amongst some nearby pot-plants.  A Neanderthal man with no finesse. It didn’t matter that his black hair, chiselled cheekbones and full lips made him startlingly attractive for a man. Nor did it matter that he was dressed in a suave outfit that reeked of class and distinguished taste. My mind had been made up; I didn’t like him.

'Nobody's asking' I spat with contempt, spinning on my heel and
walking back towards the others.

Edward would have never dared be so rude to a woman. Just who did he think he was
, talking to me like that?

'Idiot' I muttered under my breath, loud enough for it to be heard by Mark. Not a word of apology or action came in response. He couldn’t have cared less.

I headed straight for the opened bottle of Bollinger chilling in a bucket near the doorway and poured myself a glass. Riled by Mark's rude manner, there was only one way I was going to get through tonight surrounded by pretentious, arrogant people and I had decided that it was going to be in a champagne induced state.

I guzzled the
sparkling fizzy liquid quickly, allowing a feeling of detachment to settle within myself. I noticed my mother drifting towards me with a small army in tow.

'Lizzie, I'd like you to meet Josef and his wife Tilde.' My mother gestured towards a tall, thin man and his equally willowy, fair haired wife.

'Hello Lizzie, it’s wonderful to meet you' he said in a slow Scandinavian accent. I smiled warmly, listening politely as he began to speak.

Within minutes, I found myself wishing I had managed to gulp another glass of champagne, given that his chosen topic of conversation was the current economic financial trend.
 

Amusingly, I began to hiccup, courtesy of the fizzy liquid that had now found its way comfortably into my bloodstream. My mother shot daggers in
my direction. It wasn't in her book of ladylike manners to hiccup in the presence of company.

Unexpectedly, my next hiccup gave way to a loud yawn. I desperately tried to keep my mouth closed as my nostrils flared in defiance. My mother looked horrified and whisked both Josef and Tilde over to Sampson. I took the opportunity to replenish my champagne flute.

The evening passed in a blur of introductions, numbing conversation and people with expensive clothes and boring personalities. My mother’s loud, false laugh echoing across the terrace, far too often.

I was aware that Mark had made every effort to distance himself from the others for the best part of the night and was now being cornered by Sven, a nightclub owner. Categorically nightclub, but in fact no more than a legalised strip club. Earlier in the evening, I had been assured by Sven that if I wanted a change in career, he could easily find a position within the club for me. My polite smile had given way to images of myself, gyrating my cellulite affected thighs up against a pole. For someone that had still not mustered the courage to dance sexily for her partner in the depths of darkness, I didn’t feel this would be a viable career move.

The champagne began to take its desired effect; I was becoming even more detached and aloof from the happenings around me. I looked across at Mark again, visibly bored into a stupor by Sven. His dark hair reminded me of Edward. He wasn't as broad or tall, but he had something moody and destructive about him that I was starting to feel drawn to. 

Walking in his direction, he looked questioningly at me as I interrupted the conversation and grabbed his arm.

'There you are, I need to borrow you for a moment.' I nodded apologetically in Sven's direction. 'Just play along' I whispered to Mark, aware that a few of the others had noted our departure from the terrace and were watching as we headed towards the house.

'So couldn’t resist me any longer huh?' He smirked at me sideways, self assumingly nodding his head. I kicked his left ankle hard.

'Ouch!' he jumped, slightly startled.

'Well don’t be so cock sure of yourself and assumptive, or you'll be getting a few more of those.'

'Ooh, feisty. I love a woman that has a temper.' He narrowed his eyes as he said this and I felt my stomach twist. Something about his temperamental personality was making me feel turned on. It was entirely unexpected. 

The lounge was off to the side of the villa and was secluded from the terrace in both sight and distance.

I released my grip on Mark's arm and walked across to the large, inviting sofa, plonking myself into the middle of it.  The room began to whirl around me and I struggled to keep my focus. I was vaguely aware of Mark standing in front of me, looking down. His hands reached out to tenderly stroke my hair.

'You're a funny one
, Lizzie. I've been watching you all night, coming across as the perfect enraptured guest, knowing that you secretly couldn’t give two hoots. You'd most likely prefer to be standing in a cheesy nightclub dancing away.'

Impressive. He'd read me well. Spotting a bottle of water on the table, I leaned forward to retrieve it. Mark stepped in, picking up the bottle and opening it gently; he pushed my head back to allow me to drink from it as he held it in his hands. An act so simple, yet so erotic. I felt stirrings deep inside myself. He was making me want him.

He looked handsome amongst the soft glow of the lamps. His dark tousled hair, at least two days of stubble and well weathered skin, all tempting me to move closer to him.

'Like what you see?' He looked into my eyes with intent. 'What about see
ing more?' his comment lingered for a second before adding 'I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing more of you.'

It felt as if time was standing still as the electricity of lust built up in a heady daze between us, each of us holding the other's gaze.

'Look at you two lovebirds sneaking off' my mother’s voice boomed from the doorway. She swayed gently with a glass of champagne in her hand, unaware that her dress was transparent against the low lighting of the room, and the bright lighting of the hallway.

Mark immediately backed away from me, running his hands through his hair and avoiding my eyes.

'Mother' I seethed, making furious eye movements for her to leave the room.  She ignored me, sipping more champagne and smirking. I turned towards Mark.

'She's drunk. Take no notice of her.'

'Stop being so childish Lizzie. I'll close the door and give you both a little more privacy.' She turned clumsily, pulling the door towards her and winked at us before closing it. I shook my head in disbelief.

Mark burst into laughter. 'Your mother is crazy.'

His laughter was infectious and I found myself grinning at him. The interruption had surprisingly made me feel more sober. 

Mark's lips were on mine before I realised what was happening. His slight stubble grazed against my skin as I closed my eyes. His tongue was soft and gentle. I waited for the feeling of passion to sweep over me that had been lingering just moments before. Oddly I didn’t feel anything.
 

As his kiss gradually became more urgent, I felt his hands shifting from my back around towards my breasts. Repulsion crawled across my skin like an army of ants. I opened my eyes and gently pulled away from him.

'Everything OK?' His breath was heavy and close to me. He looked so sexy. I wanted myself to want him. How could I not be feeling sexually attracted to him. What was wrong with me? I smiled encouragingly.

'Everything is wonderful.' I leaned forward and pushed myself closer to him.

Within moments his mouth was on mine again, kissing me fast and seductively as his hands explored my body. 

It wasn't working. Unable to lose myself in the moment, I felt irritation beginning to build as his stubble continued to graze against my skin, and his wandering hands started to feel rough against me.