Page 31 of The Wedding Proposal
‘I like your hair longer,’ he said, suddenly.
‘Oh.’ She touched her plait self-consciously. It had fallen forward over her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ It hadn’t been a choice to grow her hair from its shoulder-length bob, more a lack of interest in the whole enterprise of making a hair appointment. In the first few months of learning to survive without Lucas, grooming had been basic. She’d begun to wear her hair up because it was quick and easy.
Then she’d seen some programme on TV where D-list celebs had been airing their hair care ‘secrets’ and one had demonstrated brushing her long hair forward, twisting the tail tightly, and cutting off an inch. When she’d shaken her hair back it had fallen in place with the bottom neatly layered.
Elle had fingered her own hair and suddenly realised that it was long enough for the same treatment. Tried it, liked it, and, since then, every few months she’d given her blonde locks the same ‘cut’. As ‘surviving without Lucas’ had become ‘I’m OK now’, she’d begun to wear her hair down more and enjoyed collecting second looks, nature having bestowed on her the shimmering gold that people paid a lot in salons to achieve.
‘Yours is longer, too,’ Elle responded, lightly, not wanting him to see that he was unsettling her with his gaze. ‘You only ever wore it short in your marketing days.’
‘The Californian influence. Even as a business manager I didn’t have to maintain a clean-cut image.’ He pushed his hair back from his eyes. ‘Tell me about your voluntary work.’
For the next half-hour Elle talked about Nicholas Centre, about Joseph and Maria, the grace of the old building, the little bits of history that Joseph had imparted, the kids she’d met.
‘And the porn king?’ Lucas poured more brandy.
Elle giggled. ‘Oscar, another volunteer. I didn’t take to him, even before he hinted that I’d locked away his porn stash.’
Lucas’s eyes had half-closed and he’d sunk down comfortably so that he could put his feet up on the opposite sofa. ‘So you viewed his whole collection?’
‘No! Only the first few. But Joseph had to look at it because the centre is his responsibility so he has to know what we’re dealing with.’
‘The poor guy.’
Elle laughed. ‘No, really, you should have seen his face. He was mortified at having to discuss the subject with me.’
Lucas’s eyes glittered. ‘I should think—’ Before he could say more, his phone began to ring. He hooked it out of his pocket. As he checked the screen, the laughter died from his eyes. Pulling himself to his feet he made an apologetic face. ‘Better take this.’
Then he disappeared out of the doors, across the bathing platform and onto the quayside.
Before he quite passed out of earshot Elle heard him speak into the phone. ‘Kayleigh?’
She watched him for a moment; then her eyes dropped to her glass. The dark amber circle of brandy in the base of her glass moved with the motion of the boat. Nausea welled.
She screwed the lid on the brandy bottle and, hitching up the skirt of her dress, took the steps cautiously down to the galley, rinsing her glass and then the sink so that the place wouldn’t smell like a bar in the morning.
Into her cabin. Make-up removed, she undressed and slid naked beneath the sheets, the motion of the boat increasing all the time. She closed her eyes against another clammy wave of sickness.
It seemed a long time before she heard Lucas moving about and knew that he was back on board.
Chapter Eight
In the morning, Elle emerged from her cabin to find Lucas drinking coffee in the saloon.
‘Sorry to run out on you last night.’ He watched as she paused at the galley to take down a coffee mug and instant coffee.
The deck heaved beneath her feet and she put both coffee and mug back again. She would wait until she was on dry land to put something that strong in her stomach. ‘No problem.’ She reached down to the fridge for cold water.
‘Kayleigh’s coming tomorrow.’
Her stomach rolled and she put the water back again, too. ‘Oh? Great.’ She climbed the steps and forced a smile. ‘That will be fantastic for you.’
His gaze sharpened. ‘Feeling sick? Pick a point on the horizon and stare at it for a while.’
‘I have to go, anyway. Dry land will do the trick.’ She didn’t bother denying that she felt rough. She’d seen her pallor in the shower room mirror.
He rose as she made to pass by. ‘Elle—’ He pushed his hands into the pockets of his cut-offs.
She waited politely. When he seemed uncertain how to continue, she said, ‘If Kayleigh’s coming here, will you be staying with her at a hotel as you said, so your cabin will be empty? I might as well take my turn in it, hadn’t I? No point me slumming it and the master cabin standing doing nothing.’
