This little blip will not get me down. I am resilient. I am hardy and strong. I am still wearing a peacock-blue kimono.
‘Who’s next?’ I call, disappearing into the sanctuary of my office.
‘It is the laughing guy. The one you hate so much,’ she yells through. ‘He says it’s urgent, but he makes no appointment for this morning,’ she says with a roll of her eyes at the inconvenience, as I dart back through to reception.
‘You mean the one from the ICF? The tall one? The Scottish one?’
My mind flies to our booking system. The one designed to prevent this sort of thing happening.She has one job. ONE JOB.
‘Yes. I tell him that you are in the Bahamas for avoiding tax reasons, but he still says he is coming.’ She shrugs her shoulders as if to say ‘Meh, what can you do?’.
Shite. Between my sister turning our home into a knocking shop within hours of her arrival and my mother, I forgot to check the diary.
No, this cannot be happening. And the fact that I slept here and didn’t bring an overnight bag isn’t helping. I race back into my office and over to the mirror. I have no spare make-up, no spare set of beautifully lined expensive suits and no sexy footwear. I cleaned my teeth with an extra-large mint.
A knock at the door has me jumping out of my skin. I swivel round to see Ava standing there. Could things get any worse?
‘Fuck off!’ I yell at her. Her face immediately crumples as she turns to leave. ‘Wait!’ I shout and wave her in. It’s like I’ve developed Tourettes around her.
‘Look, you’ve caught me at a bad moment, okay?’ I explain. She looks at me and nods in understanding.
‘It’s okay,’ she says, ‘I’ll go.’ Before she leaves, she turns and tells me that I have a really nice office. I nod back at her. Then she asks, ‘Is it anything I could help with?’
Like I’d needherhelp.
‘No, not unless you have a magic wand that can make me look amazing in less than…,’ I take a huge breath in and yell through to Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen, ‘Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen? What time is he coming?’
‘In ten minoots!’ she shouts back. My sister and I trade glances.
‘Of course,’ my sister says, grinning at me while she rummages around in that massive bag of hers, the one she dropped at the airport that had a salon full of toiletries in it. I also spy a toothbrush. I stare at her. That is indeed the answer. But I can’t let her near me, never mind ask for her help.
‘Let me at you for five minutes. Nell, I practically do this for a living. What do you say?’ she asks kindly. I’m caught in a moment of hesitation. I’m not proud but I let vanity get the better of me.
She leaps towards me. ‘Go do your teeth. You’ve a red wine smile.’ I do as she says. ‘Sit here by the light.’
She tears open the bag, yanking at my hair with a brush, gets out some straighteners and dusts my cheeks with powder, swishes make-up brushes all over my eyebrows, lips, eyes. She runs the straighteners through my hair super quick, stands me up, gives me her shoes and jacket. She fiddles with the kimono, making it look more like a dress, and says, ‘Ta-dah!’
She turns me to face the mirror.
Oh.
Chapter 23
Ilookgreat.Unbelievableeven. She leaves me staring in wonder at myself and heads out the door with her head hanging down. Well, the jokes on her because for short bursts of time, I can be quite nice. I begrudgingly say, ‘Thank you. Much appreciated.’
She spins around all hopeful, so I shoot her a warning look not to get too carried away. I’m still majorly furious with her. It’s all I can do to manage a small, grateful smile but only on one side of my mouth.
I see her jaw drop open as the entire doorframe behind her is filled with my man from the International Coaching Federation. This time he is not covered in sandy shorts and a t-shirt. He’s wearing a dashing suit. His shirt unbuttoned at the top and no tie. His hair is still floppy and his arms still beefy, eventhroughthe suit jacket he’s wearing. My, but he looks sophisticated. He takes one look at me, and we stand transfixed. I don’t even notice my sister slide out of the room and more importantly, neither does he! I think I have just fallen madly in love with Mr Beefy Arms, solely based on the fact that he did not pay my sister or her award-winning legs one ounce of attention. He has kept his penetrating gaze fixed on me the whole time.
If it were still okay for women to swoon, I would. My mind is blank from lust, so for want of anything better to do, I just keep gawping.
Oliver speaks first. ‘Can I come in?’ he asks politely from the doorway. He sure fills a doorframe nicely enough.
‘Of course, of course,’ I say, snapping back to my professional self. He closes the door behind him, and I catch a glimpse of two nosy faces behind him, leaping up and down to see what is going on. I watch mesmerised at his commanding walk across the room to stop inches before me. I look up at him. I’d forgotten quite how tall he is. It’s very impressive.
‘Sorry to barge in like this,’ he apologises, ‘but I wanted to tell you in person.’
My mind flies to the International Coaching Federation. A sudden flashback of when he came into my office to find me rolling around on the floor pings into my brain. Oliver is towering incredibly close to me. No wonder he’s come all professional looking.
