The Perfect Retreat Page 0,37

stomach with tiny blond hairs on it. She felt weak at the knees. Stop it, she reminded herself.

Spinning around back to the stove, she put her hand down on the hot stovetop for a second and felt a searing pain through her hand. ‘Ahhh!’ she cried. ‘Fuck it!’

Merritt dropped the tin, grabbed her hand, put it under the cold tap and held it while the water washed over it. ‘God, I’m so stupid,’ she said, tears filling her eyes.

‘No you’re not,’ said Merritt, and he lifted her hand to inspect the burn. ‘It’s not too bad, but you will need some cream and dressing.’ He started looking in the cupboard above the fridge, to see what first aid they had in the house.

‘Here, sit down and I’ll play nurse,’ he said and he gently pushed Willow onto the kitchen chair.

He took out a tube of cream and some dressings that had his father’s name on them, and decided they would do the job unless it got worse. He gently applied the cream, placed a dressing over it and wrapped it up in a bandage. When he had finished he looked down at Willow. ‘All better?’

She nodded. The pain of her burn was nothing compared to the sickness she felt in her stomach when he touched her, and she was slightly breathless.

‘You’re a bit pale. Need a drink?’

Oh, I need a lot more than that, she thought, but she nodded her consent. Merritt pulled out a bottle of brandy from the cupboard along with two small glasses, and he poured them both a drink.

‘Hurts, huh?’ he asked.

‘It’s not too bad,’ she said quietly.

‘Are you OK?’ Merritt looked at her closely.

‘I’m fine, really. Just shock I think.’

‘I know what you need,’ he said playfully.

I’m sure you don’t, she thought, but she smiled anyway. Merritt picked up her hand and kissed it. ‘All better,’ he said proudly.

Willow laughed and smiled at him, and Merritt smiled back. For a moment that seemed like an eternity to Willow their eyes met and she wanted to reach out and touch him. Instead she stood up.

‘Actually I don’t think I want a drink. I might take some painkillers and go to bed. I have this interior design job I’m trying to finish,’ she said, trying to ignore the tension in the room.

‘Yes – when will I get to see your work?’ he asked.

‘Soon, I’m nearly done,’ she said, standing in front of him. There was an awkward pause and then she leant down and kissed him briefly on the cheek. ‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘No problem.’ He smiled and she went upstairs to her room.

Merritt sat for a long time in the kitchen nursing his brandy and thinking about Willow. Was he imagining it? Was she acting oddly around him?

He was attracted to her; what man wouldn’t be? She was beautiful and elegant and had a sense of self-possession he found fascinating. The idea of her being a parent didn’t bother him at all; he liked her children, although he worried for little Lucian. He stood up, drained the rest of his brandy and rubbed his eyes with his hands. Get over yourself Merritt, he thought.

It had been over a year since he had had sex. His last lover was a woman he met in Jodhpur, at the hotel whose magnificent gardens he had designed. It was the opening night party and he’d felt uneasy in his dinner suit surrounded by celebrities. He watched as Madonna sat at the bar waiting for people to present themselves at her feet, her new boyfriend by her side. Hers was the only face he recognised, but he’d had no doubt there were many other celebrities there judging from the stench of self-importance in the air. He had headed out to the immense stone balcony to escape the heat and bullshit, and found himself alone with a beautiful woman.

‘Hello,’ she had said in her soft Indian accent.

‘Hello,’ he said in return, and they watched the stars as they emerged one by one in the dusky pink and blue Indian sky. They stood for what seemed like hours and watched as the sun set and the sky darkened.

‘You like the party?’ she asked.

‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I’m here because I have to be.’

‘Me too.’ She laughed and they looked at each other and smiled. ‘Want to escape?’ she offered.

Merritt looked back at the room, filled with flesh and ego. Nobody had bothered to turn up for the tour of the gardens he had been