Distracted

Belinda Wright

Description

Luna Perry is absolutely not looking for romance, especially not with arrogant corporate bankers she meets in airports. Brent Costner is so far from her type that she tells him she's a yoga teacher in the hope it'll put him off - it's not like she's ever going to see him again anyway, so what does it matter?Brent isn't in the market for distraction either. On a mission to make his consultancy the most successful ever, he's travelling tothe UK to lead the European branch of a clothing company through a big structural reorganisation,and he's not about to lose focus.But after meeting Luna at the airport, he can't get her out of his mind. He's drawn to her easy-going, free-spirited way - and he's intrigued.Surely he can allow himself a little fun, just as long as he doesn't take his eye off the ball for too long

Sujets

• Contemporary romance

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 27 avril 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838599270
• Langue: English

Extrait

Distracted
Belinda Wright
Copyright © 2019 Belinda Wright

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 9781838599270

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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue – One Week later
Chapter One
A collective groan came from the waiting passengers as ‘DELAYED’ flashed on the screen. I closed my eyes. Another forty-five minutes. Really? So close to home but still so far. I opened my eyes and ran a hand through my hair, my fingers snagging; humid air didn’t help with curls. Neither did a long flight from Delhi. I rubbed my cold, swollen eyes. The mascara applied that morning had long since melted away.
I spotted a bar opposite the gate, so heaved my straw bag on to my shoulder and headed over. The bag strap had been threatening to break since the bus journey in Delhi, but thankfully was still holding on. I put my hand under it just in case as I crossed the concourse. I should have put the samples in my suitcase instead of lugging them in my hand luggage.
Two men in suits wheeling trolley cases whizzed past in front of me, followed by a lady in a red dress. I stopped to let them pass, looking down at my own clothes. This morning in Delhi my vest top and cropped trousers had looked the height of chic but now, Sunday evening at Schiphol, I looked like a tourist returning from a beach holiday.
My eyes took a few moments to adjust to the darkness of the bar. I dumped my bag on the floor, climbed on to the high stool and waited. The barman came over and gave me a cheerful smile. I struggled to smile back, taking in his formal uniform of a green apron and a bow tie.
‘What can I get you?’
‘Green tea, please.’ He moved away to prepare it and I closed my eyes, realising how tired I was. It had been a long two weeks in India and all I could think about was getting home to my flat. My haven. My place of calm and happiness. I loved my flat. I’d been so lucky to find it. It hadn’t even been advertised when I went into the letting agency looking for somewhere to rent two years ago and they had given me a first viewing. That was a turning point in my life, when things began to improve. Before that there had been a moment when I thought things couldn’t get much worse.
I had been so settled, so happy. My life in Sri Lanka with Dan was perfect. Idyllic even. We lived in a cute little hut a hundred metres from a beach of the finest white sand imaginable that stretched for miles and was edged by palm trees. The sea was blue, but not normal sea blue; it was aqua blue, kind of like the colour of mouthwash. The water wasn’t deep and when I stood still rainbow fish would swim around my legs. It was the stuff of travel brochures. I was in heaven.
Dan was the head cocktail waiter in the Ramones Hotel bar, close to where we lived. He could walk to and from work in minutes, which was great because he worked all night. He would get home just as I was getting up each day. We would eat breakfast together on the beach watching the sun rise in the sky. Then I would take the scooter to the clothing factory where I was head of production, a job I loved. I worked with the pattern-makers to ensure the clothes were produced to the customers’ specs.
Until everything changed. It was a Thursday; I remember it vividly. I took my lunch break as I often did in a small café near the beach. I sat in the shade because the midday sun was fierce. I ordered coconut water and fresh fish and I called my mum. I was excited to hear her voice because I hadn’t called for a while. As soon as Mum answered I knew something was wrong because the tone of her voice was off. Dad had just got the results of some scans, she told me. I was surprised; I didn’t know he’d even been for a scan. He had been diagnosed with cancer, she said. Bowel cancer. They needed to do further tests, but it didn’t look good. The oncologist suspected it was stage four, and there was a shadow on his liver too. He was feeling quite poorly, Mum said, and I knew then it must be bad, because my parents rarely complained. She was trying to be strong, but I could tell she was on the verge of crying.
I hung up the phone with my own tears forming in my eyes. I went back to the factory, told the owner I was leaving for England and took my moped and drove as fast as I could back to the beach hut. I wanted to see Dan. I needed him to hold me and tell me it would be OK. He would come with me back to England, I knew it; there was no way he would let me face this alone.
I locked the moped outside the complex and hurried to our hut. It was the afternoon and Dan didn’t start his shift until the evening so I hoped he’d be home. As I neared the hut I heard music playing. He was home and awake , I thought with relief as I let myself in. I dropped my bag by the front door. I hurried to find him, desperate to tell him the bad news.
I saw her before I saw him. Long straight dark hair fell down her back in a glossy cloak. I remember thinking it must have taken a long time to grow hair that long. Her olive skin was sun-kissed, smooth. Her back was completely tan-line free, I noticed. She sat up and turned to look at me, her almond-shaped eyes filled with confusion. Then I saw him beneath her, his arms folded behind his head, his eyes were half shut. He was smiling that relaxed, lazy smile that I used to find so cute. Bob Marley was playing, and he was nodding his head to the music. He saw me and the smile vanished.
‘What are you doing back so early?’ He pulled the sheets over his chest. The girl slipped off him and lay on the bed, her naked breasts bouncing as she moved. I just watched, struggling to take my eyes off her, refusing to believe she was in my bed.
‘Lue? I can explain,’ Dan said, sitting up. I swallowed, feeling sick. What happened next, I don’t remember so well. I think I just grabbed some of my things, my passport and other stuff, threw some clothes into a bag and ran out. I don’t think I said anything. I took the moped to the airport and locked it outside. Then I went in and got on the first flight to London.
I haven’t spoken to Dan since. He tried emailing and calling but I never picked up. I didn’t want to hear his excuses. There are no excuses. I had caught him in the act. How could he possibly explain that one away? I didn’t give him that chance. Anyway, I’d been too busy. I had to help my mum. I found a job in clothing development in Reading and I moved into my lovely flat not far from their house.
Dad died only three months after I got back. The time passed in a blur. I helped my mum care for him; I focused on them. It was a heartbreaking time but it stopped me thinking about my already broken heart. It took my mind off Dan and the perfect life in Sri Lanka I had left behind.
After he died I threw myself into my new job. It was great. I could go there and focus on nothing but work, forgetting all the other sad things going on. It was like therapy; I even got to travel to India and Turkey for short factory visits. I got to work with fabrics and textiles, something I loved doing, and the rest of the time I could stay close to Mum.
Those two years had passed so fast. I looked at my watch, which was still set to Delhi time, I noticed. I tried to calculate how long I’d been travelling. It must have been over fifteen hours since I left the hotel and there was still the Schiphol to Heathrow leg to get through. I closed my eyes again. At least a car would be waiting for me at Heathrow and I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a taxi.
The barman placed a pot of tea in front of me and my eyes flicked open. I poured it into the cup, took a sip and winced. It was nothing like the green tea I’d been drinking for the past two weeks in India. I took a deep breath and tried to centre myself.
Only forty-five minutes delay – not so long really. I could do this. I looked back at the gate. Most of the people had moved away. I squinted to try to see the screen but couldn’t make out what was showing. There was a table by the window in the bar so I decided to move there so I could see the screen more easily.
I picked up my tea, grabbed my bag and headed towards the window. I’d made it halfway when the straw s