Close Harmony (Food Of Love 3)
“Ben!”
“Sorry. Well, here’s my twopenn’orth. I wouldn’t put money on von Ritter’s chances.”
“You think Milan?”
“If it has to be one of them. She’s in love with him, isn’t she? And she isn’t in love with von Ritter. But on the other hand, I hope she does choose von Ritter because the last thing I can deal with in the new season is a foul-tempered conductor.”
“Good thinking. Perhaps we should steer her in his direction?”
“Yeah, maybe. He’s a decent guy, after all, without Milan’s issues.”
“He might have a whole busload of baggage of his own, though,” said Vanessa, considering this.
“He deserves a chance, all the same.” Ben yawned, then added, “And so do we. A chance to get to sleep. Especially if we’re going to do sunrise on the beach.”
“Sunrise on the beach? Since when?”
“Since I noticed a handy little private cove about two minutes’ walk from here.”
“Tell you what, love, don’t bother with sunrise on the beach, but you can show me your morning glory any time. Night night, darling.”
* * * *
Lydia had switched her phone off.
The plan was that it stayed off for the whole two weeks in Alcudia, but already, on the first night, she was taking it out of her bag and fiddling with the on-off switch.
Not good, Lydia. Put it away.
She put it away and picked up the TV remote.
All the channels were in Spanish or German, except CNN, which she didn’t find appealing.
She pulled her eReader from her bag and tried to concentrate on her book, but every five minutes she stood up and pulled the curtain across the French doors and looked out over the patio to the sea beyond. Then she fell into deep thought and, before she knew it, she was getting her phone out again.
And putting it away again.
“Screw this,” she muttered to herself.
Taking her bag and the key to the villa, she decided on a sunset walk along the path that led to the sea. The resort was buzzing and lively, at its August peak, and plenty of couples roamed hand-in-hand along the strand, making her feel her own lack of a partner.
The heavy scent of pink and purple bougainvillea followed her along the track, leading her down to the siren sea. The air was cooler than when they had arrived, but still heavily laden with the remnants of that heat, warm and fragrant.
Perhaps she should have brought her violin, she thought, arriving on the white sands. A little bit of busking might be popular—sentimental tunes for strolling lovers. Before she could check herself, she was in a daydream.
Her hand was in Milan’s and they were walking along the beach. He wore pale linen and a tan, she had a flowing dress in bright sunny colours—not t
he dull but practical shorts and vest top she wore currently. They walked to that secluded little cove around the outcrop and fell immediately into a kiss. He told her he loved her and he meant it this time and somehow she was able to believe it without the usual doubts and fears and caveats.
But would she ever be able to believe it? Was Milan truly capable of putting another human being first?
Her shoulders slumped and the daydream melted away, long before it got to the good bit, with them shagging up against a rock.
Stupid Milan. He had tried to stop her taking this break with Vanessa and Ben. He had told her he had booked a cabana at a starry private resort in the Maldives and she was free to join him. What a thing to have to turn down! But she’d done it, and been proud of herself for sticking to her resolution.
Then along had come von Ritter, inviting her on a tour of the western US, where he’d agreed to play a series of guest engagements with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Yet again, she had had to wrestle with her natural inclination to bite his hand off, and had said no.
Oh, von Ritter. What a peculiar and yet attractive man he was. Such a puzzle, with his attitude to sex, and yet through him she had lived out some of her most private fantasies. She had wanted to get closer to him…what did she want now?