Plus One is a Lucky Number

“Yeah, sure.” He let Sophie pass. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Hey, Sophie, I’m sorry. It was none of my business.”

“No, you need to know, really. You’re right. To pull this weekend off, make us look believable, you need to know everything.” She went to a chest of drawers, pulled out some cotton pyjamas and walked back into the bathroom.

“I’ll go get changed then and make up my bed.” Adam moved out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, Sophie emerged from the bathroom, wearing her blue-striped cotton pyjamas, carrying the clothes she’d been wearing that evening.

The lighting had been dimmed. The overhead light turned off, only a lamp by the side of the bed was on. Adam had got some blankets from the wardrobe and was laying them over the chaise longue. Sophie hid her surprised expression. He was wearing some black pyjama bottoms and a dark grey T-shirt. She very much doubted he usually wore anything in bed.

“Hope you don’t mind, I grabbed a couple of pillows off the bed,” he said, puffing them up and placing them at the top end of the couch.

“Not at all.” She placed her clothes tidily on a chair by the dressing table.

“Right, I’ll use the bathroom.” And he disappeared into the room, closing the door behind him.

Sophie pulled the sheets back to the enormous bed and got in, puffing the pillows up behind her. Adam soon reappeared from the bathroom.

“Night,” he said as he got into his bed.

“Adam, you sure you're okay on that sofa?” She watched him try to get comfortable.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sophie leaned over and turned the lamp off. She shuffled to get comfortable, pulling the sheets up over her.

She lay there, in the dark. Hotel rooms were always so dark. No streetlights – although a rarity here on the coastal edges of Cornwall – could stream in through the thick lined curtains. Blackness. If it was a clear night, the stars would be on full display. She closed her eyes. Adam on that couch. His feet dangling off the end …

She let out a sigh and switched the lamp back on.

“What’s up?”

“Adam, this is ridiculous. We’re both two mature adults. This bed is huge. It can practically sleep a whole football team in here, and still have plenty of room.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“Please, get in this bed.”

“I’m fine, honest.”

“You can’t sleep on that sofa!” She jumped out of the bed, her hands on her hips, defiant. “There is so much room in this bed. I won't be able to sleep knowing you‘re on that thing. I feel guilty enough as it is.”

“Sophie, I don’t mind.”

“Adam, I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m not turning this lamp off until you are in this bed.”

“Now there’s an offer, a woman ordering me into her bed,” he teased. Seeing she was still deadly serious, his tone sobered. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure,” Sophie said impatiently, sighing. “I am sure I’ll be able to control myself. How about you?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in defeat. “Okay, okay.” He grabbed his pillows and walked around to the other side of the bed. Sophie got back in. He stripped back the sheets that had been tightly tucked in by the maid and slid into the bed. “Happy now?”

“Much better.”

Adam pulled the sheets over him. “Okay, I’ll be honest – this bed is much more comfortable than the chaise longue.”

“See?”

Adam fidgeted for a moment, turning onto his side, and then back. “Do you mind if I take off my top?”

She shook her head and he stripped off his T-shirt and threw it beside the bed. Sophie glimpsed muscular shoulders.

For a workaholic he’s certainly well defined.

Stop it.

“You know, I’m not quite use to, well, wearing –”

“I’d guessed that,” Sophie interrupted him, laughing.

Once she’d seen he had settled in his side of the bed, she turned off her lamp. Darkness surrounded them.

She turned over to her side and then back towards Adam – not that she could see him. She giggled.

“What?”

She lay on her back, still giggling.

“Am I the first woman you’ve shared a bed with that you haven’t –?”

“Yeah, and if you tell a soul,” Adam cut in, chuckling, “I’ll make you work on the shop floor for a week, providing all the Oilers cups of tea.”

“You can’t.”

“I can. Best of buddies, me and Mr Thomas.”

Sophie laughed loudly. Once she’d controlled her laughter, Adam spoke again. “So what are we doing tomorrow, if the wedding is Saturday?”

“Oh, sorry.” Sophie chewed her lip. “I got bullied into it by Cassie. They want to go to the beach. Can you surf?”

Adam let out a groan.

Chapter Seven (#u2da47551-855f-5699-9292-46ac205a2726)

Sunlight streamed through a small gap in the curtains. Although subdued by the double-glazed windows, the Cornish wind racing off the Atlantic whistled and howled outside the balcony enough to rouse Adam.

He opened his eyes to the sight of Sophie asleep only inches away. During the night, they’d both managed to find the middle of the bed. She slept on her side, facing him. One of her hands curled round the sheets, the other almost touching him.

Gently, fearing he’d wake her, he rolled over and glanced at his watch, relieved to find it wasn’t too early, nearly half past seven. He looked back. Sophie still slept.