The Chocolate Lovers' Club by Carole Matthews Read Free Book Online Page B

nice, but she’d take what she could get.
    The small swimming pool was empty apart from Chantal. The area was intimate and lushly decorated like a tropical paradise, secreted away from the main part of the hotel. Large palm trees crowded around the turquoise water, the loungers were made of bamboo. It was an intricate shape, not suited to swimming lengths, but she made a few strokes up and down while she waited for her husband to join her.
    When Ted appeared, she called jokingly, ‘Come on in. The water’s lovely.’
    He laughed and jumped in, spraying water all over her.
    ‘Hey! Not fair.’ Chantal climbed onto his back and tried to duck him under the surface. They splashed around playfully, having fun as they hadn’t done in years. Too many years.
    Chantal wound her legs round Ted’s waist and twined her arms round his neck. He held her bottom and pulled her to him. Then his mouth found hers and they clung to each other in the water as they kissed. Ted pushed her against the side of the pool and, as he held her up with one arm, his other hand caressed her body, which thrilledto his touch. His fingers found the edge of her swimsuit and teased inside, rubbing over her nipple.
    Chantal let her head fall back. She could feel Ted growing hard and wondered whether they’d make it back to the bedroom in time. In years gone by, they used to relish making love in reckless places. Then her husband’s fingers strayed to the inside of her thighs, toying with the fabric of her suit and she wondered whether he might still be prepared to risk it.
    ‘There’s no one else here,’ she whispered huskily. ‘Come inside me.’
    He looked anxiously over his shoulder. ‘Someone might see us.’
    ‘They won’t,’ she assured him, even as she was slipping down the front of his shorts and urging herself towards him. ‘There’s no one else here. We’re absolutely alone.’
    He stilled her hands. ‘I can’t,’ Ted said, his hardness suddenly dissipated. ‘I can’t do this.’
    ‘We can go back to the room,’ Chantal said. ‘We can be there in minutes.’
    ‘It wouldn’t make any difference,’ her husband said. He let go of Chantal and slipped away from her. She couldn’t read the emotions in his face.
    ‘Talk to me about this, Ted. What’s the problem?’
    ‘I think that’s abundantly clear,’ he said crisply as he hauled himself out of the pool. ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she called after him, as he headed back to the changing rooms without glancing back in her direction. But she knew it did. It mattered a lot to both of them.

Chapter Eleven
    I snuggle down into my sofa, surrounded by a veritable feast of treats to see me through the rest of Christmas Day – a tub of Heroes and a giant bar of Galaxy are nestled next to me within easy reach. Minimum exertion is going to be employed for maximum consumption.
    The smart outfit has gone and I’m back in my slob-out gear of faded black T-shirt and combats. The remains of my bottle of champagne – slightly flat – is pressed into service again. Because I don’t want to be sober, I slug down half of it in one go, then settle back for my wild night of telly. And then, tragedy ensues!
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
isn’t even on, and it’s
always
on television at Christmas. What’s the festive season without Dick Van Dyke? It’s usually slap bang in there amongst
The Sound of Music
and
The Great Escape
. There surely must be some mistake. Can you rely on nothing in this life?
    I throw down the festive TV guide in disgust. What am I going to do now to pass the long, lonely hours until bedtime? Picking up the remote control, I give channel-surfing a cursory go, and just as I realise there’s absolutely nothing on worth watching, my doorbell rings. Who the hellcould this be? Then my heart quickens. What if it’s Crush, come to tell me that this has all been a hideous mistake and that he got the first flight out of Sydney that was humanly possible, to