Love...Among The Stars: Book 4 in the Love...Series (Love Series) Read Free Page A

computer. Peaky has thankfully been replaced with a much less terrifying young Indian man called Muresh. His grey porter's outfit is far easier to deal with than Peaky's enormous green buttoned down jacket and rigidly pressed trousers. I don't need Muresh's help of course, I can yank the suitcase along quite happily myself; but this is a swanky London hotel, and by Christ, in swanky London hotels you will obey the rules - and allow another human being to carry your suitcase, no matter how perfectly healthy and able you are to do it yourself.
    'You're in room 216, Mrs Newman. Your husband's been enjoying the room since yesterday. He went out a bit earlier, but told me to tell you that he'd be back around the time you checked in,' the whip thin concierge says, handing me the electronic room key. 'Muresh will show you the way.'
    'Thanks very much,' I tell him. The concept of Jamie 'enjoying' a hotel room conjures up all sorts of disturbing imagery, but I push it to the back of my mind as I feel my suitcase whisked away from my side.
    Muresh, a man so practiced at this stuff he can probably do it unconscious, is already beetling off down a long corridor so ostentatious you'd have to reload the bazooka and shoot the rest of the royal family down it.
    I take off in hot pursuit.
    Muresh calls the lift, and in no time at all, I'm being whisked upwards. The little Indian man has obviously gone to the same institute of smiling technology as Peaky, as he also gives me a million pound grin while classical music wafts out of the hidden elevator speakers.
    I try to smile back, but it dawns on me that I don't know if I have any cash in my purse, and the smile dies on my lips.
    This is a disaster .
    Poor old Muresh will quite rightly be expecting a tip for his services, and I don't know if I have any bloody money on me with which to supply him with one. I can't exactly start rummaging round in my handbag right now; it would look tacky as hell. I'll just have to wait until we reach the room and hope I've got an adequate amount to satisfy him.
    The walk down the corridor to my room is now an exercise in tension and anxiety. I'd like to admire the vastly expensive fixtures and fittings, but all I can picture is Muresh's disappointed face when I have no tip to give him.
    He pauses outside the door to a room and indicates to me to pass him the electronic room key.
    Oh good grief, this is just ridiculous now. Pulling my suitcase along is one thing, making me stand there like a twat while he performs the simple task of opening a hotel room door is quite another.
    'Don't worry, I can do it!' I tell Muresh and leap forward, key in hand. I confidently swipe it through the card reader before my porter has a chance to object.
    Bzzt, goes the reader, and a red LED lights up on top of it to indicate the key card has not been read properly.
    I have another go.
    Bzzt.
    And another.
    Bzzt.
    Muresh tries to take the key card from my hand.   'Please,' he says, almost imploring.
    'No! No! I can do this!' I assure him, and try the card again.
    Bzzt.
    'Oh, for fuck's sake,' I mumble angrily under my breath.
    Bzzt.
    Bzzt.
    Bzzt.
    'Please!' Muresh repeats, a little more frantically.
    I suck air in over my teeth and hand him the card. Muresh offers me the patented Dorchester smile, turns the key card around the other way , and swipes it through the reader.
    Bing!
    Green light.
    Bugger, fuck and twateration .
    Muresh has the decency not to look at me, and simply rolls my suitcase into the room. As he does, I catch a glimpse of my home for the next 24 hours and fall instantly in love. You should never stay in a hotel room that looks nicer than your own house. Nothing good can ever come of it.
    My delight is slightly tempered by the fact that Jamie got here a day earlier, and has ruined the place somewhat by liberally sprinkling his clothes and electronic entertainment devices around it with no regard for the carefully thought out feng shui .
    Muresh plants the