Misbehaving Under the Mistletoe (Mills & Boon M&B): On the First Night of Christmas... / Secrets of the Rich & Famous / Truth-Or-Date.com (Mb)

by Heidi Rice

  There was a real sense of pride in that voice, which to Andy sounded as mellow and rich as the chocolate notes in the coffee.

  ‘I noticed. He was so worried that Peter and Liz were going to be late for their babysitter that he sent the limo for them. But of course, I blame you completely for keeping them laughing so late in the evening.’

  Miles pointed to the chest of his navy V-necked designer jumper and faked an expression of total innocence. ‘Moi? I cannot think what you could mean.’

  ‘Really?’ Andy picked up one of the photo albums from the coffee table. ‘So those photos of Peter and Jason hanging off the rigging of an old sailing ship dressed up as pirates just happened to be lying around. Hmm?’

  Miles sniggered. ‘It took me days to find a parrot which was docile enough to sit on Peter’s shoulder. Shame that my mother had fed the poor bird to bursting and not bothered to tell us before we took her out on open water.’

  He closed his eyes and sniggered. ‘Classic.’

  ‘You were very cruel. I liked Peter. And he was so kind about the party invitation I painted for Elise.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t.’ Miles shook his head, then sat down on the hard chair facing Andy with his long legs stretched out in front of him. ‘Peter does not do kind. He meant it.’

  Miles saluted Andy with his water glass. ‘He loved your work. It’s as simple as that. You have to remember that Peter helped to design the Cory Sports logo based on the Corazon heart theme that you picked up on. It was a genius idea to take the letter C and work in the hearts and Spanish flowers in blue and gold. Genius. And that is not a word that gets used around here very often.’

  Miles dug down into his trouser pocket and passed a business card across the coffee table to Andy, who stared at it for a few seconds before picking it up.

  ‘When Peter LeBlanc asks you to call him about buying the exclusive rights to your design—he has already made up his mind. These are his contact details. Have a think about how much you want to charge, then give him a call. He’ll be expecting you. And tomorrow would be good.’

  Andy opened her mouth to reply, looked down at the card, which she could barely read because her eyes were blurred with tears, then put it on the table and exhaled slowly.

  ‘Tomorrow? This is all a bit fast for me, Miles.’

  ‘We recognise quality workmanship when we see it, Andy. You are a very talented artist and we would like to buy one of your designs. Is that a problem? Aren’t you interested in that type of painting any longer?’

  ‘Interested? This is my dream project. I love the illuminated artwork. No—it’s not the work. It’s me. I am not used to people taking me seriously as an artist. And it has come as rather a shock. First the museum wants to sell my Christmas card designs and now Peter wants to talk to me about the logo. This has been a very overwhelming week.’

  She pressed her finger to her nose and blinked away a sniffle. ‘I know that I must sound like a total idiot, but I have been working for a long time to get my artwork off the ground and now everything has come all at once and my poor head is having a hard time coping with the idea that someone has confidence in my work. I am far more used to being ridiculed about my so-called foolish hobby. Sorry.’

  Miles sat back in silence, locked his hands behind his head and stretched out his long, long legs so that the muscles in his thighs stretched the fine fabric until it was taut. The expression on his face as he looked at her was so intense that Andy started chewing on her lower lip and shuffling on the slippery leather, her relaxed and happy mood a thing of the past.

  She felt that he was weighing her up. Judging her.

  It was Miles who broke the tension by flicking through one of the photo albums until he came to a full-page print of the young Miles standing on an upturned plastic crate, grinning from ear to ear at the person holding the camera.

  Clutched in his hands was a tiny silver-coloured trophy and he was holding it aloft like an Olympic athlete. Standing on one side of him was a bare-chested Jason in board shorts and, on the other, an older man who looked so much like Miles and Jason that it could only be their father. They had their arms wrapped around Miles’s shoulders and their joy leapt out of the photograph and brought a smile to Andy’s face.

  ‘I was seventeen. I had just won the Best of Cornwall surfing championship, the sun was shining and I thought life could not get any better. My mother took the photograph, then we walked back along the beach and stopped for fish and chips. And that was when they told me that they were selling everything and moving to Tenerife so that I could train as a professional surfer.’

  Miles closed the album with a snap. ‘They gave me a chance to show what I could do. And I was so scared that I would let them down, it paralysed me. But I took the risk. And I have never regretted it.’

  His gaze dropped to her hands, and he gently turned her right hand over and ran his fingertip along the palm, only too aware that her body seemed to shiver at his touch, and not just from the cold night air.

  ‘You have a long life line. Same as me.’

  Then he inhaled slowly and curled her fingers over her palm and held them there.

  ‘Take the chance, Andy. Show us what you are made of. Show us what you can do.’

  She hesitated, her breathing fast and hot.

  ‘Is that what you are doing, Miles? Showing everyone what you are made of? It must be hard trying to prove that, even after your accident, you still have the same joy in your work that you had when you were seventeen.’

  Miles froze.

  The same joy? No. He could never go back to being that same happy teenager with so much to look forward to and so little clue about how much work it was going to take to become the world champion. And stay there.

  The seventeen-years-old Miles had been bursting with power and potential and the sheer joy in his sport.

  Joy. When was the last time he had truly found joy in what he was doing? Adrenaline rush—yes. Excitement and exhilaration, every time. But joy? No, he had not felt true joy for years. Even before the accident his life had become an endless battle to stay on top of his fitness and competitions and business work.

  Little wonder he’d had no time to realise that his so-called girlfriend was more interested in the celebrity circuit than spending time with him.

  A dark cloud called disappointment and frustration passed over his heart and he sat back hard in his chair.

  When had he lost his joy in the sport?

  Miles inhaled slowly, only too aware that Andy was still looking at him, waiting for his reply.

  She smiled at him as though she could read his mind, and the warmth of that smile seemed to penetrate his thick skull and blow away the dark clouds, leaving a calm blue-sky day behind.

  Strange. He had never thought about it that way until now.

  And yet this girl had seen it in him. How did she do that? How did she get under his skin?

  An old familiar yearning started deep in his belly and wound its way to other parts of his anatomy.

  Attraction. And more.

  After Lori he had promised himself that he would stick to casual relationships.

  But maybe the cost was too high a price to pay? What happened if he met someone who was more interested in him rather than his celebrity status? How was he going to handle that and risk being rejected again?

  Miles straightened his back.

  This was one time he was going to walk away from the danger.

  He didn’t need this. Not now. He could fight it. He had to. Anything else would be too complicated and way too dangerous for both of them.

  All he needed was a stand-in date for Saturday night and then he would be out of here and things would be back to normal. That was what he had to focus on.

  Whether he wanted it that way or not.

  It was Andy who broke the silence.

  ‘Some of us have changed direction so many times I think I am going around in circles most days. Do you ever feel like trying someth
ing new?’

  He replied with a dismissive snort. ‘Never. Cory Sports needs Miles Gibson to be standing on some podium somewhere—the champion kite surfer. King of the surf. That’s my job. And I happen to be very good at it.’

  ‘And now you can add expert swimming coach and business mentor to the list. It is a good thing that you are so modest,’ Andy replied, and reached for her coffee cup, her eyes not leaving his.

  And just like that the air between them bristled with static electricity. It bounced back and forwards, sparking all the way as the silence filled the room. The subtle Spanish background music was gone. Replaced by the sound of their breathing. And the hot crackle of the tension as their eyes locked and stayed locked.

  Miles leant forwards so that his whole body was focused on her, eyes bright and smiling.

  ‘Will you at least think about it? Then call Peter when you are ready.’

  Then he pushed himself slowly to his feet before she could reply, and was at her side, wrapping his down coat around her shoulders with a low chortle and sliding open the floor-to-ceiling glass patio doors. ‘Let’s get some air.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ANDY stepped out onto a long tiled terrace, and what she saw in front of her took her breath away.

  The light showers of rain had cleared to leave a star-kissed cool evening. And stretched out, in every direction, was London. Her city. Dressed and lit and bright and shiny and sparking with Christmas decorations and the lights from homes and streets.

  It was like something from a movie or a wonderful painting. A moment so special that Andy knew instinctively that she would never forget it.

  She grasped hold of the railing and looked out over the city, her heart soaring, all doubt forgotten in the exuberant joy of the view.

  It was almost a shock to feel a warm arm wrap the coat closer around her shoulders and she turned sideways to face Miles with a grin and clutched onto the sleeve of his sweater.

  ‘Have you seen this? It’s astonishing. I thought the view from the gallery at the museum was spectacular, but this is wonderful. I love it.’

  ‘I know. I can see it on your face.’

  Then he turned forwards and came to stand next to her on the balcony, his left hand just touching the outstretched fingers of her right.

  ‘You probably don’t realise it, but there are very few people who are totally honest and open about their feelings. But you are one of them. You have a special gift, Andromeda Davies. You aren’t afraid to tell people the truth about how you feel. And I envy you that.’

  ‘You. Envy me? What do you mean?’ Andy asked, taken aback by the tone in his voice. For the first time since they met, Miles sounded hesitant and unsure, in total contrast to the man who had been gibing with his brother and friends.

  ‘Honesty can make you vulnerable.’

  Miles looked down at Andy’s fingers and his gaze seemed to lock onto how his fingers could mesh with hers so completely. ‘This last year has taught me a few things. There are some things in life you can control, Andy. Some you can’t. But I know one thing. I am done with long-term planning. That is out of the window and gone. Because you don’t know what is coming your way. You can’t. So live for the day. Take the opportunities that come along and enjoy them while you can. That’s my new motto.’

  Andy looked into his face and remembered to breathe again.

  ‘And how is that working for you?’ She smiled.

  ‘Actually not too badly. It means that instead of riding the waves in South America I am here in London enjoying time out with my brother and a lovely lady.’

  He held one of Andy’s hands. ‘I have even found the time to go on an Internet date. Imagine that.’

  ‘Yes. Imagine. Did I say brave earlier? Maybe madcap might be a better expression. I don’t have any sports injuries or scars and bruises like that, Miles. Scar-free learning. That’s my motto. Maybe that is why I am even more scared than usual. I need that forward planning to make sense of my life and make sure that the bills get paid.’

  ‘No scars and bruises? Yes, you have, you have plenty of scars.’

  He pressed two fingers flat onto her chest so they rested above her heart and she could feel the warm pressure of his fingertips through the fine cashmere wool. ‘But they are not on the surface like mine are. They are all in here. And they hurt just as bad. Because I think other people pushed you beyond the limit of what you were ready to handle. But here is the thing. When you are competing against the world’s best athletes, you soon learn that the only way you can win is to strive to reach your own limits of what you are capable of—not the limits anyone sets.’

  ‘How do you know? What your limits are?’

  ‘You don’t. The only way to find out is by testing yourself. You would be astounded at what you are capable of. And if you don’t succeed you learn from your mistakes and do what you have to do to get back up and try again until you can prove to yourself that you can do it. And then you keep on doing that over and over again.’

  ‘No matter how many times you fall down and hurt yourself?’

  ‘That’s right. You’ve got it.’

  Andy turned slightly away from Miles and looked out towards the horizon, suddenly needing to get some distance, some air between them. What he was describing was so hard, so difficult and so familiar. He could never know how many times she had forced herself to smile after someone let her down, or when she had been ridiculed or humiliated.

  Andy blinked back tears and pulled the collar of the warm coat up around her ears while she fought to gain control of her voice. ‘Some of us lesser mortals have been knocked down so many times that it is hard to bounce back up again, Miles. Very hard.’

  His response was to reach out for her with both of his long strong arms and draw her into his chest so that her head rested on his shoulder. The warmth of his body encased her in a cocoon of strength and warm cashmere and she was content to cling onto him for a few seconds while the air seeped back into her lungs. Air that smelt of Miles and coffee and biscuits and frost and winter in the city.

  ‘What is it, Andy?’ he asked, his mouth somewhere in the vicinity of her hair. ‘What does your heart yearn to do and you haven’t gone there yet?’

  ‘Me? Oh, I had such great plans when I was a teenager and the whole world seemed to be an open door to whatever I wanted. But then hard reality hit. Six months ago I was working three jobs and most evenings and weekends. Right now I have to think about whether I want to go back to a full-time day job working with men like Nigel, or try and earn enough from my artwork.’

  She looked up into his smiling face but stayed inside the warm circle of his arms. ‘Nigel is the ex-boyfriend I talked about. Or at least I thought he was my boyfriend. He worked in the same office with those girls you saw in the coffee shop the other evening. There was a lot of competition for clients, so when he asked me to help him work on a major new proposal I was pleased to help.’

  Andy smoothed the fine fabric of his sweater as she spoke. ‘He played every trick in the book to get me to work for nothing, night after night. The occasional pizza meal out. Drinks. Always promising that we could be a proper couple when the project was approved. Always teasing and telling me how important I was to him.’

  Her hands stilled. ‘He dumped me the day he got the client account.’

  Tears pricked her eyes and she swallowed down the pain to get the words out. ‘But do you know the worst part? The girls in the office knew that he was living with the CEO’s daughter and that he was just using me to get the work done so he could pass it off as his own. And they didn’t tell me. They were having too much fun laughing behind my back. Have you any idea how humiliating that was? I couldn’t …’ She took a few sharp short breaths before going on. ‘I couldn’t work there a minute longer. I just couldn’t. Do you understand?’

  Miles replied by wrapping his long arms around her body in a warm embrace so tender that Andy surrendered to a moment of joy and pressed her head agains
t his chest, inhaling his delicious scent as her body shared his warmth.

  His hands made lazy circles on her back in silence for a few minutes until he spoke, the words reverberating inside his chest into her head. ‘Better than you think. What did you do then?’

  Andy shuffled back from him, laughed in a choked voice and then pressed both hands against his chest as she replied in a broken smile. ‘Then I met up with Elise—and, well, you know the rest. I needed that part-time office job until the artwork takes off. Only now it looks like I need to organise myself if I want to sell my designs to you and the museum.’

  He grabbed both of her arms as she tried to slip away and looked at her straight in the eyes. ‘I agree. Not nearly ambitious enough. Let’s start again. And think big. Then bigger. It sounds so good I don’t know why you haven’t gone into design full-time before now.’

  He tilted his head sideways to look at Andy as she moistened her lips, her mouth a straight line.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she whispered after several long seconds. ‘I’m too scared.’

  ‘Scared of what? Failure? Hell, Jason and I made so many mistakes those first two years we must have been the laughing stock of the business. Good thing we were able to laugh at ourselves and enjoy the journey.’

  ‘How did you do that? How did you laugh when you knew that you had taken a horrible decision which was going to cost you time and money? Because I don’t know how to do that.’

  ‘How? Because we felt like we were explorers, charting unknown territory, where every day was a new challenge.’ Miles grinned, his face energised, the laughter lines hard in the artificial light flooding out from the dining room. Then he shrugged. ‘And we had our parents behind us. Family all the way.’

  ‘Family?’ Andy repeated. ‘Then you truly were lucky. Because all my family did was to ridicule me and everything I liked to do. I am on my own, Miles. Completely on my own. Can you understand that?’