A Little Christmas Charm

by Kathryn Freeman

  About the Book

  A Little Christmas Charm

  by Kathryn Freeman

  Book 2 – Christmas Wishes

  Would you swap sea and sunshine for tinsel and turkey?

  Gabby Sanderson is used to being let down – even at Christmas. Which is why she’s happy to skip the festive season completely in favour of a plane ticket and sunnier climes.

  But this Christmas could be different, because this time she might not be spending it alone. Can Owen Cooper charm Gabby into loving Christmas in the same way he’s charmed his way into her life, or is he just another person who’ll end up disappointing her?

  Christmas Wishes Series:

  A Little Christmas Faith

  A Little Christmas Charm

  Where heroes are like chocolate – irresistible!

  www.choc-lit.com

  Contents

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Thank You

  About the Author

  More Choc Lit

  Introducing Choc Lit

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright information

  Preview of A Second Christmas Wish by Kathryn Freeman

  Chapter One

  Six weeks before Christmas

  This was the third year in a row that Owen had been included on the work Christmas party planning team. He was becoming a seasonal (come on, the joke wasn’t that bad) professional, though he suspected his inclusion had more to do with his enthusiasm for all things party and Christmas, than for his organisational skills. According to the agenda he’d glanced at thirty seconds ago, today they were down to discuss the post-dinner entertainment. Finally, an agenda item he could get excited over. Previous items discussed over the last few months, such as where to hold the party, what colour the theme should be and whether to go for balloons or mini Christmas trees for the table decorations … not so much.

  Frankly, as long as there was turkey and booze, he’d be happy.

  When he pushed open the door to the meeting room his pulse kicked up a gear at the sound of a distinctive laugh; feminine, soft, sexy. Gabby was already there, chatting to her PA, Cindy. Gabby, the tall, dark-haired beauty with deep brown eyes who’d joined Sweet Art as marketing director six months ago.

  Gabby, who made this year’s Christmas planning meetings the highlight of his week.

  He’d tried like blazes to ignore his attraction – he wasn’t a fan of relationships at work –but far from going away, it had intensified to such an extent that he was going to have to do something about it. Either that, or get a new job, or slowly lose his mind.

  Gabby’s chocolate-brown eyes glanced up at him. ‘Well, well, Owen Cooper is actually on time.’

  It was the only meeting he’d been prompt for today – because it was the only meeting she’d been attending – but as he couldn’t admit that, he settled for flashing her a smile.

  If he’d hoped it would make her as off balanced as he felt, he was doomed for disappointment, as she casually continued her conversation with Cindy. With an inward sigh, he pulled out a chair and sat down opposite, observing the pair of them. It was clear from their animated expressions, the flow of easy laughter, that Gabby had a better relationship with her PA than he had with his.

  And with uncanny timing, Hilda chose that moment to bustle into the room and park herself on the chair beside him. Short and stocky, her mousy brown hair streaked with grey, Hilda was exceptionally efficient and … terrifying. Thank God she was only a temporary fill-in while he looked for a replacement. One that might actually crack a smile at his jokes. He accepted he wasn’t McIntyre funny, or Clooney charming, but making women smile was one thing he prided himself on being reasonably good at.

  ‘I expected to find your expenses in my in tray this morning, Mr Cooper.’ She wore the same air of displeasure his teachers had worn when he’d failed to deliver homework on time.

  ‘Yes, sorry.’ He tried his never-fail smile. ‘It’s been one of those days. You know, phones going crazy, back-to-back meetings.’

  ‘I told you to put all your calls through to me.’

  How to tell her he was afraid she’d scare off the key accounts he was trying to woo? ‘I know, but I figure you already have enough on your plate, trying to kick me into shape.’ He threw her another smile, wondering if he was losing his touch. He was a salesman, for heaven’s sake. Winning people over was part of his job description. ‘And what’s with the Mr Cooper, again? I thought we agreed you were going to call me Owen?’

  She stared stonily back at him. ‘I’m old school, Mr Cooper. I like to conduct my business my way.’

  Was there any point telling her that as she was working for him, it should actually be his way? Her unsmiling face suggested it would be a waste of breath. ‘Relax, the expenses are next on my list.’ Right after he’d phoned HR and found out when they were setting up the interviews for the permanent position. A task he couldn’t entrust to Hilda in case, God forbid, she decided to apply. With any luck, he’d have a replacement before Christmas. The thought of having to sit next to Hilda at the Christmas party made him feel queasy.

  Finally Sandy, office manager and chair of the planning team, rushed in, full of apology, and the meeting got underway.

  ‘If we hire a karaoke machine, is anyone actually going to sing?’ Gabby asked fifteen minutes later.

  ‘You wouldn’t be asking that if you’d been here last year. After a couple of drinks this lot will sing with or without a machine.’ He glanced at Cindy. ‘The lady sitting next to you managed to belt out ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ without knowing half the words.’

  Cindy snorted. ‘At least I didn’t think I was Frank Sinatra.’

  Owen winced as Gabby’s big brown eyes searched out his in a silent question. ‘I may have found myself singing in the bar,’ he conceded.

  ‘Singing?’ Cindy let out a bark of big, rolling laughter. ‘You serenaded the pretty young barmaid. She probably still has nightmares about it.’

  Gabby’s eyebrows rose and Owen shifted uncomfortably. ‘It’s possible,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t have a crystal clear memory of the evening.’ He remembered the hangover the next morning well enough, and the singing, though he had no recollection of who he’d sung to. Only that he’d been dared to sing ‘White Christmas’ by his sales team. Dare him when he was sober, and he’d struggle to turn it down. Dare him when he was drunk, and it seemed he’d do anything.

  He risked a glance at Gabby, and winced again at the expression of disappointment on her face. ‘I’m not usually found singing in bars,’ he felt it necessary to clarify. ‘I prefer drinking in them.’ And damn, if he was trying to impress this woman – and he was, no doubt about it – that didn’t sound good. ‘Responsible drinking,’ he ad
ded, belatedly realising he sounded like a government health warning. ‘Anyway, moving on. Is anyone, aside from myself and Cindy, in favour of Christmas karaoke?’

  Beside him, Hilda shuddered. Owen couldn’t imagine her enjoying any sort of party, never mind one featuring embarrassingly loud singing. Still, at least he didn’t have to feel bad about asking her to help organise a party she wouldn’t be attending.

  ‘Is post-dinner entertainment compulsory?’ This from Gabby again, who looked almost as horrified as Hilda at the thought of singing in public. ‘Couldn’t people just talk? Or dance?’ She looked at Owen. ‘Or drink and chat up the bar staff?’

  Gabby had meant her comment as a joke, but it was clear from the way Owen’s cobalt-blue eyes, usually so bold, darted away from hers, that he’d taken it as a dig. But heck, what was she supposed to think about a man who flirted with her as if he liked her, yet who also seemed to flirt with every other female he met, too? Apparently even going as far as serenading a barmaid at the last Christmas party. According to office gossip though, flirting was where it stopped. He didn’t have a girlfriend, so her sources … okay, so Cindy had taken great delight in telling her. He’d also, again according to Cindy, never actually dated anyone from the office. So you could be the first, Cindy had gleefully informed her. Gabby had politely, and firmly, though rather dishonestly, told her she had no interest in Owen Cooper.

  Sandy stood abruptly, shaking Gabby out of her musings. ‘Sorry, I need to take this call. I’ll be back in five minutes.’

  ‘I think you’ve upset Ol’ Blue Eyes,’ Cindy whispered, leaning towards Gabby.

  Gabby had to stifle a laugh. Cindy was a stunning Jamaican who had a warm smile, an infectious laugh and took no crap from anyone. They’d grown close in the six months since Gabby had started at Sweet Art, a confectionary company that specialised in putting new twists on the old classics. ‘A rather apt nickname.’

  ‘What is?’ Owen peered at them from across the table.

  ‘Cindy called you Ol’ Blue Eyes. You know, Frank Sinatra’s nickname.’

  Owen flashed her his killer smile. The one she wished didn’t send her stomach dipping, waking up all the dormant butterflies. ‘Apt because of my singing prowess, or my eyes?’

  Gabby found herself staring into the very eyes she was usually so careful to avoid. Owen was a treat to look at, there was no doubt about it – think tanned, sexy surfer dude – but it was gazing into those dazzling blue orbs that made her wish for things she wouldn’t otherwise dream of wishing for. ‘If you’re a fan of blue eyes, then I suppose yours are a good example.’

  His lips twitched – not that she noticed them, or the fullness of his bottom lip. ‘I’m a fan of brown eyes.’ His gaze narrowed in on hers. ‘The darker the brown, the better.’

  He’s a compulsive flirt. Do not blush.

  Cindy saved her from any potential embarrassment by letting loose another of her hearty laughs. ‘You must love my Jamaican peepers then.’

  Owen treated Cindy to one of his big, eye crinkling smiles. ‘Ah, Cindy, you know I adore everything about you.’

  Gabby shook her head, but Cindy laughed again. Married, with two incredibly cute kids, Cindy treated Owen just as Gabby wished she could, with good-humoured mockery.

  Hilda, who’d clearly had enough of the frivolous conversation, rose to her feet. ‘Would anyone care for a drink?’

  When they all asked for a coffee, Cindy slid off her chair. ‘I’ll help you carry them.’

  What? Was Cindy really leaving her alone with Owen? Gabby threw a few mental daggers at her PA’s back as she walked out.

  The moment the door closed behind them, a humming awareness pinged around the room.

  Owen cleared his throat. ‘So, it would appear you’re not keen on the singing suggestion.’ His eyes met hers. ‘What type of post-dinner entertainment would bring a smile to your face?’

  At the clear innuendo, Gabby raised her eyebrows. ‘Seriously?’

  Owen sighed and gave her a wry glance. ‘Sorry, that was an awful line, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was quite high on the cheesy scale.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s a polite way of putting it.’ He fidgeted on his seat. ‘I’m not usually this terrible at flirting. I don’t know what it is about you.’ His gaze, when it found hers, was astonishingly unguarded. ‘I think I’m trying too hard.’

  Her heart faltered. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why am I flirting?’

  ‘No.’ She swallowed to relieve the sudden dryness in her mouth. ‘I understand that for some men flirting is hard-wired into their DNA. Why are you trying so hard?’

  ‘I’d have thought that was obvious. I like you.’

  Oh boy. Pleasure flooded through her, but along with it, a ripple of panic. Thankfully before the latter could take hold, Cindy and Hilda came back carrying drinks. A minute later Sandy returned and the meeting resumed.

  As if fate was determined to scare the pants off her today, the next meeting in Gabby’s diary, organised by the sales force training team, also involved Owen.

  She found him waiting for her outside the room they’d just vacated, one hand casually slipped into his trouser pocket. The dress code in the office was smart casual but Owen always wore a suit. When she’d asked him why, he’d told her he never knew when he might have to meet a client. She’d argued wasn’t that what diaries were for and he’d laughed. Diaries are only useful if you look at them.

  ‘Which room is the next meeting in?’ she asked him.

  He gave her an amused look. ‘Why are you asking me? That’s why I’m waiting for you.’

  Typical. Muttering under her breath she dragged out her phone and checked her calendar.

  ‘It’s not the only reason,’ he added quietly.

  Her heart seemed to miss a beat. ‘Oh?’

  He shook his head ‘Nope. As I said before, I like you, Gabby Sanderson.’

  An hour later, as the sales training meeting rumbled on around her, Gabby realised she’d noticed every movement he’d made, every word he’d said. And the fact that he’d caught her staring at him seventeen times.

  Chapter Two

  During the meeting, Owen decided two things. One, that the sales force training materials looked too similar to the last lot, despite asking the agency to come up with something fresh and different.

  Two, that Gabby was by far the most beautiful, sharp, fascinating woman he’d met in a long time. So much so that he was going to break his self-imposed rule of not dating work colleagues and ask her out for a drink.

  ‘Owen?’

  He blinked, finding Josh, the training manager, eyeing him expectantly. Damn, what had the man been waffling on about? ‘I’ll give you my thoughts in a moment, Josh. How about we get those from around the room first?’ Owen eased smoothly into his bullshitter mode, designed to convince others he knew exactly what he was talking about. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gabby’s lips twitch. Okay, so it didn’t work on everyone.

  The meeting wore on for another twenty minutes until even those who liked the sound of their own voice had heard it enough. As they filed out, he bumped Gabby’s arm with his own. ‘Catch you later.’

  She gave him a distracted nod, clearly totally unaware that he meant the phrase literally. When he got to his desk he fired off a quick email to Cindy.

  Let me know when your boss is heading home. He added a please for good measure.

  A tortuous hour later, a message from Cindy landed in his inbox.

  I’m heading off. She’s yawning. Come and rescue her.

  Okay then. Inhaling a deep breath, ignoring the twisting in his stomach, he grabbed his briefcase – it looked the part, though actually only held a bag of assorted mints, a stack of business cards and an array of pens – and strode purposefully towards Gabby’s office.

  She had her head down, glossy dark hair hiding her face. When he gave the door a soft knock, she looked up with a start.

  ‘I’ve got a better idea for h
ow you can spend your evening.’

  She glanced down at the file she’d been reading. ‘Better than reading brand strategy?’

  ‘I hope so.’ If he couldn’t compete with a brand strategy document, his dating days were over. ‘You, me, a quiet pub and two glasses of something alcoholic.’

  Long dark lashes blinked slowly over her dark eyes. ‘Is this so you can try to convince me about the Christmas karaoke again?’

  ‘No.’ He swallowed down the nervous lump in his throat. ‘This is me, Owen Cooper, asking you, Gabriela Sanderson, out for a drink.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Not the reaction he’d been hoping for. Then again, she hadn’t said …

  ‘Look, Owen.’ She pushed away the file and turned so she was fully facing him.

  His heart sank. ‘If you’re going to follow that up with I like you, please stop now.’

  ‘What’s wrong with saying I like you?’

  ‘It’s not that, it’s the words that will follow. Starting with BUT.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Her expression softened, and he steeled himself for the gentle letdown. ‘I like you but not enough to want to go out for a drink with you.’

  And there it was. ‘Ouch. Excuse me while I slink out quietly with my tail between my legs.’ He paused, wondering how to dig himself out of this hole. ‘Any chance we can forget this conversation ever took place?’

  ‘What conversation?’

  He slapped on the expected smile, though inside he felt gutted. Not at being turned down, he could handle that. It was the bursting of his happiness bubble he found hard to stomach. He’d made plans. Only rough ones, his crush hadn’t led to a personality transplant. Still, he’d figured today a drink, at the weekend a meal, next week the cinema. Next month, maybe he’d slip the idea of a weekend break into the conversation.

  A shame he hadn’t factored in her not actually fancying him.

  As disappointment rolled through him, he tightened his grip on his briefcase. ‘Right then, sorry to interrupt. I hope you and the brand strategy document have a good evening. He’s a lucky bastard.’

  Gabby saw defeat flash across Owen’s face. Defeat and something more; disappointment, hurt? ‘Owen.’ He halted by the door and glanced over at her, blue eyes cooler now, more guarded. ‘I hadn’t actually been about to say I liked you.’