A Little Christmas Charm

by Kathryn Freeman

  ‘How about we talk about Christmas?’ He pointed to the flyer on the wall next to them, promoting live music during December. ‘Any plans, aside from singing at the Christmas party?’

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘We agreed on a quiz.’

  He gave her another of those easy smiles. ‘So we did. Anything planned to top that, or will the party be your Christmas highlight?’

  ‘Christmas has never been a highlight for me.’

  A flicker of surprise crossed his face, soon followed by understanding. ‘No siblings, and an errant mother. I guess it can be a lonely time.’

  ‘Only if you let it be.’ And for a while she had, accepting the pity invite from friends who were lovely, but who really hadn’t needed her dropping in on their family Christmas. ‘Now I go abroad for Christmas, usually somewhere sunny. Cocktails by the pool beats mulled wine in the cold any day.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  ‘You’re not going to tell me all the things I’m missing out on? Snowball fights, sprouts, whisky and mince pies by a roaring fire? The Queen’s speech?’

  He chuckled softly. ‘It hardly ever snows, sprouts were only conceived to put kids off vegetables, I usually nod off in the Queen’s speech and I can manage a whisky by the fire any time of the year. I don’t need the mince pie, though I am rather partial to them.’ His eyes rested on hers. ‘Have you booked the trip yet?’

  ‘No. I usually go for a last-minute offer.’ Oh God, he couldn’t be going to ask her—

  ‘Want some company?’

  Though she’d half been expecting it, her jaw still hung open. ‘You’re asking to go on holiday with me when we’ve not even managed to get through a first date?’

  ‘It’s not like we don’t know each other.’ He shrugged. ‘It could be fun.’

  ‘And it could be a total disaster.’ Feeling suddenly agitated, she reached for her handbag. ‘Look, I’ve enjoyed tonight, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

  His eyes dipped to where her fingers gripped the strap on her bag. ‘Going somewhere?’

  ‘It’s getting late. Time to go home.’

  Disappointment flickered across his face before he hid it with a smile and helped her on with her jacket. ‘I hope I haven’t scared you off. I was thinking out loud. You won’t find me stowing away in your suitcase.’

  The humour helped to settle her. ‘I know, because my packing is legendary for taking up every square inch of space.’

  ‘I might have guessed you’d pack efficiently.’ As they headed towards the cars, he again placed a hand against the small of her back. An old-fashioned gesture, much like opening the car door, yet she felt the press of it ripple through her. ‘Do you live far?’

  She glanced sideways at him. ‘Is this where you angle for me to invite you back for a drink?’

  His responding laugh was low and seductive. ‘When I’m inviting myself back to yours, you’ll know it.’ They came to a halt by her car and before she had time to worry about whether he was going to kiss her, his mouth lowered to hers. Soft, exquisitely gentle, the kiss was achingly brief. ‘I heard what you said tonight,’ he said quietly as he broke away. ‘And what you didn’t say. We’ll take things slow. But we are moving forward.’

  Her lips tingled where his had touched. ‘Are we?’

  ‘We are.’ He smiled down at her, eyes glittering against the dark night sky. ‘Kind of ironic that I’m the one with the reputation, yet you’re the one who’s commitment shy.’

  It was more the other way around. Nobody had ever committed to her. But telling him that would send the wrong message. ‘I’m still not convinced us going out is a good idea,’ she said instead. ‘This job is important to me.’ An understatement. Right now, it was all she had.

  ‘Mine is important to me, too, which is why I bided my time for six months.’ He traced a finger across her cheek, sending shivers of awareness through her. ‘But this attraction isn’t going away.’

  ‘We can ignore it,’ she breathed, though there was no way she could un-feel the press of his lips on hers.

  ‘We both know that’s impossible.’ Bold blue eyes tugged at hers. ‘Come on, don’t be a coward.’

  The insinuation stung. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘No?’ His lips pressed hers in another exquisitely chaste kiss. ‘Take a look at the definition sometime. Sweet dreams, Gabby. Until the next time.’

  Her head was full of him as she drove the twenty-minute journey home. Still full of him when she hit the play button on her answering machine and listened to the stilted message from her mother, checking in, as she did from time to time. Out of duty, perhaps out of guilt. Certainly not because she actually wanted to talk to her daughter.

  When at last Gabby climbed into bed, Owen still invaded her thoughts. So much so that she ended up grabbing her phone and tapping coward, meaning, into the search engine.

  A person who is too eager to avoid danger, difficulty or pain.

  Was he right? Were her misgivings because she was too scared to take a risk?

  Or was she just being sensible?

  Sensible, meaning:

  Sensible actions or decisions are good because they are based on reasons rather than emotions.

  Exactly.

  Letting out a deep sigh, she lay back against the pillows, re-living the gentle touch of his mouth. The pull of his sexy blue eyes. Sensible actions were all very good, but they wouldn’t stop the ache between her legs. Or the race of her heart as she wondered how it would feel if he kissed her for real.

  Chapter Four

  Three weeks before Christmas

  It had been three weeks since Owen had persuaded Gabby to have a drink with him. Since then he’d persuaded her into two more after work drinks, and a quick after work meal. He’d tried to keep his promise to take things slowly, but when it came to kissing her goodbye he was having a hard time holding back. In fact after the meal on Monday – which she had insisted on paying for – he’d been seconds away from abandoning his good intentions and begging her to let him follow her home.

  Then he’d remembered how wary she was about dating him, and how easy it would be to scare her off. She was a woman who wouldn’t be pushed. A woman who, from the snippets she’d let slip, had been made to feel like an inconvenience to the one person who’d really mattered to her growing up, her mother. It wasn’t hard to see why she was scared of getting close to anyone. Why take the risk when she had no clue of the benefit?

  It was up to him to show her how good it could be. How good they could be.

  So tonight, Friday, he was going to take her out for a proper meal, which he would damn well pay for. With no work tomorrow, they had all evening, and he was determined to make the most of it.

  Sadly first he had an afternoon of interviews to get through.

  Two hours, two coffees and two mince pies later – why couldn’t they be available all year round? – he’d interviewed three very pleasant candidates. All had impressive CVs, smiles that seemed genuine and were a vast improvement on his current personal assistant. One more to get through. One more before he could head off home and get ready for his hot date.

  Resolutely he picked up the final CV. And blanched when he read the name.

  ‘Hilda, I didn’t think you’d be applying,’ he said to the lady now entering his office. She looked too old for a woman he guessed was in her mid-fifties, though God knew where the wrinkles had come from because they sure weren’t laughter lines.

  ‘I was told I could.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ He motioned for her to sit on the chair opposite. ‘I just assumed you preferred the life of a temp.’ For assumed, read hoped.

  ‘I prefer a job with a steady income.’ She raised her chin, her back ramrod straight. ‘I was made redundant last year.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Firm probably couldn’t wait to get rid of her. He picked up her CV and glanced through it, aware he probably should have done that before he’d started the flaming int
erviews. Looked like she’d worked for the same company for over thirty years, and the same person for most of that time, following him through the ranks to MD. Interesting. Maybe that’s why she was so set in her ways.

  ‘Tell me, Hilda, why should I take you on instead of the other three candidates I’ve just seen?’ Every one of whom he felt he could have a bit of a laugh with. Hilda was like the teacher he’d always hated at school. The one who told him off for running and having his top button undone.

  ‘I’m efficient, loyal and discrete.’

  He could attest to all three qualities, and certainly the last two were vital, but call him nuts, he’d trade some efficiency for someone who actually looked like they enjoyed their job. ‘I’ve witnessed the first. Can you provide any examples of the other two?’

  ‘Mr Cox, my previous manager, trusted me to manage the redundancy letters, even though I knew I would be receiving one of them. Before that I was with Mr Weatherby for twenty years. He trusted me to manage his inbox, buy presents for his wife.’ She twisted her hands. ‘And cover for him when he was seeing his mistress.’

  Owen’s eyes widened. ‘Sounds like a real charmer. Don’t tell me, he also expected you to sort his dry cleaning and bring him his coffee at ten o’clock sharp every morning. With two biscuits.’

  ‘It wasn’t always ten o’clock.’ Her face remained impeccably expressionless. ‘And he preferred a Danish from the bakery across the road.’

  Owen sat back and studied Hilda. ‘I believe you’re loyal and discrete, but I’d say the other candidates are, too. Why should I choose you?’

  She blinked, then glanced down at her hands. ‘I can’t think of a reason beyond what you know. If you’re not happy with the work I’ve been doing then clearly I should withdraw my application.’

  Part of him wanted to leave it at that. He’d achieved his objective, hadn’t he? Convinced her not to apply, but it didn’t feel right. There was something he was missing. ‘I take it this isn’t the first job you’ve applied for since you were made redundant?’

  ‘No.’

  She stared defiantly back at him. A proud woman, yet one he suspected was desperate for a permanent position. He also suspected she was unlikely to get one because she came across as po-faced; an old-fashioned, inflexible PA who was a stickler for rules. The total opposite of what he was looking for. So why on earth was he still going through the motions of this interview?

  Because for twenty years she’s worked for a man who treated her like a lackey.

  ‘If I were to employ you, I wouldn’t expect you to do my dry cleaning, buy presents for the wife I don’t have or fetch my coffee. I would expect you to smile at my sometimes really bad jokes, say good morning and call me Owen. Could you do that?’

  A mixture of confusion and surprise crossed her face, but neither of those emotions sealed the deal. It was the hope in her eyes that did it for him.

  By four o’clock, Gabby found it almost impossible to focus. Instead of reviewing the sales forecasts, her mind had begun reviewing her wardrobe. What to wear tonight? At work it was always trousers, but she had a hankering to wear a skirt. Show Owen she had a pair of legs that were actually fairly presentable.

  Oh God, was she really doing this? Getting all fired up about going out with a guy? She usually had more focus than that, more discipline. She wasn’t even convinced she was doing the right thing, yet here she was, giddily excited about her Friday night out.

  At the light tap on her door, she almost jumped out of her skin.

  ‘That’s the third time in the last ten minutes I’ve seen you gaze off into space.’ Cindy flashed her a knowing grin. ‘You wouldn’t have your mind on other things. Like tonight?’

  ‘Keep your voice down.’ Her eyes skimmed anxiously behind Cindy. ‘I don’t need the whole company knowing.’ Bad enough her PA knew, and that was only because on Monday, when Cindy had asked if she planned to work late, Gabby had turned a mortifying shade of tomato. Then confessed she was waiting for Owen.

  ‘It’s not frowned on, you know.’ Cindy stepped inside the office, one arm resting behind her back. ‘Though I understand why you’d want to be circumspect. This being only your … second date?’

  ‘Fourth.’ Amusement shone in Cindy’s dark eyes and Gabby knew she’d fallen into her trap.

  ‘Things must be moving on nicely then. Perhaps that’s why he asked me to give you this.’ Cindy drew a small artificial tree from behind her back, complete with tiny red baubles and flashing red lights. ‘He said it was a disgrace for someone on the Christmas party planning team not to have decorations in their office.’

  Gabby rolled her eyes as she reached for it, though inside, her heart did a slow cartwheel. ‘I guess he bought one for you, too.’

  Cindy let rip one of her big laughs. ‘It’s not me he’s trying to woo.’

  ‘He’s not trying to … we’re just …’ She trailed off, flustered. ‘Enough, I’m not talking about this.’ She flapped a hand at Cindy. ‘For goodness sake, go home.’

  ‘I will, thank you. And you have yourself a fabulous evening.’ A wide grin split her face. ‘Don’t do anything I—’

  ‘Bye, Cindy.’ Gabby cut her off, smiling to show there were no hard feelings. She couldn’t talk about this thing with Owen yet. Not until she’d sorted it out in her own head.

  As she carefully placed the tree by the side of the monitor, her phone buzzed with a text.

  I’m leaving to spruce myself up for my hot date. Pick you up at 7.30. Owen.

  In the quiet of her office, Gabby looked at the tree, then back down at her phone. And smiled to herself.

  Ten minutes later, she headed home.

  Her good mood was broken moments after stepping into the house when she received a surprise call from her mother. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

  Gabby closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. ‘I don’t usually receive two calls within a few weeks of each other.’

  The connection was poor and it took a moment for Gabby to work out her mother’s reply above the crackle. ‘You didn’t phone me back.’

  ‘You always told me not to.’ It had been one of the hardest things she’d had to cope with as a child. Hurtful comments from supposed friends, being dumped by her first boyfriend, being overlooked as Head Girl. Just a few of the times she’d reached for the phone, wanting to talk to her mum. Then put it down again. Don’t phone me, I’ll phone you. Gabby knew her mother’s rule came from practicality – she never knew what time zone she’d be in, or what she’d be doing – rather than a deliberate desire to hurt, but it didn’t change the fact that when she’d needed her most, her mother had never been there.

  They talked for another few minutes before hanging up. Gabby had the sense her mother was holding something back, but when she pushed, she received a huffy response. I just called to catch up with my daughter. I didn’t realise it was a crime. As there had always been a huge part of her mother’s life she’d never been part of, Gabby left it there. Right now, she had enough in her own life to focus on.

  After showering she opened her underwear drawer, and instantly felt the thump of her heart.

  Would Owen see it tonight?

  She couldn’t deny she’d missed sex. It had been … over two years, she realised with a start. David. Pleasant guy, good body. He’d known what to do with it, too. He hadn’t known how to talk to her before or afterwards, but that hadn’t bothered her because she hadn’t wanted that either. They’d both been happy to scratch the itch. A phrase that had offended Owen.

  If this wasn’t about sex though, what was it about? Fun, she decided firmly. A single, thirty-year-old woman was allowed to have fun with an equally single, incredibly attractive, man of a similar age.

  Flicking through the drawer, she skipped over the practical underwear – she had a lot of practical – and picked out the sexiest set she owned. A lacy red number, because she was going to wear a red dress. There, see, pract
ical. And she was wearing the dress because she liked it. Not because it suited her colouring and showed off her legs.

  When the bell rang at 7.40 – predictably he was late – she was ready and waiting. She was also, to her intense annoyance, a tiny bit nervous. Popping out after work was one thing. Getting dolled up for a man who was picking her up, was an altogether more serious proposition.

  Running a hand down her dress to smooth out the nonexistent creases, she went to open the door. And had the satisfaction of seeing his jaw drop.

  ‘Bloody hell, Gabby.’ His eyes feasted on her, skimming up and down her body before settling on her face. ‘You scrub up well.’

  A bubble of laughter caught in her throat. ‘That’s … good, I think?’

  Giving himself a little shake, he reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Sorry. You look so gorgeous you’ve screwed with my sangfroid. Outside I might look calm, but inside my tongue’s hanging out.’

  The laughter eased past her throat and flowed out, reminding her she didn’t need to be nervous. She knew this man. Not all the details, perhaps, but the essence of him. He wasn’t complex, or guarded. He was open and easy. And by God he made her laugh.

  As she slid into the coat he gallantly held open for her, Gabby took a good long look of her own. He’d opted for dark blue jeans, teamed with a navy patterned shirt and a snazzy brown wool jacket. ‘You scrub up pretty well, too.’

  ‘Hey, stop pinching my lines. Are you ready to go?’

  ‘Yes, but first this.’ She kissed his freshly shaved cheek. ‘Thank you for my tree.’

  ‘Ah, you liked it?’ His eyes rested on hers. ‘I know you aren’t a fan of Christmas, but it didn’t seem right for you to sit in an office that looked so joyless compared to everyone else’s.’

  He touched her, she thought. More than she wanted to admit. ‘I’m starving.’ Desperately she changed the subject. ‘I hope you’ve chosen well.’