His Christmas Bride

by Brooks, Helen

  But that was not enough. It wouldn’t be. The words were screaming in her head. She looked at him miserably. She would never be able to make him understand. He was so supremely self-confident, so sure of himself. They were aeons apart. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, turning her head away.

  Outside the car there were people coming and going, couples, families, children darting here and there and being pulled back by harrassed parents. A normal day. For everyone else.

  ‘OK,’ he said after a minute or two had ticked by with excruciating slowness. ‘So we go on as before. We get to know each other better without any commitment, if that’s what you want.’

  She didn’t know what she wanted. ‘I think it’s only fair to you to call it a day right now,’ she said flatly, as though the words weren’t killing her.

  He gave a faint little smile that held no amusement. ‘I’m a big boy, Blossom,’ he said quietly. ‘I can take it. I don’t want anything you can’t give willingly. When you are ready to take the relationship on another step, let me know.’

  ‘And if I’m never ready?’

  Zak’s eyes narrowed, and he gave her a long look. ‘You will be.’ Then he smiled, his voice lighter when he said, ‘You won’t be able to resist me for ever, believe me. I know.’

  ‘Because you always get what you want?’

  ‘That too.’

  And on that enigmatic note he started the car, and the conversation was ended.

  Chapter 8

  Blossom returned to her flat fully intending to refuse all further dates with Zak until he finally accepted she meant what she said. But somehow it didn’t work out like that.

  Over the next few weeks she found herself seeing him more and more often, sometimes on fairly formal dates, when he would pick her up and take her to the theatre or dancing or for a meal, and other times they would just chill out at her place or his. She got to know Geraldine and Will better, and even Thor and Titus accepted her as one of their family, rolling over to have their tummies rubbed as soon as they saw her, and covering her in slobbery kisses given half the chance.

  As the summer faded and a crisp, frosty autumn made itself felt, she began to find it hard to remember what her life had been like before Zak. She was constantly mad at herself, furious she hadn’t the strength to stop seeing him, angry that he only had to turn up—all towering height and wicked blue eyes—and she was putty in his hands. He had determinedly woven himself into the fabric of her life, she knew that, so why couldn’t she take appropriate action and break the threads?

  He has no scruples, she told herself one wet Sunday morning as she sat having a coffee in her sitting room while the rain hurled itself against the window in ever-increasing fury. But then that wasn’t true either. Look at last night.

  She curled her feet under her on the sofa and breathed in the rich smell of the coffee.

  Unlike this morning, yesterday had been a day of cold sunshine, crisp, crackly leaves and a high blue sky, and they had taken the dogs into the country and walked for hours, returning home late to one of Geraldine’s steak-and-kidney pot pies. Afterwards she’d fallen asleep in his arms on the sofa, until he’d woken her to take her home by covering her face in kisses. One thing had led to another, but instead of carrying her up to his bedroom—something she had expected on other occasions too—he had stopped before things had gone too far. He always stopped. When she had looked into his face the question had been there in his blue eyes. The question he had never asked and which she didn’t want to acknowledge. And so he had brought her home and they had both been left frustrated and unfulfilled.

  She sighed, moving her legs irritably. It was her fault, she knew that. He had told her to let him know when she wanted to take their relationship to another level and, Zak being Zak, he had meant it. She sometimes caught him looking at her in an intense, hungry sort of way, but the moment he caught her gaze a veil would come down over his face, hiding his thoughts. The next move was up to her, she knew that too. He wouldn’t make it. And she didn’t think it was purely down to him being noble and waiting until she was ready, either. She had hurt his male pride that day in the summer.

  What a mess…She stood up abruptly and walked into the kitchen, rinsing her mug under the tap and then putting it down so hard on the draining board she chipped it. She picked the mug up again and looked at the damaged surface—it was her in a nutshell. She didn’t like that she was this way, but she couldn’t change the person she had become in the last couple of years. She had tried, heaven knew she had tried since the summer, but at the bottom of her she was still waiting for Zak to get tired of her and it stopped her giving him what he wanted. At heart, she didn’t trust him. It was as simple as that, really.

  They couldn’t carry on like this. Sooner or later he would get tired of waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen, and things would get difficult. They would start to argue and get at each other, and she couldn’t bear that. It was far better it ended now, cleanly and decisively, and in a way that brooked no discussion. But how? And would she be able to stand it afterwards?

  The last thought brought her up short. None of that, she told herself silently. You were doing fine before you met Zak Hamilton, you’ll do fine when he’s no longer around. It was going to end one day anyway, you’ve always known that. This way is just so much better than a gradual decay.

  She walked across to the little bureau where she kept all her bills and paperwork, and took out the letter that had come the previous morning. As she read it through again, she knew what she was going to do. She had known the very first time she had read it to be truthful, but she had put the decision to the back of her mind in order to enjoy one last day with Zak. Well, she’d had her day. Now it was time to be fair to both of them. They were going out for a drink that evening; she’d tell him when he came to the flat to pick her up.

  Melissa phoned that afternoon for their usual weekly chat. Since she had been seeing Zak, they had met up twice with Melissa and Greg. Once when Melissa had had them round for Sunday lunch, and again one evening when Zak had treated them all to dinner to celebrate Greg’s thirty-fifth birthday. The first occasion, when Zak had romped with the children all afternoon, had won Melissa over completely. Her sister had done a complete turnaround and declared anyone who could get Harry following them around like an adoring puppy had to be the genuine article.

  ‘Children always know,’ Melissa had said earnestly the next time Blossom had seen her sister on her own. ‘They can spot a fake a mile off. And wasn’t he wonderful with Harry? The girls too. And he was telling Greg he’d love kids of his own one day. I think he’s ready to settle down at last.’

  It had taken great forbearance on Blossom’s part not to tell her sister she was talking a load of rubbish. Children didn’t always know; why else all the warnings about not accepting sweets from strangers that parents the whole world over indulged in? Melissa had been doing what she always did—using any argument she could to support her point of view. Black would become white if Melissa wanted it to; she’d always been the same from a child. But Zak was Greg’s boss, and if Melissa wanted to think he was superman complete with a pipe and slippers Blossom wouldn’t say anything to challenge that. If nothing else it had made things easier for the present.

  The present ended now when—after they had done the normal thing of her health, Melissa and Greg and the children’s health, how well Harry and Simone were doing at big school, and the cute sayings Rebecca and Ella were picking up—Blossom had said, ‘I’ve had the offer of a fantastic job in America. It will mean me being away for a couple of months, maybe three, but it’s for one of the top designers and a chance in a lifetime.’

  ‘Three months?’ It was clear Melissa hadn’t heard anything else. ‘But you can’t be away for three months, not now, not with Zak.’

  ‘I shan’t be going with Zak,’ Blossom said drily.

  ‘You know what I mean. You can’t leave him by himself for three months, Blossom.’<
br />
  ‘He’s not exactly going to be in solitary confinement.’

  ‘Quite.’ There was a pregnant pause. ‘There’ll be lots of women only too pleased to step into your shoes.’

  ‘I’m a funny size. One foot is nearly a whole size bigger than the other, you know that. I usually have to buy two pairs to get one pair that fits, so I doubt anyone would want them.’

  ‘Blossom!’ It was nearly a scream.

  ‘OK, OK. So you’re saying as soon as I’m on the plane Zak will get out his little black book? And this is the man you’re telling me is ready to settle down?’

  This time the pause was longer. Then Melissa said, ‘I don’t mean that. I just mean…’ She was clearly struggling. ‘The temptation might be too much for him,’ she finished weakly. ‘Three months is a long time.’

  ‘And for that reason I shall end things with Zak before I go.’ She let the enormity of what she’d said sink in.

  ‘I hope you don’t mean that,’ Melissa said after some seconds.

  ‘I do, actually.’ Blossom’s voice was very firm.

  After a pause that stretched for fifteen seconds this time, Melissa said flatly, ‘This job is just an excuse, isn’t it? A get-out clause because you’re scared to death to take the plunge and admit you want to be with him permanently.’

  Sisters. Who’d have them? Her voice thick with unshed tears, Blossom said huskily, ‘I’m doing it, Mel. For whatever reason. I’m going to America, and I shall tell Zak not to wait for me. He’ll be as free as a bird.’

  ‘You’re crazy, I mean it. Here’s a man who’s handsome, deliciously wealthy and ready to settle down—and not only that, he’s mad about you. Anyone can see that. Why would you want to throw it all away? You have to get over Dean, Blossom. He’s still ruining your life. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have Dean back if he came in solid gold.’

  ‘I know you’re over him in that way, I didn’t mean that. I meant…’ Melissa sighed long and loudly. ‘You know what I meant without me having to spell it out.’ And then she did just that. ‘He’s soured you, made you cynical about men in general.’

  Blossom didn’t deny it. Instead she repeated flatly, ‘I’m ending it tonight. I shan’t change my mind.’

  ‘There are times I want to shake you until your eyeballs rattle.’

  Great. One hundred per cent support, there, then. ‘I’m sorry, Mel, but I need to compose a letter and send it e-mail today to let them know I’m available and taking the work. I’ll talk to you later in the week.’ She needed to accept the job before she told Zak. That way she wouldn’t weaken.

  ‘Bye, then,’ Melissa said unhappily. ‘And Blossom?’

  ‘Yes?’ said Blossom warily.

  ‘I think you’re making the biggest mistake of your life, and I’m even taking Dean into the equation here. But whatever you do, you know I’m for you, don’t you?’

  The tears surfaced again and Blossom’s voice was choked when she murmured, ‘Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.’

  By seven o’clock the e-mail had been sent, she’d had a shower, washed and dried her hair and was sitting in the flat waiting for Zak to arrive. She hadn’t dressed up; there was no point, because after she’d told him what she was going to tell him they wouldn’t be going anywhere. She felt sick and shaky, and when she’d tried to make herself a coffee to steady her nerves her hands had trembled so badly she’d had to leave it.

  When the front-door buzzer sounded she jumped so violently her hands flapped out like a new-born baby fearing it was going to be dropped. She walked over to the intercom. ‘Hello?’

  ‘All ready?’ Zak’s voice came deep and smoky, and she trembled, her stomach turning over.

  ‘Not really, I need to talk to you. Come in.’ She pressed the release and then walked to her front door. When she opened it he was walking across the hall towards her. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  She turned and walked back into the sitting room before he reached her and tried to kiss her, and when she heard the front door close she faced him. He was standing just inside the room, big and dark, his hair damp from the driving rain that was still hurtling down outside. She was glad it was raining. It would have made it ten times worse to do this on one of the beautiful autumn evenings the country had been enjoying before the current wet spell. Rain suited the pain inside her.

  She half expected him to speak, to ask what was wrong, but she should have known Zak never did the expected. He simply stood and watched her, his blue eyes piercingly sharp like splintered glass as they glittered in the dim light from the one standard lamp she had on in the room.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’ She hated that her voice was trembling. She needed to be strong.

  ‘You’ve already said that.’ His hands were thrust in the pockets of his black overcoat, his head tilted slightly back as he looked at her. ‘So, what’s the problem?’

  ‘Sit down.’ She gestured at the sofa. ‘Do you want a coffee?’

  He nodded. ‘Something tells me I’m going to need one,’ he said drily.

  He was standing gazing out of the French windows into the streaming courtyard, his back to the room, when she returned with the tray of coffee. He hadn’t taken off his coat.

  She placed the tray on the coffee table and gestured to the sofa again. ‘Please sit down,’ she said, pouring a black coffee and handing it to him once he was seated. She hoped he didn’t notice her hands were shaking.

  She sat down herself in one of the two armchairs, but didn’t make the mistake of trying to drink her coffee, knowing she would spill it down her. Instead she handed him the letter. ‘I received this yesterday,’ she said quietly.

  He put down his coffee, settled back on the sofa and read the letter through. Why it should have been that very moment in time that she knew she loved him she wasn’t sure. But as she stared at his serious face, his long lashes shading his eyes as he read, it came in a blinding flash of revelation that shook her down to her toes. She loved him, and this love was nothing like the emotion she had felt for Dean. What she’d felt for him wasn’t even a pale reflection of the flood of intense feeling that consumed her now.

  She stood to her feet, saying hurriedly, ‘I forgot the biscuits,’ and made it to the kitchen where she buried her hot face in her hands. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she have crossed that threshold and let herself fall in love with him? She hugged herself round her middle, swaying gently in the middle of the room as she fought for control.

  A blinding minute or so later, she grabbed the biscuit barrel and unceremoniously emptied half of it on a plate before walking back to the sitting room. He looked up as she entered. ‘This looks like a fantastic opportunity,’ he said evenly. ‘Fashion shows in most of the major cities, high press coverage, lots of famous names involved.’

  ‘It is.’ Her legs felt like jelly. ‘Chance of a lifetime.’

  ‘Then you should do it. No question.’

  She stared at him as she sat down. It wasn’t the response she’d expected. ‘I’m going to,’ she said carefully.

  ‘Good.’ He placed the letter on the coffee table and picked up his coffee, drinking half of it in two great swallows before he said, ‘After all, America isn’t so far away these days. A few hours, and I can be with you most weekends. We can probably fit in an hour or two together, even if it’s just dinner somewhere.’

  No, no. The knowledge of how she felt, the power it gave him over her if he ever found out, was terrifying. She felt like a fly struggling in the sticky threads of a web with the spider about to pounce. ‘That won’t be possible.’ She took a deep breath, her heart pounding so hard it made her ears ring. ‘I don’t want that. It wouldn’t…I don’t want that,’ she repeated.

  His face blank, he said quietly, ‘What do you want, Blossom? What is it you’re really saying here?’

  ‘I think we ought to call it a day, finish things. You…you will be free to do whatever you want, as will I. It’s
the sensible thing to do in the circumstances. Long-distance relationships never work. They always go terribly wrong.’

  ‘Really? How many long-distance relationships have you had on which to base that conclusion?’

  The calm reasonableness of his tone didn’t fool her. He was angry, she could see it in his eyes, and she couldn’t blame him. She shrugged carefully. ‘It’s common knowledge.’

  ‘Not to me.’ He continued looking at her steadily.

  ‘Zak, we agreed at the beginning this was going to be a casual thing, nothing heavy. I…I feel it’s run its course.’ Hark at herself, she thought sickly, parroting out the platitudes, acting as though they’d had nothing of substance between them when over the last weeks they’d revealed so much of their inner selves to each other. At least, he had. The thought jolted her. She had always kept something back.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ His eyes hadn’t left her face.

  ‘What?’ She stared at him, taken aback.

  ‘You’re saying the obvious because the truth wouldn’t sound so good.’ He sat forward in his seat, his voice urgent. ‘I’ve got too close, haven’t I? You’re in danger of letting down the drawbridge and you don’t like that. The untouchable ice-queen is melting, and it’s scared you to death.’

  ‘That’s crazy, I—’

  He reached her in an instant, drawing her up into his arms and staring down into her face. ‘Don’t you know by now I won’t hurt you, damn it? Haven’t the last weeks proved a thing? We both know there’ve been a dozen times when I could have taken you and you’d have been willing, but I don’t just want your body. I want all of you, Blossom. Everything. And if that scares you it’s too bad. That’s me. If I had wanted a brief affair I’d have bedded you in the first week, and I could have, make no mistake about it. But I want more from you than that. I always have. From the moment we met.’

  Blossom’s heart made a sickening lurch. ‘I can’t give you what you want. Surely you know that by now? I can’t, Zak.’