She put her head in her hands. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. I must sound so selfish. I know I’m not the only person to lose someone, but that’s how I feel when I wake up in the dark in the early hours—swamped with this cloying sense of dread and anger at the world.’ She fisted her hands and shook them as if trying to throttle her emotions.
‘Yeah, well, grief affects people in all sorts of ways.’
Looking back at him, she gazed right into his eyes, as if searching for something specific there. ‘It doesn’t seem to have affected you in the same way though. And I don’t mean that as a criticism.’ Her posture slumped now. ‘I guess I’m just a weaker person than you.’
He moved towards her, putting his hand on her shoulder.
‘I was lucky. I got to spend a lot of time with her at the end of her life,’ he said quietly, realising now just how grateful he was to have had that opportunity.
‘You see, that’s the thing,’ Flora said, then swallowed hard, as if forcing back her tears. ‘I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye and it’s eating away at me. If only I’d booked my flight a day earlier. Twenty-four hours. That’s all it would have taken to have been there to hug my best friend one last time.’
Her pain reached right inside him, twisting his guts. He drew her towards him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly to him, at last feeling a real connection to her—that they were in this together.
She hugged him back with a fierceness that nearly broke his heart, as if she was hoping that touching someone associated with Amy might bring back the peace she’d felt when his sister was around.
And then, as she drew back to look at him, the atmosphere switched in a second. Her pupils were blown in the dim light, making her eyes look huge. There was a strange expression in them now. Of longing. At least he was pretty sure that was what it was.
She raised her hand to his face and slid her fingertips along his jaw, frowning as they juddered across the bristles.
‘You’re a good person, Alex. Amy was so lucky to have you as a brother. I wish I had someone like you looking out for me.’
Before he realised what she was about to do, Flora lurched forwards and pressed her mouth against his, her lips warm and soft. The sweet scent of her invaded his senses as he stood there, stunned and rooted to the spot. His blood pounded hard through his veins as he fought off the strongest impulse just to let himself sink into the kiss.
But he knew he couldn’t do that.
Carefully, reluctantly, he drew back from her, feeling her hands instinctively tighten around his back for a second before she realised he was deliberately pulling away.
‘That’s a really bad idea, Flora. One I think you’ll regret in the morning when you’re stone-cold sober.’
She shook her head, looking a little bewildered. ‘I won’t—’
But he wasn’t prepared to argue this with her when she was drunk and hurting. ‘Come on, it’s time for you to go to bed.’
Her shoulders slumped as if all her energy had drained away now and she meekly allowed him to lead her out of the living room and into what he correctly surmised was her bedroom.
‘Just sleep it off, okay? Things will seem a bit better in the morning. We just need to take each day as it comes.’
She nodded, then yawned loudly. ‘I’m so tired,’ she murmured.
‘I can tell,’ he said, pulling back the duvet so she could crawl into bed, still wearing her clothes. He figured it was probably better to leave her like that than attempt to undress her—that could only lead to more misunderstandings. Once she was settled, he pulled the duvet over her and went to fetch her glass of water from the living room. By the time he returned with it she seemed to be asleep already, her breathing soft and regular in the quiet of the room.
He watched her for a moment, just to make sure she really was asleep, feeling a sudden swell of compassion for her. Shaking off the weird twitch of nerves this produced, he crept out of the room, letting out a big yawn of his own. His insomnia seemed to have well and truly caught up with him today. Moving over to the sofa, he lay down, pulling a blanket he found neatly folded on the arm over his body.
He’d stay here for an hour or so, just to make sure she wasn’t ill. He knew how evil that local cider was—he’d been caught out by it himself before.
Shifting onto his side, he felt the waistband of his jeans dig in to him, so undid them and shucked them off. Yes, that was much more comfortable. Though he was pretty hot now. She seemed to have her heating turned up to full. He tugged his T-shirt off too, feeling relief at the sensation of cooler air on his hot skin. His whole body felt overstimulated after the kiss she’d planted on his mouth.
Pushing the memory far out of his head, he let out a deep sigh to expel the tension. After the soul-crushing end to his relationship with Tia, the very last thing he needed right now was to get caught up in something new. He had a strong suspicion, from what he’d seen of Flora so far, that someone as intense and focused as her would be the kind of woman who would want to go all in on a relationship too. He needed to look after himself right now, so there was no space for anyone else in his life.
Fluffing up the cushion, he flopped back down and let out a groan of tiredness. There, that was better. He’d just close his eyes for a minute, then get out of there once he was sure she’d be okay on her own.
CHAPTER THREE
BRIGHT WINTRY SUNLIGHT playing against his eyelids woke Alex up from a deep sleep. Peeling his lids open he looked around him, wondering where the heck he’d woken up. He didn’t recognise the cornice on the ceiling or the glass chandelier hanging from it. Turning his head, he looked around the room to find he was lying on a large red velvet sofa, surrounded by expensive-looking antique furniture. There was a large Christmas tree in the bay window adorned with tasteful decorations and sprigs of holly jauntily arranged in an elegant vase on the mantelpiece. Well, this definitely wasn’t his place.
Then it all came rushing back to him. He was still at Flora’s flat.
Sitting up, he rubbed his hand over his skull, attempting to get the blood flowing to his brain. He’d not meant to stay all night, but her sofa had been so comfortable he hadn’t woken up after the two-hour stretch he usually managed these days.
His mouth felt as if someone had rubbed it with sandpaper. Too much beer again last night. Swinging his legs off the sofa, he stood up and stretched, feeling the air on his sleep-warmed skin. He’d grab a quick drink of water, then get dressed and out of there. She didn’t need to know he’d stayed the whole night.
As he moved towards the doorway his gaze caught on a framed photo on the sideboard. Stopping to pick it up, he examined the picture of Flora and his sister, arms flung around each other, smiling at the camera. They both had deep, healthy-looking tans and sunglasses pushed jauntily back on their heads. They looked so carefree it made something tighten uncomfortably inside him. The photo must have been taken during one of the summer holidays to Greece or Italy or France that they’d taken together each year. Something Amy had loved doing.
The sight of his sister looking so happy brought a lump to his throat. He thought about what Flora had said last night about how unfair it was that Amy’s life had been cut so cruelly short. She’d died before she’d had time to do all the things she’d wanted to do. Particularly have a family of her own.
He’d never really been that interested in having kids himself, but Amy had wanted them desperately ever since they were little. It had probably been something to do with not feeling as if their own family was as complete and functional as it should have been, what with their father running off to Thailand when they were six and never getting into contact with them again. Their mum had been a trooper, giving them every material thing they’d ever needed, but he knew how hard it had been for her on her own. She hadn’t always had the patience or the time to
give him and Amy the hugs and love they’d craved. Or perhaps it had been down to her having a broken heart, which had failed her when she was only forty-seven, leaving them parentless aged nineteen.
At least he and Amy had had each other to lean on.
Not wanting to dwell any longer on that thought, he put the photo back with a trembling hand. There was a gasp of surprise behind him and he twisted round to see Flora standing there, blearily rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
‘Alex!’ she said, her eyes widening as she ran her gaze up and down his nearly naked body. At least I left my boxer shorts on, he thought wryly, taking in the thunderstruck expression on her face.
She slumped against the door frame, as if needing it to hold her up. Hangover, he thought, though he didn’t say it. He didn’t think she’d appreciate him pointing out the obvious right then. She’d changed out of yesterday’s clothes and was now wearing a blindingly white fluffy bathrobe. He guessed she hadn’t looked in the mirror yet though because she had panda eyes from her smudged make-up and her hair was a mess. She looked like a completely different person from the polished perfectionist of yesterday. He actually found her much more attractive like that, rumpled and sexy, not that he was going to admit it out loud.
‘What are you doing here?’ Her eyes widened even more as a thought seemed to strike her. ‘Oh, God, we didn’t—?’
Her hands flew to her face. ‘Oh, no, we didn’t, did we?’
He shook his head, riled by her over-the-top alarm. ‘No. We didn’t. You tried to kiss me, and I stopped you. You passed out on your bed—alone—and I slept on your sofa.’
‘I tried to kiss you?’ She looked even more horrified by this. ‘Oh, God, I must have been really drunk.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
She flushed and held up an apologetic hand. ‘I just mean I wouldn’t normally do something like that. You’re a lovely guy, but I think we can safely say we’d never naturally date. We’d make a very odd couple.’
‘Very odd,’ he said, though he felt a strange reluctance about agreeing with her. They weren’t that dissimilar, not really. His sister never would have been friends with Flora if she hadn’t seen the good in her.
Not that he was interested in her in a romantic way, of course. The way he’d instinctively responded to her when she’d kissed him had been a shock, sure, but she was right—they would never work as a couple. He’d only reacted like that because he’d been missing human contact recently.
‘Hey, speaking of dating,’ Flora went on, pulling her robe more tightly around her body, ‘I meant to say last night—before I messed up by being really rude to you about your clothes and—’ she paused as a sheepish look flashed across her face ‘—the other things.’ She produced a strange sort of grimacing grin, clearly hoping that would suffice as an apology.
‘I have a friend who lives just outside Bath. I think you’d really get on with her,’ she went on quickly before he could get a word in. ‘She’s big into music—she plays the harp, I think.’ She flapped her hand as if annoyed with her less than perfect memory. ‘Anyway, I met up with her for a coffee the other day—we hadn’t seen each other since school—and she’s single at the moment. I mentioned you to her and she seemed really interested in meeting you.’
His heart sank. ‘You’re trying to set me up on a blind date?’
‘Sure, why not? Isn’t that how most people meet their partners these days? Internet dating or through a friend of a friend?’
‘I don’t think so, Flora.’
Folding her arms, she fixed him with a concerned stare. ‘Well, I think you should put yourself out there again. Didn’t you say yesterday that you’d promised Amy you’d get on with your life and not mope about?’
She looked so expectant now he couldn’t bear to refute it. Maybe if he agreed to go along with this nonsense she’d feel that she’d fulfilled her duty to Amy and leave him the heck alone.
Sighing, he nodded wearily in agreement. ‘Okay. Fine. I’ll meet her.’
‘Really?’ she asked, as if she thought she’d imagined him agreeing to it.
‘Yes, really. Just don’t expect to hear wedding bells any time soon. I’m not up for anything serious at the moment.’
‘Sure, sure, that’s fine,’ she said, but he could tell from the gleam in her eye that she was hoping they’d hit it off.
God help him.
* * *
Flora tried not to think about how she’d kissed Alex.
She tried not to think about it at work when she was supposed to be leading a meeting and at home when she was heating up a meal for one from the freezer. She definitely tried not to think about it when she was lying in bed finding it hard to sleep.
She’d pretended to Alex that she didn’t remember doing it. But she did. It had been wonderful to be held like that: to feel so close to him. He’d smelled of spicy aftershave and leather and comfort, and it had made her heart flutter to feel that connection with him.
Obviously drinking cider on an empty stomach had been to blame for her uncharacteristic slip-up, but she was also unnervingly aware that it had seemed like exactly the right thing to do at the time. Perhaps in her drunken haze she’d thought they could comfort each other or something. She realised now what a crazy idea that had been, but at the time it had seemed so simple and logical.
In the cold light of day she didn’t think for a second they should actually do something like that though. As she’d pointed out whilst desperately trying to keep her cool in the face of his half nakedness and hide her discomfort at him seeing her in such a bedraggled, bed-headed state, they’d make a very peculiar couple indeed.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t see what women found attractive about him. She wasn’t blind—she appreciated his square-jawed handsomeness and ultramasculine, hard-muscled body—something that a slovenly musician who spent most of his time drinking beer in the pub had no right to have. But she really didn’t see him like that. Like a potential partner. He was just Amy’s scruffy, work-shy brother.
No. Her friend Lucy was a much better fit for him. They both had a love of music in common after all. And if he and Lucy hit it off, she’d be able to go back to New York with a clear conscience, knowing that someone who lived nearby was looking out for him. Even if the two of them only became friends she’d be able to check with Lucy about how he was doing. She certainly didn’t expect Alex to tell her the truth over the phone, based on his reluctance to discuss his feelings last night.
She was determined not to regret the kiss they’d shared though. Why should she? It had been acknowledged as an aberration and they’d moved on from it. And she’d learnt an important lesson—no more of the local cider for her. It seemed as though that stuff was her ‘life event catalyst’ as Alex had called it, and she preferred not to put herself in such a vulnerable position again, especially in front of Alex. Although, to give him his due, he had been incredibly kind to her, making sure she got safely home and even sleeping on the sofa to keep an eye on her. She was grateful for that. He’d been a gentleman about it too. He hadn’t teased her about her imprudent drunken behaviour and had even agreed to a date with Lucy before making a quick exit that morning.
So things were looking up.
She just needed to keep her fingers crossed that he and Lucy got on.
With that in mind, she’d put in a call to her friend as soon as Alex had left. Lucy had been delighted with the idea of meeting him the following Friday night.
Tonight, in fact.
Flora checked her watch for the umpteenth time, wondering what the two of them were doing right now as she lay on her sofa half watching an old film and half working on her laptop. Lucy had suggested meeting Alex at a local bar on the edge of the city, so it was unlikely she’d bump into them if she wandered into town. Not that she was going to do that.
&nbs
p; She jumped as her phone made a loud beeping noise to signal a text arriving. Scooping it up from the arm of the sofa, she was a little alarmed to see it was from Alex. It was only eight-forty. Wasn’t he supposed to be on a date right now?
We met. It went fine. I hope you’re happy. Alex.
Fine? Fine! He thought that ‘fine’ was a good enough result, did he? Scrolling through to his number in her contacts, she pressed the icon to connect them and waited impatiently for him to pick up. It took five rings before he finally answered with a curt, ‘Hello, Flora.’
‘What do you mean, “It went fine”? What went wrong?’
‘Nothing went wrong. It was a nice evening. She seems...nice.’
‘Ugh. “Nice” is even worse than “fine”.’
‘What do you want me to say? That we’re engaged and getting married next week?’
She caught her huff of breath just in time. ‘No, of course not. I was just hoping you’d make a bit of an effort.’
There was a short silence before he spoke. ‘How do you know I didn’t make an effort?’
‘Just a hunch,’ she muttered in frustration.
‘Well, I did, Flora. I listened to all her stories about her ex-boyfriend and all the awful things he’d done to her and how he was still in contact with her and should she speak to him or just ignore him. It seemed to me that she needed a relationship counsellor, not a date.’
Flora closed her eyes and bit back a sigh of defeat. ‘Damn. Okay. Maybe I miscalculated. I thought it seemed like she was ready to start dating again.’
‘You knew about the recent ex?’ His voice was heavy with accusation, as if he thought she’d deliberately set him up with a no-hoper.
Flora felt her face heat. ‘She mentioned him a couple of times, yes, but I thought it would be fine.’
Fine. There was that word again.
His sigh of annoyance sent a shiver of guilt through her. ‘Look, I thought the best thing for her would be to get out and meet someone new. To be honest, her ex sounded like a bit of a loony to me.’
His Mistletoe Proposal Page 4
