The highly sceptical look she gave him from under her lashes made him squirm in his seat. He rubbed his hand over his face, then held it up, palm forwards in capitulation. ‘To be honest, no. It’s really not fine. But you’ve heard her sing—she’s incredibly talented and I think the band’s going to do really well. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am so I’d be an idiot to throw it all in now.’
‘You’re really set on a musical career?’
‘Yes. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. I tried a “real” job for a while and it made me miserable. I don’t care about the money and fame, I just want to make music. It’s the only thing that makes me truly happy.’
She nodded slowly, keeping her thoughtful gaze trained on him. ‘Well, I have to say, you’re damn good at it. Your playing really got inside me. It made me feel things.’
He couldn’t help but grin at such a personal and intimate description. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was flirting with him. ‘That’s high praise indeed, coming from you.’
She shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, I’m sorry for being so snippy before. I think I was just a bit nervous about meeting you, what with the upsetting circumstances and all.’
‘You’re forgiven. And I have to say, I’m delighted the dastardly cult of jazz has claimed a new member,’ he said, lifting his hands and curling his fingers to look like some kind of evil, jazz-playing ghoul.
She laughed at this, throwing her head back in a way he’d never seen her do before. Perhaps she was finally beginning to properly relax around him. The thought made him inordinately happy.
Once their food arrived they were quiet for a while as they shovelled steak, chips and salad into their mouths, smiling and widening their eyes in pleasure by way of communication instead of talking.
‘Okay, you’re going to have to tell me what happened with Tia or it’ll keep me awake at night wondering about it,’ Flora said once they’d both finished eating. She wiped her fingers on her napkin and fixed him with a pleading stare.
He sighed, knowing there was no way to avoid telling her the whole sorry tale now. Dumping his cutlery on his empty plate, he leaned back in his chair and gave her his full attention, feeling his spirits sink at the thought of dredging it all up for her. ‘To cut a long story short, we got together when we were living in London after meeting at a mutual friend’s gig. We were the founding members of the band we play in now, which we pulled together by finding the other members through auditions. Apart from Zane. He was recommended by Pete, our trumpeter.’ He tried not to frown as he remembered how uneasy he’d felt about Zane from the start, but Tia had convinced him to let the charming saxophonist stay.
‘Those were some good times, when we first started playing together. It was clear right from the off that we really got each other’s style and we were destined for the big time if we could just keep plugging away at it.’ He took a long sip of his wine to soothe the roughness in his throat before continuing. ‘Anyway, Tia decided that we needed to move out of London and focus our efforts somewhere where the scene wasn’t oversaturated. I didn’t really like the idea at first, but she talked me into it.’ He shot her a grimace. ‘She can be pretty persuasive when she wants to be.’
Flora just nodded, seemingly fascinated and intent on hearing the rest of the story.
‘So we moved here and things were going great until Amy fell ill.’ He took a shaky breath. ‘I was suddenly spending a lot of time at the hospital with her and Tia started getting more and more annoyed about how little attention I was paying to the band—and to her.’
‘What?’ Flora said, shaking her head in baffled anger. ‘Your sister was dying from cancer and she was throwing hissy fits about not getting as much attention as usual?’
He held up a hand. ‘It wasn’t exactly like that. To be fair to Tia, I completely failed to turn up for her birthday meal because I was so distracted, so she sat in the restaurant on her own for an hour before going home alone. And there were other things too. Things I’m not proud of.’ He frowned, remembering with a thump of shame how he’d totally fallen apart when Amy had first told him that the cancer was terminal and he’d plummeted into a spiral of self-absorbed pity. ‘As you mentioned the first day we met, I’m not exactly great at letting people in when I’m struggling to deal with things.’
She gave him a sad, understanding sort of smile, the effects of which he felt right down to his toes.
‘I just kind of mentally checked out for a while. It was hard on her. I get that.’
‘She didn’t need to jump into bed with your bandmate though,’ Flora said hotly.
Despite his humiliation, he still managed a smile at her show of loyalty.
‘Yeah, having to watch the two of them together, day after day, it’s—’ He paused, wondering how he could put into words the soul-sucking agony he’d felt. ‘It’s been hard.’
‘I bet.’ Her expression was so empathic he wanted to lean across the table and kiss her for it.
He didn’t though, because that wasn’t what this relationship was about.
‘You know,’ she said slowly, leaning forward and spreading her long, elegant fingers out on the table in front of her, ‘when I told Tia you were spending Christmas with me—’ she locked her gaze with his and took an audible breath as if unsure how to phrase what she was about to say ‘—I would genuinely like that. I’ve made a commitment to see my parents for lunch, but we can duck out afterwards and hang out at a nearby pub and drink mulled wine next to a roaring fire.’ She raised her eyebrows and added, ‘If you fancy doing something like that.’
The mere idea of it gave his spirits such a lift he felt a bit dizzy from the rush of blood it sent to his head. He’d actually begun to dread spending the whole day alone now so her offer was most welcome. ‘Won’t your parents mind you leaving right after lunch?’
She broke eye contact with him to look down at her hands, which were busily realigning the salt and pepper shakers. ‘They’ll understand, I’m sure.’
But he wasn’t sure that she really was sure.
‘Look, I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to interfere with your family’s plans.’
There was a beat of silence before she met his gaze again. ‘I’m sure my mum would love it if you came for lunch too.’
‘Really?’ he asked, still not entirely convinced.
Flicking back her hair, she gave him a firm nod. ‘Yes. I’m positive. I’ll give them a call to check tomorrow, but I’m ninety-nine per cent sure it’ll be okay.’
Sitting back in his chair, he gave her a smile that rose from deep down in his belly. ‘That would be great, Flora, thanks. It’ll be interesting to see where you hail from.’
Was it his imagination or did she just hide a grimace?
‘Did you say they’re in Derbyshire?’ he asked.
‘Yes, just north of Bakewell, in the middle of the Peak District,’ she said, her brow furrowed as if the thought of it gave her pain.
‘Okay, well, since you’re providing the entertainment, I’ll drive,’ he said.
‘Great.’ She nodded slowly. ‘I was planning on travelling up on Christmas Eve to arrive late in the evening.’
‘Works for me,’ he said, pushing aside the maddening little voice that whispered, Maybe her mother will get the wrong idea and we’ll end up sharing a room.
He had a feeling that little voice was going to be the death of him.
CHAPTER SIX
ONE WEEK LATER, on Christmas Eve, Alex found himself ringing the doorbell to Flora’s flat, ready to drive them both up to Derbyshire for Christmas at her parents’ house, wondering how in the heck his life had taken such an unexpected turn.
Amy was probably looking down on him right now and laughing herself silly.
The door swung open to reveal Flora with a slightly pan
icked look on her face. ‘Oh, you’re here! I’m not quite ready yet.’
‘You were expecting me to be late, weren’t you?’ he said, narrowing his eyes.
She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Maybe.’
‘Well, I’m glad I’m not entirely predictable,’ he muttered, walking into the vestibule. He shucked off his coat and toed off his shoes, feeling a wall of heat hit him. ‘Wow, it’s roasting in here.’
‘Yeah, I hate being cold,’ she said, taking his coat from him and hanging it neatly on a peg on the wall next to a whole row of her own in every colour and style possible, or so it seemed.
‘Why do you need so many coats?’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘To go with all my different outfits. And for the different seasons. Don’t you have more than one?’
‘Nope,’ he said, pointing at the one she’d just hung up. ‘That’s it.’
She just shook her head, a mystified expression on her face.
‘Why don’t you go and wait in the living room? I won’t be long,’ she said, disappearing into her bedroom.
‘Okay.’ He wandered through to her living room, giving the sofa an affable nod. ‘Hello there, my old friend.’
Walking over to the mantelpiece, he picked up a framed photo of Flora dressed impeccably, of course, shaking hands with an older guy wearing an expensive-looking suit. They were standing in front of the logo for Bounce soft drinks, the company she worked for.
There was an expression of pride in her eyes which made something twist in his chest, and he experienced a sudden rush of affection for her. He might not particularly value her choice of career but he was intensely aware of how hard she must have worked and how focused she must be to get to a position like that.
She really was a very impressive woman.
‘That was on my first day as Head of Marketing,’ Flora said behind him. He started, dropping the photo frame on the floor.
‘Sorry,’ he said, picking it up and checking he hadn’t damaged it. ‘You made me jump coming up so quietly like that.’
‘I didn’t realise you hadn’t heard me,’ she said, but she was smiling.
‘Are you ready to go?’
She nodded. ‘Yup. All packed. I just need to check all the windows are closed. Back in a sec.’
While she bustled around the place, clicking on a light here and pulling a blind there, he leaned against the wall, letting his gaze travel around the room.
‘Is this all your furniture?’ he asked when she came back in and held up her hands in an all done gesture.
‘No. I rented this place fully furnished. Why do you ask?’
‘I thought it seemed a bit old-fashioned for your taste. It’s nice and all, but I imagined you as more of a modernist.’
‘So you’re tuned in to my taste now, huh?’ She shot him a grin. ‘Perhaps we’ve been hanging around with each other too much.’
He bristled at that, her comment making him realise it was a bit strange that he felt he knew her so well already. ‘I’m just observant,’ he muttered in response, shrugging off his discomfort and pushing away from the wall. They’d not spent that much time together, he mused. Amy had talked about Flora a lot. That was probably why he felt as if he’d known Flora for longer than he had.
Then something else occurred to him. ‘So if you’re renting furniture does that mean you’re not staying in Bath long?’
‘Uh...yeah. Once this product launch is live I’m going back to my position in New York.’
‘Oh. Right.’ He was surprised by how disappointed he was to hear this. He’d just assumed that she’d moved back to England for good and that she’d be around to meet up with every now and again. He’d grown to appreciate her company now and found he didn’t like the idea of her leaving.
‘Anyway, I’m ready when you are,’ she said, a little more loudly than was necessary.
She really did like things running to schedule.
‘Okay, then let’s get going,’ he said, grateful for a distraction from the strange sinking feeling in his chest.
* * *
The roads out of Bath were predictably busy and Flora sat back quietly, letting Alex concentrate on getting them out of the city and onto the motorway.
It would probably take them around four hours to get up to Derbyshire at this rate and she felt a little shiver of concern at the thought of having to make conversation all the way there. Hopefully he’d be happy to listen to the radio for a bit of it. Car journeys always made her lethargic and she liked to just stare out of the window and think when she was travelling. She often came up with her best ideas when she allowed her mind to wander like that. Blue-sky thinking. Or in this case, ominous grey sky. It looked as though it might actually snow this year for Christmas.
‘Mind if I put some music on?’ Alex asked when they were finally speeding along in the middle lane of the M4.
‘Sure, that would be great.’
‘We’ll go for the radio rather than one of my jazz playlists, shall we?’ he said with a teasing note in his voice.
‘You’ve turned me around on jazz now, so I’m happy to listen to whatever you’ve got,’ she said in her most magnanimous voice. She felt a bit silly now, having been so quick to dismiss a whole genre she’d hardly heard anything of. Evidently it was time to expand her horizons.
‘Okay then,’ he said, flicking on the stereo. ‘Can you go into the music app on my phone, choose the top playlist and send it to “car” when it asks you.’ He gestured towards his smartphone, which was sitting in the well between their two seats.
‘Sure.’ She did as he’d asked, then sat back as the dulcet tones of Nina Simone began to play through the speakers. When that track finished and Billie Holiday started singing ‘Summertime,’ Flora’s attention perked up. ‘Hey, I know this one. Didn’t Janis Joplin sing it?’
‘Yeah, she did. I prefer Billie’s version though.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Flora agreed, the emotion of the song sweeping through her and making her skin tingle.
To her surprise, Alex started singing along with the song, his voice a deep, sexy rumble. She turned to stare at him, utterly transfixed as the delicious sound prickled along her skin and made her heart beat faster.
‘Join in if you know the words,’ he said, flipping her a smile.
The thought of him hearing her less than impressive voice made her hesitate. She’d been ridiculed enough in the past about how untuneful it was to be wary about airing it in front of anyone.
‘I won’t judge, I promise,’ he reassured her, obviously sensing her hesitation. ‘I think everyone should sing. It’s good for the soul. I don’t care if you’re not in tune. Just let rip and enjoy it. That’s what music should be about. We’ve become too focused on getting things exactly right these days rather than doing it just for the joy of it. Music should be about bringing people together, not about being pitch-perfect.’
That struck a chord with her and in the spirit of coming together at Christmas she decided to throw caution to the wind and give herself permission to just go for it. There was something incredibly freeing about it once she’d got over the first sting of embarrassment. She turned to grin at Alex as they sang their way through the next couple of songs, which she knew quite well from other artists having covered them, though she still cringed when she hit a wrong note.
Alex didn’t say a thing though; in fact he didn’t seem to mind at all.
A little while later the playlist came to an end and the silence in the car made her long for more music. It had been wonderfully uplifting, singing the songs with him, and she was sorry it was over. She wanted to say something about how much she’d loved listening to his beautiful voice, but she didn’t want to sound like a fawning idiot.
‘Let’s have the radio on for a bit now. I’d
like to catch the news. That okay with you?’ Alex said, raising his eyebrows in question.
‘Sure.’
He nodded and pressed the button on the stereo to turn on the radio.
It took the whole of the news bulletin before she felt as if she’d gotten her composure back under control. As a song about driving home for Christmas started playing on the radio, she was able to sound casually offhand saying, ‘You know, you’ve got an amazing voice. You should write your own songs and sing them.’
‘Actually, I already do.’
‘Really?’ She turned to look at him, intrigued.
Keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead, he nodded. ‘Yeah, I’ve made a few demos but I’ve not had any interest yet. There’s a producer I’ve made contact with who’s interested in hearing the next songs I produce, but to be honest I’ve not been in the mood to write for a while, what with Amy and everything...’ He petered out. ‘And it’s a tough business. Really tough, especially trying to strike out on your own. It’s pretty demoralising to keep getting knock-backs.’
‘I bet. Well, good luck with it. Don’t give up, okay? The people who make it are usually the ones who work really hard for years and keep getting back up after a rejection. Very few people are actually “overnight successes”, but I guess you already know that.’
‘Yeah, I get that.’ He sighed and rubbed a hand over his brow. ‘It’d be great to be able to run my own show. I love playing in the band—at least I do when my ex-girlfriend’s not fronting it—’ he shot her an ironic grin ‘—but the real satisfaction comes from writing and performing my own songs.’
‘That makes sense,’ she said, warming to the theme. ‘It’s important to maintain as much control over your brand as possible, which isn’t an easy task these days, because everyone wants a piece of you when you’re successful.’
His Mistletoe Proposal Page 8
