One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents

by Susan Stephens

  ‘All right,’ Cryssie replied, and gave the girl her details. ‘Not your fault. I just hope that man’s little darlings are made to appreciate their good luck.’

  ‘He hasn’t got any little darlings…he’s not married.’ The assistant lowered her voice. ‘Didn’t you realise who that was?’

  Cryssie shrugged. ‘No…should I?’

  ‘Oh, I thought everyone knew him…That was Jeremy—or Jed—Hunter. The boss of this place,’ she emphasised, as if announcing royalty.

  Cryssie knew that Latimer’s was owned by the Hunter family, but wasn’t acquainted with any of them, or with what they looked like. She certainly hadn’t ever seen him before. If she had, she would have remembered!

  ‘Up until a year or so ago we never saw him,’ the girl went on, ‘but he seems to have taken over from his parents—who are getting on, obviously.’ She stifled a yawn. ‘Some of the staff are a bit afraid of him—he can be stroppy if things don’t go right. Not that I’m afraid,’ she added defensively. ‘I mean, he’s always courteous…but rather demanding, with a bit of a short fuse at times. Still, I suppose anyone that drop-dead gorgeous and rich can afford to be moody when he feels like it.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Cryssie agreed dismissively, not particularly wanting to join in a chorus of admiration for this Mr Jed Hunter—not the way she was feeling at the moment! But he certainly seemed to be the man who had everything…including the one and only thing she—or Milo—wanted. And there was no way they’d be getting it now. The eleventh hour had come and gone.

  ‘Anyway, I’ve got your name and details,’ the assistant said. ‘And as soon as we get more stock I’ll contact you.’

  ‘Oh, fine,’ Cryssie said dully, beginning to wish that the Runaway Rascals had never been thought of! ‘Anyway, if he hasn’t got any children, what did he want them for?’ she blurted out, picking up the football boots.

  ‘Couldn’t tell you,’ the assistant said, turning to go back to her counter. She hesitated. ‘Do you have other children to buy for as well?’

  ‘No—and I don’t have any of my own,’ Cryssie replied. ‘We’re just the three of us…my sister and her little boy—my nephew, Milo—and me. But I’m the one who has to do all the chasing about, I’m afraid.’ Cryssie’s shoulders drooped for a second. ‘My sister isn’t…well,’ she added quietly, wondering why she was bothering to air her problems in public.

  ‘Oh, dear…and does she—can she—work?’ the woman asked gently.

  ‘Occasionally—on a part-time basis,’ Cryssie replied. ‘She trained as a beauty consultant.’

  ‘Oh…that’s nice…’ The assistant glanced at Cryssie curiously—and Cryssie knew instinctively what she was thinking! Why doesn’t your sister give you a makeover? Because Cryssie’s small-framed, insignificant appearance was not the sort to turn heads. Polly was the beauty of the family, with her willowy figure, rich auburn hair and large grey eyes.

  ‘And do you work full time?’ the assistant enquired, obviously glad of a few moments’ opportunity to chat.

  ‘Yes—I’m employed at Hydebound. Been there three years now.’

  ‘Oh, I know them,’ the woman said at once. ‘I was given one of their fantastic handbags for my birthday. Beautifully made, isn’t it, all their stuff? A bit expensive, but well worth the cost!’

  Cryssie smiled, genuinely pleased to hear that. ‘Of course we’re only a very small, independent firm,’ she said. ‘Not like this place!’

  She waited her turn to purchase the football boots and the ball, and started making for the stairs when the delicious smell of coffee drifted out from the nearby restaurant area. She hesitated, realising that she hadn’t eaten a thing since her cheese sandwich at lunchtime. No one at work had even had time to make a cup of tea that day. She glanced at her watch, her sudden desire for a long, hot injection of caffeine becoming irresistible. Anyway, perhaps if she sat there for a while most of the home-going traffic would have subsided.

  There were still plenty of people taking advantage of a sit-down and a drink, and Cryssie plonked her bags down by a table for two in the corner. Then, going over to pick up a tray, she slid it along the counter, unable to stop herself choosing a sugary doughnut as well. She knew it would be ages before she got around to making supper, and Polly wouldn’t have done anything towards it.

  She poured herself a large mug of coffee, and placed it on the tray, then moved towards the till. And from out of nowhere a deep voice—that deep voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘Allow me,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘Pardon?’ Cryssie twisted around in confusion, and stared once more into the face of the man she now knew to be the owner of the store. ‘I’m sorry, I…’

  ‘Allow me to pay for your drink,’ he repeated slowly, as if making himself clear to a backward child. ‘It’s the least I can do,’ he added.

  To her intense annoyance Cryssie felt the colour rising unstoppably in her child-like face. ‘Please—don’t feel—obliged—to do anything,’ she said, her voice cool despite her sudden rise in body temperature.

  ‘Oh, I don’t feel obliged, exactly,’ he replied, equally coolly, ‘but it would give me…pleasure…to settle your bill.’

  ‘Well, I can’t think why—’ Cryssie began, but he interrupted her.

  ‘Because of what happened earlier,’ he said, transfixing her with his impenetrable gaze. ‘I’m sorry that you weren’t able to purchase what you wanted just now.’

  ‘Oh, well, I…It doesn’t matter…’ she began—though it did matter. It mattered a lot. But at this precise moment it didn’t matter which one of them paid for her coffee, just so long as she could get it down her—and soon!

  She indicated the table where her things were and, placing his own drink beside hers on the tray, he followed her across the room. They sat down, and he passed her the plate with the doughnut and set their coffees down. She noticed that the carrier bags with his shopping were nowhere to be seen…He’d probably off-loaded them on to one of his underlings to take care of!

  She began to feel strangely self-conscious, sitting so close to this undeniably handsome man—so close that it was difficult for their knees not to touch beneath the small table! Not that his obvious heart-throb appeal was of the least interest to her, she told herself. That part of her life was in a state of permanent shut-down!

  Now, she picked up her coffee and forced herself to meet Jed Hunter’s gaze over the rim of the mug. Of course, she reassured herself, these panicky feelings running through her were due to the fact that she was sitting in close—very close—proximity to the vastly wealthy owner of the store. He would naturally be a powerful member of the community—but what the hell? So what? She was one of his valued customers, and without people like her coming regularly through the doors he wouldn’t be able to afford his undoubtedly lavish lifestyle! So she should calm down, she told herself sternly.

  He looked at her steadily while she put a piece of doughnut into her mouth. ‘What do you think of those…are they good?’ he enquired casually.

  Cryssie swallowed before answering, dabbing some sugar from her lips. ‘This one’s not bad,’ she said coolly, ‘but the quality of the cakes and pastries here can be patchy. I’ve had some pretty dire ones in the past—most of them frozen, I suppose. You’d think a reputable store like this would cook them on the premises and serve them fresh, wouldn’t you? A trained monkey could dunk a doughnut.’ She took another bite and looked across at him again. ‘Would you like to try a bit?’ she asked, knowing full well what his answer would be! He was not likely to lower his prestige by sinking his teeth into a sticky bun! Certainly not sitting with someone like her!

  Tilting his mouth slightly at one corner, he said, ‘No…thank you. I wouldn’t dream of depriving you.’ He paused. ‘There’s so little of you, you look as if you really need a square meal rather than a quick fix.’

  Cryssie shot him one of the cold looks she knew she was capable of. What a colossal nerve! She knew she must look pale
and tired—and who wouldn’t with the weeks they’d had recently?—but she didn’t like it pointed out! And certainly not by this complete stranger. Because that was what he was, after all.

  ‘Well, it’ll be some time before I have the pleasure of enjoying my “square meal”,’ she said icily, ‘because I still have to collect the poultry from the butcher before he closes on my way home, then make the stuffing and do the vegetables so that we can enjoy my…Milo…in the morning. See him open up his stocking.’

  ‘Ah—Milo…’ He drank from his mug of black unsweetened coffee. ‘So it was Milo you wanted the toy for?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said briefly. ‘He’ll be five soon.’ Then her earlier frustration threatened to surface again. ‘It seems to me that Latimer’s have got it well and truly wrong this time. They clearly didn’t have the vision to see that demand would exceed the supply they were prepared to buy for their shelves. I mean…this is the biggest store for miles around—not some little corner shop with limited cashflow!’

  ‘If, on the other hand, supply had exceeded demand, or this craze had fallen off suddenly,’ he intervened, ‘they’d have perhaps a hundred cases of Runaway Rascals to sell off at a cut price in the sale…and there goes their profit.’

  ‘Their profit!’ Cryssie nearly exploded. ‘This place must be awash with profit! They can afford to share a bit of it, for heaven’s sake, rather than let small children down at Christmas!’

  The hint of a smile played around his lips as he listened to her outburst, and he stared at her for a moment. She was devoid of any make-up, he noticed, but wasn’t an altogether unattractive woman—though her outfit of a rather shapeless fawn jacket over a brown skirt was hardly the height of fashion. Her long fair hair was drawn fiercely back behind her ears, accentuating a smooth, high forehead, and her green eyes, looking at him squarely, dominated her oval-shaped face. Her only jewellery appeared to be a tiny pair of gold ear studs. An honest description of her would be ‘wholesome’, he decided briefly. His lips curled slightly as he found himself assessing her. Well, that was what he always did when meeting a member of the opposite sex, wasn’t it? Took stock, so to speak. And this one would be placed in the ‘unmemorable’ category, he decided.

  Cryssie finished her coffee, waiting for him to take her up on her last remark, but he said no more. And whether it was the sudden effect of caffeine and sugar in her bloodstream, or because she couldn’t have cared less if she insulted the owner of Latimer’s sitting next to her, she threw discretion to the winds and sailed on blindly.

  ‘There are all sorts of ways they could tighten up in this place,’ she said. ‘Generally, I mean. For example, they often don’t seem to stock the same things twice…it’s so annoying!’ She wasn’t going to enlighten him as to what she was talking about—a particularly pretty bra and pants set she’d bought for Polly, which had never been repeated. ‘And as for getting a member of staff to help you—they’re invisible, or looking the other way! It encourages shoplifting with so few assistants around. I’m sure anyone could help themselves to anything they fancied and march out without paying. No one would notice!’

  Her eyes sparkled with ocean-green intensity in the artificial light of the restaurant, and without giving him a chance to get a word in, she went on. ‘I work for Hydebound—do you know it? We deal exclusively in leather goods, all made by local experts, and—’

  ‘Yes…I do know of them,’ he murmured. ‘They’re right on the outskirts of town…rather out of the way, aren’t they?’

  Cryssie nodded. ‘Our handbags, belts and briefcases are always in demand, and everyone takes responsibility for what they do. As with all smaller concerns, we do have our problems from time to time, but then everyone works all the harder.’

  She sat back defiantly, and was suddenly aware of his eyes softening briefly with mild amusement as he looked across at her.

  ‘Well, you obviously have very firm opinions,’ he said. ‘And by the sound of it Hydebound are very lucky to have you on their staff.’

  Cryssie bit her lip for a second, anxious thoughts suddenly clouding her expression. Hydebound, like all small businesses, could be commercially vulnerable at times. Although they had a great reputation for quality and design, the price of leather and the regular increase in running costs, not to mention competition from much cheaper imports from all the new EC countries, regularly gave cause for concern. A detectable shiver ran through her, and she suddenly wished that she was home now, sitting comfortably in front of the fire.

  ‘I really have to go,’ she said abruptly, standing up, and he stood as well, moving her chair back for her as she picked up her bags. ‘Thanks for the coffee—and the doughnut,’ she added airily.

  ‘I expect you’re looking forward to a good holiday…Do you work full time?’ he asked casually.

  ‘I do,’ Cryssie said, shooting him a glance. He probably didn’t approve of that, she thought…Mothers working full time instead of staying at home, looking after the family. He looked that type. Well, he could think what he liked, and she wasn’t going to enlighten him about her true personal situation—that she wasn’t Milo’s mother. It was none of his business.

  He smiled for the first time. ‘I hope you and the family…and Milo…have a great Christmas,’ he said.

  She turned to go. ‘Thanks,’ she said quickly, as she brushed past him. Well, he might be the man with everything, she thought, trying not to feel cross all over again, but the only thing of his she wanted was one of those wretched dolls!

  That was the last thing she’d have expected to happen to her on Christmas Eve, she thought, as the lift sped down through the floors. Telling the owner of Latimer’s what she thought of his store! To be honest, she had laid it on a bit thick, she acknowledged, because she really did enjoy shopping there, despite all her remarks. But saying all she had had sort of helped ease her annoyance. She glanced down at the bag holding the boots and the ball…She hoped they’d be sufficient compensation—though she doubted it!

  Jeremy Hunter watched her go as she swiftly walked away from him, a strange expression on his handsome face. He’d met many women—too many women—in his life—but no one quite like that! A feisty female, yet a vulnerable woman. As she’d warmed to what she was saying she’d positively glowed, a rosy blush colouring her cheeks, lighting up her face. He shrugged inwardly, then turned to go. He’d stayed around longer than he’d intended, and he still had these blasted toys to deliver!

  Jeremy—or Jed, as he was known to everyone except his parents—steered his silver Porsche effortlessly through the traffic, wishing that he was going back to his flat in London rather than to the family pile in the country. But it was unthinkable that he wouldn’t spend Christmas with his parents, Henry and Alice, who doted on their son. Their only son. Whose one great failing in their eyes was his choice in women!

  ‘When are you going to find yourself a proper woman?’ his father would regularly complain. ‘A woman with something between her ears for a change. Never mind where her other attributes might lie!’ Henry Hunter was an outspoken man.

  Jed admitted to himself that he had been susceptible where the opposite sex was concerned. It was hard not to be when women fell at his feet, offering themselves to him with seldom any shame or reticence—and he’d loved it! He owned up to that. But it was different now. He’d made one really big, bad mistake, and he’d learned from it. Well, at thirty-six years old it was about time he grew up!

  The traffic was thinning now, and he was able to increase his speed towards the parental home and the festive meal that Megan, the housekeeper, would have ready for them. The family would sit down together, the three of them at the huge oval table, and talk. Discuss business, balance sheets, the state of the economy…

  He’d wished many times in his life that he had siblings to share the pressure of being the sole beneficiary of all his parents’ love and affection. Could too much be worse than too little? he asked himself—then felt bad about thinking it. He
realised that he’d had more than his fair share of all the good things in life…a privileged education, and travel to all corners of the world, with never a thought that the money could, or would, ever dry up. And until the last couple of years he hadn’t even been expected to have any hands-on input in the family businesses—the two other Latimer’s stores in the Midlands, and two country house hotels in Wales. Settling down to the dreary business of a structured and demanding lifestyle had been proving difficult for Jed, but he had eventually—and willingly—taken up the reins. His parents were no longer in their prime, and Henry had been having a few health problems.

  As he waited at traffic lights, his thoughts kept returning to that woman—strange little thing, he mused, not at all conscious of herself as female in the usual sense. No lowering her eyes or fluttering her lashes, no fiddling with her hair. The sort of reaction he usually got. Her eyes—quite pretty, actually—had seldom looked away from his when she was speaking. He wondered briefly what sort of a man she slept with—who Milo’s father was, what he was like. He hoped he could stand up for himself! He imagined her now, going home with all that shopping, going home to her husband and child, to catch up on all the household chores…She’d said she worked full time, so it would be all there waiting for her, even on Christmas Eve.

  She was certainly no seductress—he was expert at recognising that brand of female! Though she probably had her own powers of persuasion hidden somewhere, he thought wryly, a brief smile touching his lips as he remembered her sparky comments about the shop. He shifted in his seat, irritated by his own thoughts, irritated that a casual encounter with a completely insignificant woman was exercising his concentration. Then he frowned. He’d remember what she’d said about the shop, though—if anything could improve the running of the place then it was up to him to see that it was done.