Proposal At The Winter Ball (Harlequin Romance)

by Jessica Gilmore

  Alex set down his pint. ‘This isn’t a holiday, Flora.’

  ‘I know.’ She leaned forward and grabbed his hand. ‘I was teasing you. I’d go to the Antarctic for a chance like this. What do I need to do?’

  His fingers curled around hers, warm and strong, and Flora’s heart gave the all too familiar and all too painful thump at his touch. ‘Be ready tomorrow morning, early. Pack for snow and some glamorous events, you know the kind of thing.’

  No, she didn’t. Not recently but there was no way she was going to tell him that. ‘Warm yet dressy. Got it.’ A thought struck her as the group by the bar began to roar the chorus of yet another overplayed Christmas classic. ‘When are we due back? Mum and Dad are expecting both of us home on Christmas Eve. They’d be gutted if you don’t turn up. Horatio is on duty at the hospital so it’ll just be Minerva, her perfect spouse and her perfect twins.’

  She could hear the bitter note in her voice, feel it coat her tongue and took another sip to wash it down. What she meant was she couldn’t cope with Minerva and her Stepford family without Alex.

  ‘No Horry?’ Alex raised his eyebrow. ‘That’s a shame. I do like watching your mum trying to fix him up with the local eligibles. He’s so beautifully oblivious.’

  ‘I think it’s a defence mechanism.’ Flora eyed Alex speculatively. ‘Anyway, you should be glad he never takes the bait. If Mum wasn’t worrying about her permanent bachelor son she might turn her matchmaking skills onto you.’

  ‘You’re her youngest child,’ he countered sweetly. ‘I wouldn’t worry about me, Flora. It’ll be you she’ll be launching forth next.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ But she wasn’t as sure as she sounded. Now thirty was just a year away there had been ominous rumbles about settling down along with the usual thinly veiled hints about getting a proper job, buying her own house and why couldn’t she be more like her elder siblings? ‘You’re one of the family. Better. The Golden Boy. You know they think you can do no wrong.’

  Alex had spent every single Christmas with the Buckinghams after the year his father and new stepmother had chosen to spend the festive season in St Bart’s leaving eleven-year-old Alex at home in the housekeeper’s charge. The next Christmas Flora and her family had taken it for granted he would join them, a stocking with his name on the chimney breast, a place set at the table.

  Five years later he had packed his bags and left his father’s house for good, taking up permanent residence in the attic bedroom next to Flora’s own. He’d never told her just what had led up to his bitter estrangement from his father and Flora had never pried.

  Turned out there were places even best friends didn’t dare go.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be back for Christmas. There’s no way I’m missing out on your father’s Christmas dinner. He’s promising goose this year. I watched him prepare it on a video on the Internet. Nothing is keeping me away.’

  ‘That’s all right, then.’ She took a deep breath of relief. One day surely even Alex would manage more than six months with one of his identikit, well-bred girlfriends and would have to spend the holiday season with her family, not the Buckinghams. Each year they managed to hold onto him was a bonus.

  She stared at her empty glass regretfully. ‘If I need to pack, find my passport and be ready before the crack of dawn I’d better get going. What time shall I meet you?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Alex pushed his chair back and stood up, extending a hand to Flora to help her out of her seat. ‘I’m not risking your timekeeping, Flora Buckingham. I’ll send a car for you. Five a.m. sharp. Be ready.’

  * * *

  Alex looked down at his tablet and sighed. So much for briefing Flora on the flight—although to be fair he should have known better. It was a gift he envied in her. No matter where they were, what the time was, she would fall asleep at the first sign of motion. She’d slumbered as the taxi took them through the dark, wintry pre-dawn streets of London to the airport, waking long enough to consume an enthusiastic breakfast once they had passed through passport control, only to fall back asleep the second the plane began to taxi down the runway.

  And now she was snoozing once again. She would definitely give Sleeping Beauty a run for her money. He elbowed her. ‘Flora, wake up. I want you to take a look at this.’

  ‘Mmm?’ She stretched. ‘I wasn’t asleep, just dozing. Oh! Look at that.’ She gazed, awestruck, out of the car windows at the snow-covered mountains, surrounding them in every direction. ‘It’s just like a Christmas card.’

  ‘What do you think—is it as pretty as you imagined?’

  She turned to him, mouth open in indignation, and he stifled a smile. She was far too easy to wind up. ‘Pretty? It’s so much more than mere prettiness. And look, there are actual chalets. Everywhere!’

  ‘Well observed, Sherlock.’

  She didn’t react to his sardonic tone. ‘I didn’t realise Austrian people actually lived in them. I thought it was like thatched cottages. You know, people assume England is all half-timber and cottage gardens but in reality you’re far more likely to live in some identikit house on a suburban estate. Oh, I wish I lived in a chalet. They are utterly beautiful.’

  ‘I hope you feel the same way about the hotel.’ It was the moment of truth. She had a keen eye, could always see straight through to the heart of his ideas. Would she appreciate the stark simplicity of the hotel, or think it too modern, anachronistic in this natural paradise?

  ‘I always love your designs but this one sounds even more exciting than usual; I have to admit I am really looking forward to seeing it in all its finished glory.’

  The car had been steadily taking them along the busy roads that led towards the Tyrolean capital, Innsbruck, but now it veered away to follow a smaller road that wound ahead, climbing into the footholds of the Alps. The snow lay inches upon inches deep on the sides of the roads.

  ‘Just look at it, look at the light.’ Flora’s fingers flexed. ‘Oh, why didn’t I pack my sketchbook? Not that I could really capture it, not the way the sun plays on the snow. Not that light—it’s like a kaleidoscope.’

  A knot unravelled in the pit of Alex’s stomach. She saw what he saw. The interchange between light and the snow. She would get the hotel.

  ‘I have never seen so much snow in my life, not if I took every winter and added them together.’ Yep, she was fully awake now, her dark eyes huge as she stared out at the mountains. ‘How come England grinds to a halt at just the hint of snow and yet everything here is running normally despite tonnes of the stuff?’

  ‘Because this stuff is what keeps the local economy ticking over. You can’t market yourself as a winter wonderland without the cold white stuff.’

  ‘It’s like Narnia.’ Flora leaned back and stared with enraptured eyes as the car took them higher and higher. On one side the mountains soared high above them, on the other the town was spread out like a child’s toy village, the river cutting through the middle like an icily silver scarf. ‘How much further? I thought the hotel was in Innsbruck itself.’

  ‘No, it’s above the town, close to the ski lifts. The guests are transported in and out at will so they get the best of both worlds. That’s the idea anyway, nothing too much effort for them.’

  ‘They are paying enough for it,’ Flora pointed out. ‘I cannot believe I get to stay somewhere this luxurious. Even the staff quarters are probably one up on a tent in the rain.’

  ‘You’re not in the staff quarters. Could you really see Lola in anywhere but a suite? You’re doing her job, you get her room. Tomorrow is the soft opening so nobody who stays at the hotel this week is an actual paying guest. We’ll be helping to wow travel journalists, bloggers and some influential winter sports enthusiasts.’

  He paused, searching for the right words. He knew how awkward she felt in crowds and amongst strangers. ‘Flora, it’s crucial
that they all leave at the end of the week completely bowled over. And it’s equally crucial that I leave with fully approved designs. You can manage, can’t you? I can’t emphasise enough what a big deal this week is. For me, for my firm as well as for Lusso Hotels.’

  ‘Really? How good of you to warn me. I might have put my foot in it otherwise.’

  Warning bells tolled through Alex’s mind. She sounded frostier than the branches on the trees outside. It was the same tone she’d used the day he’d told her that one day she would grow out of boy bands, the tone she’d used the day he had told her that her first boyfriend wasn’t good enough. The same tone she’d used the never to be forgotten day she’d chopped her hair into a pixie cut and he had agreed that, yes, she did look more like a marine than like Audrey Hepburn.

  ‘I only meant...’

  ‘I know what you mean: be professional, don’t mess this up. Well, I won’t. I need this too, Alex. I might not have founded a “Top Ten Up and Coming Business” while in my twenties, I might not be the bright young thing in my profession. Not yet. I have a lot to prove and this is my big chance. So don’t worry about me. I’ve got this covered.’

  Alex opened his mouth to point out that she hid in the kitchen at every single party she attended and would rather face a den full of lions than make small talk but he shut it again. He needed to warn her just how much networking lay ahead of her but not now. He’d wait until she was a little mellower.

  Luckily the car turned down a single-track road, cut into the side of the mountain, a dramatic drop on one side showcasing the valley spread out below. ‘We’re here,’ he said instead with some relief. The car slid to a stop and Alex unbuckled his seat belt. ‘This is Der Steinadler—The Golden Eagle. What do you think?’

  She had been looking at him intently, forcing her point home, but at his words she turned and looked out of the window. Her mouth fell open. ‘Holy cow. You did this? This is it?’

  ‘Yep, what do you think?’

  ‘I...’ She didn’t answer, clambering out of the car instead, muttering as her trainer-clad foot sank into the snow and pulling her quilted jacket more closely around her as the sharp chill of the wintry mountain air hit. She turned to him as he joined her. ‘All that time spent playing with building blocks as a kid wasn’t wasted, huh?’

  The hotel was built on the narrow Alpine shelf and looked as if it were suspended above Innsbruck spread out in the valley below, the mountains opposite a living, breathing picture framed through the dramatic windows. Alex had eschewed the traditional chalet design; instead he had used the locally sourced golden wood as a frame for great sheets of glass. The hotel should have looked out of place, too industrial for the tranquil setting, and yet somehow it blended in, the trees and mountains reflecting back from the many panes of glass.

  Every time he saw it, it was like being punched in the chest. He couldn’t believe he had made his ambitious vision a reality. ‘You like?’

  Her cheeks were glowing and her large, full mouth curved into a smile. ‘I love it. Alex, it’s wonderful.’

  Relief flooded through him. He wasn’t sure why her opinion mattered so much. It wasn’t just that she was his oldest friend. No, he trusted her taste. If she didn’t get it then he wouldn’t have communicated his vision properly. ‘Come on, then. Let’s go inside. I think you might combust when you see the swimming pool.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘SHOW ME AROUND, ALEX! It’s not every day a girl gets the architect providing the grand tour.’

  ‘Don’t you want to see your room and freshen up first?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’m quite fresh, thank you, and you can conclude the tour at my room.’ Flora watched the bellboy pile her bags and coat onto his trolley and sighed happily. ‘This is a lot better than lugging a tent over three fields—and then having to go back for the beds. Besides, you want me to get an idea of what the client wants? The best way is for me to take a detailed look around.’

  Her first impression was of luxurious comfort rather than cold, chic elegance. The whole interior of the hotel was the same mix of glass and wood as the outside but softened with warm colours and plenty of plants, abstract prints and comfy-looking cushions and sofas to mellow the potentially stark effect.

  Alex shrugged off his designer ski jacket, a coat that had probably cost more than Flora’s entire suitcase of clothes, and gestured. ‘Where do you want to start?’

  ‘Bottom and work our way up?’

  ‘Okay, then, get ready to combust. We’re heading down to the pool.’

  If Flora didn’t actually burst into excitable flames when she saw the swimming pool it was a close-run thing. Housed a floor below the hotel entrance in a space carved out of the alpine shelf, the high-ceilinged pool was enclosed by a dramatic wall of glass. Swimming up to the edge of the pool must feel like swimming to the very edge of the mountain itself, she thought, staring out at the white peaks, as if you might plunge over the side, dive down to the valley below.

  The lights were low and intimately flattering, padded sofas were dotted around in discreet corners, and whirlpools, saunas and steam rooms were hidden away behind glazed sliding doors. Tables held jugs of iced water and inviting platters of fruit; thick fluffy towels were piled up on wooden shelves.

  ‘Oh.’ She pivoted, taking in every single detail. ‘I just want to grab a magazine from that beautifully overstuffed bookshelf, pull on a robe and move into this room for ever. May I? Please?’

  But Alex ignored her. ‘Come on, next stop the lounge and then I’ll take you to your room.’

  By the time they reached her room Flora had scribbled down plenty of notes and photographed enough details to give her a good place to start. Obviously the designs she came up with for the Bali hotel would need to be unique, to marry with Alex’s vision and the setting, but it was good for her to have an idea of the owner’s tastes. She could see why Lola had used the palate she had; it was warming, sumptuous and complemented the natural materials prevalent throughout the building. The soft furnishings and décor were all shades of soft cream, gold, bronze and orange, whether it was the bronze and orange stripes on the cushions or the subtle champagne of the robes and the towels, the same colour in the crisp blouses and shirts worn by the staff.

  It was clear that whatever look she designed for the Bali hotel would have to flow through every single detail, no matter how tiny.

  ‘Okay.’ Alex stopped at a cream door and gestured. ‘This is you.’

  Flora held her breath as she slid her keycard into the slot and turned the handle. Yes, she was here to work but there was no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy it and after a few long years of penny-pinching and worrying it was rather splendid to be in such indulgent surroundings.

  She stepped in and stopped, awestruck. ‘Wow. Oh, Alex.’

  At one end was the ubiquitous wall of glass and the ubiquitous stunning winter-wonderland view—not that it was getting old. Flora thought she could live here for ever and it would still be as breathtaking as the very first heart-stopping glimpse. The ceiling was high, arched and beamed, the walls a pale gold. The bed, a floating platform, was made up in white linen accented with a bronze silk throw and matching cushions.

  Her suitcase had been placed on a low chest at the foot of the huge bed, the cheap, battered case more than a little incongruous in the spacious, luxurious suite. A reminder that this luxury was borrowed, that she had to earn her place here. Now she was here the jeans, jumpers and one good dress she had packed didn’t seem enough. Not for the weather or for the hotel itself.

  ‘You like it?’ Alex stepped into the room, a smile playing on his lips as he watched her dart around, peering into every door.

  ‘Like it? Do you realise that this walk-in wardrobe is bigger than my bedroom? In fact this suite is bigger than the house I live in—and I’m including the garde
n!’

  She stopped by the glass screen that separated her bed from the small seating area and stared at the other screen, which stood between her bed and the bath, a huge tub affair perched on a dais right in the centre of the room.

  ‘Thank goodness the toilet’s in its proper place and not on show, otherwise this would feel more like an oddly luxurious prison cell than a hotel room!’

  ‘It’s looking good.’ Alex took a few steps further in and turned slowly. ‘I haven’t seen most of the suites since they were decorated and the fixtures installed.’ He stopped by the bath and ran one finger along the bronze trim. ‘At least you’ll be clean while you’re staying here. It can be so difficult to drag oneself away from the bed to the bathroom, don’t you find?’

  Flora tested out the sofa, wincing as the rigidity of the cushions rejected her attempt to relax. It looked good but she wasn’t sure she would want to actually sit on it for any length of time. ‘Was the bath in the centre of the room your idea, Mr Fitzgerald? Have you been watching Splash again because I don’t think there are many mermaids in the Austrian Alps.’

  He grinned. ‘Nope, not guilty, the fixtures are all Lola’s vision. Apparently this particular suite is the epitome of romantic.’

  ‘That’s where I’ve been going wrong, all that old-fashioned bathing in private nonsense. Although it could be just a leetle awkward if I was sharing a room with a friend, not a romantic interest. Is this...erm...motif in all the rooms?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he assured her. ‘In most of them the baths are tucked away respectably in the room for which they were intended. Okay. If you are ready, they are laying out Kaffee und Kuchen for us. I thought we could go and look through my design ideas in the lounge while we have a snack.’

  ‘Kaffee and Kuchen? Coffee and cake?’ Flora jumped to her feet. ‘Never did words so gladden a girl’s heart. I’m ready. Lead on, Macduff. Take me to cake.’