Greek Tycoon's Mistletoe Proposal
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Those exhilarating moments when he’d been dancing with her, he’d been convinced she’d felt it too—the feeling that was infiltrating in a matter of a few days the barriers he’d erected years ago around his emotions. But then she’d brought him crashing back to reality with her murmured reminder that they’d better look convincing. He’d known this woman for such a short time but it had gone way beyond a game for him. He should brush her off. Protect himself. But he could not pass up the opportunity to spend more time with her.
‘Friends? Great idea.’ He forced enthusiasm into his voice, and was rewarded with a sighting of her dimples.
‘You mean that?’
She was offering him something real. Not pretend. He doubted she was capable of fake friendship. But how could he be friends with a woman for whom he felt such an intense attraction?
‘What do you suggest that friends might do on a day like this?’ he said gruffly. He knew what he’d like to do, but imagining her naked with him in his bedroom, her back in his bathtub this time with him, went beyond any platonic concept of friendship.
‘Do you need to buy any gifts? It’s the last Saturday before Christmas; the shops—’ Her cheerful, practical voice put paid to any lingering thoughts that she might share any of the same sensual fantasies.
‘My personal assistant in Athens has organised all that.’
‘Even for your family?’
‘Yes,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘She knows my family’s tastes better than I do.’
‘That seems so...impersonal.’
‘But efficient.’
‘Whatever works for you,’ she said. Was there implied criticism there? If so, he didn’t bite.
Christmas with his parents was impersonal and soulless and left him feeling sad. The last few years had been particularly depressing. Once he’d hit thirty there were constant hints from his parents that it was time for him to settle down—they wanted children in the house for Christmas. It seemed as they’d aged they had turned to traditional family life but he couldn’t believe they were sincere. The scars from their neglect ran too deep. Even though his mother had gone into rehab for her drinking, apologised for her neglect, expressed her horror at the incident with her former friend. That was why he’d decided to spend Christmas this year in Chelsea. Being on his own couldn’t be worse than being lonely in the company of other people.
‘It works,’ he said dismissively. He’d already revealed too much to Ashleigh. She was turning his long-established life of avoiding emotional commitment upside down with unwarranted hopes and longings. Not only did she still have a man in Australia but she’d also stated she wanted to stay single.
Could he entice her into a no-strings affair? He immediately dismissed the idea. Not just because she was not the type for casual and carnal but neither was he. Not with this woman. The realisation shook him to his very core. It terrified him.
Ashleigh went on, determinedly cheerful. He was so shaken he barely heard her. ‘What about Christmas decorations? Do you have any packed away here? Maybe in the attic?’
‘No. I’ve never spent Christmas in this house. I always spend it in Athens.’
‘It’s a shame not to have at least a tree in this fabulous house. There’s a Christmas market in the King’s Road today. I’m sure they would have decorations and—’
‘Too crowded. The shops will be packed. If you want decorations buy them at Harrods during the week and have them delivered. You still have the credit card I gave you, I assume?’
She snatched her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot to give it back. But I assure you I haven’t used it since—’
‘I meant you to keep it. Until after...after—’ Whatever he said would sound offensive.
‘Until I’m no longer useful to you.’ Her eyes dimmed and her mouth turned down.
‘I didn’t mean—’ He hated the look of hurt on her face but struggled to find the words to suggest there could be a different direction for them.
She put up her hand to halt him. ‘Of course you did and it doesn’t matter. I know the score. I never assumed—’
She was right. She didn’t assume, she didn’t take advantage. And she wanted to be friends. For the few days she would spend in this house before she went back to her own world, so very different to his. How could he have imagined, even for a fleeting moment, that it could be any different?
‘You made an excellent impression on Tina. Anything you spent on the credit card was worth it. If you want to buy Christmas decorations just do it.’
‘Thank you, I will. The house doesn’t feel festive without at least a wreath at the front door.’
‘Or a pomegranate hung there.’
‘A pomegranate? Is that a Greek custom?’
‘For good luck,’ he said.
Ashleigh smiled. ‘We might have to settle for an English wreath,’ she said.
We. They were not a couple. They would never be a couple. So why did it send such a warm feeling through him when she referred to them as we? Ashleigh Murphy was turning everything he’d been so sure of completely upside down.
He closed the lid of his laptop. There were no problems there that couldn’t be solved at a later time. ‘Perhaps you’re right. I should go out with my friend. Where do you want to go? Apart from shopping, that is?’
‘Seriously?’
He nodded.
‘I want to go ice-skating at the Natural History Museum.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ICE-SKATING WASN’T AS easy as she had imagined, Ashleigh thought, as she slid and slipped on the ice while other skaters whizzed by her to the sound of recorded Christmas carols. She had visited the Natural History Museum in South Kensington for the first time as a teenager when she’d been living in Manchester and been enthralled by its displays of dinosaurs and whales. When she’d heard there was an outdoor ice rink set up in the grounds of the museum during winter she’d put it on her wish list for when she was in London.
It didn’t disappoint. While she and Lukas waited for their session to start she’d been mesmerised by the beauty of the imposing Victorian buildings of the museum reflected in the ice, surrounded by winter-bare trees and a towering Christmas tree. However, her skills on ice were a definite disappointment.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this was your first time skating?’ said Lukas. But he seemed more amused than angry as he steadied her with his arm around her.
‘I’m a dancer, I’ve skied—I thought it would be easy.’
‘It is, once you get the hang of it.’
‘Then what am I doing wrong?’ she yelped, as her right foot went the opposite way she wanted it to. ‘I’m just not getting it.’
‘Bend your knees, use the edges of your blades, lean forward and don’t look down—I said don’t look... Ashleigh, don’t look—’ Oomph. His words were lost in a gasp of expelled air as she came down on the ice, pulling him down with her. ‘Protect your fingers from other peoples’ blades—make a fist,’ he said urgently.
Ashleigh had come down hard and was too winded to reply. ‘Sorry,’ she finally gasped.
‘Let’s get you off the ice,’ he said, hooking his arms under hers and hauling them both back upright. That was where her balance and strength did help her get back on her feet. ‘Come on, we’ll take to the side, where you’re out of the way.’
‘So sorry,’ she said. He was so accomplished, so confident and she felt foolish he was having to help her. But she loved his protectiveness, his strength, the sure way he held her. Lap it up, Ashleigh, enjoy being friends.
‘Stop apologising,’ he said. ‘You’re a learner. You fell. No big deal. You’re wearing hired skates too, which are not ideal.’ He, of course, had his own skates.
She leaned in relief against the low wall that enclosed the rink. ‘Thank
you.’
‘Ready to go again?’ he said.
‘Sure.’ She put weight on her right foot and winced.
‘Something hurting?’ She was surprised at the concern in his voice.
‘My knee. This wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. Not after all the dancing last night. I should have put ice on my knee, not put my knee on the ice.’
He put his arm around her shoulder and she leaned back against its strength and comfort. That made it almost worth crash-landing on the ice.
‘It’s a shame,’ he said. ‘You were doing well.’
‘No need to be kind,’ she said with a wobbly smile. ‘I was a disaster.’
‘You weren’t bad for a beginner. If it wasn’t for your knee, I’d insist you got right back on the ice. But, as it is, you need to rest that knee,’ he said.
‘I need to sit down; you don’t,’ she said. ‘You’re a marvellous skater and you must be itching to do more than you did shepherding me around the rink. Go back and skate.’
He didn’t argue and once he had settled her in an observation seat he glided back onto the ice.
There were a lot of people on the rink—some demonstrating incredible skill. But Ashleigh only had eyes for Lukas. In black jeans and a black roll-neck sweater that showed off his athletic physique, he skated fast and skilfully around the perimeter of the rink. As he zoomed past her he raised his hand in a wave and grinned. She waved back, stopped herself from blowing him a kiss. A friend wouldn’t do that. Somehow he looked younger, more relaxed, happier even. More a regular thirty-four-year-old guy enjoying a physical challenge. The kind of guy she really would like as a friend.
Who was she kidding? She wanted him—more than she had ever wanted a man. In reality, she couldn’t be just friends with Lukas. She fancied him too much for there ever to be the comfortable, easy friendship she had with men for whom she felt no attraction. She hadn’t lost that urge to push him up against a wall and kiss him—she’d just got better at denying it.
She thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her coat—the lavender one. Thank heaven she hadn’t torn or stained it in her fall. Lukas had forbidden her to leave the house in the anorak, which she’d thought was more suitable for ice-skating. Eyes riveted to the rink, she watched him glide and spin and gasped her admiration when he jumped and landed perfectly on the ice.
He was magnificent. She wanted all that energy, all that vigour and passion directed to her. Her body ached for him so much a shiver of pure desire rippled through her. But her heart clamoured for airtime too. This wasn’t just about physical attraction—an awareness that had been there from the moment she’d first met him shouting at her to get out of his bathtub. This was so much more.
She was falling in love with him. Against all reason, against all common sense she was falling for him. A lone wolf who had told her he was married to his work. A man who was prepared to manipulate and lie—and coerce her to lie—to get what he wanted. Who was so good at dissembling she didn’t know what was real or play-acting.
Ashleigh drew in a breath of the chilly air in an effort to calm the tumult of her emotions. She had to fight this with all her being or she could end up as wounded as she had with Travis, her university heartbreaker, all those years ago. Then she’d been too naive to recognise Travis for what he was. Now Lukas had made it very clear he wasn’t the kind for a happy-ever-after. And she wasn’t the kind for a meaningless fling. Heck, Lukas hadn’t given any indication he was interested enough even for a fling. He had stuck to the letter of their agreement. That passion she’d sensed on the dance floor, coiled ready to be unleashed, had obviously been a figment of her imagination. He was every bit as good an actor as Travis had been.
Lukas skated around the rink more slowly then glided to a halt with an impressive spray of ice. By the time he’d taken off his skates and joined her where she was sitting, she was shivering. He noticed straight away and went to take off his down jacket to put over her shoulders.
‘I’m not that cold,’ she protested. ‘Please keep your coat. Really.’
‘Delayed shock from your fall,’ he said. ‘A hot drink might help.’
She needed a lot more than a hot drink to cure what was ailing her—a kiss would work as a starter—but that was all he had to offer. She would grab what she could in the time she had left with him. Just friends, she reminded herself.
* * *
Lukas sat opposite Ashleigh in the café that overlooked the rink. He watched the colour return to her cheeks as she sipped on rich, sweet hot chocolate then nibbled on a churro dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar. It left a smear of sugar on her lower lip. He wanted to reach over and wipe it away with his finger. Better, to press his mouth against hers and lick it, to test which tasted sweeter—the sugar or her delicious mouth.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Although my pride might take a while to recover from its battering.’
She took another sip of her chocolate. To his intense disappointment it washed away the smear of sugar.
‘May I suggest you get some tuition from a professional next time you hit the ice?’ he said. ‘A lesson or two to get you started and, with your dancing skills, you’ll soon be spinning with the best of them.’
‘Thank you for that vote of confidence,’ she said. She didn’t like to fail, he realised. ‘You were awesome on the ice.’
‘I learned as a kid. I guess you didn’t get much opportunity to ice-skate in your home town.’ Curious about her background, he’d looked up Bundaberg on the Internet.
‘You’re right there,’ she said. ‘There are indoor ice rinks in Brisbane, where I went to university, but I wasn’t really interested. It’s here that’s the attraction. London. Even though I was a dud on skates, the experience of being here counts for everything.’
‘Yet surely you must miss being home for Christmas. From what you say, you’re very close to your family.’
That closeness and sense of belonging was something he found himself envying. Christmas seemed to magnify the sterility of his own family life. Not that he should care. That little rich boy who had to fly to a council house in Birmingham to experience a loving family Christmas had long grown up into a man who had given up hope that the festive season would ever mean anything to him again.
‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘This will be the first Christmas I’ve spent apart from my family. It will feel weird not to be with them.’
‘Why not fly home for a few days and come back to London?’
She rubbed her thumb against her first two fingers together to signify lack of cash. He could pay for her fare if she really wanted to go. ‘But it isn’t just the money. It’s...complicated.’
‘How do you mean?’
She paused and he could tell by the expressions that flickered across her face she was debating whether or not to tell him. ‘Because my family are insisting on inviting my ex for Christmas and I don’t want to be there if he’s there.’
He frowned. ‘Your family would choose your former fiancé over you?’
‘So it seems,’ she said, her lush mouth trembling with hurt and betrayal.
‘Why would they do such a thing?’
‘In some misguided attempt at getting us to reconcile, I suspect,’ she said, compressing her lips to a tight line.
‘They must believe that there’s a case for that.’
Her pale redhead’s skin flushed. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re another one who doesn’t believe a twenty-seven-year-old woman who decided she didn’t want to marry a guy would have cancelled a wedding and burdened herself with debt if she didn’t really mean it.’
‘So tell me why your family thinks this way. It puzzles me.’ He remembered how convincing Céline had been that everything had been over with her boyfriend back home.
‘And you fell for him.’
‘He was hot. I was flattered he still only had eyes for me. We dated. But we were kids. I didn’t want just the one boyfriend.’
‘High school is much too young to be serious,’ he said. Yet some of his friends had married their teenage sweethearts and were happy. In fact, they felt sorry for him, single at thirty-four. He was only alone because he wanted to be, he reminded himself. Or because he had never met a woman who made him think otherwise. Until now. Until this woman, who was still entangled with another man.
‘I broke it off with him when I went to university,’ she said, continuing her story. ‘I wanted to explore new interests, new friendships.’
‘How did he take it?’ It was difficult for him to hear this, to think of her with that other man. He forced himself to act the disinterested friend.
She shrugged. ‘Okay, I thought. But it didn’t seem to change things with him. “I’m always here for you,” he’d say.’
‘To cut a long story short, I had my heart badly broken at uni, then made a few rotten choices that also ended badly. But when I went home to Bundaberg on vacation, there was always Dan waiting there with a shoulder to cry on and to bolster my ego. I began to think I couldn’t do better than Dan. He wouldn’t hurt me. We started dating again. Our families were delighted. I...I chose the safe harbour rather than the wild, tumultuous waves that had thrown me so painfully on the rocks when they’d finished with me.’