‘Thank you; how clumsy of me,’ Mimi whispered.
‘You are most welcome,’ he replied in a low voice that she had never heard him use before. ‘I am very sorry for your loss—and for putting my big foot in it. You must miss her a great deal.’
Mimi tried to smile bravely, but gave up. She hated false sentiment.
‘Yes, I do,’ she replied, standing straight and picking up one of the bags.
‘I only wish that she had lived long enough to see my first collection. We worked on the designs together, you know. Just talking them through and drawing sketches late into the evening, or out on the patio in the summer,’ she babbled, only too aware that she was in great danger of allowing her grief to come out in front of Hal—and she would not do that. Her grief was so very private, and she had learned to guard her feelings and keep them tightly bound to her, away from the world, afraid to show any sign of weakness or lack of resolve. ‘Mimi.’
‘Certainly enough to keep me busy. Especially in the long winter evenings.’
‘Mimi.’ His right hand was on her forearm now, holding her. Supporting her. Giving her strength.
‘It’s okay. You’re okay,’ he said in a warm, calm voice which was like a soothing balm. ‘I love the fact that you want to celebrate her birthday and keep that connection real. Perhaps I should have done that for Poppy when our parents died.’
He looked up. ‘They were killed during an earthquake in Turkey. She was only ten when it happened, and I was not exactly the sentimental type. It might have helped her. So good on you for making the effort. I’m sure your mother must have been a remarkable woman.’
Mimi swallowed down her quivering emotion and braved a half-smile, embarrassed at making such a display of herself in front of a relative stranger.
‘She was. And now it is my turn to be sorry. Your parents would have been proud of what you and Poppy have achieved.’
‘Me? Not so sure about that. I’m just a vagrant compared to the powerhouse you have built up here. Let me see—business owner, designer, teacher and apparently you can knit things. Four jobs; that takes some doing.’
Mimi smiled back, pleased that he was shifting the subject, and grateful to him for recognising that she would rather not talk about such painful things. ‘Thank you for that, but I would hardly call you a vagrant. In fact, I suspect you could clean up quite nicely.’
His hand was still resting lightly on her arm, but as she looked up into his face and pressed the palms of both hands onto the front of his T-shirt she sensed his fingers sliding slowly down onto her waist in silence.
Instantly she froze, fearful at the totally unexpected but oh-so-welcome physical contact, then pulled slowly away inch by inch, breaking the connection.
She did not do intimate. Never. She’d no plans to start now, even if her body sometimes yearned for the physical comfort of another human being.
Her mother had been a warm, extrovert Italian who’d adored holding and hugging her tight with delicious cuddles while her father had looked on—calm, quiet, reserved, just as loving, but without the need to be constantly reaching out for the touch of another person.
It was at times like this that she regretted being more like her dad, but she had learned over these last hard years that her poor heart needed to be kept safe and guarded behind locked doors if she had any chance of surviving. And not even Hal Langdon had the key to open it, even if he was knocking rather loudly.
The air between them seemed concentrated and heavy, and it was Mimi who dared to speak first, desperate to shift the conversation away from her.
‘Why are you being so hard on yourself, Hal? You must have done and seen some remarkable things in your work. I envy you that freedom to go and do what you please on your own. Although, I should imagine that it must be a lonely life sometimes.’
Mimi was so close that she could not block out the look in his startled eyes. His mouth looked so soft and wide; lush. He already had the slightest hint of stubble, so what must the rest of his body be like?
No; she couldn’t think about what was below the chest hairs already curling out from the V of his white shirt.
In a fraction of a second, when their eyes met, Mimi felt something connect in her gut, as though a tough wire had been hooked into each of them, drawing them closer and closer together. And all of the time her eyes were fixed onto his face, watching as Hal took a deep breath and as words formed in that amazing mouth.
‘Yes, it can be very lonely at times.’
The cable tightened and Mimi moved a little closer, anxious not to break the mental connection, but still holding back with all of her might from actually touching him.
‘At times?’ she whispered with a questioning lilt.
‘I have been to some of the most beautiful places on earth. It makes it extra special when you have someone with you to share those moments. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Yes. I know exactly what you mean,’ Mimi replied in a voice so soft that it could have been a whisper. Hal leant back against her desk, slipped his left hand out from his crutch and stretched his fingers up into her hair, drawing her even closer towards him so that his warm soft lips gently glided over her forehead.
Before she could change her mind, Mimi Fiorini Ryan closed her eyes and luxuriated in the precious, fleeting contact with Hal. Her skin warmed to the heat of his mouth on her temples, and her nostrils filled with a heady smell of coffee and musky aftershave.
She let the pressure of his breath on her face, and the scent and sensation of his body, warm every cell before she finally pulled her head away.
Hal looked down at her with those caramel eyes, his chest responding to his faster breathing, and whispered, ‘Sharing,’ before moving his hand higher onto her waist. His arm formed a tight circle, locking her close to his body as his fingers moved up in gentle circles, caressing the small of her back.
The combined sensations were so overpowering that when the telephone rang on her office desk Mimi thought that it might just be the sound of the blood pounding with the ringing in her ears. It was only when the answer machine kicked in that some part of her brain which was not totally intoxicated by the power of the man who was holding her so gently in his strong arms wondered if perhaps she should answer it.
She decided that, no, whatever and whoever it was in the outside world could wait.
‘Hi, Miss Ryan. Paul here. Just following up on the student graduate show. Sorry to bother you, but my editor has asked me to extend my report into a feature article. Is there any chance that I could have an exclusive interview in the next hour or so back at the gallery? I’ll be here until two. Looking forward to hearing from you soon. Bye for now.’
Hal’s hands froze for just a second as he looked over her shoulder towards the answer machine, then dropped away from her body faster than she thought possible, leaving her reeling, bereft and desperate to reconnect.
But Hal was already reaching for his crutch. ‘The hotel,’ he said with a short cough. ‘Really need to see the hotel. Check out the stage and things. Um, right; best to go now. Back soon. See you later.’ And before Mimi could catch her breath to reply he had slung his camera bag over one shoulder, forced his left arm into his crutch and was out of the room.
She waved a faint farewell to his retreating back just as it slipped through into the knitting shop. ‘See you later. And, wow.’
Four hours later Hal’s leg was aching so much that no amount of massage was going to help. He hobbled through the knitting shop, nodding to the customers as he did so, until he was able to close the door behind him and enter the quiet and controlled world of Mimi’s studio.
After so many hours on his feet at the conference hotel Poppy had booked for the fashion show, he needed a hot shower, a good meal and sleep—lots of sleep.
And most of all he needed to calm down and relax somewhere quiet.
Poppy had been right when she’d said there was still a lot to do before the show. The hotel was quite
capable of organising a runway; that was no problem. What Poppy could not have predicted was that the hotel would start their major renovation-work a few weeks earlier than planned and somehow forget to inform Poppy of that fact.
The result was that most of Hal’s visit to the events manager had been interrupted by electrical and air-conditioning faults, and they had lost power to that part of the building twice.
The only good news was that, as part-recompense and after much negotiation, the organiser had agreed to allow Hal to use the elegant reception rooms for most of Sunday afternoon for his photo shoot for Mimi’s final two evening dresses.
It had been an exhausting couple of hours and his body was already telling him that perhaps he should be taking it easier after months of convalescence. He had almost fallen into the taxi cab bringing him back here to the calm and tranquil space he needed.
And to Mimi Ryan.
He hadn’t planned to hold Mimi so tenderly earlier, or to touch her, or to feel her skin and inhale the sweet perfume she wore which infused her clothes and hair.
But when he’d touched her face, sensed the intensity of her grief for her mother…?
Of course he could have resisted. Only she had felt so right at the time.
What was it about Mimi that made his heart sing when they had only just met?
Fool!
Well, that had to stop. He had to pull back and stay objective. He had nothing to offer this woman, and he knew to his cost just how destructive and overwhelming the power of love could be. He had seen it with Tom and he did not want any part of it.
He only hoped that this girl with the tender heart of gold would understand that the problem lay with him and not her.
There was a shuffling noise from the patio, and as Hal looked up at the winding staircase that led up to Mimi’s apartment he was struck by the most severe test to his resolve yet.
Hal stumbled out onto the patio in the growing shadows of the late-afternoon sunlight and stared in astonishment at the lovely meal laid out on the patio table, with a dash of awe added to the mix.
Mimi had changed out of her coral knitted top into a very long and very loud blue-and-green-patterned light blouse with sparkly bits in it. Her hair was loose and unkempt, and the only colour in her face was a slight moustache of what looked like chocolate on her upper lip.
This was probably why he just stood there in silence, grinning at her instead of saying something sensible and intelligent.
‘What?’ Mimi asked, looking behind her. ‘What’s so funny?’
Hal gestured to his own upper lip with one finger, and instantly Mimi did the same with a loud groan.
‘Oh, no! The icing didn’t set on Mum’s birthday cake. Please, come and sit down while I make myself respectable.’
‘Don’t rush on my account,’ he replied with a smirk as she jogged away from him.
Hal settled onto the patio chair, stretched his leg out and admired the patio in the fading sunlight. The small round table had been set with a white embroidered cloth. Terracotta plant-pots were brimming over with brightly coloured flower arrangements and trailing ivy, against the golden sandstone of the patio flagstones. Everywhere he looked there was colour and texture.
It was a quiet and lovely spot. Calm. Tranquil. He could almost feel the tension ebbing away from him as his shoulders dropped lower and his breathing calmed.
Mimi walked back towards him, wiping her mouth on a tissue.
‘One of these days,’ Mimi said, ‘I might invest in air-conditioning but until then I shall have to learn to live with molten-chocolate icing.’
Hal held his gaze as Mimi bustled between the small studio kitchen and the table. She had been pretty in the studio but here, with the faint sunlight coming onto one side of her smooth face, on the gold chestnut of her hair, with the palest of green reflections in her eyes, she was absolutely stunning. His camera was on his bed but to move now would mean destroying the moment.
Suddenly Hal was very glad that he had come to London and this knitting shop—to be able to be here, at this precious second of time, no matter what happened to their relationship going forward.
Okay, he would have to work like crazy to make good his promise to his sister, but right now at this moment he was off-duty.
Mimi laughed and looked into Hal’s face with a sly grin. ‘Can I make a suggestion? Why don’t we take ten minutes and enjoy our dinner? Then we can talk about the show and what we do next. I think we both deserve a break after the day we have had. Do we have a deal?’
Hal looked into those eyes and decided that anything that would keep him sitting at this table for a moment longer than before would be an excellent deal.
‘I am powerless to resist any beautiful lady—especially if she is offering me food. I would be honoured.’ Then he relaxed and rubbed his hands together. ‘Yes, of course. And I’m starving. What have you got?’
‘Rocket, sliced tomatoes, fresh mozzarella; Parmesan, if you need it. Bread’s just here; you can cut your own just how you like it. And, of course, coconut cake with chocolate icing. Help yourself to all and any. Oh, almost forgot.’
Mimi jumped up, strolled over to a bushy green plant in a bright blue planter and snipped off a couple of stems. The smell hit Hal before she sat down.
‘You have fresh basil!’ Hal said, watching her tear the leaves across the platter of salad. ‘It smells wonderful.’
Mimi tore a few of the large leaves into shreds and scattered them on his plate, before using a large china spoon to serve him a generous portion of cheese and salad.
‘Try it with these buffalo tomatoes. My local greengrocer buys them from a farmer just north of Palermo. In the summer, the plum varieties come from the mainland. None of these boys have seen a greenhouse or chemicals. Don’t worry; I did wash the Sicilian insect life off them first and gave them a chance to warm up a bit.’
Mimi sat back down and dipped her slice of sourdough briefly in the basil dressing before looking up at Hal, who had gone silent.
‘Oh,’ she whispered. She chewed the cheese, tomato and basil combination. Her eyes were half-closed, and a look of relaxed contentment flooded into her face.
So that’s what you look like when you’re happy. You should do this more often, Mimi Ryan—preferably when you are looking at me!
Mimi opened her eyes to find Hal smiling across at her, and immediately brought her hand to her mouth to wipe away the dregs of salad dressings, but he was too fast for her. Without planning it, or hesitation, Hal reached out and wiped the pad of his thumb along the side of her cheek. Her mouth was half-open and so inviting that he struggled to slide his thumb away.
‘No. You’re fine just as you are. No need to change a thing,’ Hal said, still looking at Mimi. Her neck was flushed an interesting shade of red and her upper lip was twitching as though something had triggered a reaction she had not been expecting. But when she looked up into his eyes through long, dark eyelashes the smile and pleasure in the corners of her eyes was real.
‘Thank you.’ She used the tip of her tongue to wipe away traces from her lip and Hal’s breathing quickened. ‘And you’ve gone quiet again. I’m already embarrassed about what happened earlier. Tell me what you’re thinking—please?’ Mimi pleaded, her head tilted to one side.
Loading his lunch plate with food seemed to be the perfect excuse for not looking at Mimi directly as Hal took his time to answer.
‘I was thinking that you enjoy good food. And I am also thinking that you have nothing whatsoever to be embarrassed about. I am single, over twenty-one and frequently accused of allowing my instincts—and my will to run things the way I want them—to get the better of me. If anything, I should be the one who should be embarrassed at my lack of self-control. There; does that make you feel better? And you were the one who asked me what I was thinking.’
She had stopped chewing but was still watching him cut more bread.
‘Yes, I did, didn’t I? Perhaps that was a bit…’
‘Reckless? It seems that I am having a terrible influence on you, Miss Ryan.’
He lifted up the bread and cheese to his mouth and was just about to bite into it when he stopped, looked into her eyes, tilted his head in an exact copy of how she looked and whispered, ‘Now you have to tell me what you are thinking.’
‘I fell right into that one, didn’t I, bossy boots?’ Mimi replied. She put her knife and fork back on her plate, focused on moving them an inch apart then back together, then apart again, before she spoke.
‘Okay. I was thinking that I might be single, over twenty-one and capable of making my own decisions, but I am not used to allowing my instincts to get the better of me.’ She shrugged her shoulders at him. ‘Perhaps that’s why I am embarrassed about pouncing on you. Sorry about that.’
Hal chewed longer than necessary so that he could calm himself and keep a straight face. ‘It was my pleasure. Please feel free to pounce at will. But that does mean you have given me a huge challenge.’
He smiled across at her and winked. ‘How am I going to be able to prevent myself from pouncing right back over the next few days when we are going to be working together? Any ideas?’
Mimi tried with all her might not to look shell-shocked at the outrageous question Hal had just asked her—and failed.
He needed self-control to stop himself from holding her again? Her?
This was some kind of crazy joke—it had to be.
‘That is very flattering, Hal, but I don’t think we are going to have much spare time over the next week, do you? There is so much to do I can hardly think. We have a lot to sort out.’
‘I agree. But you need to help me understand something,’ he replied in a lighter voice. ‘Tom Harris was my friend, and I want to do whatever I can to support the foundation he started. But why is this event so important to you? There have to be other opportunities for up-and-coming designers in a city the size of London. Please; I would like to know. Why do you want to do this so badly?’
Why was this event so important to her?
The full story; the truth; she was nowhere near ready to tell Hal the truth.
Her Moment in the Spotlight Page 7
