Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride

by Autumn Macarthur

  They’d gone to Greenwich, so she could stand either side of the meridian line. He’d taken her to the Tower of London to see the Crown Jewels, and Buckingham Palace for the Changing of the Guard. They’d ridden on the top of a double decker bus, all the way from one side of London to the other. Mac hadn’t tired of her enthusiasm to sightsee. Or if he had, he’d been kind enough not to show it.

  They hadn’t kissed, hadn’t touched more than holding hands. She’d felt Mac carefully keeping things light. She was okay with that. She’d done her best to treat every day she had with him as a gift from God, and mostly, she’d managed it.

  Today though, it felt hard to be thankful and joyous.

  Tomorrow, he flew to Edinburgh for his Army medical, on the early morning flight. This time, chances were good he’d pass his fitness test. And once he passed, that was it. He’d go back to his old job, and out of her life.

  Comparing the way she felt for Mac to the infatuations she’d fallen in and out of before was like comparing the sun to a pocket torch. What she felt now wouldn’t quickly glimmer and fade. It glowed in her, steadfast and strong. Even the ugly staff cafeteria at the store seemed to hold a new kind of light, as if her feelings for Mac made it luminous.

  Finished with his photos, he picked up his mug, sipped his tea, and grimaced. “I don’t know how Mavis manages to make tea taste so bad.”

  Tiff pasted on a smile she didn’t much feel. “It’s an art form, I’m sure.” One sip of her coffee, and she put the mug down in a hurry. “I think her coffee might be even worse.” She looked over to the sullen woman behind the counter. “I’m praying for her. I would love for Josie to get a cooking job. She’s doing great in Kitchenware, but it’s not what she really wants. Maybe there’ll be an opening in the customer restaurant upstairs. But it’s down here that really needs the help.”

  “I think she’ll be pleased with the photos I did for her.” He picked up a bundle of photos, and passed them across the table. Their fingers brushed as she took them from him, tingling where they touched. Somehow, around Mac, her body felt so much more alive.

  Her smile became genuine as she slowly examined the images. Josie joking with Anita, waving some vicious looking kitchen implement Tiff couldn’t start to imagine a use for over her head. Josie with a customer, smiling and interested. Josie as a bride, looking gorgeous in a form fitting dress and elbow length gloves, somehow combining sweet and sassy. Josie doing one of the cooking demonstrations she’d agreed to, after the wedding dress shoot.

  “These are for her?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you. I know she’ll love them.” Tiff reached out and touched his hand, deliberately this time. “You really are talented.”

  “So are you,” he said, engulfing her hand in his. “Look at the difference you’ve made for her. She’s way more confident.”

  She shook her head, but grinned. As it always did, a honeyed warmth flooded her at his caress. “I’m not taking all the credit for that. Simon getting her into a little flat of her own gave her a massive boost. And of course, Darren, though I’m still glad those two are taking it slowly. Anyway, you’re the one who’s made the difference for him.”

  “What is this, a mutual admiration society?” He laughed. “Darren was ready to make changes, he just needed the encouragement. His Mum agreeing he could move back home as long as he stayed sober helped.” He hesitated a moment, as if unsure whether to say something. “I’ve given him a camera, and we can keep working on his photography via email.”

  She smiled up at him. Mac truly was a good man.

  Though she hated the thought of him going. They’d both taken it for granted that this time, he’d pass his physical.

  “I’m glad you guys are staying in touch.”

  He nodded, then passed her a bigger stack of photos. “These are for him, and Geeta’s are there too. Plus the copies for their mentors.” A flush coloured his tanned cheeks, as he handed over a large flat folder. “And this is for you.” His hand tightened on hers, and he looked away from her. She couldn’t see his feet, but she was willing to guess they were shuffling under the table.

  She opened the folder. “This is a modelling portfolio.” Her voice held an accusing tone she hadn’t intended to allow to slip out.

  His flush deepened. “Yes. I should have told you first, but I thought you’d refuse. When you mentioned the day of the bridal shoot you’d wanted to apply for the modelling job but didn’t have a portfolio, I decided to do one for you.”

  “It’s lovely. You just surprised me.” A forced smile stretched her lips. She saw him swallow, and knew he hid something more. Waiting for what came next, she held her breath.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d send it out anywhere, so I sent it to a few agencies and designers with petite ranges for you. Cat helped me research.” He hunched his shoulders, as if expecting her to explode.

  Tiff wasn’t sure whether to explode, or say thank you. Her body tensed, and she pulled her hand from his grasp. She took a slow steady breath and counted to ten.

  Help me, please Lord. I don’t want our last memory of each other to be an argument!

  Despite her prayer, she still fizzed with irritation. The way he’d acted on her behalf without asking felt arrogant. As if he thought he knew better than she did what was right for her. It reminded her too much of the way her family patronised her, not expecting that she could do anything for herself.

  Mac lifted his head and met her gaze. “I’m sorry. I meant it as a gift, but I can see I went too far and meddled.”

  “It’s just…” She sighed, not sure how to explain why she’d reacted like this. “I guess I don’t know how I feel about the whole modelling thing. Once, I wanted it desperately. Now, I’m not so sure. It’s like… I know now I can do more than wear nice clothes and look pretty.”

  He’d meant well. He’d done it for her, because he wanted her to achieve her dreams. It wasn’t his fault that her dreams had changed.

  “I know you can do more.” Honesty deepened his voice, and shone in his eyes.

  She looked down at the photographs, turned another page. He’d made her look more than just pretty. He’d made her look beautiful. Something ached deep in her heart. She couldn’t regret that he saw her this way.

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at him. “Just, next time, ask first, okay?”

  Sadness washed over her in a wave, and tears scratched at her throat. They both knew there wouldn’t be a next time. For anything.

  She gathered up the photos in a pile. “I’ll put these in Cara’s office. I know you need to be up early tomorrow for your flight, but can we do something this afternoon?” Her cheery voice wouldn’t fool anyone, but she had to try. “I want to see the sunset from Waterloo Bridge. We should be able to make it in time.”

  He reached a hand to hers again, stilling her chatter. She felt the unspoken apology in his touch, and saw it in his eyes. Not for the portfolio. For leaving.

  “I’d like that.”

  They made it to the river just as sunset coloured the sky, lighting the underside of the clouds with delicate pink and orange. The offices either side of the river were starting to empty, so the bridge thronged with walkers.

  “You can’t see the sun actually setting over the water, the river loops around too much for that,” Mac explained.

  Tiff nodded. “That’s okay. I’d like to stand half way across, and watch the sun set, and the lights come on. Then I’ll let you go. As soon as it’s dark, you go, okay? Even if I beg you to stay, just go. I know you have to.”

  She didn’t want to let him go. She hated the thought of it. But she knew she had to. She didn’t want a drawn out farewell. Just this one long sweet moment, then goodbye.

  He slipped an arm around her waist and drew her close beside him, as they stepped onto the bridge.

  “Let everyone else dodge us,” he whispered, bending nearer as he spoke so his breath was warm against her cheek.

  All her instinct
s told her that he didn’t want to let her go, either.

  Perhaps she could hold him, cling to him, stop him leaving, if she really tried, if she pulled out the feminine wiles she didn’t know for sure she had. But even if she could, whatever they felt for each other was too new and too fragile for that sort of pressure. She couldn’t risk him coming to resent her, feeling he’d given up his dreams for her.

  Help me to be strong Lord. Strong enough to let him go.

  In the centre of the bridge, they stopped. Rather than leaning on the cold iron railing, Tiff leaned back against Mac, melting into his strong warmth. His arms came around her, holding her close, encircling her securely. They didn’t speak, standing in silence as the sun dropped below the buildings and lights began to flicker on in the buildings lining the river banks.

  The colour faded from the sky. This was it. Their last sunset. Their last goodbye. “Thank you.” She smiled, though sadness and a wistful longing rippled through her, as if he’d already gone.

  Even through the pain of letting him go, she couldn’t regret it or wish things undone. Having this time with Mac had been worth it. She’d never lose these memories.

  She turned within the circle of his arms, and lifted her face to look up at him. In the light of the street lamps, she saw his eyes flare dark. Her lips parted and her breathing came short and shallow. Before he dipped his head, the certain knowledge that he’d kiss her thrilled through her body, with a sweet inevitability. His fingers splayed against her back, pulling her nearer, close enough to feel his shuddering breaths.

  Her eyelids dropped, as his lips touched hers, so gently and tenderly at first. Then the kiss deepened, with a desperate hunger that stopped her heartbeat and pulled a silent moan from her throat. His warm mouth tasted of tears and sunshine. Her hands rose to cup his cheeks, wanting this moment to last forever.

  Too soon, he pulled away, though his warm hands still circled her waist.

  “It’s time I went, isn’t it?” she said, though she couldn’t bear the idea of leaving him.

  “You said once the sun set.” His low pitched husky voice was barely audible over the roar of the traffic.

  He lifted an arm to flag a cab, keeping her tucked against him with the other. But when a cab pulled over, he let her go to open the door. She gazed up at him, knowing all the love and longing she felt for him must be there on her face for him to see.

  “Go now Tiffany, please,” he said, voice rough and tortured. “I can’t bear for us to drag it out any longer.”

  She let him help her into the cab and give the driver her address. He leaned in, and kissed her again, hard and fast. Then the door closed with a bang, sounding his farewell.

  As the taxi pulled into the rush hour traffic, she turned to look out the back window, not wanting to miss a moment of seeing him. Mac stood there, one hand raised, his eyes on the cab.

  Loss ached through her. Only when she couldn’t see him any more did she turn and fasten her seat belt.

  She knew now, she loved Mac.

  And almost certainly, she would never see him again.

  Chapter 22

  Putting Tiffany in the cab on Waterloo Bridge last night had probably been one of the hardest things Mac had ever done. And one of the most necessary.

  Even now, sitting in a hallway waiting for the results of his fitness medical, the thought of her sweet embrace as she’d kissed him last night warmed him. He’d had to be strong, for her sake, the way she’d asked him to be. Holding on to her any longer, prolonging the pain of letting go, was just plain wrong.

  And he didn’t choose to deliberately do wrong.

  His conscience stabbed at him. Hadn’t he managed to underestimate how many painkillers he took, when the doctor asked him? And how strong the painkillers were? And when he’d taken his last dose?

  That was different. He was good at his job. His leg was in good enough shape. Getting back there made sense. But he wasn’t any good for Tiffany.

  At last, he was called back into the doctor’s office. His pulse accelerated and as he waited for the answer. He struggled to keep his breathing calm and easy.

  The doctor shuffled some papers on his desk, scribbled something illegible on a form, and pushed it across his desk.

  All Mac looked for was the Pass/ Fail box. Pass was circled. Yes!

  “There you go. Clearance granted. I don’t know whether to congratulate you or not. Most people are trying to get back here from the Middle East, not go there. But you’ve done remarkably well, after such a serious injury.”

  Victory burned in Mac’s belly, and he smiled. “How soon can I travel?”

  “As soon as you want. You may need to hole up somewhere for a few days until you can join your unit, but you can fly tomorrow if you want.”

  Before he could book his flights and pack his bag, there was one more thing Mac needed to do. Go home, and talk to Mum and Dad.

  He didn’t look forward to that.

  They were both in when he got home. Toning down his jubilation, he sat them down.

  Mum sat close to Dad and clung to his hand, but she met his gaze squarely. “They’ve cleared you, haven’t they? You’re going back.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  She blew out a long slow breath, but said nothing. Dad covered her hand with his. They both suddenly looked older.

  “I can’t tell you what to do or what not to do, at your age,” Dad said. “But I have one question. Have you prayed about this? Are you clear it’s God’s will for you?”

  Mac nodded again, though the truth was, he had no idea what God’s will was for his life any more. He’d thought he’d known, once.

  A longing for Tiffany’s simple faith shot through him.

  “Then that’s all you can do,” Dad said. “We must obey God, rather than men.”

  Mac looked away, and his throat thickened. “Yes.” He forced the word out.

  “We both respect your integrity.” Mum stood, and gave him a quick fierce hug.

  Guilt pinned him to his seat.

  She smiled, though he glimpsed the pain she tried to hide. “I’d better go peel some extra potatoes. Brodie is here for dinner tonight, too.”

  Mac’s heart sank at the thought of what his acid tongued brother would say. An unpleasant conversation was inevitable.

  He went to his room to book his tickets. Probably a mistake, but he booked flights with a brief stop in Heathrow. Just long enough to go groundside and meet Tiffany, if she’d see him, before he boarded the seven hour flight to Dubai. The thought of seeing her again, of maybe kissing her again, tightened his chest and shallowed his breathing. He pushed the feeling down.

  It was just a chance to say goodbye properly, that’s all.

  Dinner passed uncomfortably, heavy with the undercurrents of things not said. Brodie eyed him across the table, with a look that promised, or perhaps threatened, that he wanted to talk later.

  If he was a coward, Mac could easily have escaped the conversation. But he didn’t like to think that he was, so when Brodie suggested they walk to his car after dinner, he agreed.

  As soon as they were outside the house and out of their parent’s earshot, Brodie attacked.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Going back to the Middle East will worry Mum and Dad. You didn’t see the state they were in after your injury. They won’t ask you to think again, because they respect your right to make your own choices. But I will.”

  Mac had expected this, but even so, he tensed.

  “It’s my job.” His voice held a grating edge. “It’s always been understood, as soon as I recovered, I’d go back to work.”

  Brodie limped to his car, and opened the door. He turned back to throw Mac a narrow eyes stare that made Mac feel about two inches tall.

  “I’ve studied psychology, for my characters. And you’re a dangerous type. A rescuer, needing to be needed. Rescuers need victims to save. Being around weak people makes you feel strong. But people don’t like being made to pla
y victim. Watch out that thinking you’re bigger and stronger and you know best doesn’t get you into trouble and hurt someone you care for.” Brodie tightened his lips and shook his head. “Someone like Tiffany.”

  “Don’t bring Tiffany into this. There’s nothing between us. Nothing.”

  Even as Mac spoke the harsh emphatic words, he knew they weren’t true. What he felt for her was way more than nothing. More like everything. “We laid the rules right from the start. We both understood it was only temporary. I’m going back to the Middle East, she’s going back to the States.”

  Brodie’s eye-rolling ‘How can you be so stupid?’ look was one Mac hated, had done all their lives.

  “The little I saw of her suggested Tiffany wouldn’t take too well to being rescued. She might look delicate, but she’s not one of your fragile flower types like Gina. If she was, I’m willing to bet you’d be staying, your need to rescue satisfied. But aren’t you hurting her, by flying off to be the superhero photographer in the war zone?”

  Mac tightened his lips and shook his head.

  Ignoring that, Brodie lifted his crooked arms in front of him, like Superman in flight. “Look, see how his photo saves a child. Look again, see how he gets better equipment for a soldier with one click of his lens. Hero of the weak and the oppressed. Not Superman, it’s Supermac.”

  Mac’s fists clenched at his brother’s mocking tone, only just stopping himself from smashing a hand down on the bonnet of the car. “So help me God, you make me want to deck you, Brodie.”

  Brodie laughed and lifted his chin. “Come on, try. If you think you’re tough enough.” His voice taunted, pricking like a needle. “I know you’ve always resented me. Do you think I wanted to be the centre of Mum and Dad’s attention?”

  Mac’s old guilt flared again. Guilt over Brodie’s condition, the knowledge that somehow he’d caused it, the greedy twin, taking too much, starving his brother of oxygen and nourishment. And guilt that he’d resented his brother, and the attention their parents had given him. He’d had no choice but to be strong.