One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story)

by Mandy Baggot

  He looked quizzical then.

  ‘I’ve got a return ticket for just after New Year.’

  His gaze was unsettling her now. She pulled at a petal on the hair clip. ‘School starts back in January.’ She swallowed. ‘You know I have a daughter. The one your PA probably told you went on and on about you being an eligible bachelor.’

  She really needed to stop talking now.

  ‘And she was getting very talkative about the lobsters at the restaurant the other night,’ he said.

  Hayley looked up, a smile on her face. ‘You heard that?’

  ‘To be honest it was pretty hard not to,’ he said with a wry smile

  ‘Yeah, she’s loud and opinionated and too clever for her own good.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Angel,’ Hayley said.

  ‘It’s pretty.’

  ‘I think she would rather be named after someone from history now she’s nine. Every day I wait for the forms to change her name to Boudicca.’

  Oliver laughed hard and her insides took note. He had a nice laugh, it wasn’t false or pretentious, it was warm and genuine. She had trouble believing this man was the mean tyrant who ruled with a rod of iron. Not that you could tell anything from a laugh. She clamped her lips to her glass.

  ‘So, talking of names …’ he started.

  ‘Yes, Clark.’

  ‘I can’t carry on calling you Lois.’

  ‘Why not? Don’t you like an air of mystery?’

  ‘You know my name.’

  ‘Not all of it.’

  He sat back in his chair and looked confused. ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know your middle name.’ She sucked at her drink. ‘If you’re almost a duke you have to have at least one middle name. I think it’s royal law or something.’

  * * *

  Oliver shook his head vehemently but he was enjoying every second of this repartee. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d engaged in anything like it. Most of the time, when he was looking for some female distraction, it involved small talk he needed to put no effort into. Say they look nice. Ask about their job. Flatter them. Here, with Lois, he was fully in the moment, not because he needed to prove he could be, simply because he wanted to be. A ripple ran through him. That thought scared the shit out of him.

  He moved, leaning his elbows on the table, shifting forward in his seat and looking directly at Hayley.

  ‘OK, so are we doing a deal here? Because I’m quite the negotiator.’

  ‘You must want to know my name really badly.’

  ‘Maybe I do.’ Did he? They’d only had two conversations.

  ‘You first,’ she said as the music lowered and a softer track began to filter.

  ‘Which one d’you want?’

  Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ and he couldn’t help his lips, moving upwards in a grin at her reaction.

  She licked her lips, rolling the straw in her drink between her thumb and forefinger. ‘I think I’m going to have to have both. Don’t tell me there are more than two.’

  ‘Just two.’

  ‘Phew.’

  ‘But if you want them both you’re going to have to give me your first name and something else.’

  She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Just because I don’t have two middle names? What sort of negotiation is that?’

  ‘The only one I’m willing to agree to.’

  ‘And …’ She paused to suck a little harder on her drink. ‘What’s this other thing you want?’

  He had said the words so many times. Maybe too many times. Yet, somehow this time, he really wanted to know. He stripped another piece of label from the beer bottle, his eyes not leaving hers. He took a breath. ‘If you could make one wish, what would it be?’

  ‘Is one of your middle names “genie”?’

  ‘I’m being serious.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Neither of my middle names until you answer.’

  * * *

  The way he was looking at her was making her insides squirm like she had a belly full of snakes. Was he for real? Her hands straight away went to her silver clutch bag, settling over the clasp. She could tell him she wanted a dress like Lady Gaga’s or even to make a dress for Lady Gaga, that would be giving him something real. But it wouldn’t be the truth. Because there was only one thing she wanted at the moment. And was she really about to share that with Dean’s boss?

  Hayley took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let the words come out in a rush of breath.

  ‘My name’s Hayley and I wish to find the guy I had a one-night stand with ten years ago.’

  She flicked open her eyes to gauge Oliver’s reaction. He was looking back at her, no emotion evident, his fingers toying with the paper he’d ripped from the bottle.

  Her heart was hammering in her chest as he still made no move to respond. What was there to say now? She had turned flirtatious banter into Desperation Central.

  He took a swig of beer from his bottle and placed it back down on the table. ‘Richard and Julian.’ He nodded. ‘Now we’re even.’

  21

  Vipers Nightclub, Downtown Manhattan

  Oliver watched Hayley now, stood on tiptoes at the bar, showing off the photograph she’d pulled from her purse a few minutes before. Michel from Belgium – or so the guy had told her ten years ago. He hated him already, which was, of course, completely and utterly irrational. He didn’t know him. But Michel had known her. Lois. Hayley. The so-called artist, with the scruffy dark hair, had become intimately acquainted with her after just one evening together. Why was that pulling at him? Hadn’t he been intimately acquainted with a number of women that quickly? He swallowed. Almost every woman he’d ever been with. So why was he judging her?

  This was madness. What was he even doing here with her? Why had he homed in on her instead of taking up an evening with a simple fling – get in, get out, have fun – the blonde who knew what she wanted?

  He swallowed down a mouthful of beer. He could leave. He’d made her no promises, he’d just bought her a drink. But that would be running out on two dates-that-weren’t-dates in two nights. That was serial behaviour. A pattern. He didn’t do that. He’d told her he didn’t do that. It would make him into a coward. Weak. His heartbeat thrummed and he blinked heavily.

  Oliver watched her showing off the photo to staff. He should find Tony. That’s what he was going to do. His friend could be in just as much of a fix as he was. Or not. If Tony was getting on well with the brunette, he wouldn’t want Oliver butting in. He could call. So why wasn’t he moving? Why couldn’t he keep his eyes off her? He didn’t get invested in women. Investment was never on the table.

  He watched her turn back around, her face flushed, her hair bouncing with every stride she took. He blew out a breath as she neared. It wasn’t too late. He could still make his excuses.

  ‘They didn’t recognise him,’ Hayley stated, slipping back into her seat. ‘But the doorman earlier said there’s someone called Artie who has worked here for a lot longer and he might be able to help me.’

  He found himself nodding his head but had no idea what he was agreeing to or sympathising with. He didn’t feel peachy with anything about this development.

  ‘But typically he’s not working tonight.’ Hayley sighed as she pushed the photo back into her purse.

  ‘That’s that then,’ Oliver finally spoke.

  * * *

  She raised her eyes in response to the flat tone of his voice. Despite all the encouraging things he’d said when she’d elaborated about Angel’s wish, he didn’t understand at all. And why should he? Despite knowing his two middle names he was a stranger.

  ‘He’s working next on Friday,’ she said.

  ‘Right,’ he answered.

  She carried on. ‘And I have lots of other art galleries to try.’

  ‘Good luck with that.’

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Is there something you want to say? You look a little uptigh
t.’ She swiped up her drink. ‘Was my wish not what you were expecting?’

  ‘If I’m honest, no, it wasn’t.’

  ‘So what reply do you usually get? Wait, let me guess.’ She adopted a pose, leaning back in her seat, the back of her hand held against her forehead. ‘I wish for … something from Tiffany’s and a night in a bridal suite with you.’

  She watched him fidget as if he disliked what she was saying. She was obviously bang on the money. Money. His billions he could flaunt however he chose. That’s what he’d been expecting. A wish he could buy.

  ‘I just don’t understand why you would waste your time trying to find someone who’s not been in your life for ten years.’

  He did have an opinion. And, from his stance and pallor, it appeared he was very uncomfortable about the whole Michel situation.

  ‘I’m not doing it for me. I’m doing it for Angel,’ she responded.

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘What!’ She couldn’t help a laugh escaping.

  ‘She’s had her whole life without a father, why the interest now?’

  Her mouth sprung open in shocked surprise. Now her fight and flight responses were well and truly triggered. Who did he think he was analysing the timing of her daughter’s request? He knew nothing about the situation. She shouldn’t have told him any of this. The hazel eyes didn’t look so attractive when they were narrowed in accusation.

  ‘Thank you for the drink.’ Hayley stood, picking up her bag.

  ‘You’re going?’

  For a fleeting second he almost sounded like he was back to that person she’d enjoyed playfully sparring with. But she mustn’t be fooled. He thought she was an idiot for being young and getting pregnant by a stranger. And maybe she was, but she didn’t need it rubbed in her face. She had a mother who had done that most of her life. This had been a stupid mistake. She should have just had one drink, sat on a bar stool and quizzed the bar staff … alone.

  ‘It was nice to meet you,’ she responded. ‘Maybe ask the blonde what her wish is. I suspect it could lead to your red room.’

  She smiled at him, then, with her head held high she marched to the exit doors.

  * * *

  Oliver sat there feeling like he’d been given a beating. Yet, she hadn’t bruised him with her words, hadn’t raised her voice, just made it very clear he’d overstepped the mark in his responses. And he had, he knew that. Because he’d turned all Neanderthal over a man she’d met years ago, and he had no clue what it was like being a parent. He had asked what her wish was, had really wanted to know, and then when she’d told him, been as honest as a person could be, he’d thrown it back at her. Jerk.

  He pushed his bottle of beer to one side, stood up, slipped on his coat and rushed towards the exit. He couldn’t leave things like this, for reputation purposes only, obviously. He’d apologise. He’d offer her his courtside seats at the Knicks. No, that wouldn’t impress her. Did he want to impress her? He hadn’t done such a great job so far.

  One of the doormen bid him goodnight but he didn’t respond. He put his hand on the door and pushed his way out into the night.

  The icy wind wound itself around him as he staggered out into a flurry of snowflakes. His only thought was catching her up and apologising. And what then? What was his grand plan after that?

  He didn’t stop to think any more. He quickly looked left then right, trying to pick Hayley out from the groups of people on the street fighting the wind. A hint of long brown hair and the cream colour of her coat had him hurrying off right.

  His heart was racing and the snow battered his cheeks as he ducked to try and avoid the full force of winter.

  ‘Hayley!’ He barely recognised his own voice. It sounded needy and desperate.

  Was the hair and coat he was chasing really her?

  He tried again. ‘Hayley!’

  * * *

  She stopped walking the second she heard her name travelling through the biting breeze. Oliver Richard Julian Drummond. What was he doing following her? By now she’d assumed he would be drinking another beer with a random, asking them what their deepest desire was. She turned around, looking down the street.

  There he was, moving at a jog up the pavement towards her, the snow coating his dark woollen overcoat, flecks of white in his tawny coloured hair. Why had she stopped? There was nothing he could say that would excuse his reaction in the nightclub. She should turn around again, head off. But it was like her shoes were stuck to the snow on the ground.

  He was within a few yards now, his pace slowing as he neared. She bit her lip, his proximity, the chiselled jawline and full lips affecting her. Her stomach gave a roll like a plane in an aerobatic display.

  He stopped opposite her, his body visibly shaking with the cold. He pulled at the collar of his coat, as if he was trying to close off every gap to the elements.

  ‘I have to get back,’ Hayley said quickly. ‘I don’t want to leave Dean with Angel too long.’

  ‘Sure,’ he responded. ‘Just let me apologise.’

  She folded her arms across her chest, the wind circling her body, blowing up her hair and finding its way into every exposed inch. ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘There’s every need.’ He put a clenched hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. ‘I was behaving like a spoilt child and I offended you.’

  Hayley’s stomach took a dip. His words made a mark. He hadn’t needed to catch her up. He had wanted to. How did that make her feel? Tingly was the answer, tiny, dancing sparks of heat were doing a Zumba class inside her. But that was all just circumstantial. He was a user of women – she’d seen it first-hand – and she was not in the market for being picked up.

  She shook her head at him. ‘Buying me a vodka and cranberry doesn’t entitle you to pass judgement on me. If I’d had any idea, I would have bought my own drinks.’

  ‘Ouch,’ he answered, his eyes on her.

  ‘If you’d had to hear your daughter asking so desperately to meet her father, you’d be here doing exactly the same thing.’

  She was becoming way too impassioned now. But it was bursting out of her. The quandary she’d been in about coming to New York, her love for Angel, how stupid she still felt about falling for the first guy to buy her wine. This time when she shook her head it was at herself. She stamped the snow off her shoes.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He put a hand to his hair, shaking the flakes from it. ‘I was being petulant.’ He paused. ‘And to be honest, I was thinking selfishly.’ He took a breath. ‘I don’t know why but …’ He swallowed. ‘I didn’t want to think about you spending time with an artist from Belgium.’

  His words spiralled through the space between them, out of control, refusing to settle. What did that mean? She met his gaze, her body’s engine pumping a rush to each nerve ending. His eyes were unrelenting, holding hers captive, making it impossible to look away. What was happening here? It was like her body was conspiring against her. Every sense was rising up, awake and alert, setting off a chain reaction that started in her toes and moved like lightning through the rest of her body. She couldn’t breathe, her stomach was being sucked in as if stuck in the middle of a vortex, her chest had contracted on an inward breath and her eyes were static … on him.

  And then the gap was closing. She didn’t know if she was moving or he was moving or whether they were both inching forward in unison. All she did know for certain was she felt a little bewitched, out of control, completely not in charge of her own will.

  His body was so near now, his face close. She could see every eyelash outlining those beautiful hazel eyes, every tiny dot making up the fine layer of bristle on his jaw, the way his lips curved so gently, so sensuously.

  Her brain was incapable of logic. All it was processing was his presence and exactly how that was making her feel. It was like mice had invaded her stomach and were chasing each other around in circles. And she hated it as much as she was relishing it. This was not in her plan. This was reckless behaviour, just
like ten years ago. This was her brother’s boss. She’d had two conversations with him. One was by a fire exit when he was running out on a date. The other involved cranberry and vodka. This was Christmas spirit in overdrive and she needed to stop now, reclaim her common sense.

  His hot breath entwined with hers, mixing together in the freezing night air and, as the seconds ticked by, Hayley was spinning faster and faster towards something she didn’t understand. All she knew, as her body moved of its own accord, was it was going to happen.

  And then their mouths met in an urgency like no other she’d experienced before. His lips parted hers, the kiss binding them together as the snow floated down around them. Any annoyance at his earlier selfishness had evaporated in the heat of the moment and all she wanted to do was hold onto this feeling, hold onto him, for as long as she could.

  Hayley closed her eyes, bringing her hand up to his cheek, letting her ice-cold fingers graze his jaw as his mouth swept over hers.

  A car horn sounded and she broke away, a shiver running through her body. Reality finally kicked in. What was she doing? The same nightclub. Another man she barely knew. This was only her second night in New York and she was kissing someone! Someone who had challenged her quest to find her daughter’s father. She was officially certifiable. It had to be the wine she hadn’t known the name of mixing with the vodka or the jet lag.

  She took a step back from him. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Go?’

  The surprise in his voice pulled at her. She shouldn’t have kissed him. She shouldn’t have let him kiss her. It didn’t matter who had started it. She was going to finish it.

  ‘Yes, I have the Belgian artist’s daughter to worry about and …’ She was backing away so quickly snow was puffing up around her feet with every movement. ‘It was nice to see you again.’ She made to turn away.

  ‘Hayley, wait,’ he called.

  She waved a hand. ‘Goodnight, Superman.’ She was leaving while she’d managed to regain control of her senses.