by T L Swan
I really wish I’d never messaged Edgar Moffatt now. It’s given me an inside insight into Elliot Miles that I shouldn’t have seen and I feel closer to him than I actually am . . . and I shouldn’t.
I know he’s a cold bastard and that he would never be satisfied with just me . . . I could never be that incredible woman he’s searching for, no matter how hard I tried.
Actually, let me rephrase that: I wish I had met Edgar instead of Elliot. He does have everything I’m looking for.
Elliot Miles and he couldn’t be more different, which is ridiculous because I know that they are the same person.
But then I remember that he’s looking for extraordinary and he still believes in fairy tales and I know there’s more to him than meets the eye.
Ugh . . . I’m going around and around in circles with this.
One minute I’m excited, because this is new and interesting and hot and we could have amazing unbridled sex.
The next moment, I imagine Bob and Joel finding out about me sleeping with him and what they and the rest of the office would think of me, and I’m mortified.
I know what I have to do, as tempting as it is to be carefree and alive.
I’m going to decline.
And already I hate the thought of it . . . so what’s that saying about the hold he has on me already?
Damn it . . . we’ve only made out.
I get a vision of us from the other night at the club and the way he kissed me.
The way he held my face in his hands, the way his eyes were closed.
He’s just so . . . gah.
I look across the room to see him arrive with Christopher, talking with the rest of the top-floor management staff.
He’s in his perfectly cut suit and has a Corona beer in his hand, and I can see his eyes scanning the place as he talks.
He’s looking for me.
Enough.
This isn’t happening.
I dig my phone out from my bag and pretend to answer it. “Oh really, I’ll be right there.” I hang up and turn to Joel. “I have to go. My sister’s car has broken down and she’s stranded on the motorway.”
“Oh.” His face falls. “Okay.” He kisses me on the cheek. “Have a great Christmas break.”
“You too.” I turn and kiss Bob on the cheek. “See you next year, Bob. Merry Christmas.”
“You too, darling.”
“Don’t tell anyone I slipped out,” I whisper.
“Sure thing.”
I look across the room and lock eyes with Elliot. He gives me a slow, sexy smile and sips his beer. His eyes are dark and hungry and I feel them all the way to my toes.
Fuck.
I drain my glass and walk toward the restroom. I need to throw him off.
I walk in, look at myself and turn around, walk straight back out and dart to the corridor and into the elevator.
With my heart hammering in my chest I ride the elevator down to the ground floor.
Don’t let him follow me . . . please don’t follow me.
I need some distance.
He goes away for two weeks tomorrow, which will give me some breathing space.
The doors open and I walk out through the lobby and onto the street to a taxicab stand, and I dive into the back of one.
“Hello.”
The driver smiles and looks back at me. “Where to, love?”
“Home, take me home . . .”
The snowflake drifts from side to side until it eventually finds its place on the ground. So insignificant on its own, but together with its friends it creates a magical ice blanket.
The moonlight is reflecting off the street below and, in my pajamas, I sit curled and crossed-legged in the window seat of my bedroom, staring out at the world . . . it seems so still and peaceful.
It’s 11:30 p.m. and I can’t even think about going to bed. I’m still wound up.
My mind is ticking at a million miles per minute.
I watch as a car appears around the corner, two headlights light up the road and they come to a stop outside my house. I peer down: it’s a black Bentley.
The back door opens and Elliot climbs out and walks up to my front door.
Shit . . . he’s here.
Chapter 9
Knock, knock, knock echoes from downstairs.
It’s not a gentle are you home knock, it’s an I’m here and I’m pissed knock.
Knock, knock, knock sounds again.
What is he doing? It’s 11:30 p.m., what if the others were home? I storm downstairs and open the door in a rush.
And there he stands, in all his overbearing gorgeousness.
“Yes?” I say.
“Why did you leave?”
“I was tired.”
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes hold mine; he knows that’s a lie.
“What do you want, Elliot?”
“Are you inviting me in?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Honestly, this man is infuriating.
“Because it’s late and like I told you, I’m tired.”
“We have things to discuss.”
“No, we don’t. I’ve already said my piece.”
“Like hell.” He barges past me and walks upstairs to my bedroom. I exhale as I’m left standing in the hall. “Please, come in.” I close the door and walk up the stairs to find him pacing back and forth in my room, preparing for battle.
“What do you want, Elliot?” I ask as I close the door.
His eyes find mine. “You know what I want.”
“No, I actually don’t.” I walk over to the window and stare out over the street.
I don’t know what to say without sounding needy or whiny, perhaps just plain bitchy . . . damn it, I don’t even know what I am.
“The thing is . . .” he says.
I turn and sink down to sit on the floor, up against the wall.
He stops what he’s saying mid-sentence and we stare at each other, and after a while he comes and sits down on the floor beside me, his back against the wall like mine.
We sit in silence and stare straight ahead. It’s like he doesn’t know what to say either.
A first for Elliot Miles.
“What did I say?” he asks softly.
“When?”
“On the second day that we met and you told me that I had blue eyes, what did I say?”
“I don’t remember,” I lie.
“I’ve been thinking about this. There’s a reason why you’ve hated me for all these years.”
I stay silent.
“Just tell me.”
“You told me that you didn’t appreciate women being inappropriate in the workplace.”
He frowns.
“And I . . .” My voice trails off as I stop myself.
“You what?”
I shrug.
He continues to stare straight ahead and we sit in silence for a while. “Kate . . . at the risk of sounding conceited . . .”
“You . . . sounding conceited?”
He smirks.
“Go on.” I smile.
“I get hit on by women a lot . . . and it’s not because they like me.”
I listen.
“It’s my surname and bank balance that women find attractive.”
My heart drops.
“I deflect flirting all day long, I don’t even notice that I do it. My brothers are the same.”
I frown.
“So, when you told me that I have big blue eyes all those years ago—not that I remember you doing it, by the way—I obviously took it that you were hitting on me . . . and I put a stop to it before it carried on.”
I bite my lip as I listen intently.
“Is that why you’ve been a bitch to me for all these years? To show me that you weren’t flirting?”
“I’ve been a bitch to you because you’re an asshole.”
He drops his head and chuckles.
I find myself smiling too. “Well, it’s t
rue.”
He picks up my hand and links his fingers through mine. “What are your reservations about doing this with me?”
“Well.” I glance over at him. “Don’t you think it’s weird that you’re suddenly attracted to me?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I do, I can’t explain it.”
I frown again; that’s not what I was expecting him to say.
“I don’t know why this happened but it was instantaneous. I saw you dancing in your red netball dress and I got hard.”
“What?”
“I have a confession.”
“Such as?”
“I might . . .” He pauses as if choosing his words carefully. “Watch the footage of you dancing in the photocopying room from a month or so ago . . . on repeat.”
“Huh?”
He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it. “Let’s just say, you rang my bell.”
My mouth falls open in surprise as I put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Are you serious?”
He bites his lip to stifle his smile.
“Elliot.” I gasp in surprise.
“I couldn’t help it, you’re just so fucking hot.”
I smirk.
“Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to that footage?”
I burst out laughing. “What?”
He falls serious once more. “What else, what are the other issues?”
“Well.” I think for a moment. “Why don’t you do relationships?”
“Because I’ve learned not to want more.”
“Why?”
“Because as soon as I openly date someone, it’s all over the tabloids and whoever I’m seeing gets hounded by the press over the impending nuptials. Everything we do is scrutinized and splashed over every headline.”
I listen.
“Do you know how much pressure that puts on a relationship?” he asks.
“I can’t imagine.”
“If I sound cold and detached . . . it’s because I am.”
“Elliot,” I whisper sadly.
He shrugs casually, as if he’s totally at peace with being cold and detached. “I decided about six years ago that I was only going to see people in private and not openly date anyone. That way, there’s no gossip, there’s no paparazzi stories, it’s easier for me this way. And I know that it’s selfish, but it is what it is.”
“What happens when you meet the right girl?”
“I guess I’ll work that out with her when the time comes.”
I smile softly and I bump him with my shoulder. “That’s a good answer.”
“I know.” He bumps me back. “Can we have sex now?”
I giggle in surprise. “No.”
He smiles and puts his head back against the wall. “You know, I was coming over here to seduce you . . . having a heart-to-heart wasn’t on my agenda.”
“I needed to have this conversation.” His answer makes sense and maybe I could deal with this. “Can we just . . . I don’t know, take it slow?”
He turns his head to look at me and lets out a deep exhale. “Not exactly my strong point.”
“Please.” I lean over and kiss him softly. “For me?”
Our kiss deepens and he takes my face in his hands. His tongue swipes through my open lips. We kiss again and again and oh . . . I just love how he kisses me.
He grabs me and pulls me over to straddle him. My hands are in his hair as we kiss, it’s soft and tender and with every lash of his tongue my temperature rises.
I feel his erection as I rock against him.
Oh . . .
I pull back to stare at him. “Slow . . . remember?”
He curls his lip. “You’ve got to be fucking joking me.”
I smile with a wince. “Please.”
“But I’m away for two weeks.”
I have to stop now if I want to be able to, so I stand and pull him up by the hand. “I know.”
He takes me into his arms and kisses me softly. “Remember our deal.”
I smile up at him. “Remind me.”
“No other people.”
“That goes for you too, you know?”
“I know.”
“What are you going to do in New York?”
“Jerk off to your netball dress movie, no doubt.”
I giggle and brush the hair back from his forehead as I stare up at him. “Thanks for coming over.”
He hugs me and we stay in each other’s arms for a moment and he’s so different to what I thought.
“I’m really fucking horny,” he murmurs into my hair.
“Two weeks.” I laugh.
I take his hand and lead him down the stairs and open the front door. He turns to kiss me.
“Two weeks,” I remind him. He loses control and slams me up against the wall and he kisses me.
Our kiss turns desperate. His hands are on my behind and his erection is digging into my hip; my insides begin to melt.
“Slow,” I pant against his lips.
He pulls back from me and we lean against each other with our foreheads touching.
Energy is swirling between us and I’m so close to caving and dragging him back up to my room.
“You’ve got two weeks.” He kisses me softly. “And then you’re mine.”
I nod, as I control my erratic breathing.
One last look. “Goodbye,” he says.
The door shuts and I lean on the back of it as I try to pull myself together.
Did that really just happen?
Excitement bubbles deep in my stomach.
Two weeks to lose weight, wax everything, and somehow get hot.
I smile goofily. Piece of cake.
Hi Pinkie,
What’s happening?
How was your day?
I smile and type my reply. It’s been three days since I saw Elliot, but Edgar has messaged me nonstop.
With every message I get from Edgar, my guilt toward Elliot grows; he’s confiding in me and I’m just blatantly lying to him. I want to tell him that it’s me, but it never feels like the right moment. I just love talking to Edgar and I love this insight I have into Elliot. It’s like I have a secret identity, one that reveals his deepest, darkest secrets.
I’m going to tell him, I have to. I’m just waiting for the right moment, and soon—this can’t go on.
It’s the weirdest thing. I know they are the same person, but it doesn’t feel like the same person. Elliot is strong, stubborn, and sexy, and on the other end of the spectrum, Edgar is deep, emotional, and sweet. Elliot hasn’t contacted me at all.
And it’s not flirty messaging, we really are just chatting.
Hi Ed.
My day was good. I went to the gym and then did some Christmas shopping and managed to get it nearly finished. I just have my brother to buy for now. What did you do?
I thought about Kate all day.
I smile as my heart does a somersault in my chest.
You’ve got it bad for this girl.
It seems so . . .
I bite my lip as I think what to write. I type:
What do you like about her?
I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.
I lean on my hand and smile dreamily at my computer.
I can’t wait to find out either.
Eleven days to go.
Michael Bublé’s swoony voice echoes through the house as the sound of Christmas carols surrounds us.
“I think that’s nearly it, darling,” Daniel says as he fills his glass. “Presents are wrapped, food is prepared, and don’t forget you have to put the trifle together in the morning.”
I hold my glass up and he touches it with his. “Thank you.” I smile. “I couldn’t have got all this done without you.”
“It’s a pleasure. Are you sure you won’t come to my folks’ for tonight?”
“No, I’m fine here, honestly.”
“I don’t like the sound of you spending Christmas Eve alone.”
“I
’m going to the gym and then I’m going to get an early night. Being the host on Christmas Day is hell.”
The doorbell chimes and Daniel’s eyes meet mine. “You expecting someone?”
“No.”
I open the front door to find a delivery man holding the biggest basket of beautiful pink flowers that I have ever seen.
“Kate Landon?”
“Yes.”
“I have a delivery for you.”
“Oh.”
“Sign here please.” He directs me where to sign and I take the huge basket from him.
“Thank you.” I close the door as I struggle with the basket and put it down on the dining table. “What in the world?” There must be three hundred flowers here, pinks and whites in every shade. I touch the precious petals. “So beautiful,” I whisper.
“Who are they from?” Daniel snaps.
“I have no idea.” I take the small, white envelope and open it.
Kate,
Merry Christmas,
Elliot
x
“Oh.” My mouth falls open in surprise. “A kiss at the end.” I hold the card to my heart.
“Who’s it from?” Daniel urges.
I pass him the card, he reads it, and then his eyes rise to meet mine. “Elliot . . . Miles?”
I smile.
His eyes widen. “Elliot Miles is sending you flowers?”
I snatch the card from him. “He’s just being nice, that’s all.”
“Are you kidding me?” He gasps. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I carry the flowers up the stairs with Daniel hot on my heels.
“Has something happened between you?” he asks.
“No.”
“Bullshit, something has to have happened.”
“He told me he liked me, that’s all.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?”
“I didn’t know if he was serious.” I place the flowers on my dressing table and smile as I reposition them.
“Well . . . I’m thinking he was serious, Kate. Call him, go over there right now, and thank him in the flesh.”
I burst out laughing. “He’s in New York, you idiot.”
“He’s in New York and is sending you flowers back home?” he shrieks. “Oh . . . he’s got it bad.” He snatches the card from me and reads it out loud.
Kate,
Merry Christmas,
Elliot
x
“Oh, merry fucking Christmas to you too, hot stuff,” he says. “He could have at least written ‘love’ on the card, don’t you think? It’s very generic.”