‘Mr Hunter. Adam,’ she added, remembering his request. ‘It’s nice to see you in our restaurant. Is everything to your satisfaction?’
He eased back a little, his large frame dwarfing the chair he sat on. ‘You mean aside from the rude receptionist, the tiny gym and the wild dogs?’
Though his expression was utterly serious, his striking eyes – such a contrast to his dark hair and short, dark beard – betrayed his amusement.
‘I’d hoped we’d moved beyond those small hiccups,’ she murmured, unable to drag her gaze away from his.
‘The hotel manager is very attentive,’ he agreed, a small smile now playing around his mouth. ‘Though I suspect it’s because I’m her only guest.’
‘I believe she was just talking to two other guests,’ Faith replied, playing along. Enjoying both the dialogue and the sexual undercurrent she could feel pinging between them.
His eyes crinkled. ‘Ah yes, how are your parents?’
Faith gave up and laughed. ‘Good, thank you. They’re sitting over by the window. My mum asked to be introduced but I’m going to save you from that torture. Once she has an audience she’ll talk for hours.’
‘So I’m your escape route?’
She was having trouble hearing his surprisingly soft voice above the thump of her heart. ‘Actually, I was thinking more of a diversion.’
Too forward, she scolded herself. What had happened to her professionalism? He’d come to get away from something. The last thing he needed was her pushing her company on him.
He angled his head, studying her, his expression thankfully more curious than annoyed. As if he was trying to work out what she really wanted from him. Or perhaps whether he wanted to provide it.
Finally he indicated the empty seat opposite him. ‘I’m happy to be a diversion.’
Adam watched as Faith slipped into the chair. What had she meant by a diversion? If she was hoping for a pleasant chat to while away the evening, she’d come to the wrong place.
He didn’t do small talk. Especially when he could sense his every move being watched by the sprightly looking grey-haired couple sitting by the window.
Faith nodded towards his empty plate. ‘Did you enjoy it, whatever it was?’
‘Steak and ale pie and yes, it was very good.’
Her lips twitched. ‘And there was me thinking you were more of a couscous salad type.’
He knew when he was being wound up. ‘Only on the days I do Pilates. Can I get you a drink?’
‘Please don’t feel as if you have to.’ Suddenly the woman he’d assumed was assured and confident, looked hesitant. Awkward. ‘I understand if you’d rather not have company.’
‘I’m glad to have company.’ He wasn’t sure who was the more shocked at his statement, her or him. He hated talking to people he didn’t know – hell, he had enough trouble with those he did. Yet for some reason he wanted to talk to Faith Watkins.
She smiled, her eyes darting away from his and over to his glass of water. ‘In which case I’d love a drink. As long as it’s stronger than what you have there.’
‘I was just about to order a coffee.’ Because he was watching her – couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her – he saw her dart of surprise. ‘Is that allowed?’
A hint of red bloomed in her cheeks. ‘Sorry, I guess you just looked more like a whisky drinker to me.’
‘I am.’ He glanced down at his watch. ‘But it’s a bit early for me yet. Is that an occupational hazard, second guessing your guests?’
She looked even more uncomfortable now and he wished his question hadn’t sounded so curt. ‘It is something I find myself doing. Nothing nasty, just wondering what they do for a living. Whether they’re married. That sort of thing.’
For the first time in her company, he started to feel a sliver of unease. ‘And what have you pegged me as?’
‘At first glance I had you down as married.’
‘Because?’ he interrupted, keeping his expression carefully blank.
‘Ah, because.’ Her gaze dropped briefly to the table before coming back to meet his full on. ‘Because women are clever, so the attractive men are usually taken.’ Surprise rubbed happily against pleasure and some of his unease slipped away. When he stared into the depths of her eyes, a long-forgotten bolt of desire added to the mix. ‘But you’re travelling alone and don’t wear a ring,’ she continued, glancing at his left hand. ‘Plus you’re dining here rather than in your room while Skyping, so I’m going to say single.’
‘Correct.’
She punched the air. ‘Score one.’
‘Am I allowed a go?’ He didn’t stop to think why a man who kept himself to himself was now so keen to ask questions of a stranger. To find out whether she was married.
‘Be my guest.’ Her eyes laughed back at him as she signalled over to the waitress for two coffees.
Adam suddenly really hoped his hunch was right. ‘You’ve probably been hit on by every male guest over twelve you’ve been in contact with.’ She didn’t blush at his statement and he found he liked that. Liked her confidence. ‘But buying your own place takes drive and a massive amount of time so my guess would be you’re single, though not without offers.’
‘One point each.’
As the warmth from her smile seeped directly from her eyes and into his, Adam felt another surge of desire. Bloody hell, he was not only flirting. He was enjoying flirting.
Their coffees arrived and Faith thanked the young waitress – who was apparently called Becky – before picking up the milk and waving it under his nose. ‘I bet you take yours black. No sugar.’
Okay, so maybe he was predictable. He nodded over to her cup. ‘White, no sugar.’ She laughed, adding milk to her drink followed by two lumps of sugar. ‘You’re only adding sugar to beat me.’
She took a sip, lips still curving against the rim of the cup. ‘I don’t have to cheat to beat you. Now then, profession.’ She narrowed her eyes, pretending to scrutinise him. ‘First guess would be a lumberjack.’
He reared back in his seat, stunned. ‘What?’
She waved a hand towards him. ‘Come on, the big build, the beard. I bet your suitcase is stuffed full of checked shirts, too.’
‘You think I spend my days chopping wood?’ He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.
‘No, no. I said first guess, but that’s before I shook hands with you and noticed your palms aren’t rough.’ Self-consciously he stared down at his hands. Was she saying he had girly hands? ‘My next guess would have been builder, but again that would be going with stereotype based solely on your big frame. Your hands don’t work for that either, plus you told me working out keeps you sane, which suggests you spend your day sitting down.’
‘It’s not the reason I work out,’ he murmured, regretting it immediately when her face lit up with curiosity.
‘Interesting.’
‘You’re right that I sit down at a desk though,’ he added quickly, anxious to divert her from the questions he could see brewing. ‘Are you going to give me a final guess?’
Thankfully her competitive streak seemed stronger than her inquisitive streak. ‘You don’t look like an accountant, or a lawyer.’ She cocked her head to one side, her eyes roaming carefully over his face. Embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck, along with a heavy sense of awareness. He found he was wondering if she liked what she saw. ‘I’m going to stick with the building theme as you look like an outdoor man. Architect.’
For a moment he gaped at her. Then, as her lips started to twitch, he narrowed his eyes. ‘You knew already, didn’t you?’ Finally the penny dropped. ‘Jason told you.’
Laughing, she held up her hands. ‘Okay, yes, I admit, he happened to mention how he knew you. But I would have guessed it anyway. Perhaps gone for civil engineer, bu
t they’re pretty much the same thing, aren’t they?’
He bristled. ‘There’s a world of difference. Architects are creative, visionary. We focus on the aesthetics of a building. The look and feel, how it will work. Engineers are more practical. They take our vision and make it happen, if they’re any good. The bad ones trample all over it.’
‘So you’re the vision, they’re the reality.’
‘Spot on.’ No wonder he was enjoying talking to her. She was smart. ‘My turn. You’re a hotel owner.’
She laughed again, a sound he was coming to crave. There was nothing artificial about it. She let herself go, her curls bouncing as she shook her head at him. ‘You’re not getting off the hook that easily. You need to tell me why you think I wanted to own a hotel.’
His turn to study her, and he made the most of it. Long lashes framed her direct eyes, a sprinkle of freckles graced her cheeks and cute button nose. Her lips looked soft and very inviting. None of which helped him with the answer to her question, but all of it made him want to get to know her more. To get closer to her. Something he was very out of practice at.
He gave himself a mental shake and dragged his eyes away before she became uncomfortable with his staring. ‘You like people. Enjoy talking to them, even tall, bearded lumberjack lookalikes, so you had to work somewhere that involved meeting lots of new people. You’re smart, so you needed a job that challenged your thinking.’ He sifted through his thoughts until he thought he had the right direction. ‘Your brother looks significantly older than you—’
‘Jason’s thirty-six. And to save your blushes, I’ll tell you I’m twenty-seven.’
He’d guessed as much. ‘You said your niece is fifteen, so I reckon that means you have another sibling quite a bit older than yourself.’
‘Hope is forty.’
His lips twitched. ‘Don’t tell me there’s another sister called Charity.’
Faith gave him a wry smile. ‘She’s thirty. Married with a four-month-old boy. And before you ask no, none of us are in any way saintly. And no, my parents aren’t especially religious. Just ever so slightly nuts.’
‘Duly noted.’ He took a swig of his forgotten coffee, trying to get his head back into where he was in the conversation. Trying not to think about how much he wanted to kiss her. Or how terrified the thought made him. Hell, he didn’t even know if the sexual side of him could still function. He cleared his throat. ‘That makes you the baby of the family, which obviously means you have a need to prove you’re a grown woman. Hence the desire to own your own business. Be your own boss, with nobody telling you what to do any more.’
‘Though they still do,’ she added. ‘Every bloody day. But well done, I’ll give you nine out of ten.’
‘Only nine?’
‘It isn’t just that I like people, I find them fascinating. I like to observe them, which you should know because that’s how we started this game.’
He put his hands up. ‘You’ve got me there.’
‘Also, I know this sounds a bit corny, but as a child, owning a hotel was all I ever dreamt about.’
He gazed back at her, seeing past the embarrassment and straight into the passion, the enthusiasm that burned in the depths of her eyes. ‘It doesn’t sound corny,’ he told her quietly. ‘It sounds amazing.’ He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt that way about architecture. He enjoyed it, sure, but he doubted his eyes lit up like Faith’s when she talked about her hotel. ‘Shall we call it a draw?’
‘Oh no. We were both right about our marital status. Both nearly right about our careers. Only I was right about the coffee.’
‘Which you added two sugars to, just to spite me.’
She smirked. ‘Guess you’ll never know.’ Her eyes caught his, turning from highly amused to quietly serious. ‘So, Adam Hunter, am I allowed to ask why you want to escape Christmas?’
And just like that, the happiness, the peace he’d begun to experience, disappeared in a flash. His muscles tensed and he was left feeling empty, hollow. ‘It dredges up memories I’d rather not re-live.’ He knew he sounded evasive, curt even, but he couldn’t help it. The person Faith had been talking to just now wasn’t the person he was any longer. Abruptly he stood. ‘Thank you for the coffee, and for the conversation.’ He nodded over to where her parents were still sitting. ‘I’ll leave you to talk to your other guests.’
Ignoring the flash of hurt he saw register on her face, Adam strode off towards his room. He was a solitary animal these days. He’d best remember that.
Chapter Five
Seven days before Christmas
The following morning Faith was sitting in the restaurant again, though this time having breakfast with her parents. Not coffee with a man who’d entertained her, made her laugh, complimented her. Then stalked away without a backward glance. She was still trying to work out what had caused his sudden departure; her question, or his lack of interest.
Yet for the half an hour or so before that, he’d seemed very interested.
‘Earth calling Faith.’
She snapped her attention back to her mother. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘I said have you seen anything of your mysterious guest this morning?’
‘No.’ And it wasn’t for want of looking. He’d sparked something in her last night and though she knew crushing on a guest wasn’t professional, she couldn’t stop her eyes searching for him. Couldn’t stop thinking how exciting, how thrilling, it would be to spend the run up to Christmas having a brief, sizzling affair. And she could tell, just by looking into the quiet depths of his eyes, that Adam Hunter could make a woman sizzle. The reserved ones were always the most deadly.
Her mother let out a frustrated hiss and Faith shook herself out of her fantasy. ‘Sorry. What time did you say you were planning on leaving today?’
‘We’re not.’ Now that caught Faith’s attention. ‘That’s what I was saying while your head was caught up somewhere else.’ Her mother gave her a knowing look. ‘Perhaps I should say with someone else.’
‘Mum,’ Faith said warningly. ‘Don’t make things out to be bigger than they are. I told you last night, Adam was fun to talk to. End of. Besides, he’s a guest. I can’t go sleeping with my guests.’
‘Rubbish, there’s no rule stopping you. Admit it, you’re intrigued by him, darling. And who can blame you.’ Her father coughed, but like an out of control locomotive, her mother kept going. ‘Maybe your old mum will find out more about him for you, now we’re staying for a few more days.’
Faith took in a deep breath, praying for calm. ‘You don’t need to stay, you know. It was lovely to have you here for the opening but I can manage.’ To her alarm, she felt a ball of emotion wedge in her throat. She loved her parents to death, but Adam had been spot on in his surprisingly perceptive comment about why she’d bought her own hotel. This was something she needed to do without her parents. Already she had them as investors. She needed to be clear that was where their involvement ended.
Her mother reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘We know you can manage. We’re not staying to interfere, or to keep an eye on you. We’d like to stay a few more days because we’re enjoying it so much. We thought it would be lovely to spend the next week in our daughter’s hotel rather than the four walls we usually inhabit.’
‘Plus it’ll save me killing myself getting those decorations down from the loft,’ her father commented with a wink.
‘We’ll disappear if you get a rush of bookings,’ her mother added. ‘And we’ll pay for the privilege.’
Her father gave her mother a mock glare. ‘Minus family discount.’
Faith’s eyes bounced between the pair of them, and she started to laugh. ‘Okay, okay. I give up. Enjoy yourselves. Just—’
‘Keep out of the way.’ Her mother grinned. ‘You won’t notice we’re he
re.’
Family, Faith thought as she left them to go and check on her niece. They were the most important things in her life. Even when they drove her crazy.
Speaking of crazy, Chloe was leaning on the reception desk, speaking into the phone.
‘Yeah, we’re open.’
Faith grimaced. She was going to have to find Chloe something else to do before she scared off all the potential customers.
‘Dunno.’
‘Chloe,’ Faith hissed, coming up beside her.
‘What?’ Her niece glared at her, oblivious to the customer still listening on the other end.
Faith snatched the phone out of her hands. ‘Hello, I’m Faith Watkins,’ she said smoothly, turning her back on her niece. ‘I’m the owner of The Old Mill. How can I help you?’
A few minutes later, following a very welcome query about a possible New Year’s Eve party – thank God she’d taken the phone from Chloe – Faith ended the call and turned to her niece. ‘Why are you being like this?’
Chloe jumped off the stool and shoved her hands on her hips. ‘Like what?’
‘Rude? Not caring whether you upset my guests, ruin my business?’
Chloe smacked her hand on the reception desk. ‘What the flip have I done wrong now? You asked me to answer the phone. I answered it. You’re as bad as Mum and Dad. Nothing I ever do is right.’
As they squared up to each other, Faith heard the clearing of a throat. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. The depth of the sound, the way her heart bounced against her ribs, gave it away.
Adam Hunter stood in front of the desk, towering over both her and Chloe, his light grey eyes flickering between the two of them.
‘Adam.’ She wanted the ground to swallow her up. To rewind the last minute – or however long he’d been there – and do it all again. Without Chloe.
A Little Christmas Faith (Choc Lit) Page 4