A Little Christmas Charm

by Kathryn Freeman

  The severe lines of her face relaxed, just a little. ‘It was. Gabby’s quiz was … very agreeable.’ With a dip of her head she looked past him and towards the door. ‘Thank you for the invitation. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Goodnight, Hilda.’ He watched her go, her back stiff, her stride more of a march. Only she could think a daft Christmas quiz was agreeable.

  He was accosted a few more times as he walked round the packed room, his gaze drifting over the sea of bodies dancing energetically to the live Christmas music. He really didn’t want to be here right now.

  But then he clocked Gabby sitting at the bar with Cindy. Suddenly this was exactly where he wanted to be.

  Marching straight over, uncaring of who was watching, he put his arm round Gabby’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. ‘Hey, there.’

  The eyes that stared back at him were amusingly unfocused. ‘Ah, the wanderer returns.’ She hiccupped. Then giggled.

  Owen slid his eyes over to Cindy, who stared back at him in silent laughter. ‘Who is this, and what have you done with Gabby Sanderson?’

  ‘Meet tipsy Gabby. She’s taken a liking to Jamaican punch.’

  ‘You should try some.’ Gabby hiccupped again and pushed the nearly finished glass towards him. ‘Might put hairs on your chest. Not that you need hairs. I’m a big fan of the smooth, ripped look you’ve got going on.’ Her fingers trailed down the front of his shirt, and though he knew sober Gabby would be mortified, an involuntary bolt of lust shot through him. ‘Ooh, feel that, Cindy.’ She smiled in that goofy way of drunk people. ‘Feel what Mr Dreamboat is hiding under those shirts he wears.’

  Owen winced, looking daggers at Cindy. ‘Seriously, you told her about that stupid nickname?’

  As Gabby’s hand began to work its way between the buttons on Owen’s shirt, sending goosebumps racing across his skin, Cindy snorted with laughter.

  Aware they were now attracting attention, Owen grabbed Gabby’s hand before it could do any further damage. ‘Time to go home, Gabby.’

  She pouted, dark eyes blinking adorably up at him. ‘Jush one more drink. I want another umb … umb … you know, another green one.’ She nodded down to the three green cocktail umbrellas already on the table.

  Owen frowned over at Cindy. ‘Please tell me one of those is yours.’

  ‘Nope.’ Cindy’s grin was full of mischief and flashing white teeth. ‘She managed them all by herself.’

  ‘With your encouragement,’ he countered, helping Gabby off the stool.

  ‘Hey, the woman needed cheering up.’

  Owen stilled, his arm wrapped protectively round Gabby. ‘Why?’

  ‘That’s for her to say.’ Cindy must have seen his worry because she relented, whispering. ‘I think our Gabby is finding dating you tougher than she thought.’

  What the hell did that mean? ‘Right, thanks. I think.’ Damn, Gabby’s eyes were fluttering closed. ‘I need to get her out of here before she falls asleep and I have to carry her.’ He squeezed Gabby’s waist, causing her eyes to pop open. ‘Can you manage to walk?’

  Gabby giggled. ‘Of course. I’m not drunk, you know.’

  ‘Could have fooled me,’ Owen muttered under his breath as he kept his arm tightly wrapped around her.

  Occasionally she’d lurch, or trip, finding the whole thing hilariously funny in that way only drunk people can understand. Together they managed it out of the hotel and into his car.

  By the time he’d reached her house, she was fast asleep. With a resigned sigh, Owen shifted through her handbag for her keys – neatly attached to a clip in the scarily organised interior – and went to open her door. Sliding an arm around her shoulders, his other under her legs, he lifted her and carried her up to her bedroom.

  There he carefully undressed her and tucked her under the duvet. She murmured something unintelligible when he kissed her forehead before settling back onto the pillow.

  After stripping off, he climbed in behind her, tucking her against him. Here’s your romance, he thought with a wry smile. And promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Twelve days before Christmas

  Gabby woke to the screech of an alarm, a pneumatic drill pounding through her head, and a furnace against her back. Groaning, she whacked the snooze button. No, the drill was still there. And so was the heat. She started to shift away, only to find a muscled arm pinning her in place.

  ‘Morning, sunshine.’ She was eased onto her back and blinked up to find a blond God gazing down at her, all dazzling blue eyes and far too bright smile. ‘How’s the head?’

  Slamming her eyes shut, she groaned again. ‘Don’t smile at me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t move me.’

  The sound of soft laughter echoed round her room. ‘You’re really not a morning person, are you? We’re going to have to remedy that when we go on holiday.’

  Gabby jerked her head towards Owen, only to feel her brain bang the side of her skull. ‘Damn it. Find me some painkillers before I die.’

  As she struggled to sit up, Owen slipped out of bed. ‘Kitchen, bathroom?’

  Gingerly she moved her head to look at him. Then hissed in a breath at the sight of his naked, rippling torso. His naked everything. It was too much, when she felt like she’d been thrown down a flight of stairs. ‘Bathroom. And cover up. The sight of all that wholesome flesh is making me sick.’

  ‘That’s not what you said last night. In fact last night, you were so enamoured with running your hands down my abs, you asked Cindy to cop a feel, too.’

  Oh God, she really was going to be sick. ‘Painkillers. Now.’

  What the hell had she been doing, drinking all those cocktails? She was going to murder Cindy when she saw her. After she fired her.

  Half an hour, some painkillers and a hot shower later, she felt strong enough to tackle the toast and mug of tea Owen put in front of her. They were sitting at her breakfast bar, him looking sinfully healthy, his eyes clear, his expression relaxed.

  ‘I’m never drinking again.’

  He grinned, taking a big mouthful of the toast she hadn’t got further than eyeing up. ‘I’ll remind you of that when we’re at the beach bar, looking at the cocktail menu.’

  The fuzz was starting to clear from her head. ‘Won’t your dad need looking after when he comes out of hospital?’ She slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at her lapse. ‘Shit, I didn’t even ask you last night. How was he?’

  ‘Fine.’ His amused eyes caught and held hers. ‘Probably in a better state than you this morning.’

  ‘Not hard.’ Damn, how had she cocked this up so badly? Some support she’d turned out to be. ‘Looking after a drunk woman was probably the last thing you needed last night. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Hey.’ He reached across and grasped her hand. ‘Don’t apologise. You were exactly what I needed. Though I’d have preferred it if you hadn’t been comatose when I slid into bed next to you.’

  Embarrassed, Gabby pushed at the toast on her plate.

  ‘Out of interest, why did you start downing the cocktails?’ He tucked a finger under her chin, making her eyes meet his. ‘Cindy said something about you needing cheering up?’

  She really was going to murder her PA. ‘She’s wrong. I wasn’t unhappy. Just …’ feeling horribly vulnerable. How could she admit to that? ‘This is all new to me. Dating someone from work. Being in a relationship. Being somebody’s girlfriend.’ She sighed, putting her head in her hands. ‘And if last night is any indicator, I think I’m going to be crap at it. I hate being crap at anything.’

  ‘Whoa, stop there.’ Owen jumped neatly off his stool and wrapped her up in a pair of big strong arms. ‘Where on earth has all this come from? So, you had a bit to drink. I can guarantee you’ll have to put me to bed one of these days.’

  ‘Maybe, but tell me this, if the situation had been reversed, and my mum had been taken ill, what would you have done? Stayed at the party and got drunk, or come to the hospital with me?’
/>   ‘Gabby, will you stop being daft. You offered to come, I told you stay at the party and enjoy yourself.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Seems to me, you did exactly that.’

  ‘I didn’t offer.’ She could remember bits and pieces, before she’d started hitting the cocktails. ‘I asked you if I should offer, which is different. And you didn’t answer my question. Would you have gone to the hospital, even if I’d asked you not to?’

  She felt his chest expand and contract as he sighed. ‘Yes, I’d have gone with you. But mainly to make sure you got there okay.’

  ‘That’s so stupid.’ Annoyed with herself, with him, she squirmed away from him. ‘I don’t need you to protect me. I can look after myself.’ She’d had nearly a lifetime of practice, after all.

  ‘I know, it’s a man thing.’ He took hold of her shoulders, clearly considering his next words. ‘I’m no expert at this relationship stuff either, remember. If I was, I wouldn’t have been dumped.’

  The pinch of jealousy scared her. ‘Do you still think about Stella? Wish you were with her?’

  ‘No, God no.’ A gentle squeeze of her shoulders. ‘But at the time it bloody hurt. Made me never want to get involved so seriously ever again.’

  And now his reputation started to make sense. ‘Hence the serial flirting?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess. It wasn’t conscious on my part, but probably, yes, that’s why I’ve played it casual ever since.’ The hands that had been on her shoulders moved to cup her face. ‘Until I met you.’

  The sincerity in his eyes was too much, she had to look away. How ironic that if he’d been the serial womaniser she’d first thought, this would be so much easier.

  Owen felt Gabby pull away from him, both physically and emotionally. One minute they’d been in an intimate embrace, the next she was walking to the other side of the kitchen.

  ‘We’re late for work. Better get a move on.’ She clattered her plate and cup into the dishwasher.

  As he watched her, Owen wondered if this was how it had felt for some of the women he’d been with. They’d pushed him for more, he’d retreated. Then ended it.

  Was he, too, about to be dumped? Again? He could believe it as she busied herself around the kitchen, avoiding his eyes as she wiped down surfaces that were already spotless.

  Yet this same woman had been so worried she wasn’t girlfriend material, she’d got hammered on cocktails.

  Walking over to her, he placed a hand over hers, stopping her frantic cleaning. ‘Relax. Nobody gets into work on time the morning after the Christmas party.’

  ‘I have a meeting at ten.’ Her eyes swept past his and onto the clock on the wall behind him. ‘I need to go.’

  As a salesman, he knew when to push, and when to back away. ‘Okay then. Will I see you tonight?’

  ‘Don’t you have to check on your dad?’

  He felt a kick of guilt that he’d forgotten. ‘After I’ve been to the hospital.’

  She sighed. ‘I think it’s better if we don’t. I feel lousy. All I want to do tonight is have a bath and go to bed.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’ He smiled and she rolled her eyes.

  ‘I won’t be much fun.’

  He didn’t want her to entertain him, he thought with a burst of irritation. He actually wanted to take care of her, though clearly she wasn’t about to let him. ‘How about tomorrow?’

  Finally a small smile. ‘Tomorrow sounds good.’

  He bent and kissed her, deepening it when she began to respond. ‘I’ll see you at work,’ he told her roughly as he pulled away. Tomorrow sounded a long way off.

  The day dragged, not helped by the fact that Gabby had been locked in meetings for most of it and Owen hadn’t seen her. Now he was on his way to the hospital for a fun evening in the company of a grumpy man recovering from a hip op.

  The sound of his phone ringing was a welcome intrusion.

  ‘Owen Cooper,’ he said into the hands-free.

  ‘It’s me.’

  At the sound of the young voice he felt a rush of sheer, unbridled affection. ‘Zoe, this is a nice surprise.’ Stella had made seeing Zoe difficult since she’d started dating Simon, but he made sure they spoke every couple of weeks. It was rare for Zoe to call him though.

  ‘Mum’s out with Simon and I’m stuck in with a babysitter. I told her I’m too old for one but she said I’m not.’

  Owen could picture the pout on Zoe’s face. ‘Tell your mum to call the person who’s looking after you a nearly-a-teenager minder instead.’ She giggled at his terrible joke, and Owen wondered if there was any better sound in the world. ‘So, how are you getting on with Simon?’ Stella had worked her way through three men since dumping him and, ironically, not had a child with any of them.

  ‘Mum says he’s a keeper.’ Her voice turned into a whisper. ‘She reckons he’s going to marry her.’

  Three years ago the words would have devastated him. Now, thanks to distance and time, he understood the two of them weren’t meant to be. Their incompatibility went beyond their ages. Stella had never been career orientated. She’d hated his long working days. Not understood that sometimes he had to work at the weekends to secure a deal. ‘Is that good if they get married?’

  ‘I guess. He’ll be my dad then.’

  Owen tensed, hand clenching the steering wheel. ‘Do you want him to be your dad?’ For her sake, he hoped the answer was yes, even though he knew it would slice him in two. He’d always be Owen to Zoe, her mum’s friend, he knew that. But damn it, she felt like his daughter.

  And now she was going to be another man’s daughter.

  ‘I don’t mind. He doesn’t shout and he helps me when I get stuck with my homework.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Owen forced the words out through a throat that had become ridiculously tight.

  ‘Yeah. He’s not as funny as you though.’

  ‘He’s not, huh?’ Slowly he unclenched his hands. ‘That means he probably doesn’t know why the octopus beat a shark in a fight.’

  Zoe started to giggle. ‘Tell me, so I can tell him.’

  ‘He was well armed.’

  As Zoe’s giggles turned into laughter, emotion clawed at his chest. Damn, he missed this girl. Her childish enthusiasm, her spark. The way she used to look at him as if he was her hero.

  ‘More, more.’

  ‘Oh no, I’m not falling for that. You know I have to limit you to one a call. Don’t want you laughing so much you pop.’

  ‘Not fair.’ He imagined her sticking her tongue out at him.

  ‘Always leave the audience wanting more. Have you written your letter to Father Christmas yet?’

  ‘Duh, I’m nearly ten. I’m not a baby any more.’

  ‘So you don’t want any presents?’

  He heard her little girl huff. ‘Didn’t say that, did I? But Father Christmas doesn’t bring them, Mum does. And I won’t be getting many this year ’cos we’re going away.’

  Her disappointment was clear in her voice. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Mum says somewhere nice. It will be hot and have a beach. But that’s not Christmas, is it?’

  Owen thought of his own plans. Of the sexy brunette lying on that beach in the hot sun. ‘Might be fun though.’

  ‘It’ll be boring. No Christmas tree, no turkey, no crackers. Boring.’

  ‘I bet the resort you stay in will have all of those.’

  ‘No snow.’

  He chuckled. ‘Okay, you’ve got me there. Doesn’t always snow here at Christmas either, though.’

  ‘But it might.’

  They lived in the North of England. Anything was possible. ‘True, it might.’ He was nearing the hospital now, but Owen was loath to say goodbye just yet. ‘Most girls your age would love to go on holiday at Christmas.’

  ‘Yeah, to Lapland.’

  ‘You just said you didn’t believe in Father Christmas.’

  ‘Duh, I don’t. But Christmas isn’t Christmas unless it’s cold.’

  O
wen smiled to himself as he slotted into a parking spot. Give him heat and Gabby over Christmas any day.

  Chapter Ten

  Eleven days before Christmas

  Gabby glowered at Cindy when she walked into work on Friday, two days after the Christmas party.

  ‘I’m still not talking to you.’

  Cindy rolled her big brown eyes. ‘You can’t still be hung-over?’

  ‘No, but now I’ve got twice as much work to do today because I was so useless yesterday.’

  ‘Can I help it if you can’t hold your alcohol? We Jamaicans drink punch for breakfast.’

  ‘And then you lie on the beach all day, which is exactly what I plan on doing in eleven days time.’ But would she be doing it alone? Owen never had answered her question about whether he’d need to take care of his dad following his hip operation. Not that it should matter; the last few Christmases she’d holidayed alone and they’d been fine.

  It’s just that now she’d had a glimpse of what a holiday could be, with a man who made her laugh. And made her want.

  ‘You and Mr Dreamboat. Sea, sand and—’

  ‘Thank you, Cindy.’

  Gabby stepped into her office to the sound of Cindy’s untamed laughter. Shoving her briefcase on the floor she went to boot up her computer and froze. As her eyes took in the single red rose on her desk, her heart let out a loud thump. A Post-it note lay next to it, and scrawled in barely legible writing was:

  Missed you yesterday. Mr Dreamboat xx

  Unconsciously she placed her hand over her racing heart. No one had ever bought her flowers before. Flowers were for romantics, and she wasn’t one. The men she’d had flings with had known that. Sighing, she carefully picked it up, trailing her fingers across the soft red petals. She wasn’t going to get sentimental over a rose.

  Cindy poked her head round the door. ‘I see you found it. Do you want me to get a cup of water for you?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ She held it to her nose, inhaling the scent. ‘Maybe you could try and persuade the catering team to lend me a glass.’ Cindy started to smirk. ‘What? It would look better in a glass, that’s all.’