So here they were, pretending to meet for work reasons when really he was giving Hilda the chance to meet his dad. Of course, he’d not told his dad he was getting a babysitter tomorrow. He’d save that argument for later.
After making the introductions he watched carefully as Hilda went to sit on the sofa opposite his dad. Was it his imagination or had his dad just straightened in his chair?
‘What can I get you to drink, Hilda?’ he asked.
‘Tea, please. Earl Grey if you have it, if not English Breakfast. Not too weak. A splash of milk. No sugar.’
Earl Grey? He had to smother a smile. ‘Dad?’
He caught his father’s eye, and didn’t miss the rare glimmer of amusement. ‘The same.’
Stepping back into the room five minutes later with two mugs of tea – Tetley, if it was good enough for men in flat caps, it was good enough for him – he halted abruptly, some of the tea slopping onto the floor.
His dad was laughing.
And bloody hell, so was Hilda.
He must have made a noise, hopefully not a gasp, though it wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility, because they both looked up.
‘Two teas, as requested.’ He smiled, trying to act like everything was normal. That he often found his dad and his PA laughing. At the same time. Together.
‘Sidney was telling me what a time he had of it, training Clarissa to step onto his hand.’
‘Oh?’ Owen kept his face neutral, but his mind was working overtime. She was calling his dad Sidney already. Two months of asking and she still called him Mr Cooper.
‘Damn girl kept biting me,’ his father answered gruffly.
‘I didn’t realise.’ Because he’d never asked, Owen thought guiltily. He’d only ever treated the budgie and the hens as a nuisance. Not recognised how important they were to a man who’d suddenly found himself living alone.
‘Do you have any pets?’ he asked Hilda, wondering if she, too, counteracted loneliness that way.
‘A cat. Mr Tickle.’
Good God. The surprises kept on rolling. Just as he was getting over the shock of his straight-laced PA calling her cat something daft, he was blindsided by the sound of his dad talking. Again. This time to offer that he’d considered a cat but opted for the budgie instead as he’d always know where it was.
The pair of them then started to converse as if he wasn’t in the room and Owen slowly took a step back. Then another. When they didn’t so much as glance his way, he grabbed his phone from the sideboard and bolted up the stairs.
‘Owen?’
By the time he heard Gabby’s surprised answer he’d made it to his bedroom and slammed the door shut.
‘Hilda and my dad are talking,’ he blurted. ‘I mean really talking. And smiling at each other. It’s like I’m in a parallel universe.’ His words were met with a resounding silence. A painful, and lamentably late reminder that their relationship had taken a backwards step since his dad’s fall. ‘Sorry. Are you in the middle of something? Because I can phone back later.’ Damn, he was cocking this up. Slumping onto the bed, Owen stared up at the ceiling. ‘What I really phoned for was to hear your voice. Our last call was too rushed.’
‘You’ve done all the talking.’
‘A good point.’ He rubbed at his forehead, trying to find his smooth. ‘Force of habit. I’m going to shut up now and I really, really hope you’ll say something. Even if it’s piss off, Owen, I’ve got better things to do than listen to you waffle on about your dad.’
‘I do have a KPI document to review.’
Okay, he was used to her sharp humour. It didn’t necessarily mean she was pissed off with him. ‘It won’t buy you flowers.’
‘Which I don’t need.’
‘But you enjoy looking at?’ he tried hopefully.
‘Which I enjoy looking at.’ She sighed and the optimist in him thought it sounded wistful, though it could equally have been boredom or frustration. ‘I find it hard on the phone, Owen.’
He knew what she meant. Without seeing her expression, or looking into her eyes, he had no idea how irritated she was with him. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. And hopefully in a few days, I’ll see a lot, lot more of you.’
‘Hopefully?’
Damn, he hadn’t meant to add an element of doubt. ‘A figure of speech. I’ll leave you to get back to your apparently fascinating KPI review. Just know I wish I was there with you. Leaning over your desk. Sweeping back the hair from your neck and kissing you right there, on the soft skin above your collarbone.’ His voice roughened as desire flooded through him. It had been too long since he’d touched this woman. ‘Goodbye, Gabby.’
Chapter Sixteen
Five days before Christmas
Owen felt more positive as he made his dad his usual lunch of a cheese and pickle sandwich. They’d had a talk after Hilda had left yesterday and he’d sounded okay about flying to France in three days time to stay with Alice. Well, what he’d actually said was I’ll go where you want me to go. It was enough for Owen.
As he carried the sandwich through, he wasn’t aware he’d been whistling until his dad frowned. ‘What’s put you in a good mood?’
‘It’s nearly Christmas?’
‘You’re not six.’
Owen refused to stop smiling. ‘True. At six I wanted to meet a man with a white beard and a big fat belly. At thirty my tastes are more refined. Female, dark eyed, dark haired. Curves in all the right places.’ He glanced back over to his dad. Should he ask again? The devil in him didn’t want to jinx anything. His conscience shoved the naughty horned creature aside. ‘Are you still up to getting on a plane on Monday?’
Eyes fixed on the sandwich, and not on him, his father said quietly, ‘Stop fussing. I’ll go.’
Shouldn’t have asked. Some of his good mood evaporated, but Owen reminded himself his father hadn’t been thrilled about going to France even before the fall. ‘Alice is going to buy a wheelchair, just in case you want a rest from the crutches.’ The physio had suggested moving from the walker to the crutches yesterday, which Owen had taken as another good sign.
‘I’m not going anywhere in a bloody wheelchair.’
‘Fine. Tell Alice when you see her.’ He didn’t feel guilty about handing his dad over to his sister for a while. The visit was long overdue. Pushing him to visit now though, when he was recovering from a major op … yeah, that guilt lay heavy in his stomach. ‘I’m off to the Christmas lunch now. Hilda’s going to pop in later to check you’re okay.’ Before his dad could register the comment, Owen continued smoothly. ‘You need me for anything, you’ve got my number.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ He gave Owen a look loaded with accusation. ‘You didn’t need to get me a damn babysitter.’
Owen tried not to flinch. ‘I thought you liked Hilda. You certainly didn’t find it hard chatting to her yesterday.’
His dad focused back on his sandwich. ‘She’s a good woman.’
‘It’s not going to be a hardship having her come to see you then, is it?’ Owen sighed, going with honesty. ‘And knowing she’s going to pop in means I can relax and enjoy the lunch.’
Not that he was particularly looking forward to it. His sales team were a good crowd, but he’d far rather be spending the afternoon with a certain marketing director. At least he’d see her though. His heart lifted as he hunted down his car keys and headed for the door.
‘Don’t forget to feed the hens!’
Damn. ‘Will do,’ he yelled back as he flung open the front door. Blasted things. A twenty-five minute round trip to sort them out would mean twenty-five minutes less time with the bird – Gabby would thump him for that description – he really wanted to spend time with.
Gabby looked up from her desk for the third time in five minutes. Damn Owen Cooper. He’d turned her into a jittery mess. With a huff of determination, she focused back on the document she’d been reviewing.
A few moments later, her nostrils twitched. As Owen’s unique brand of aftershave hi
t her senses, her gaze flew to the doorway, crashing into a pair of stunning ocean-blue eyes.
He gave her a slow, sexy smile. ‘Hi.’
God, how was it possible for a heart to somersault? ‘Hi, yourself.’
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, causing her heart to jump even higher. Then he walked up behind her, carefully pushed back her hair. And planted a gentle kiss on her neck, exactly as he’d promised in his phone call yesterday.
He groaned, low and deep. ‘Christ, I’ve missed this.’ His lips moved along her neck, kissing her again. ‘Missed you.’
Closing her eyes she leant back against him, savouring his smell, his touch. Her head tried to remember why she was annoyed with him, and came up blank.
With a reluctant sigh, he drew back. ‘A glass office isn’t the right place for what I want to do with you right now.’
Heat flashed through her and a retort, witty or otherwise, seemed beyond her capability.
With a practiced movement he perched on her desk, one foot on the floor, the other swinging. His muscular thighs straining against the black denim of his trousers. ‘How are you?’ he asked softly.
Why did she feel such a hit of emotion? It wasn’t the first time this man had wandered into her office and asked how she was. But now he kisses you first. Now your hands are trembling, your heart racing, just because he’s sitting so close to you.
She dragged in a breath. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’
‘Fine?’ His eyes searched hers, a little hurt, a little concerned. ‘Is that all I get?’
‘My mother phoned me yesterday,’ she blurted.
A pair of blond eyebrows shot up to his hairline. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
Gabby forced a nonchalant shrug. ‘I guess.’
His hand reached down to squeeze hers. ‘Hey, talk to me.’
She hadn’t realised how much she needed to, until now. Keeping hold of his hand, she took a breath. ‘She sounded … lonely. I’ve never heard her like that. She actually said she was homesick.’
‘Do you think she’ll come back?’
Her instinct was to dismiss this notion – this was her mother, after all – but Gabby couldn’t get it out of her head how despondent she’d sounded. ‘I don’t know.’
‘When was the last time you saw her?’
How awful that she had to think about it. ‘About two years ago, I guess. She was happy. She’d found a guy.’
Owen smiled. ‘We can have that effect.’
Relieved at the break from tension, Gabby rolled her eyes. ‘She finished with him a while back though.’
‘You think she’s still pining for him?’
Gabby shook her head. ‘I doubt it. I’ve never known her become attached to anyone.’
‘Like mother, like daughter, huh?’
‘I’m not like my mother,’ she told him quietly.
‘Of course not. You’ve become attached to me.’ Though he smiled, there was a tension to it that suggested he wasn’t convinced he believed what he was saying.
‘I have,’ she admitted, holding his gaze. The joy that leapt into his eyes made her glad she’d had the guts to say it.
‘Good to hear.’ Briefly he touched his hand to her cheek. ‘Tell me why the conversation with your mum upset you so much.’
‘I didn’t say I was upset.’ When he cocked an eyebrow, she huffed. ‘Okay. I’m worried about her.’ She swallowed down the emotion that squeezed its way into her throat. ‘Stupid, I know. She lives her own life, does her own thing. Phones when she’s a bit down and then ignores me for months on end. I shouldn’t waste my energy on her.’
‘Of course you should. She’s your mum.’
Gabby heaved out a sigh. ‘Yeah, there is that.’ He got her, she realised. This man who was her opposite in so many ways, actually understood her. She looked up at him, almost afraid to ask the next question. ‘While we’re on the subject of parents, how is your dad?’
‘Good, thank you. Moved from a walking frame onto crutches yesterday. And ready to fly to France on Monday.’
‘Seriously?’ She studied his face for evidence of the signs she was sure she’d picked up on over the last few days. When she couldn’t find any, she pushed anyway. ‘You can tell me the truth, Owen. I’d rather know now if there’s a chance you can’t make it.’
He glanced quickly through the glass walls, and seemingly reassured nobody was walking by, laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. ‘From Monday onwards,’ he said softly, his breath dancing across her skin. ‘I’m all yours.’
Her stomach went all squirmy, both at the words I’m all yours and the tenderness in his voice.
All too soon though he was glancing at his watch, sighing as he slipped off the desk. ‘Got to go, duty calls.’ His blue eyes filled with heat. ‘Tell me how many bikinis you’re packing.’
A welcome burst of laughter shot from her. ‘I’ve not thought about it yet.’ When he smirked, she threw up her hands. ‘Okay, maybe I’ve put a few things aside.’
‘And made a list.’
‘Most sensible people would do that.’
‘Lists are for wusses. So, about those bikinis?’
She grinned, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from her chest. The last few days of uncertainty about the holiday, about Owen, felt like a silly waste of emotion. ‘There are several. One in black, one with polka dots.’ She gave him a flirty smile. ‘A skimpy red one.’
He groaned. ‘Enough.’ His hand slipped to her arm and he squeezed gently. ‘I’ll phone you tonight, when I’m in the privacy of my bedroom.’ His voice dropped an octave. ‘We can finish the bikini talk, before moving onto your underwear.’
The smile he flashed her over his shoulder before heading out was as sexy as sin.
A few beats later Cindy popped her head round the corner. ‘Well, well.’ Her eyes skimmed Gabby’s face. ‘Either you’re coming down with something, or that was a very interesting meeting you just had with Owen.’
‘My office is a little hot. That’s all.’
Cindy let out a booming laugh. ‘I bet it is, honey. I bet it is.’
Owen arrived home after the sales team Christmas lunch – Hilda called it the ‘boozy sales lunch’ – at six in the evening, stone cold sober. In previous years he’d partied on till the wee hours and fallen into a cab. This year he’d wanted to get back for his dad. That’s the reason he’d given the team, anyway, and it was the truth, if not the whole truth. The desire to get drunk and hit the nightclubs just wasn’t there any more.
He was ready to settle down.
More accurately, he was ready to settle down with Gabby.
The realisation hit him quietly. Not a thunderbolt, more an enforcement of a belief he’d held for weeks now. The idea of permanency with Stella had left him unbalanced, leading to their break-up. With Gabby it felt like the natural next step.
By God, he missed her. Five days since he’d woken up next to her was far too long.
He was about to climb out of the car and into the house when his phone rang. Thinking it might be Gabby he rushed to answer it. Instead it was the other female in his life.
‘Zoe?’ Something was up. This was the second time she’d phoned in the space of a week.
‘I told Mum, I’m not going.’
It took Owen a moment to remember the last conversation they’d had. ‘You don’t want to go on holiday?’
‘No. She can’t force me.’
The wobble in her voice made his heart squeeze. Poor kid. He’d like to bet it wasn’t the thought of spending Christmas on the beach that upset her, but going on holiday with a guy she was only starting to know. At home she had her friends, her room to disappear off to. It was a safe place. Going abroad probably felt intimidating. ‘She won’t force you, Zoe, you know that. But she won’t want to be without you, either. Especially not at Christmas.’
‘Then she shouldn’t have booked a holiday.’
He wasn’t going to get anywhere. ‘Is y
our mum there? Maybe I can have a talk to her?’
Zoe huffed in the way kids did when they thought grown-ups were being dumb. ‘She won’t change her mind. I’ve tried.’
He considered telling her he could be persuasive, but it had been a long while since he’d had anything but a coolly polite conversation with Stella.
Suddenly there was a clatter, and the sound of muffled voices. A second later, Stella came on. ‘What have you been saying to my daughter?’
Jeeze. He wasn’t sure whether it was the frosty tone, or the fact that he was sitting in his car with the engine turned off in the middle of December, but he shivered. To hell with this, to negotiate though this conversation, he needed to be inside. ‘Hang on a sec, Stella. Let me get in my house before you start lobbing grenades.’
Juggling keys and the phone, he opened the front door, taking a moment to pop his head into the sitting room to check his dad was okay. Satisfied to see him watching television, he strode into the kitchen and sat down at the table. ‘Okay then. First things first, how are you?’ He didn’t see why they couldn’t be civil. They’d once shared a life together.
There was a beat of silence before he heard her exhale. ‘Fine, thank you. You always were good at deflating an argument.’
‘I’m not here to argue. Zoe phoned me sounding upset. It’s the second time she’s told me she doesn’t want to go away for Christmas.’
‘She’s spoilt. What kid wouldn’t jump with joy at the thought of going to the Caribbean?’
‘Who is this break for, you and Simon, or Zoe?’ he asked quietly.
Another pause, followed by another sigh. ‘Okay, okay. It’s mainly for me and Simon. We were planning on getting married there. No fuss, just us and Zoe.’
Now he understood. ‘Have you told Zoe this?’
‘No. I thought it would be a nice surprise.’
A Little Christmas Charm Page 12