She was busy. She was engaged. She didn’t need him around.
Finlay walked back through the reception without acknowledging anyone. He had work to do.
* * *
It was finished. It was finally finished. Grime and sweat had ruined her pink shirt and black skirt. She’d swapped back from the stilettos to her lower shoes and spotted a hole in her black tights. Her hair had ended up tied in a ponytail on top of her head as it kept getting in the way. She must look a complete state.
Emma gave a sigh as she looked up at the giant tree. ‘If you’d told me this was what you had in mind when you asked for a hand...’
Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘As if you would have said no.’
Ashleigh was leaning against the nearby wall with her arms folded. ‘I think it looks spectacular. It was worth it.’
Grace couldn’t stop pacing. ‘Do you think so? What about those lights over there? Should I move them?’ She pressed her hands to her chest. ‘What about the colour scheme? Is it too much?’
The girls exchanged amused glances.
But Grace couldn’t stop with her pacing. ‘I’ll need to go and get him. I’ll need to make sure that he’s happy with it.’
Sophie walked over and put her arm around Grace’s shoulder. ‘Well, whoever he is, he’d be crazy if he didn’t like this.’
Ashleigh stepped forward. ‘I hope you’ve been paid for this, Grace. I’d hate to think this guy was taking advantage of your good nature.’
Emma folded her arms across her chest. ‘Who is he, exactly? You haven’t exactly been forthcoming.’
Grace hesitated. She wasn’t even quite sure what to say. She tried to slip the question by giving Emma a big hug. ‘Thank you for coming today. You’re not even a Maid in Chelsea any more. Should I start calling you by your fancy title?’
But Emma was far too smart for that. She returned the hug then pulled back. ‘I’m going to ask Jack if he knows anything about Finlay Armstrong.’
Grace shook her head—probably much too quickly. ‘I don’t think he will.’ She turned and looked at the finished decorations again. ‘I can’t thank you girls enough. I owe you all, big time.’
‘I think that’s our cue to leave, girls,’ said Ashleigh. ‘Come on. Let’s get cleaned up. I’m buying the drinks.’
They all gave Grace a hug and left by the main entrance of the hotel while she went to retrieve her jacket from behind the reception desk.
Should she wait? The hotel reception was quiet. She wasn’t even sure of the time. She’d asked the staff to dim the main lights a little to give the full effect of the tree.
Her stomach gave a flip-flop. He’d asked her to do this. He’d asked her. Surely he’d want to see that she was finished?
She walked slowly towards his office door, listening out to see if he was still on his conference call. She couldn’t hear anything and the office door was ajar.
She gave the door a gentle knock, sticking her head around it. Finlay was staring out of the window into the dark night. His office had a view of the surrounding area—not like the penthouse, of course, but still enough to give a taste and feel of the wealth of Chelsea. It was a wonder they didn’t ask for credentials before they let you off the Tube around here.
He looked lost in his thoughts. She lifted her hand and knocked on the door again—this time a little more loudly.
He jumped. ‘Grace.’ He stood up; his actions seemed automatic. He started to walk around the desk and then stopped, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.
‘What on earth have you done with your hair?’
She’d forgotten. She’d forgotten her hair currently resembled someone from a nineteen-eighties pop video.
She glanced down at her shirt too. Random streaks of dirt.
It wasn’t really the professional look she’d been aiming for.
She gave her head a shake. ‘I’ve been busy. This stuff doesn’t put itself up.’ Nerves and excitement were starting to get the better of her. ‘Come and see. Come and see that you like it.’
He raised his eyebrows, the hint of a smile still present. ‘You’re already telling me I like it?’
‘Only if you have exceptionally good taste,’ she shot back.
He had no idea how much her stomach was in knots. This was the guy who hated Christmas. This was the guy that had pulled down a single strand of lights she’d put in his room.
This was a guy that was trying to take steps away from his past Christmas memories. If she’d got this wrong...
She stepped in front of him. ‘It might be better if you close your eyes.’
‘Nervous, Grace?’ He was teasing her.
‘Not at all.’ She made a grab for his hand. ‘Close your eyes and I’ll take you outside. I’ll tell you when you can open them.’
For a moment she thought he might refuse. She wasn’t quite sure how long she could keep up the bravado. She stuck her hands on her hips. ‘Hurry up, or I’ll make you pay me overtime.’
He laughed, shook his head, took her hand and closed his eyes.
His hand in hers.
She hadn’t really contemplated this. She hadn’t really planned it. His warm hand encompassed hers. Was her hand even clean?
The heat from his hand seemed to travel up her arm. It seemed to spread across her chest. She shouldn’t be feeling this. She shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like...
‘Are we going?’
‘Of course.’ She gave his hand a tug and started walking—too quickly to begin with, then slowing her steps to a more suitable pace.
Magda at Reception raised her eyebrows as they walked past. Grace couldn’t think straight for one second. This was it. This was where he would get the full effect. The effect that every customer walking into The Armstrong would get from now on.
She spun him around to position him exactly where she wanted him. Far enough away from the traditional revolving door at the entrance way to stop him getting a draught, but still with enough distance between him and the display.
She tapped his shoulder. ‘Okay. Open your eyes.’
* * *
Maybe he’d been hasty. Maybe he shouldn’t have made any of the suggestions about Christmas decorations. He didn’t know what he was doing. He’d spent the last few hours trying to get the image of Grace in that pink coat out of his head.
He opened his eyes.
And blinked.
And blinked again.
His hotel was transformed. In a way he could never have imagined.
The lights in the main reception area were dimmed. In normal circumstances the black and grey floor, walls and reception desk would have made it as dark as night.
But it wasn’t.
It was purple.
Purple in a way he couldn’t even begin to find words for. He started to walk forward, straight towards the giant Christmas tree at the end of the foyer that was just pulling his attention like a magnet.
The traditional green tree was huge. It was lit up with purple lights and a few white twinkling ones. The large purple baubles and glass snowflake-style tree decorations reflected the purple light beautifully. The strange-style purple tinsel was wrapped tastefully amongst the branches. Along either wall were more purple lights. It was a strange effect. They drew you in. Drew your gaze and footsteps towards the tree. At intermittent points all along were snow globes of various sizes.
There was a choking noise beside him. Grace’s face was lit up with the purple lights, her hands clenched under her chin and her eyes looking as if they might spill tears any second.
‘What do you think?’ Her voice was pretty much a squeak.
He couldn’t speak yet. He was still getting over the shock.
Christmas had come to The Armstrong hotel.
&
nbsp; She’d captured it. She’d captured the Christmas spirit without drowning him in it.
The tree was giant, but the effect of only having one colour made it seem more sleek and exclusive than he’d expected. The intermittent snow globes were focal points. Something people could touch, pick up and hold.
The dimmed lights were perfect. It bathed the whole area in the most magical purple light.
‘Finlay?’ This time there was a tremor in her voice.
He kept looking, kept looking at everything around him, before finally turning and locking gazes with Grace.
‘I think Santa got everything wrong,’ he said.
Her eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’
Finlay laughed and opened his arms wide. ‘His grotto. Clearly, it should have been purple.’ He spun around, relishing the transformation of his hotel.
He didn’t just like it. He loved it.
Never, even in a million years, did he think he’d feel like this.
He picked up Grace and swung her around.
She was still in shock. She put her hands on his shoulders and let out a squeal. She was still looking for verification. She needed to hear the words out loud.
‘You like it? You think it’s good?’
He set her feet back down on the slate floor. ‘I don’t think it’s good—I think it’s fantastic!’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this. I can’t believe you’ve managed to capture just what I wanted for The Armstrong without...’
His voice tailed off. That wasn’t something to say out loud. That was part of his private thoughts.
She stepped in front of him again. This time the tension on her face and across her shoulders had disappeared. The expression on her face was one of compassion, understanding. She touched his arm. ‘Without taking you back to where you don’t want to be.’ She nodded. ‘I wanted this to be about something new for you. Something entirely different.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with memories. Not that there’s anything wrong with taking some time.’
His heart swelled. He knew so little about Grace. This woman, that he’d almost threatened to fire, that had stood up to him, teased him, and shown him compassion and made him feel things he hadn’t in years.
He was thinking things and feeling things that had been locked away inside for a long time.
He’d been so shut off. So determined not to let anything out—not to open himself up to the world of hurt that he’d felt before.
But things felt differently than he’d expected. The world outside didn’t feel quite so bad as before. He recognised things in Grace that he hadn’t expected to.
It was time to start making connections. Time to start showing interest in those around him. And he knew exactly where to start.
He reached down and took her hand. ‘I owe you more than a coat.’
She shook her head automatically. ‘No, you don’t. And that coat is beautiful. Completely impractical and the kind of thing I wear in one of my dreams. Thank you for that.’
Her dark brown eyes met his. ‘Every girl should get to be a princess some time.’
There was a little pang inside his chest. ‘Come to the staff party with me.’
She dropped his hand. ‘What?’ She looked truly shocked.
‘I mean it.’
Her mouth opened and then closed again.
‘Every year there is a pre-Christmas staff party at the hotel. I haven’t gone for the last five years. This year—it’s time for me to attend again.’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t promise I’ll dance. I can’t promise I’ll play Santa Claus.’ He gave her a serious nod. ‘But I can promise you there will be music, spectacular food and champagne. If you want to be treated like a princess, then come to the party with me.’
She still looked a bit stunned. ‘I’ve heard about the staff party. I just wasn’t sure if I was going to go. What will the rest of the staff think if I go with you?’
He waved his hand. ‘Who cares?’
‘I care.’ She looked serious.
He shook his head and took both her hands in his. ‘Grace, they will think I’m saying thank you for the way you’ve decorated the hotel. The way you’ve managed to bring Christmas to The Armstrong in such a classy, stylish way. And they’d be right.’
She glanced over at the Christmas tree and finally smiled again.
She tilted her head to one side. ‘Well, when you put it like that...’
CHAPTER FOUR
ALICE ARCHER COULD sniff out a problem from forty paces away. ‘What’s wrong with you today, Grace? One minute you’re talking non-stop, next minute you’re staring out of the window in some kind of daze. All with that strange expression on your face.’
Grace started back to attention. ‘What expression?’ she said quickly as she hung up another of Alice’s coats.
Alice gave a knowing smile. ‘That I’m-thinking-of-a-special-man kind of smile.’
Heat instantly seared her cheeks. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’
But Alice wasn’t put off. She merely changed the subject so she could probe another way. ‘The decorations are beautiful.’ She leaned back in her chair and gave a wistful sigh. ‘I doubted I’d ever see Christmas in The Armstrong again. But you’ve captured the spirit perfectly.’ She gave Grace a careful glance. ‘Who knew that purple could be such a festive colour?’ She picked up the individual snow globe that Grace had brought up to her room this morning, tipping it over so the snow swirled around in the liquid, then setting it back down on the table and watching it with a smile on her face.
‘It’s nice to see things changing.’
Grace was concentrating on the clothes hanging on the rails. She’d started arranging them into colour schemes. ‘He’s asked me to the staff party,’ she said without thinking.
‘He’s what?’
Darn it. She’d played right into Alice’s hands.
Alice pushed herself up from the chair and stood next to Grace. ‘Finlay asked you to the party? He doesn’t seem the type to do parties,’ she added.
Grace turned to face her. ‘He doesn’t, does he?’ She hadn’t slept at all last night. The excitement of the day, the success of the decorations, the long hours she’d worked. The truth was she should have been exhausted and collapsed into bed. Instead, although her bones had been weary and welcomed the comfort of her bed, her mind had tumbled over and over.
Even though she’d been so busy, as soon as she’d stepped inside the flat last night a wave of loneliness had swamped her. It had been there ever since her gran had died, but this time of year just seemed to amplify it. She’d ended up texting Clio and asking for extra shifts. She couldn’t bear to be inside the house herself. Keeping busy was the only thing she could think of.
She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about all this. Finlay had been straight with her. He was still mourning his wife. Christmas was hard for him. He was her boss. He’d been angry with her. He’d almost fired her.
But he hadn’t felt like her boss on the roof when she’d been contemplating an even lonelier Christmas than she was already facing. For a few minutes he’d felt like someone she’d connected with.
Again, when he’d held her hand and those little tingles had shot straight up her arm.
Again, when he’d given her that look as he’d stood behind her in the shop and stared at their reflection in the mirror.
Again, when she’d seen joy on his face as he’d seen the purple Christmas decorations.
But she was probably imagining it all.
What did she know? When was the last time she’d been on an actual date?
Wait? Was this a date?
‘He asked me to go to the party,’ she said out loud again. ‘It’s only a thank you for the decorations.’
<
br /> Alice gave a brief nod. ‘Is it?’ she said knowingly.
Grace made a little squeak. Panic was starting to wash over her. ‘It’s just a thank you.’
Alice turned and walked back to her chair. ‘I don’t know that he’s ever taken anyone else to the party—or to a party.’
‘No one else has done Christmas decorations for him,’ Grace said quickly, sliding the doors closed on the wardrobe.
She had to stop overthinking this. He’d been clear.
‘He said we might not even stay long. And he said he doesn’t dance. But the food will be good and there will be champagne.’
Alice’s smile grew broader. ‘So, if you’re not staying long at the party, what exactly are you doing?’
Grace replied automatically. ‘I guess I’ll just go home.’ Her hand froze midway to the rubbish bag attached to her cart. Would she just be going home? Or would Finlay expect them to go somewhere else?
‘What will you be wearing?’
‘Oh, no!’ Grace’s hand flew to her mouth. She hadn’t even thought of that. Her mind had been too busy trying to work out what an invite to a party meant. Her stomach in a permanent knot wondering how she felt about everything.
Truth was, there was no getting away from the fact that Finlay Armstrong was possibly the best-looking guy she’d ever seen.
That voice, those muscles, and those blue, blue eyes...
She swallowed and stuffed the rubbish in the bin. She’d seen women looking at him on their shopping trip. She’d seen the glances that already said, What is he doing with her?
Her mind did a quick brain-raid of her wardrobe. A black dress from a high-street store. A pair of skinny black trousers and fuchsia semi-see-through shirt. A strange kind of green dress with a scattering of sequins that she’d worn four years ago to a friend’s wedding.
Nothing suitable for the kind of party she imagined it would be.
‘I have no idea what I’ll wear,’ she said as she slumped against the wall.
Alice gave her a smile and tapped the side of her nose. ‘Why don’t you leave it with me? I don’t have all my clothes in that wardrobe and I think I might have something in storage—’ she glanced Grace up and down ‘—that might just be perfect.’
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