Harlequin Romance December 2020 Box Set

by Susan Meier, Sophie Pembroke, Jessica Gilmore

  She sighed. ‘Did you mean that I might want it to be a pretend date?’ It was her best guess, the only way she could really make sense of his contradictory statements. ‘You know, to make it look like I actually have a date in front of my stepsisters?’ Because actually that didn’t sound so bad.

  But Damon looked horrified at the very idea. ‘No!’

  ‘Why not?’ Rachel asked, before she could stop herself. ‘It sounds like just the sort of fun trick I’d have thought you’d love, from Celeste’s stories.’

  She laughed, as if it could cover how painfully awkward this whole conversation was.

  Damon didn’t laugh, though. Instead, he reached across the table and took her hands in his. ‘Because it wouldn’t be pretend. I want—’ He broke off, and sighed. ‘I promised myself—I promised Celeste, come to that, and she’s much scarier than my own guilt—that I wouldn’t do anything that could hurt you. After that kiss, I told myself that the only way it could happen again was if you asked for it. But I realised tonight…you’d never ask, would you?’

  Eyes wide, Rachel shook her head. She wouldn’t ask. Because she couldn’t imagine for a moment that he would say yes. Even on the walk over, imagining a fling with him, at least half her brain had still been assuming it was a fantasy brought on by too much wine and lasagne.

  ‘But I wanted you to. And it turns out… I’m still no good at obeying the rules, even the ones I set myself.’ He took a deep breath and Rachel was amazed to see something that looked like nervousness in his smile. ‘So, Rachel Charles, I’d love to go to your work party with you. As a friend, or a colleague if you’d like. Or as your date, if you’ll have me.’

  Her world spun and it had nothing to do with the wine. Damon Hunter had asked her on a date. Her decade-long fantasy was becoming reality, and her first thought was…

  What’s the catch?

  Because as much as she liked Damon, she knew she wasn’t his usual type. He looked as blindsided by this weird attraction between them as she was. And that, more than anything, reminded her of a truth she’d already internalised.

  I could get hurt here, if I’m not careful. Heartbroken.

  And that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. This couldn’t be like Tobias again, with him in control, the one deciding when they were together or not, the one keeping her a secret from all his friends. She didn’t believe Damon would disown her in public the way Tobias had, pretending it was all a great joke. But she also knew Damon had the power to hurt her in other ways. She’d wanted him for so long, how would she feel when he didn’t want her any more, after she’d tasted what being with him could be like?

  I can protect my heart. As long as I know what I’m getting into.

  Rachel always had a plan, and she plodded through it one step at a time. It might be boring but it was what she needed here too.

  Next to freedom, the thing she wanted most was everything that Damon could offer her. But it had to be on her own terms. Her plan, not his.

  Which meant she had to suck it up and ask for what she needed. Damon had done the hardest part for her. Now she just had to make sure she protected her heart well enough that, when the clock struck midnight on this thing between them, she wasn’t left broken in a corner somewhere regretting her life choices.

  She had to speak up for once.

  Releasing her fingers from his grip, she reached for her wine, took a fortifying sip, then made herself say the words.

  ‘If this is going to be a date, there have to be ground rules.’

  He looked amused at that. She just hoped he was still smiling by the time she’d finished.

  * * *

  The Hartbury’s Christmas Party was supposed to be the highlight of the department store’s staff calendar, but as far as Damon could see that didn’t say much for the rest of the year’s events.

  ‘They don’t even bother to hire somewhere for the party?’ he muttered to Rachel as they joined the queue to get inside the department store.

  Rachel shrugged. ‘Hannah always says there’s no point, since they already have all this space, and venue-hire costs are astronomical at this time of year. Although Dad did try to persuade her to move it a couple of years ago after one of the seasonal workers was sick inside one of the display mannequins.’

  He shot her a confused look. ‘Inside?’

  She nodded. ‘They’re hollow, you see. Apparently he just took the torso off, threw up down the legs, then put it back on again. We didn’t find it for days after the smell started to spread.’

  ‘That’s…horrible.’

  ‘Yep. And if that didn’t convince her to move the party somewhere else, I don’t reckon anything will.’

  The queue was filled with staff members who spent all their working days at the shop and who were now heading back there in their glad rags for the party. Damon wasn’t sure he’d have bothered, if he were them.

  But he wasn’t really thinking about them. He was thinking about the woman standing beside him, holding his hand in her gloved one.

  Holding hands. He felt about fourteen again, obsessing about a girl’s hand in his. Rachel did that to him. Stripped away all those years of experience and left him uncertain and unsure again in a way he hadn’t even been when he met her, all those years ago.

  He wasn’t sure he liked it.

  But he liked her. Which was why he was happy to be here, at her side, despite his awful sense of foreboding about this party as a whole. And despite—or perhaps because of—her ground rules.

  He’d been afraid she’d expect too much from him, things he wasn’t able to give, like promises and commitment. Instead, she’d leaned across the table and asked for the opposite.

  ‘This is a Christmas fling,’ she’d said, her face serious. ‘I am not expecting for ever, and I know you’re not either. This is fun, that’s all. Because there’s obviously something between us and I think I’d like to explore that a bit. But we both have to be very clear on one thing: this is over the moment the last Christmas cracker has been pulled.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he’d asked, hardly able to believe she was speaking his own thoughts to him so clearly.

  She was giving him the way out he needed, setting the boundaries that would allow him to move on when he needed to. Because he always needed to, he knew that about himself.

  Her answering smile had lit him up inside.

  ‘Very. I’ve never had a proper fling before—not one that counted. You can be my first.’

  Except, of course, fling clearly meant something different to Rachel than to most people. And he wasn’t going to push her a second faster than she wanted to go. So he’d put her in the taxi with a chaste kiss goodnight, and now here he was, one night later, holding her hand like a prom date.

  But it would be worth it. Even if he never tempted her up to his bedroom before she called time on their fling, it would be worth it, because he would get to spend time with Rachel.

  Christmas turned him sappy, apparently. Who knew?

  The queue shuffled up along the street as the doors to the store were opened. ‘I don’t see your stepsisters in this queue,’ he said as they moved with the tide.

  ‘They’ll be inside already,’ Rachel replied, absently. ‘They’re family.’

  ‘So are you,’ he pointed out, but she just shrugged. He frowned. Seemed to him Rachel spent a lot of time not making a fuss about her awful family even when she really should.

  Maybe he could help her start.

  Finally they reached the front where the big double doors were propped open. Just inside, Rachel’s father, stepmother and stepsisters were standing to receive their guests, handing each an envelope that Damon sincerely hoped contained a decent Christmas bonus for staff members.

  ‘Rachel! You came! We weren’t sure, after the dress debacle…’ Maisie trailed off as Damon stepped out of
the shadows behind his date and into full sight. ‘And you brought a guest!’ She elbowed her sister in the ribs and Gretchen turned to join them instantly.

  ‘Oh, Damon, how kind of you to accompany Rachel again!’ Gretchen simpered, making every hackle Damon possessed rise up. Whatever hackles were.

  ‘I couldn’t let my girlfriend attend her Christmas party alone,’ he said, coolly. ‘What kind of boyfriend would that make me?’

  Both Gretchen’s and Maisie’s eyebrows shot up in symmetrical surprise.

  ‘Boyfriend?’ Maisie echoed. Then the stepsisters exchanged a knowing look. ‘Oh, of course. Boyfriend. Just like Tobias was your boyfriend, I suppose? Well. Come on in, then!’ She handed Rachel her envelope. ‘Enjoy the party, you two…lovebirds!’

  Damon could hear them snickering behind him the whole walk to the temporary cloakroom that had been set up in the foyer.

  ‘What was that about?’ Rachel was tense beside him, almost rigid inside her coat, but she sighed at his question.

  ‘They think it’s an act,’ she said, sliding her coat from her shoulders.

  Damon took a moment to admire Rachel in that curve-clinging dress he’d bought on a whim—was it really less than two weeks ago? It seemed longer, somehow. But she still looked as beautiful, and as tempting, as she had in it at the TV studios that night.

  The last time—the first time—he’d kissed her properly, and the moment he’d started losing his mind.

  He frowned as her words caught up with him. ‘An act?’ Handing their coats over to the cloakroom assistant and taking their ticket, he led her away towards the bar. ‘What kind of an act?’

  Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘Isn’t it obvious? They think you’re here as a pity date, pretending to be interested in me just so I’m not embarrassed by coming to the party alone. Even though I’ve come on my own for the last seven years.’

  Seven years. She hadn’t had a date at Christmas in seven years. And yet, all Damon could think about was who she’d brought seven years ago. Someone she cared about? Someone she loved?

  He shook the thought away. Was this why she’d latched onto the idea of a pretend date when they’d been talking last night?

  He ran back over her stepsister’s words in his head. Tobias.

  ‘Just like Tobias was your boyfriend…’ That was what she’d said.

  ‘Who’s Tobias?’ he asked as they approached the bar.

  Rachel’s steps faltered just for a moment, then she carried on walking. ‘My sort-of ex-boyfriend.’

  ‘Sort-of ex?’ he repeated. ‘How does a person have a sort-of ex-boyfriend? Surely you’re dating or you’re not.’

  ‘You’d have thought, wouldn’t you?’ Rachel said, her voice too light and cheery. She didn’t want to talk about this, obviously. But he had a feeling she needed to, so he pushed all the same.

  ‘Rach. Tell me about Tobias and I’ll buy you the biggest glass of wine they sell here.’

  She sighed. ‘The glasses are all the same size—and the wine will be warm and you’ll hate it. Besides, I have our drinks vouchers right here.’ She waved the envelope he’d optimistically hoped, on behalf of the staff, would contain something more than a voucher for warm white wine.

  ‘Then tell me because I want to know. And because I think you’ll feel better for telling me.’

  She gave him a disbelieving look at that. He waited and she eventually started to talk.

  ‘Tobias was—is—a friend of Gretchen and Maisie. The same social circle, you know. We met by accident at one of the parties they threw at the house once, a year or so ago now, when Hannah and Dad were away. I normally try to stay out of the way when they’re happening; I mean, I’m six years older than Maisie, and four years older than Gretchen, and we don’t exactly have the same interests and friends, right?’

  ‘I wouldn’t imagine so,’ Damon said, dryly.

  ‘But that night they’d ordered the really good pizza, and I was starving, so I popped down. And Tobias…well, he seemed kind of on the outside too. So we got talking, and we actually got on well.’

  ‘So far, so good. Why do I suspect this is all going to go wrong?’

  ‘Because you’ve met me?’ she guessed.

  ‘I am one hundred per cent sure that whatever happened next is not your fault.’

  ‘No, I guess not,’ she admitted. ‘Except for the part where I really should have known better.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Long story short? We grew close. We were together for months. Except he was very, very careful to make sure that my stepsisters and their friends never saw us together. Which was easy, since I was never all that keen to be around them anyway. So much so, in fact, that it took me a while to notice.’ She shook her head. ‘I was naive. I should have realised sooner.’

  ‘Realised what, exactly?’ Damon could already feel the blood pounding at his temple. Just as well for this Tobias that he wasn’t here tonight.

  ‘That he was embarrassed to be seen with me.’ Rachel shrugged, smiled a self-deprecating smile, and apparently remained unaware how much he wanted to punch her ex-boyfriend. Which was probably for the best. ‘When we finally got caught out last summer—Gretchen, Maisie and a whole gang of friends walked in on us kissing—he laughed it off. Pretended it was all a big joke. That seducing me had been a sort of fun pastime, something to laugh about with his friends afterwards.’

  Okay, now his blood really was boiling. ‘That utter, utter bastard.’ He wanted to touch her, to hold her, but he was too tense with anger.

  Rachel, strangely, didn’t look angry at all. Just said, ‘I felt sorry for him, to be honest.’

  At those words, his anger started to ebb away.

  ‘Sorry for him?’

  ‘Yeah. I mean, he cared more about what Gretchen and Maisie and everyone thought of him than what he actually wanted. And in some ways, he did me a favour.’

  Okay, pity for the guy he could almost understand. But a favour? His scepticism must have shown on his face because she went on, unbidden.

  ‘I mean, he showed me how small my life had become, stuck in that house, with those people. I’ve let them define me and my dreams for too long. Seeing Tobias choose their image of him over who he really was…that was what made me decide to finally stop doing that. To move out, find a new job, chase my own dreams for a change.’ She sounded so strident, so determined, that Damon was almost fired up on her behalf.

  Except that six months later she was still living there, still working at Hartbury’s. ‘What happened?’

  Rachel’s voice was small as she answered. ‘Dad had a heart attack. He hadn’t been feeling right for years—that was what always stopped me before. And then Hannah pointed out that me rowing with Gretchen and Maisie hadn’t helped his stress levels. Might even have caused… Anyway. I just… I couldn’t leave until I knew he was okay. We’re just waiting on some last test results…’

  ‘But you took the job at the arcade with me anyway.’

  She looked up, her gaze locking onto his. ‘It was too good an opportunity to pass up.’

  The longer he held her gaze, the more he believed that she was saying something else. That he’d been the draw, not the job.

  Then she looked away. ‘Anyway, that’s what happened. And that’s why my stepsisters were so amused to see you with me. They think it’s all pretend—a pity date or something.’

  Because they didn’t believe that any man would choose Rachel over them. Idiots.

  ‘We’re just going to have to show them this is no pity date, then, aren’t we?’ He couldn’t change the heartbreak she’d felt last summer; he couldn’t promise her anything beyond Christmas, either. But he could do this.

  Rachel blinked up at him. ‘And how, exactly, do you plan to do that?’

  He felt the smile spreading across his face. ‘Just trust me,
yeah?’

  She bit her lower lip, white teeth in plump flesh, and a shimmer of heat flashed through him. Proving this wasn’t fake wasn’t going to be a problem at all, not with the way he felt about Rachel in that dress.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  And the game was on.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE HARTBURY’S CHRISTMAS party was as awful as it always was, objectively speaking. As always, they had tiny drinks vouchers in the envelopes provided at the door, ready to be exchanged for warm, weak wine and nothing else. As always, it was filled with people who already spent all day in each other’s company, and really just wanted to get drunk and not have to talk to each other any more.

  Being there with Damon was a definite improvement, though. He was attentive and boyfriendy without going over the top. Rachel could feel Gretchen and Maisie—not to mention plenty of others in the room—watching them as Damon led her onto the dance floor, or fetched her drinks, or just kept one hand casually at her waist as they spoke with other employees.

  In fact, she even managed to relax in a way she’d never expected to. Until she spotted her stepmother crossing the room towards them, and saw the moment Hannah realised Rachel wasn’t wearing the dress she’d bought her. She wouldn’t have noticed when they arrived, not while she still had her coat on. But now there was no hiding it.

  ‘Here we go…’ she murmured.

  Damon, handing her a glass of lukewarm wine, followed her gaze. ‘Your stepmother?’

  Rachel nodded. ‘I’m not wearing the dress she bought for me.’

  ‘I imagine because it was hideous?’

  ‘Basically.’

  ‘Okay, then.’ Beside her, she felt him straighten his posture, and saw him paste on his most charming smile. Battle armour, she thought, wondering why she’d never noticed how often he used his charm as a defence before.

  She tried to smile too, but it was hard in the face of Hannah’s frown. ‘Rachel, I think someone has caused some…unfortunate damage to one of the windows. Can you clean it up?’