Harlequin Romance December 2020 Box Set

by Susan Meier, Sophie Pembroke, Jessica Gilmore

  And right now, she knew Celeste was saying, He thinks he’s so subtle, but he really isn’t.

  She smiled in agreement, and Celeste’s expression changed—a slight furrowing of the brow, a small, sideways half-smile, concern in her eyes. Are you okay? With everything? Do I need to beat up my brother? Because I will.

  Rachel knew it. But there was no need.

  Damon had been perfect all week. Alarmingly so, in fact. She’d expected him to freak out when they woke up together on Saturday morning, but he hadn’t. In fact, he’d been so okay with it that they’d barely been apart since. She’d actually been the one who was unsure about that, suggesting that maybe she should go home at least sometimes. But Damon had asked her why she’d want to and she hadn’t been able to think of a good reason so she’d stopped by the Hartbury family home long enough to pack a bag and that was about it. She wasn’t sure if her family had noticed.

  The thing was, she reasoned to herself in the dark of the night, she only had this Christmas with Damon. A festive fling, that was all.

  So she might as well make the most of every minute of it.

  Celeste was still watching her, waiting for her response, that furrow of a frown line growing deeper with each passing second. Rachel wondered what Damon had told her. She’d have to ask him later. But for now, she needed to reassure her best friend that she knew what she was doing, that she wasn’t about to get her heart broken. Probably.

  So she smiled, eyebrows neutral, gave a slight nod and watched Celeste relax. Mission accomplished.

  Celeste clapped her hands together as if they’d had an actual conversation, instead of a weird eyebrow discussion. ‘Great! Well, in that case, Damon, I assume you’re bringing Rachel to the traditional Hunter Christmas Eve party this year?’

  Damon, understandably, looked a little lost at the sudden change of topic. ‘Uh, we hadn’t talked about it. But, if you’d like to come… I’d love to have you there.’

  She hadn’t had as many years translating Damon’s expressions and hidden words but, after the last week, she liked to think she was getting better. So she heard the truth in his words and hoped she understood them.

  He didn’t want to go to the family party, she knew that. But if he had to be there, he’d rather be there with her at his side. And that felt pretty wonderful. It felt like…hope.

  ‘Okay,’ she whispered, and watched the smile spread across his face.

  ‘In that case, you’re going to need something to wear.’ Celeste spun slowly around, taking in all the beautiful evening dresses and wedding gowns the boutique racks held. ‘I’m fairly sure you can find the perfect dress here, don’t you think?’ She smiled at Jasmine, who darted out from behind the counter and grinned as she sized Rachel up.

  ‘We absolutely can,’ she promised. ‘I’m thinking something red. The colour of a really good red wine.’

  ‘My favourite,’ Damon said, moving behind Rachel. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. ‘I’m thinking something that slides off your shoulders all the way to the floor the minute we get home again.’

  Her cheeks warmed at that, but Celeste didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Perfect,’ she said, and turned to them both. ‘And after that, we need to go out for lunch, so you can both meet my sort-of date for the party too.’

  Rachel and Damon exchanged a look, one that Celeste could probably have read effortlessly if she hadn’t already been looking through dresses with Jasmine with more enthusiasm than Celeste had ever shown about anyone’s wardrobe, including her own, previously.

  Celeste had a date?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CELESTE HAD SPENT all morning grilling him about his relationship with Rachel, and now this? She’d avoided all of his questions under the premise of concentrating on choosing the perfect dress for Rachel—which they had—and then been tight-lipped all the way in the cab to the restaurant she, or rather her date, had apparently booked for the four of them.

  ‘Do you have any idea who she’s been seeing?’ he murmured to Rachel as Celeste paid the driver.

  She shrugged. ‘None. To be honest, I haven’t been paying a lot of attention to the world outside the Cressingham Arcade for the last week.’

  ‘Apart from the world inside my apartment,’ he pointed out, mostly just to watch the pink spread across her cheeks as she remembered all the places in that apartment he’d kissed, touched and made love to her over the last five days.

  She gave him a secret smile, one he’d come to know and adore since they began their festive fling. He returned it, then looked up to find Celeste watching them, her expression speculative. Damn.

  He really didn’t need her getting ideas that this was anything more than he’d told her it was, more than he and Rachel had agreed it was.

  Well, he thought as Celeste swept into the restaurant, this lunch would have to be his chance to convince her of the truth. And tease her mercilessly about keeping her new boyfriend from them. Not enough to scare the poor guy off—although, if he was dating Celeste, he had to have a higher tolerance for terror than most men anyway. It would probably take a lot more than an amused little brother to ruin things.

  Then he saw Theo Montgomery sitting alone at a table for four and realised that this double date was going to be even more bizarre than he’d imagined.

  ‘Is that…?’ Rachel trailed off, her mouth still slightly open with astonishment.

  ‘Apparently. Something you want to tell us, Celeste?’

  ‘Just…pretend this is all totally normal, okay?’ His sister straightened her spine, pasted on a smile and led them across the restaurant to Theo’s table.

  Damon watched in astonishment as Theo stood, smiling, and embraced Celeste, kissing her right on the lips. And Celeste, against all possible odds, returned the kiss, blushing prettily as she stepped away afterwards.

  Was he in another dimension? It seemed possible. And more likely than Celeste and Theo actually being in love and not bickering with each other.

  ‘Sweetheart, you remember my brother, Damon? And his girlfriend, Rachel?’

  Okay, Celeste had definitely never called anyone ‘sweetheart’ in her life. Something was definitely going on here—Wait. Did she call Rachel his girlfriend?

  It was too late to correct her now, he supposed, while Theo was hugging Rachel in welcome, and holding out a hand for him to shake. Damon took it then moved closer to the table, pulling out Rachel’s chair first instinctively, only realising he’d done it when he saw Theo doing the same for Celeste.

  What followed had to be the most surreal meal of his life, and he said that as someone who had experienced his father’s attempts to recreate an Ancient Roman banquet, complete with honeyed dormouse. Watching Theo and Celeste be not just civil, but actually affectionate with each other, to the point of Theo feeding her some of his starter from his own fork, was just baffling. As far as he could tell, Rachel was equally confused, although she managed to keep up something of a conversation with Celeste.

  Damon tried to chat with Theo but, to be honest, his mind was occupied by other things. Like Celeste calling Rachel his girlfriend.

  Girlfriend implied long term—certainly past Christmas. It implied deeper feelings than Damon was willing to commit to. And worse than that, it gave people—namely Rachel—ideas.

  He needed to talk to his sister, make the situation even clearer than he had over coffee that morning. Hadn’t she been the one who’d pointed out that Rachel deserved more than him? So why was she suddenly pushing like this, inviting Rachel to the family party, calling her his girlfriend?

  Although having Rachel at his parents’ Christmas Eve party with him was the only thing that could make the night bearable, as far as he was concerned.

  Still. It wouldn’t do for anyone to get ideas, that was all. Especially not him.

  It wasn’t until the pudding
s were eaten that Theo suddenly sat up straighter, leaning around Celeste to watch something out of the window, then collapsed back into his seat with obvious relief.

  ‘He’s gone?’ Celeste asked, shifting her chair away from Theo’s to a more normal distance.

  Theo nodded. ‘Finally.’

  Beside Damon, Rachel frowned. ‘Who’s gone?’

  ‘Our reporter stalker,’ Theo said, with a tired smile. ‘Come on, let’s grab after-lunch drinks in the back bar where it’s more private. Then we can explain.’

  * * *

  The back bar was cosy, warm and empty. Theo spoke briefly to the head waiter on their way in and he nodded, then shut the door behind them, returning moments later to enter, after knocking, with a tray of coffees and liquors. Then he departed again, leaving them in peace.

  It didn’t escape Rachel’s notice that, now they no longer had an audience, Celeste and Theo were sitting as far away from each other as they could manage while still at the same table.

  Damon had noticed too. He looked between them once, twice, then just asked. ‘What the hell is going on here?’

  Rachel let out a breath and took a seat—one next to Celeste, just in case her friend needed her. She hadn’t seen any hint of this, whatever this was, in Celeste’s manner when they’d been dress shopping at the arcade. And surely if something really weird was going on Celeste would have told her?

  When? her mind asked rebelliously. When you were avoiding her calls because you were in bed with her brother and you knew she wouldn’t approve?

  Okay, fine. She’d been a rubbish friend this month. But now she was here, she was every bit as curious as Damon as to what was going on.

  ‘Do you want to explain, or shall I?’ Theo asked Celeste, his upper-class tone lazy.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Celeste replied, sharply. ‘You’ll get it wrong.’

  ‘Probably,’ Theo agreed easily. ‘I’ll pour the coffees, then.’

  ‘So, Damon, I know you watched the car crash that was our festive TV quiz. Rachel, I assume you did too?’ Celeste asked.

  Rachel nodded, although in truth she’d only been able to bear watching the highlights on the Internet after the event. They were definitely bad enough.

  ‘It didn’t go down particularly well with the Internet fans. Or my agent,’ Theo said.

  Celeste shot him a look that Rachel interpreted as, Who is telling this story, you or me? Theo had obviously spent enough time with Celeste to read it too as he shut up and let her continue.

  ‘So Theo called me and asked me to help him rehabilitate his reputation.’

  ‘And yours,’ Theo interjected.

  Celeste rolled her eyes. ‘My reputation is based on my research, my publications, my education and my brain, not my ability to be pleasant on television. Unlike yours.’

  ‘Your reputation with TV companies, however, is based entirely on that,’ Theo pointed out, apparently unruffled by the accusation that he was just a pretty face.

  Celeste ignored him.

  Rachel snuck a look across the table at Damon, who was glowering at both of them. For all that he was the younger of the two siblings, she knew he could still be fiercely protective of his big sister. If he thought Theo was using Celeste…

  ‘So what happened next?’ she asked, keen to move the conversation along before the two of them descended into bickering again.

  ‘We agreed to a few public appearances together, as friends,’ Celeste said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it was in Theo’s world, but Rachel knew for a fact that Celeste had never once in her life pretended to be anything she wasn’t.

  And now she was pretending to be Theo’s friend? Girlfriend, even?

  ‘It got a little bit out of hand from there,’ Theo admitted. ‘There were these stories online…’

  ‘People thought we were faking it,’ Celeste explained.

  ‘Which you were.’ Damon, Rachel noticed, was still glowering as he spoke.

  ‘So we had to prove that we really were okay with each other,’ Celeste went on, ignoring her brother. ‘By pretending we were in love.’

  ‘So you’re mortal enemies pretending to sleep together for the cameras,’ Damon said, dryly. ‘The miracle of modern love, huh?’

  ‘Like you can talk,’ Celeste scoffed, then turned to Theo. ‘This one spent all morning telling me how he and Rachel are just colleagues who sleep together. Apparently they’re having a “festive fling”.’

  Oh.

  Oh.

  There was nothing about the words that were untrue, Rachel knew that. It was exactly what they’d agreed—a festive fling, nothing serious. Just something that would make the time while they were working together more fun.

  And yet, every syllable of Celeste’s words seemed to slice off another section of her heart.

  She knew she couldn’t let it show. This was like Tobias all over again, even if it shouldn’t be. Tobias had lied to her, let her believe that what he felt for her mattered to him. Damon had never done that. He wasn’t hiding her away, he wasn’t ashamed of his attraction to her. He liked her, wanted her, desired her, enjoyed her company. All of that was still true, and he’d never promised anything more. She couldn’t hold this against him.

  But she could still feel the other three watching her, waiting to see if she’d fall apart, as she had when she’d realised the truth about Tobias.

  Not this time. This time she was stronger. This time, she knew she’d be okay.

  Yes, she might have very stupidly fallen for a man who had told her upfront he wasn’t in this for the long haul, but she’d told him the same. Now she just had to suck it up and deal with it.

  Even if she was realising, rather too late, that she might be just a little bit in love with him.

  Rachel forced herself to smile, just as Celeste said, ‘Sorry, Rachel, that came out wrong.’

  ‘No, it’s true.’ She reached for her liquor. That might help. ‘He’s my festive fling. Right, Damon?’

  ‘Right.’ But even he didn’t look convinced.

  She took a sip of her drink and reminded herself to keep breathing.

  She’d figure this out. Find a way to save her battered heart.

  But if she only had one more week with Damon Hunter before their Christmas romance was over, she wasn’t going to waste any of it moping about. She was going to enjoy every second.

  * * *

  Four days after the double date from hell, the Cressingham Arcade officially opened to the public, not that it had been fully closed all along. But the scaffolding and cordons were gone, the floor tiles were repaired, the window displays were beautiful—apart from Mr Jenkins’s jewellery shop, because the old codger had kept putting off letting Rachel in to arrange anything—and Rachel’s social media campaign had built to such a frenzy that there were actual queues waiting outside the arcade at opening time.

  ‘I can’t believe we really did it,’ Rachel said, her eyes wide with astonishment as Lady Cressingham formally opened the gates for the first time.

  ‘I can,’ Damon told her, but he was watching her, not the crowds.

  She’d made this happen. He hoped she knew how incredible that made her.

  He tried to show her, that night in bed. Tried to tell her how amazing she was. But that connection, the one he’d felt since the first time they kissed…it seemed closed off. As if he couldn’t get through to her any more.

  Was it because they were coming to the end of their time together? Probably. It made sense to try and pull away before they had to, to ease the ending. He should probably be trying to do the same thing.

  But he couldn’t. Because every time he thought about not waking up to Rachel’s face smiling at him, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

  But he was going to have to figure it out, he resolved, in a stern pep t
alk to his reflection in the kitchen window of the Hunter family townhouse, three days later. Because tonight was Christmas Eve and, after tomorrow, their festive fling would be over. Which meant he’d have to spend the dying minutes of it here, in his parents’ town house. His least favourite place in the world.

  He fingered the felt mouse in his pocket, the one he’d bought at the British Museum. He hadn’t found the right moment to give it to Rachel just yet, but he supposed he’d better find it tonight.

  It might be his last chance.

  ‘What are you brooding about in here?’ Celeste asked, walking into the kitchen and catching him glaring at the drinks trolley.

  ‘Who says I’m brooding?’

  ‘Anyone who can see you.’

  ‘Which is…’ Damon looked ostentatiously around them ‘…basically just you.’

  Grabbing a tea towel from the counter, Celeste swatted him lightly with it, the way she used to when they were kids. ‘Is it Rachel?’

  ‘Is what Rachel?’

  That earned him an eye-roll. ‘Is it Rachel that’s making you so broody?’

  ‘If I were brooding—and that’s a big if,’ he added as Celeste made her I knew I was right smug face. ‘If I were, there would be no reason for it to be about Rachel.’

  Except, of course, it was. And his sister wasn’t falling for any twisted non-answers he might give, unfortunately.

  ‘So, which is it?’ She hopped up onto the kitchen counter and ticked the options off on her fingers. ‘You’re bored of her already and regretting asking her to come tonight because it will end your chances of picking up someone else.’

  ‘No.’ Damon grabbed the ice tray from the freezer and started bashing the cubes out into the ice bucket, as his mother had asked him to before his broodfest had started.

  ‘Okay, good, because I really would have snapped that towel at you if you had. Okay, option two: you’re worried that she’s falling in love with you, and you’re going to hurt her when you end things just like I said you would.’ The last part was loud enough that Damon half expected his parents to come rushing in to see what they were arguing about.