One Christmas Kiss in Notting Hill

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘Diner?’ Chase queried. ‘Are we talking hotdogs and fries and … hey d’you think there’ll be grits?’ Chase inquired. ‘My stomach got kinda excited when you mentioned those.’

  Isla shook her head. ‘No, it’s a hog roast and traditional Christmas fayre.’ She smiled. ‘I’m really hoping Colin has his homemade mulled wine. It’s exquisite.’

  Her saying ‘exquisite’ in that beautiful British accent sent a shiver down his spine. This was all Maddie’s fault for mentioning the word ‘date’. He straightened up in his seat. He was going to fire off a message to Colt when he visited the men’s room. If he wanted to talk then he could start by explaining what he was doing letting Brooke watch an NC-17 movie.

  The door was whipped open and a blast of freezing air flowed into the car. Isla let out a gasp, then accepted the driver’s hand as she stepped out on to the pavement. Chase followed her lead, shoes hitting snow. Then he straightened up and took in the building in front of them.

  The bright red Electric Cinema sign shone underneath the arched eaves of a white stone building glowing in lamplight. There were white double doors – holly wreaths at their centre – below an old-school cinema sign declaring ‘Matthews Corporation Christmas Extravaganza’.

  ‘It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?’ Isla remarked, her eyes seeming to suck in everything she had no doubt seen a million times before.

  ‘It’s very … charming,’ Chase answered. He immediately hated himself for making the word ‘charming’ sound like he was dropping the F-bomb.

  ‘The diner is just here,’ Isla informed. ‘Next door.’

  He looked to where she was indicating. This building had a mainly glass frontage with a dark wood façade, and black and white tiles on the floor where he suspected tables and chairs would be set out in warmer weather. Right now there were Christmas trees in terracotta pots, golden lights spiralling around the branches, matching the radiance coming from the inside. It wasn’t like anything anywhere in New York.

  He noticed Isla shiver then and realised she wasn’t wearing a coat, just that delicate-looking gossamer shawl over her shoulders.

  ‘Let’s go in,’ he said, stepping a little closer to her. ‘Introduce me to everybody.’

  Thirty-Eight

  ‘Isla Smiler! You are looking gorgeous, my darling! Gorgeous!’

  Isla couldn’t help but let salt-and-pepper-haired Colin Matthews sweep her right off her feet into a spinning bear hug that almost took the breath from her. He finally put her down and she struggled to maintain balance, one hand clutching the wooden diner-style table on her right, filled with festive food from shortcrust pastry turkey and cranberry pies to spiced beef, sage and onion skewers and fat tureens of liver pâté. The scent was heavy with cinnamon, orange and sweet mincemeat.

  ‘Hello, Colin,’ Isla greeted. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Wonderfully more than fair to middling, my darling. How about you?’

  ‘I’m very well,’ Isla replied. ‘And you’ve excelled yourself this year.’ She indicated their surroundings. The wooden tables and the bare brick walls usually gave the feel of an airy Manhattan loft but tonight icy white lights dropped down from the wooden ceiling, real spruce trees decorated with frosted silver baubles framed the room and on each table stood a solitary illuminated sparkling star.

  ‘David thinks I’ve gone a little too The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe,’ Colin laughed. ‘I said you can never have too much glitter and fur. Have you seen Lady Sylvie Lau?’ He put his arm around Isla and drew her close, focusing her gaze across the room full of people to the eccentric local dignitary.

  ‘Gosh!’ Isla said, taking in the full-length leopard-print fur and sparkling tiara on the woman’s beehived head.

  ‘David thinks it’s jaguar,’ Colin whispered.

  ‘I sincerely hope he’s wrong,’ Isla said.

  A not-so-subtle cough broke her concentration and she realised quickly that Chase was beside her and she hadn’t introduced him. Great start to impressing the boss with her networking skills.

  ‘Oh, Colin, please, let me introduce you to the CEO of Breekers International, Chase …’ Isla began.

  ‘Chase Bryan,’ Colin said, shooting his hand forward. ‘I know exactly who you are. I’ve watched some of your motivational videos on YouTube. Very inspirational.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know what to say,’ Chase replied. He sounded genuinely surprised. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I think Breekers have finally realised that even though they work with bricks and mortar it’s all about the people.’ Colin pumped Chase’s hand up and down before finally releasing it. ‘Self-improvement for all.’ He looked to her. ‘Isn’t that right, Isla?’

  Isla gave Colin a smile and nodded. ‘Yes.’ She turned slightly to Chase. ‘Colin’s charity part-funds affordable housing. Breekers built a small new community in the East End,’ Isla informed.

  ‘And I couldn’t have done it without this wonderful lady,’ Colin said, slipping an arm around Isla’s shoulders and squeezing her into him. ‘There were things the architect just hadn’t taken into account that this young lady spotted straightaway.’

  ‘Well,’ Isla said. ‘That’s my job.’

  ‘And you do it beautifully,’ Colin said. ‘Oh, excuse me, David is flagging me down like a member of Village People doing semaphore.’ He stepped away from their group and pointed out the trays of food on the tables. ‘Make sure you eat all these Christmas delights because there’s a hog roast ready any minute.’ He turned away then quickly turned back. ‘Oh, and I’ve put you two at the very front of the cinema on one of the lovely double beds.’ He grinned. ‘Tonight we’re cosying up with a Christmas classic … It’s a Wonderful Life.’

  It’s a Wonderful Life. Isla did love that film. But had he said one of the double beds? They were along the front row, large, long, cushioned chaises plenty big enough for two, but still, it meant … being prostrate with your boss.

  She opened her mouth to call Colin back but he was already sidling through the throng of guests to his beckoning partner.

  ‘So, a double bed,’ Chase commented, picking up a skewer.

  ‘So,’ Isla replied. ‘Motivational videos.’

  ‘Okay,’ Chase replied. ‘I’m happy to talk about those but first I think we both need a drink. Where is this mulled wine you told me about?’

  ‘So,’ Isla began, ‘the videos.’

  Chase sipped at the delicious nectar that was Colin Matthews’ alcoholic Christmas speciality. The spiced fruits rolled over his tongue, then began warming his throat on the way down to his stomach. It was good stuff.

  ‘You really want to know about that?’

  ‘Of course. If Colin’s watched them, and he is a busy, busy man, then they must be good.’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ Why had he said that? What motivational speaker stopped sounding confident about his motivational-speaking capabilities?

  ‘Is it more closing your eyes and deep breathing and imagining your happy place like you did in the Breekers boardroom?’ she asked.

  ‘Ouch,’ Chase replied, looking suitability offended. ‘You hated that too.’

  ‘I’m not sure self-improvement comes from someone telling you how you should feel.’

  Whoa. This was new. He knew, as with everything, there was a degree of dubiety about altering the way you inherently think and respond to problems, but usually he was able to win others’ opinions over easily. And he was ready with his answer.

  ‘It’s more about trying to get you to be more truthful to yourself.’ She made no reply so he continued. ‘Is the world going to end if I make this decision or that decision? Unless you’re in charge of the nuclear football the answer is almost always no.’

  ‘You can’t possibly know that on an individual level,’ Isla countered.

  ‘True,’ he admitted. ‘And the videos have to be for a broad spectrum. But, no matter what the nature of your business, the hurdles faced are the same.’

&nb
sp; ‘But the people aren’t,’ Isla said.

  He watched her take a long, slow sip of her drink, those full lips touching the glass, her blue eyes fixed on him. He was both hating and enjoying this conversation. Being questioned wasn’t usually a problem but his confidence had been kicked again tonight by Colt’s text, and it seemed like almost everyone was waiting for him to crash.

  ‘So how did you get into it?’ Isla asked, finally bringing the glass away from her mouth. ‘Aaron tells me you wanted to be an astronaut.’

  He took a breath as his insides were pulled tight. It had been a while since anyone had mentioned that but it hurt just as much now as when he had to give up that dream. ‘Someone’s been on Google.’ He managed a nod. ‘But yeah, I did.’

  ‘But you’re here,’ she said. ‘Not lost in space.’

  ‘Very observant, Miss Winters,’ he concluded.

  ‘Did you not pass the G-Force test?’ she asked.

  He smiled. ‘I’ve never had a problem with anything starting with G.’

  He’d made his reply evasive and deliberately provocative to move the conversation on, to get it back on his terms. He watched her blush, then he responded, ‘What happened was the New York Rangers made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. But, there’s only so many games you can be beaten up on before it takes a toll on your body.’ He reached up to the collar of his shirt and pulled it, and the bow tie, away. On his neck was a two-inch-long slim scar. ‘Blades can be a bitch on the skin.’

  ‘Wow,’ Isla said.

  ‘After that it was time for a fresh challenge.’ Skipping the few years in between came almost naturally now.

  ‘But you had your own business-coaching company. Why move into construction?’

  He smiled at her as, around them, piped festive music was turned up in volume. ‘Why not move into construction?’

  She shook her head, a slight smile on her lips. ‘Answering a question with a question again, Mr Bryan.’

  He was about to make a reply when the sound of a rather large bell broke the music and the excited chatter.

  ‘The pig is now ready! Form a disorderly throng, my darlings! Talk, laugh, feast … good-natured scuffles are encouraged and the feature film will commence in sixty minutes at nine o’clock.’

  Chase looked to Isla. ‘Okay, as much as I’d love to tell you my whole life story I think it would bore you so … how about we find Rod Striker and you can introduce me.’

  She smiled. ‘Of course.’

  Thirty-Nine

  Isla was going to sip her second glass of mulled wine a lot more slowly than the first one. Within three mouthfuls she had been practically interrogating her boss. He was here, not lost in space? What was she thinking? Hannah would be dying of shame if she had heard. She could, of course, blame her outburst on the knowledge that some sort of double lounging system was about to come their way soon and it was that that had thrown her. Okay, so they would be watching a film but what position would she have to get herself into to see the screen? She shivered and took a micro-sip of her drink.

  Chase and Rod Striker looked to be bosom-buddies already. She had made the initial introductions, Rod had practically licked her whole hand when he’d doffed lips to skin, and she had retreated citing another guest she needed to catch. In reality, she didn’t like the councillor. He was a type she had experienced a lot of in her time at Breekers. There were some people left with a strong moral compass, but she had found they were few and far between in the planning departments of councils. And she really wished Chase was talking to someone she’d listed rather than this racketeer.

  Rod was laughing wholeheartedly at something Chase had said now, his large, round, beachballesque face reddening with every guffaw. Was Chase Bryan like one of those rogue councillors? She wasn’t sure yet. He had brought this inflated, fabricated town and hotel to the table, but was he going to make sure it was all done the right way? The genuine way. The not-lining-the-pockets-of-the-decision-makers-in-an-underhand way? She wanted to believe he spoke from the heart – that he really did care about her fire doors and escape routes as much as he seemed to care about his children – but he was a businessman and his keenness to meet Rod Striker was a little troubling. She had told him she thought the place for this new venture was north London and, if he agreed with that, the person he needed to be speaking with was not Rod Striker but Vincent Fallon. Vincent ‘By The Book’ Fallon.

  However, motives unclear or not, there was no denying the CEO of Breekers did cut a fine figure in his tuxedo. She watched him talking animatedly, a piece of pie between his fingers, the suit jacket open, revealing that clinging-in-all-the-right-places, bright, white shirt, shiny cummerbund showing off his obviously athletic frame. She sighed. If he was just a guy, just a guest here – perhaps one of David’s actor friends – would she be interested? Would she be relishing the thought of watching this film on a bed with him? Would she be allowing her stomach to fizz with a combination of the creamy and delicious pâté and … attraction. Maybe. Just maybe she would be open to conversation and a little flirtation but, as it was, he was the top dog of the whole business. Does it matter? She imagined Hannah’s voice like it was her conscience on her shoulder dressed in the Devil’s robes. Of course it mattered. Why? He’ll be back in New York in a week or so. She didn’t do casual. You don’t do anything. Live a little. She took a huge gulp of the mulled wine and quickly moved across the room towards a bank manager she knew well.

  ‘Hey, Rod, so, the reason I wanted to hook up with you tonight is two-fold,’ Chase began, plucking another glass of steaming mulled wine from a passing waiter and handing it to the councillor.

  ‘I’m intrigued,’ Rod replied, gnashing pastry between his teeth. ‘Go on.’

  Chase lowered his voice. ‘Well, firstly, I’ve been told you’re the best there is.’

  He watched Rod lap up the compliment like it was cream on top of a Christmas pudding.

  ‘But, this needs to stay completely between us. I mean, absolutely under wraps until everything is in place and the company is ready for the big reveal.’

  Rod touched his finger to his nose. ‘Chase, I haven’t got to where I am today by not being able to keep a secret.’

  Chase smiled. ‘As I thought.’ It was his hope that as soon as the councillor heard about Breekers’ plan and the potential kick-back for him personally, he was going to do everything he could to insist the super-complex was built in his area.

  ‘So, I’m telling you, the best there is, that Breekers want to build something,’ Chase carried on as people began to file out of the room, pork-filled rolls in their hands.

  ‘That is what you guys do,’ Rod answered with a chuckle. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tuxedo.

  ‘It’s big,’ Chase stated.

  Rod leant forward a little. ‘How big?’

  ‘Six hundred acres big.’

  He watched the councillor’s eyes bulge out of his head and he then began to cough. Chase took his arm, encouraging the mulled wine glass nearer his lips. He waited for him to take a swig of the drink before continuing. The guy didn’t need to know the finer details tonight. Chase just had to lay down the groundwork.

  ‘In my zone?’ Rod queried. ‘It’s impossible.’

  Chase shook his head. ‘Oh, Rod, you’re a businessman. The word “impossible” shouldn’t exist in our world.’

  ‘Tell that to the other members of the planning committee and the tree-huggers.’ He sighed. ‘You touch the wrong blade of grass around here you’ve got to pay compensation and plant a whole football pitch.’

  ‘If this project were to go through,’ Chase said, pitching his tone just right. ‘There would be a significant thank you to the man who made it happen.’

  He had Rod’s full attention now; the councillor’s eyes were not saying ‘impossible’ they were asking ‘how much’. He struck while the iron was in the fire.

  ‘I’m sure Jeremy and Ben would love their father to be able to drive them to sch
ool in a Ferrari, no?’

  The man was literally panting now, pastry falling from the fingers of one hand, the other barely gripping hold of the glass.

  ‘Let’s arrange to meet next week, yes?’ Chase said. ‘Go through all the details.’ He didn’t wait around to hear an affirmative. As he nodded his goodbye and slipped back into the crowd heading for the cinema, he knew whatever he was going to ask of Rod Striker, his support was a given.

  ‘I’ll get my secretary to arrange it,’ Rod called after him.

  And there it was. Chase didn’t look back but held up his hand. O-Y-F. Own Your Future.

  Forty

  Isla sighed with pleasure as she looked down into the auditorium of the Electric Cinema. It was just beautiful. From its rounded ceiling and painted décor reminiscent of its Edwardian roots, to its red leather seats complete with footstools and individual side tables with glowing table lamps. There was no need for additional Christmas cosy here, it was already awash with winter ambience and starting to fill with merry men (and women) high on Colin Matthews’ hospitality – and mulled wine.

  ‘Is it wrong to secretly be wishing for a showing of something like Gravity?’

  Chase’s voice was close to her ear and an involuntary shiver made Isla tighten her grip on the glass she was holding. She turned to face him. ‘Still hankering after that life in a rocket?’

  He grinned. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘I just have a soft spot for Sandra Bullock.’

  Isla returned his grin and whispered. ‘Me too.’

  ‘Whoa, Miss Winters, the puck hit the back of the net right there.’

  She led the way down the aisle towards the front of the theatre where the big screen was displaying the Electric Cinema logo, seemingly waiting for everyone to be seated. ‘Is that ice hockey terminology you’re quoting? It’s not a sport I’m overly familiar with.’

  ‘I guess not,’ Chase replied. ‘You Brits are more into soccer …’