One Christmas Kiss in Notting Hill

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘See ya.’

  Chase ended the call and slipped his cell phone back into his pocket. There was only one thing he wanted to do now. ‘Isla.’

  He waited for her gaze to connect with his and then, when it did, he moved his body forward, capturing her lips with a full open-mouthed kiss, his arm circling her waist and drawing her closer. He felt her respond to his ardour, tongue teasing, almost begging for more. A glance to the left and the frosted, decorated window of Sugar High and he saw Maddie and Brooke, both looking at him and Isla. Maddie was bumping up and down in her seat, a delighted expression on her face and Brooke was shaking her head as if embarrassed, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. He drew back, brushing a hand through the tendrils of Isla’s sexy red hair.

  ‘God, you are so beautiful,’ he whispered. Never, when he first arrived here, did he even consider the possibility of finding these feelings, of finding someone like her.

  Isla blinked heavy lashes over those blue eyes and looked back at him. ‘Chase.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he replied.

  ‘I have a confession to make.’

  He swallowed, dreading what was to come.

  ‘I’ve never been to Las Vegas,’ Isla blurted out.

  He smiled then, continuing to touch her hair. ‘I know that. You have a tell, remember.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to lie,’ Isla began. ‘You were just being all bossy and boardroom and I needed something to convince you I wasn’t unadventurous.’

  ‘After our trip on the London Eye I can definitely vouch for your adventurousness,’ Chase stated.

  He watched her cheeks pink up a little in that cute way they always did when she was a little embarrassed. It only made him adore her more.

  ‘But,’ Isla began. ‘I would quite like to see New York some time, you know, if the offer is still open.’

  And there went his heart. Thumping triumphantly and filling him with pure joy he’d never felt before. He wanted to kiss her again … and tell her he loved her. But he didn’t want to scare her. And it was so new. Was it too new to be sure?

  ‘But I understand if you might have changed your mind and …’

  He kissed her lips again, hard first and then softly, their mouths barely making any contact at all. ‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ he whispered. ‘The offer is still very much on the table.’

  ‘Okay,’ Isla said.

  ‘Okay,’ he replied. Taking hold of her hands he squeezed them in his. ‘So, how about now we go eat highly calorific muffins and tell Breekers International the bad news about the Roman artefacts.’

  ‘Yes,’ Isla said. ‘I think we should definitely do that.’

  Eighty-One

  Beaumont Square

  Standing in the middle of her and Hannah’s corner of London on this crisp and wondrous night, Isla was soaking in every subtle nuance about the place. The streetlamp that always flickered on and off no matter how many times it was repaired, Mrs Webley’s ugly angel ornament that gurned out every year in front of her equally awful net curtain, Mr Edwards’ rose bush … Isla breathed out into the cold and took a step towards the bare shrubbery. It was thanks to this soft-natured, unassuming man who had had a love of cheese and history, that generations to come were going to be able to enjoy all that Notting Hill had to offer. Eyes glossy she blinked at the rose bush, narrowing her vision and studying it a little closer. Was that? It couldn’t be. New buds appearing in December …

  ‘Coming through!’

  It was Hannah, and Isla turned, greeting her sister who was speeding along the path, a pile of paperwork on her lap and Raj, Chase, Brooke and Maddie all behind her, trying to keep up.

  ‘It made the front page of the Evening Standard!’ Hannah yelled, gasping for breath as Ronnie skidded to a halt by Isla’s feet.

  ‘No!’ Isla gasped. ‘Did it really!’

  ‘Not just that,’ Raj interrupted. ‘I got all my mates to tweet it and share on Instagram. It’s not quite viral yet, but it’s getting out there, innit.’

  ‘The New York Rangers shared it too,’ Chase informed, moving next to her.

  ‘I asked Rag ’n’ Bone man for a retweet,’ Brooke said. ‘I don’t know if he will but …’

  ‘You should have asked J.K. Rowling,’ Hannah suggested. ‘She’s always on Twitter.’

  ‘Here,’ Hannah said, thrusting the newspaper at Isla. ‘Some expert has already said it’s a—’

  ‘Significant find.’ Everyone chorused together.

  Isla looked at the article, eyes catching the headline then skipping through words on the front page. Historic. Notable artefacts. Roman. Site of an old bath house. And suddenly she was filled with guilt. They had deceived people for their own agenda.

  ‘Hey,’ Chase said, taking hold of her hand. ‘Stop that.’

  ‘Stop what?’ Isla asked him, swallowing quickly and trying to compose herself.

  ‘This is all gonna come good,’ he told her.

  ‘Is it?’ Isla asked, a sigh leaving her.

  ‘This wasn’t about deceiving anyone permanently,’ Chase reminded her. ‘This was only ever about making this real enough to buy us some time.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Isla breathed. ‘I can’t help thinking it feels wrong.’

  ‘Pah!’ Hannah remarked. ‘No one thought about morality when they were drawing up those gross plans.’ She looked to Chase. ‘No offence.’

  ‘I’m of the opinion now the plans were grossly overrated,’ he responded.

  ‘Apart from the zoo,’ Maddie said.

  ‘We did the only thing we could do,’ Chase reassured Isla. He squeezed her hand tight. ‘Look around you,’ he urged. ‘We all had a hand in saving Notting Hill.’

  And, as Isla gazed around the square, the Christmas lights shining bright, the moon above them clear and warm, surrounded by everything she loved, with these people she cared so deeply about, the culpability began to wane. They had done what they had done for the greater good and, as soon as the super-hotel’s location was reassigned, she would drop an anonymous email to the council and ensure nothing else was dug up for the sake of a fictitious settlement.

  ‘We saved Notting Hill,’ she breathed, letting the words fly from her lips with all the euphoria she felt.

  ‘Whoop!’ Hannah exclaimed. ‘We saved Notting Hill!’

  ‘Notting Hill! Notting Hill!’ Maddie exclaimed, spinning around in a circle, pumping her arm in the air as her hair flew about in the night air.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Isla said, the reality of everything setting in as she took Chase by the arms. ‘We really saved Notting Hill!’

  ‘Atta girl,’ he answered, folding his arms around her. ‘Atta girl.’

  Eighty-Two

  Breekers London Christmas Party, Life Start Community Centre

  It was a crisp, clear night, the air frosty and skin-numbing, but all Isla felt was excitement and a sweet relief after the previous days of tension and imbalance. Tonight was one of her favourite nights of the year and despite everything it had come together.

  As she and Hannah made their way through the pastel-painted Notting Hill streets, a dark blanket above them, stars bright and twinkling, it was a time to take stock and be thankful. This area of Kensington was still standing and hopefully would be in hundreds of years to come. Christmas was right around the corner now and in almost every window shone bedecked trees, strings of lights and decorations declaring peace and goodwill. There was a sense of calm and a delicate burr of contentment all around.

  Isla smiled as she smoothed down the front of her replica Wrens uniform. It was navy blue, the skirt just touching her knee, tan tights covering her legs and Mary Jane shoes on her feet. The matching jacket had bright silver buttons and a one-stripe insignia on the sleeve. Beneath the jacket was a pale shirt and blue tie and on her head was an odd-shaped hat somewhere between a bowler and a Stetson.

  Last week, when she had finally let her colleagues know the theme of this year’s Christmas party, their office had
bubbled with the usual frenzy of excitement. Wartime at Christmas. This was another glorious chance to play dress-up. Everyone had seemed so animated, asking each other about costume shops, sharing outfit suggestions and wondering what was in store for the entertainment. And Isla had just hoped this year’s party was going to live up to those high expectations she herself had set.

  ‘Okay, slow down,’ Hannah said, wheeling to a halt.

  ‘Why?’ Isla asked. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

  ‘Okay, well, it’s just that it’s almost half past. I can’t be late,’ Isla said.

  ‘Just humour me,’ Hannah said, grinning. ‘I want you to be ready for what you’re going to see when we get there.’

  Isla’s stomach revolved. What did that mean? She had only left the venue that morning, after ensuring the tables were all set up – ration books and gas marks for props along with old Tilley lamps as atmospheric and authentic lighting – and the staging company knew exactly where they were putting everything. It was possible, if the cardboard cut-out of Winston Churchill was put in the wrong place, no one would be able to see the stage.

  When Chase had told her they were going to use Life Start she hadn’t known quite how to react. Yes, it had the kind of space and size needed but it wasn’t quite the lovely chapel she had planned for either. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and she would have taken anything rather than have to cancel.

  ‘What’s going on, Hannah?’ Isla asked, slowing her place and fixing her sister with a questioning look. Hannah was dressed as a Land Girl. Beige dungarees, a plain white shirt and a red headscarf over her hair.

  ‘Trust me,’ Hannah said. ‘You’re going to love it.’

  When they rounded the corner the scene before Isla stole her breath. The outside of Life Start was not only free from youths on bikes and drunks, it had been entirely transformed. It had been painted, the broken window had been replaced and it was free from rubbish. Parked up outside on the concrete paving was a relic of a Land Rover, draped in camouflage netting, and there were two flaming torches either side of the entrance like beacons. Fairy lights and Union Jack bunting skirted the fresh façade and two rather attractive men in G.I. uniforms ‘guarded’ the door.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Hannah exclaimed. ‘It’s even better than I imagined.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Isla said. ‘Who …’

  She didn’t really know why she had started to ask. She knew exactly who had done this. And there he was …

  As their eyes connected, Chase straightened up and brought his hand to his brow in a salute. Isla shivered, all her senses exploding in appreciation. He was dressed in the light uniform of a 1940s American soldier. Beige shirt with pockets and some military adornments, thigh-tight matching trousers and the peaked cap. He looked every inch the wartime pin-up.

  ‘Would you look at that,’ Hannah remarked, mouth dropping open.

  ‘I know,’ Isla whispered.

  ‘Not Chase,’ Hannah said quickly. ‘Raj.’

  Isla looked to her sister, following her line of sight. Just a few metres away was their postman, helping himself to a mocktail and looking completely transformed. Raj was wearing the uniform of a British fighter pilot including leather jacket with fleece lining, a cream-coloured scarf and goggles on top of his head.

  ‘I think this year’s theme might be the best yet,’ Hannah sighed.

  ‘Daddy, is my hair still okay?’

  Chase looked to his daughter. Leanna had given them a crash course in 1940s hair and make-up over Skype that afternoon. Both girls had rolled and set their hair, Maddie wearing a floral dress and headscarf over her style. Brooke, still in boots, was rocking khaki dungarees.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ Chase told her with a smile. He turned to Brooke. ‘You look beautiful too.’

  She frowned. ‘I’m meant to be a kick-ass Land Girl who drives trucks and tractors.’

  ‘Those girls are beautiful too,’ he said.

  Chase turned his attention back to Isla and there was that stab of lust combined with a large dart to his heart. She looked incredible in that fitted Navy uniform, her hair just like the girls’ under a military hat. This past week had been a complete game-changer for him. Since the British press had reported the Roman findings in Holland Park, Breekers had decided it was a difficulty too far to continue to consider Notting Hill as their prime spot for the super-village. There were always going to be complications to do with planning but this, thankfully, as they had hoped, seemed one hurdle too high. And Chase had never felt happier about having an idea quashed. For now, the entire project was in limbo but, he hoped, with Isla’s help, Breekers could still think about branching out into the hotel business. He smiled at her as she approached.

  ‘Good evening, ma’am,’ Chase said in full role-play mode. ‘Permit this G.I. to escort you to the party of the year?’

  Isla exclaimed as she looked to the children, her hands going to her mouth in delighted shock. ‘Look at you two! Your hair! It’s amazing!’

  ‘Mommy helped us on Skype,’ Maddie informed.

  ‘YouTube did most of the work really,’ Brooke stated.

  ‘Well, your mum and YouTube both did an excellent job,’ Isla told them.

  ‘Where’s Hannah?’ Maddie inquired.

  ‘Oh,’ Isla said, smiling. ‘She’s talking to a rather handsome fighter pilot over there.’

  Everyone looked to where Raj and Hannah were caught up in conversation. Chase shook his head. ‘Well, well, well, and I thought I had the coolest costume.’

  Isla checked her watch. ‘I have to go in and check a dozen things before everyone else starts arriving.’

  ‘Sure,’ Chase said. ‘Just tell me. Are you digging the Jeep?’ He turned to face it. It hadn’t been easy tracking it down at such short notice but it was completely authentic and it definitely added to the wartime vibe at the entrance.

  ‘It’s a Land Rover,’ Isla pointed out. ‘But yes, I am.’

  ‘And the guys on security?’ Chase asked, moving towards the doorway.

  ‘A nice touch.’

  ‘Good,’ Chase said. ‘Because they’re gonna be a permanent fixture around here.’

  ‘What?’ Isla asked.

  ‘Hannah and her friends shouldn’t have to put up with hobos and delinquents and crap like that going on out here. They’ve got it tough enough.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Just call it a Breekers PR exercise,’ Chase answered.

  Isla took hold of his arm and gave it a squeeze. ‘Well now, you really are a life-improvement guru.’

  Eighty-Three

  ‘Sugar. Honey. Ice Tea. This is the best party ever,’ Aaron, dressed as Winston Churchill, announced later, un-lit cigar bouncing from his lips.

  The turkey canapés were being brought around, drinks were flowing and a trio of female singers – The Miller Sisters – were starting off the music with some ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’. The ceiling had been hung with a large parachute, lights underneath to give it a warm, festive glow, and the walls were decorated with wartime posters – Your Country Needs You, Dig On For Victory, Man The Guns, Join The Navy – together with wreaths of holly, ivy and mistletoe.

  ‘Aaron, you say that every year,’ Isla reminded him.

  ‘And I mean it every year,’ Aaron said. ‘The trouble is, you keep excelling yourself.’

  Isla smiled. A week ago she almost considered herself a failure, everything in her neatly ordered life suddenly coming apart at the seams. But, despite it all, somehow she had excelled. But she had only been able to do that with help. All of those closest to her had played a part, and for that she was grateful and utterly, utterly proud.

  ‘Hey, Aaron, could I steal this Navy girl away for a while?’

  Isla felt an all-over body blush arrive as Chase stepped back into her orbit. All night he had been working the room like a true professional, taking time to chat to everyone who had questions about Breekers’ future plans, t
opping up drinks as much as the hired waitresses and ensuring the staff all let their hair – and wigs – down.

  ‘Of course,’ Aaron replied. ‘I’ve got plans on snagging a dance with another red-haired minx over there by munitions.’ He sent a coy wave across the room to someone Isla only knew as Milo.

  ‘Shall we?’ Chase asked as the tempo of the music shifted to smoochy.

  ‘Let’s,’ Isla agreed.

  Chase took her hand and led her to the centre of the room where other couples were beginning to link up. Underneath the parachute canopy, surrounded by Christmas trees lit up in silver and blue Isla gave a little sigh of pleasure. This was the best Christmas party ever, because it meant more to her than any of the ones gone before.

  ‘So,’ Chase said, his arms slipping around her.

  ‘So,’ Isla replied, smiling.

  ‘We saved Notting Hill,’ he reminded her.

  ‘We did,’ Isla agreed. ‘With a little help from Mrs Edwards and her late, great husband’s passion for history.’

  ‘She’s a wonderful woman,’ Chase remarked.

  ‘If I tell her you said that she’ll come over all unnecessary.’

  ‘What if I tell you you’re wonderful?’ His voice was low and sultry and his eyes met hers.

  ‘I think I might get a little bit more than unnecessary,’ Isla admitted.

  ‘Is that a fact?’ Chase queried, moving closer.

  ‘Yes,’ Isla breathed. Her heart was beating that welcome tom-tom that happened whenever he was near her but before she could tune into that feeling any further Chase drew her closer still, his lips making his future intentions as clear as crystal.

  She loved how he tasted, how their mouths fitted together so perfectly. He drew away and seemed to admire her. ‘One day,’ he whispered. ‘We are gonna get a room.’

  Her body reacted instantaneously, breaking out in goosebumps of desire. ‘Or maybe pod fourteen on the London Eye again.’

  ‘You’re killing me now, Isla.’ He dropped his mouth to her ear. ‘So, right about now I think it’s time you and I talked about working on a new project together.’