‘Of course,’ he said. He waited, obviously impatient if the tapping of his foot had anything to do with it, while she went to look for Sophie. She found her with Grace, who had seemed subdued all through the renewal ceremony. The friends all knew it was Grace’s first Christmas on her own since her beloved grandmother had died. Ashleigh joined Sophie in giving her a big hug and suggesting they catch up over Christmas.
‘All okay,’ she said to Lukas when she got back. ‘I’ll be there.’
‘Please convey my thanks to Sophie,’ he said in a formal way that made her smile. But there was gratitude underscoring his words.
‘Shall do,’ she said. ‘You know I’m needed here on bridesmaid duty and will be staying at the hotel with the others tonight?’
‘As long as you are with me on Christmas Day.’
She still wasn’t sure what this was all about but she looked up at him, willed him to believe her. ‘Now I’ve committed to this, I won’t let you down, Lukas. You can trust me.’
He placed his hand on her cheek, gently, tenderly, and she didn’t care if Clio saw it. ‘I’m beginning to believe that,’ he said.
‘Good,’ she said, placing her hand over his. Was this a subtle change in direction for them? If so, she realised they would have to take it step by step. Or was it just him manipulating her for his own ends?
But, in spite of her confusion, there were practical considerations surrounding Christmas Day in Chelsea. ‘What about Christmas dinner?’ she said. ‘You say you’re good at making toast, Lukas, but how are you going to handle a meal for four people?’
‘All sorted. Everything is coming from Harrods. It’s being delivered tomorrow.’
‘How the other half lives,’ she said with a sigh. ‘They say the rich are different.’
‘I’m not so different, am I?’ he said.
‘You’re actually quite nice,’ she said with a grudging smile. Back to the mock flirtation.
‘Quite nice? I think I’ll take that as a compliment,’ he said, returning her smile and holding her gaze with his own.
‘Please do,’ she said.
For one long moment she thought he was going to kiss her, there in the middle of the wedding party with all eyes on them. Instead he took both her hands in his and drew her closer in a gesture that seemed almost as intimate. ‘Thank you,’ he said. She felt he was thanking her for so much more than a compliment—but she wasn’t sure what it was.
‘Just one thing—how will you introduce me to your parents?’ she said. ‘As your maid?’
‘As my friend,’ he said. ‘Maybe we can work up from there.’
Which didn’t actually make his intentions any clearer.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WHEN THE DOORBELL rang at noon on Christmas Eve, Lukas thought it was a delivery from Harrods. But it wasn’t.
Ashleigh stood on the threshold. ‘I know you said Christmas Day but I thought I could make myself useful on Christmas Eve,’ she said. ‘Is that okay?’
Her smile was tentative as she looked up at him, fresh faced, her cheeks pink from the cold, the pale winter sunlight dancing off her hair in sparks of gold. She was wearing jeans and the dreaded anorak and she had never looked lovelier. On first impression, he had thought Ashleigh to be wholesome and unsophisticated. She had proved to be so much more complex than that.
‘More than okay,’ he said.
Much to his mortification, he hadn’t been able to get out the words he’d wanted to at the wedding party. It wasn’t that he’d been scared to propose for the first time in his life—of course he hadn’t—it had been too public for something so momentous and private. Now she was here and he would have another chance when the time was right.
He wanted no more pretence, no more lies—no matter how well intentioned—no more hiding behind his workaholic barrier. So he followed his first impulse. ‘Come on in,’ he said. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ Then he pulled her to him in a hug. He tightened his arms around her and closed his eyes in sheer joy and gratitude that she had come back to him. She stiffened against him at first, then relaxed into his embrace.
‘You have your backpack,’ he said, pointing out the obvious as he’d actually hugged that too.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m calling in the offer of accommodation until after Christmas. Sophie’s sofa will be there for me after that.’
‘Your room is waiting for you,’ he said. If he had his way she would never sleep on her friend’s sofa again. Or indeed that bed in the guest room.
‘Are your parents here?’ she said, peering around him into the hallway.
‘I sent them off in the car for some last-minute shopping. My mother loves Peter Jones in Sloane Square.’
‘I seriously am here to help,’ she said, slipping off her anorak to reveal the long-sleeved black T-shirt. He couldn’t help checking for trainers—the huge hate of his mother’s. Even though his parents exasperated him, he wanted Ashleigh to make a good impression. As herself. But trainers would get her off to the wrong start. Thankfully, he saw neat ankle-length black boots. The kind of shoes his mother would approve of being worn in the house.
Ashleigh had followed the direction of his glance. ‘The sales have started,’ she said by way of explanation.
‘My mother will be in heaven,’ he said.
‘Not when she has to elbow her way through the crowds, she won’t,’ said Ashleigh with a flash of dimples.
‘I appreciate your offer of help,’ he said. ‘But you’re not here as a maid, you know. You’re a guest.’
‘What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t check to see if all is okay?’
‘When you actually were the maid you did such a good job everything is in perfect order.’
‘Fresh towels and toiletries in the bathrooms?’
‘I guess so.’
‘But do you know so?’
‘Not something I would think to check.’
‘So I’ll do the checking. And all the other stuff you mightn’t have thought of because you’re used to having staff.’ It wasn’t a criticism; she was smiling at him. ‘It’s a routine I got used to here.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll take your backpack up to your room.’
‘Great,’ she said, already turning away to head towards her self-imposed chores.
He paused. ‘Ashleigh, wait,’ he said.
She turned back, her hair swishing around her shoulders. He wanted to run his hands through it, tilt her face up for his kiss. But there would be time for that if all went to plan. ‘Yes?’ she said.
‘The clothes in your room. They’re all yours, you know. To wear them, to give them away, to sell them, whatever you wish to do with them.’
‘I... I can’t think of them as mine. They belong to the pretend girlfriend. The wardrobe you bought for her to play her role as your fake date.’
‘Didn’t you say every Ashleigh I saw was a facet of you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, eyes downcast.
‘Doesn’t that glamorous Ashleigh like those clothes?’ he said quietly.
‘She loves them, of course she does. But they don’t belong to her. I would be wearing them under false pretences.’
He placed his fingers under her chin to tilt her face towards his. ‘You should wear them. Please. I’ll throw the lot out if you don’t.’
‘I’m sure a charity would welcome them.’
There wasn’t a gold-digging bone in her body. She still hadn’t figured out that the worth of the watch, if sold, would buy her a considerable number of nights in one of those West End hotels he had ‘billed’ her for. But he didn’t intend she’d be sleeping anywhere but under his roof. Ever.
‘You might need to wear them while my parents are here.’
‘You’r
e right,’ she said. ‘For one last spin of the pretend girlfriend.’ She put up her hand to block his protest. ‘Because if your parents are anything like my parents, they will immediately look for a relationship whether or not one exists.’
Now. He should say something now. But his pause lost him his chance.
Ashleigh continued. ‘I would make a better impression for you in designer clothes.’
‘True—when you meet my mother you’ll see just how true,’ he said. ‘But you look perfectly fine in what you’re wearing. I...I like whichever facet of Ashleigh I see.’
‘Even anorak Ashleigh?’ she said with, at last, a teasing glimpse of dimples.
‘Maybe not that Ashleigh,’ he conceded. ‘Though it’s the anorak, not the Ashleigh I object to. It’s not warm enough either. Snow is predicted. Would you please keep the warm coat?’
She hesitated. He could see the indecision ripple over her features. ‘Okay. Thank you. I’ll keep the coat.’
‘And the anorak?’
‘It shall be burned, thrown on the Yule log and consigned to the flames,’ she said dramatically though her voice wasn’t steady. He realised what an effort it was for her to keep up the façade. His indecision was hurting her. ‘Though I’d better check first with my sister, who owns it.’
‘You do that,’ he said. She was adorable. She turned away again. ‘One more thing before you go,’ he said. ‘Thank you for my gift, the beautiful pomegranate ornament.’
She flushed high on her cheekbones. ‘You found it. I’m so glad you like it.’
‘I will treasure it,’ he said. ‘It’s too fragile to hang over the front door. Perhaps you could help me hang it on that amazing tree you set up in the living room?’
‘I...I would love that,’ she said, looking up at him.
Then Lukas realised she was standing right under the mistletoe she had hung from the chandelier above them. He saw an invitation to a kiss in the gleam of her blue eyes, the slight parting of her lush lips. This couldn’t wait.
He dipped his head to claim her mouth. She responded immediately and wound her arms around his neck to bring him closer, to press her body close to his. She made a little murmur of pleasure deep in her throat. With an answering groan he deepened the kiss. He wanted to hear more: whimpers of need, sighs of pleasure, moans of ecstasy from this wonderful, perfect woman. His woman. He slid his hands down her back, her waist, to come to rest cupping the curves of her bottom.
That, of course, had to be the moment his parents burst through the front door, laden with parcels and complaining about the London traffic.
* * *
Ashleigh dropped her arms from around Lukas’s neck, felt the hot tide of a furious blush colour her cheeks.
The older couple froze. It would almost be comical if she didn’t feel so mortified. She had hoped to meet Lukas’s parents under more dignified circumstances than this. Although this was certainly more dignified than the way she’d met their son.
Lukas stepped forward. ‘Mother,’ he said, indicating the beautifully groomed woman looking at her in wide-eyed astonishment. ‘Father,’ Lukas said, indicating the broad-shouldered man with iron-grey curly hair and thick black eyebrows. ‘This is Ashleigh,’ he said, indicating her.
Ashleigh stepped forward. ‘Hello, Mr and Mrs Christophedes. Er... Merry Christmas.’ What had that kiss been about? It had seemed real. Fired by genuine passion. By—dare she hope?—genuine feeling. This was getting more confusing by the second.
‘Ashleigh is the...the friend I told you about who will be staying with us for Christmas,’ said Lukas. ‘She has arrived early.’
‘To help,’ she jumped in. ‘I’ve come early to give Lukas a hand with the Christmas dinner and...and anything else he might need.’
That didn’t sound right. Not when he’d had a possessive hold of her bottom. So much for the friends theory. The parents would be as unsure as she herself was about how she fitted in to Lukas’s life.
His mother had the same deep brown eyes as Lukas and they gleamed with curiosity. She offloaded her parcels onto her already overburdened husband and made a beeline for Ashleigh.
She held out a perfectly manicured hand for Ashleigh to shake. ‘I am Efthalia—my friends call me Effie. I hope that is what you will call me.’
Ashleigh returned the older woman’s handshake. ‘Thank you, Effie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘My husband is Dimitris,’ she said, indicating Lukas’s parcel-laden father.
The man shrugged to indicate his inability to free his hands from the multitude of parcels so he could shake hands. Instead he nodded. ‘Hello, Ashleigh,’ he said, with a warm smile and a glance to his son.
It wasn’t just his mother who was curious. What had she got herself into? A new game called by Lukas, of which she was uncertain of the rules.
‘Can I help you with those parcels?’ she asked. ‘You’ve done a lot of Christmas shopping.’
‘Most of it is for her,’ Dimitris said, indicating his wife with a raising of his dark brows.
‘Why else would I come to London except to shop?’ Effie said blithely. Then she turned to Lukas. ‘And to see my beloved son for Christmas,’ she said, her voice breaking.
‘He’s thrilled that you’re here,’ said Ashleigh diplomatically, sensing the sincerity—and pain—in his mother’s voice.
Lukas took some of the shopping bags and parcels from his father. Effie was wearing a superb red coat. Ashleigh recognised it as the same label as the leopard print coat, as her lavender ball gown. She could see why Lukas saw a resemblance to his mother in Tina. Effie had the same cleverly tinted blonde hair, the same look of a very well maintained older woman. But she was more beautiful. And there was a depth of pain and remorse in her eyes when she looked at her son.
‘Where do you want these put, Mother?’ Lukas asked.
‘Some to my room, others I need to gift wrap.’
‘May I suggest the kitchen table for a gift-wrapping station?’ Ashleigh said. ‘Let me take some parcels down for you.’
Lukas shot her a grateful look.
‘While I’m there, I can make tea or coffee,’ she added. ‘I’ll bring it upstairs here to serve.’
‘I can drink tea in the kitchen,’ said Effie. ‘I will come with you.’
Ashleigh suspected she would be subjected to a vigorous grilling about her relationship with her son. She decided to stick to the truth as closely as possible.
* * *
Later that day, in the dimming light of late afternoon, she walked up Sloane Street with Lukas, heading for Knightsbridge. The chauffeur had dropped them when she’d suggested it would be quicker to walk than drive in the practically stalled Christmas Eve traffic.
Lukas had said he had some last-minute shopping to do at Harrods for provisions and had insisted she go with him. She hadn’t needed much convincing. The situation had become so awkward she’d welcomed the chance to escape the house. And to be alone with him. They’d left his parents bickering over their gift-wrapping in the kitchen.
Now she would have a chance to call him on the way this day was panning out. What his invitation to share Christmas with him really meant. But she had to pick her moment.
‘I like your parents,’ she said. ‘I didn’t expect to, after what you’ve told me about them, but I did. They’re charming and warm and good company.’
Lukas’s mouth twisted. ‘They’re the kind of people you’d like to chat with at a party rather than have parent you.’
‘Maybe they didn’t know how to parent. That’s why they made such a mess of it. But they love you. There can be no doubt about that. Now your welfare is of utmost concern to them. Maybe...maybe they’ve grown up too.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘That’s why I let them come for Christmas.’
&n
bsp; ‘They’re desperate for grandchildren.’
He cursed under his breath. ‘My mother didn’t harass you about that, did she? She saw through the “friends” thing straight away.’
‘Considering how she caught us kissing, that shouldn’t surprise you. I didn’t deny we were more than friends.’
‘What did you tell her?’ he said. ‘So we keep our stories straight.’
More play-acting and pretence. She was over it. Lukas either let her in on the new game or she was off to Sophie’s flat the moment dinner was over. Her friend had given her the spare key, just in case. And she hadn’t unpacked her backpack.
‘I told her the truth—well, nearly the truth. That I’d run away from my wedding in Australia. That I was working for Maids in Chelsea until I found a position as an accountant, and got a job as a live-in maid in your house. That’s how we met. I did not mention the bathtub.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘That most memorable of meetings will stay strictly between us.’
‘Talking about memorable, what was that kiss back there all about?’ she said.
‘You seemed to enjoy it,’ he said evasively.
‘Of course I enjoyed it. It was a wonderful kiss. It felt like a real kiss. Was it real, Lukas?’
He cleared his throat. ‘This is hardly the time and the place for a discussion like that.’
‘When will be the time and the place for it?’ she said. ‘Because I’m confused. And I’m getting cranky about being confused.’
‘After we get to Harrods. It closes at five so we need to rush.’
She stopped in the middle of the pavement and let the Christmas shopping hordes of humanity pass by her. ‘Seriously, Lukas. You’d better have some explanations for me. Not only for my sake. But to make it easier for me to talk to your parents without making an utter fool of myself.’
‘You will get an explanation,’ he said. ‘Come on. We have to keep moving.’
She had to quicken her pace to keep up with him. ‘I’ll hold you to that. Your mother told me I was the first “female friend” you’ve introduced them to for many years.’
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