He shook his head. “It makes a good story, but I’m not sure that’s quite true. She’s just used to getting her own way.”
Cara’s smile twisted further. “That too.”
She stood and walked to the window, facing away from him. Her rigid back and shoulders warned him not to come too near.
Listening to warnings had never been his strong point. He moved closer.
The straight line of her spine became even more unyielding as he stood beside her.
He pretended to be looking out the window. In truth, he was breathing in her sweet scent, wondering why his heart beat way faster around her than any of the more conventionally beautiful women he'd worked with.
“Tell me what we're seeing out there,” he murmured. “I’m surprised it's so low-rise. Cities mean skyscrapers, not premium real estate with nothing higher than six stories on it.”
The vulnerable curve of her neck and the line of her jaw distracted him from the view. He longed to trace that line with his finger, then cup her blushing cheek in one hand.
All of his awareness focused on her.
Concentrate.
On the sea of grey slate roofs out there, not Cara.
Her shoulders rose and fell as she dragged in an audible sighing breath. “London has skyscrapers, just not here in the West End. If you visit one of the offices facing south, you'll see the City. That’s the financial district, where all the tall buildings are.”
Her voice wobbled. Was his nearness affecting her as much as she affected him?
This wasn’t keeping things light. He retreated a step before he spoke.
“The Ferris wheel, that's the Hyde Park Winter Wonderland, isn't it? We'll go there for one of the dates.”
She spun around, eyes sparking, fists clenched, her resignation to the scheme vanished. “That was your plan all along. You trapped me into this, and you know it.”
He took another step back. She'd been pushed enough for one morning.
“I'm sorry, Cara. I didn't mean to put you on the spot.”
“Yes you did. You figured if you wouldn’t do the dates with anyone else, you'd get your own way, like always. How could I refuse? You know I'd do anything to save everyone’s jobs.”
She rubbed her hands over her face, and sighed. “Okay, I shouldn’t have suggested it in the meeting without talking it over with you first. I was desperate. God alone knows what I'm letting myself in for.”
Nick had to smile at that. “Yes, I’m sure He does.”
Rolled eyes and a shake of her head answered him.
Turning back to the window, she leaned her hands on the sill, posture drooping. “Do you think it will work? Will it be worth it?” Her voice was small and wistful.
It would be worth it just as a reason to spend the time with her, to give her some enjoyment in what he suspected was a drab joyless life.
But that wasn't what she meant.
She wanted some hope to cling on to. His job was to give her that hope, but he wouldn't lie to her, either.
“I don't know,” he admitted. “I hope so. I think so. I'll do all I can to get the store the maximum amount of publicity.”
She swung around, lips in a worried pucker, gaze begging him to convince her. “You’ve never even been to London.”
He shrugged. “I have a lot of contacts. Believe me, I’ll call on every one of them who can help us.”
Again, that twisted not-quite smile, but her eyes held more confidence and she held her head higher.
Seeing he’d helped her, lightened the guilt weighting his shoulders since his unplanned insistence she play his date.
“So when do we start?” Her voice still quavered a little on the question, making him wish he could somehow make all this better for her, take away her fear.
But they were committed now. For better or worse, they had to go through with it.
“You want to get as many shoppers as possible into the store before Christmas. How about tomorrow night?”
Cara visibly gulped, then pulled herself upright like she was putting on armour. Her chin lifted. “The sooner we start, the sooner we get results and the sooner it’s over. You're on, Gallagher.”
“Brave girl. I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”
Please Lord, help me make this work. Now I’ve forced her into the dare, letting Cara down isn’t an option.
~~+~~
The time until her first date with Nick passed way too quickly for Cara.
She’d never seen so much enthusiasm from the store staff in the eleven years she’d worked here, and everyone needed something from her. From advice on rearranging their floor space, to getting stock out of storage, to the paperwork in triplicate Mrs Pettett required before products were opened for display.
Cara was the go-to girl for everything.
Setting up Nick’s California Dreaming area on the ground floor meant she couldn’t avoid him as much as she’d hoped, either.
Somehow, he’d found two huge palm trees, a surfboard, a couple of deck chairs, some white picket fence panels, and a ton of sand. Then he’d charmed the warehouse guys into staying late on Monday night to set it all up for him.
She’d kept well clear today during his first official working hours. A glimpse of him in his board shorts and T-shirt, hair tousled with salt spray to look like he’d just come out of the sea, had been enough to start her crazy pulses samba dancing.
They were doing it now. Anticipation gave her the jitters of a ten cup a day coffee drinker, though today she’d stuck to green tea. Knowing she’d be seeing Nick again, she didn’t need any more excitement.
While she waited for him to arrive for their date, she examined herself in the tiny mirror in her office, wondering for the thousandth time if she’d been nuts to agree to this.
Delia the hairdresser, Louise from Beauty, and Monique the haughty personal shopper had done their best in the two hours they’d worked on her. She looked far better than usual, though that wasn't hard.
But Mrs Pettett was right. Even made over, she wasn’t nearly glossy enough to convince anyone this was a real romance.
Far too long spent on Google last night looking at pictures of Nick showed him photographed with way more glamorous women. Most often, his co-star Micki Mason, a tall and exquisitely beautiful redhead. Rumour suggested a romance, until Micki’s recent surprise engagement to a rock singer.
Not once had his name been linked to a girl as average as her. Even with her hair curled into long spiral ringlets, with make-up skilfully applied, and dressed in the first new clothes she’d had since she was seventeen, she still felt way too ordinary.
Every ounce of her average body doubted that the dare would work.
But it had to. Delia, Louise, Monique, and every other employee’s job depended on it.
Memories of the job losses in Dad’s business when he’d vanished weighed on her like a lead overcoat. The anger and despair on the worker’s faces at being laid off right before Christmas. Not only no Christmas bonus, but no pay for the work they’d already done. She couldn’t go through that again, knowing people lost their jobs because of her.
Her wall clock gave a louder tick as the hour clicked over.
If Nick was late, she'd have shredded nerves by the time he arrived.
She shook her head. The unaccustomed sensation of hair-sprayed curls bouncing on her neck startled her.
Forget Nick, focus on work.
Tonight was work, not a date. To attract customers into the store.
Getting moony over Nick was the last thing she needed.
Already, the buzz seemed to have started. There’d been a few more shoppers in the store today, maybe thanks to the huge signs showing Nick in his board shorts she’d set up outside the entrances this morning. Or maybe due to the workers from the neighbouring offices coming in to grab a mince pie once word of the freebies spread.
Hopefully, a few of them had stayed and bought something too.
Which gave her
an idea.
Mrs Pettett wanted the Food Hall to stock nothing but expensive delicacies, rivalling Fortnum and Mason. Perhaps they’d do better going a little down-market and adding a counter of ready meals for commuting workers to take home with them. It worked for M&S.
The idea would horrify Mrs P, but odds were it could make more profit than her cheeses with unpronounceable names and ludicrous prices.
Of course, the store needed to survive Christmas and into the New Year first. Still, Cara made a note on her calendar to look up suppliers and work out some costings.
Moving to her desk, she brought today’s sales figures up on the computer. Slightly better, but too soon yet to tell if the upturn would continue. And it needed to get a whole lot better than this, with the sky high stack of bills waiting for payment authorisation.
She’d started working through those when the outer office door banged.
Nick. It had to be. Her heart galloped like a Grand National winner.
Probably, one that fell at the first fence.
He knocked, then burst into the office, a little breathless. The huge bag he carried caught in the door, and he turned to free it.
The back view of him in jeans and a chunky roll-neck jumper had her breathless too. She’d never survive the first evening, let alone the whole dare, if she couldn’t get herself under better control. Looked as if that schoolgirl crush on him had never gone away.
Nick got the bag through the door, looked at her, and then promptly dropped it. His mouth hung open. For a heart-stopping moment that seemed to stretch forever, he said nothing. Just stared at her.
The glow in his eyes suggested the makeover worked better than she had dared to hope.
She gave him her best if-looks-could-kill glare, Ms Scrooge to the max. Anything to protect herself against the feelings his warm gaze awoke in her. But her cheeks heated betrayingly as he kept staring at her, and staring at her, and staring at her.
“Well, are we going to get started?” she demanded. Anything to stop him looking at her like that, turning her insides to mush.
He grinned, an endearing goofy grin. Her harsh tone had no effect on him at all.
This dare was going to be even tougher than she thought.
Chapter 8
Nick’s apologetic smile melted Cara, despite her intentions not to fall for his charm.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I made the mistake of taking a black cab. I should have guessed that at this time of evening I’d get here faster walking. Then I didn’t trust that old clunker of a lift so I ran up the stairs.”
He patted his hand on his chest, mimicking a fast heartbeat. Nowhere near as fast as hers was beating now. “I’m not as fit as I thought I was. Running on Venice Beach doesn’t compare to the steep stairs here.”
It was tough, but she resisted smiling back.
Almost. Impossible to stop her lips twitching.
“I had a buddy tip off a photographer he knows,” Nick said. “Not really a paparazzo, apparently he’s a war photojournalist back here after being wounded. But he’s looking for work, and has contacts at all the newspapers.”
“Sounds good.” She wished she didn’t sound so stupidly breathless, as if she’d been the one to run up the stairs.
He spun a finger in the air, asking her to turn around.
She stood, stepped into the centre of the room, and did a 360, vulnerable without the protection of her desk between them. Her legs shook and she looked down, not wanting to see the warmth in his eyes fade.
Nick’s smile widened. “You look amazing. The camera will love you.” His voice held the same warm appreciation as his eyes did.
He was surely only saying that to keep her sweet. This wasn’t a date. It was purely for the good of the store. No way was she stupid enough to think it was anything more than that.
Wanting things only led to disappointment. She’d had enough of that for one lifetime.
But the stern lecture she gave herself didn’t stop her feeling annoyingly fluttery. She put one hand onto the desk for support.
“As long as I look good enough to stop anyone guessing this is nothing more than a media stunt.”
He sighed, and she glanced up to see him shaking his head and rolling his eyes in mock despair.
“What will it take to make you believe? You look more than good enough to convince anyone.”
The doubt this charade was worth even attempting lightened a little. Sure, Nick was an actor, but the conviction in his voice sounded real. She loosed a sigh and let go of some of her tension too.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let herself believe him.
“I hope so,” she said. “That’s what this is all about.” Retreating behind her desk, she shut down her computer and picked up her bag.
“Before we go, I have something else for you to wear,” Nick said. “You’ll need it. It's cold outside.”
He opened the bag he’d dropped, and pulled out a mass of dark fur. A cloak. Stepping closer, he draped it over her shoulders. Her breath caught at his nearness as he tied the ribbon into a bow under her chin and lifted the hood, gently setting it over her hair.
The soft fur brushing against her cheeks felt wonderful. Almost as if Nick had touched her.
“It’s the first item in the song. She asks for a fur to be left under the tree. The tree comes next.”
A real sable? She couldn’t wear it.
“The coats the store sells cost a fortune. Mrs Pettett wouldn’t authorise this.”
She moved to undo the ribbon.
Nick took her hand to stop her.
Their hands fitted together perfectly. Time froze, as they stood looking into each other's eyes. An emotional connection trembled through her, deeper than anything she’d felt before.
With a jerk, she pulled her hand away, and looked at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but Nick. Every nerve ending fizzed and bubbled, as if his touch switched on whirlpool jets inside her, heating and agitating her at the same time.
How did Nick do this to her, make her feel things she’d never felt before and didn’t want to feel?
She’d been around attractive men before. But no-one else stirred her and threw her off balance like Nick did. No-one else tested her resolve to lock away her emotions and focus on doing what she could to atone for the damage she’d caused in her teens.
The air hissed past his teeth as he sucked in a breath. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Nick took a step back from her.
“It's not from the store,” he said.
Something in his voice sounded less sure of himself than usual, and she peeked up at him.
He smiled and continued. “It's borrowed from an old friend, an English theatrical outfitter I worked with in L.A. who’s back in London. And it’s not a real fur, either.”
A tiny sigh escaped her lips. One less thing to worry about. Between her feelings for Nick and the store losing money, she had more than enough to concern her.
“I’m glad it’s imitation. I'm not quite comfortable wearing fur. And I don't want anyone throwing red paint at me.”
“I hope no-one throws red paint at you, too. Maggie would probably unfriend me, and never lend me anything again. And then where will I be next time I need palm trees and a surfboard in London?”
This time, Cara didn’t fight against letting her lips twitch into a smile at his infectious little boy grin, which held an endearing hint of uncertainty.
Somehow, knowing Nick wasn’t as cocky and confident as she’d thought thawed her resolve to resist him.
Maybe she could let herself play, just a little. She was strong enough to control her feelings. It wasn’t like she’d fall in love with him. And going along with the dare, looking like she was enjoying herself, would give it more chance of working for the store.
So she let herself smile. Even let herself joke. “So, should I carry a sign saying 'It’s a fake'?”
“Nah. Duck if you see anyone carrying a can of paint.”
As a chuckle escaped her, she made the mistake of looking into his smiling eyes again. Her whole body quivered.
She’d been wrong to think she could play. Falling for a man who was only in town for three weeks was a distraction she didn’t need. She wasn’t an actor like Nick, able to hide her feelings. He was way out of her league.
She’d need to be careful.
A lot more careful.
~~+~~
Nick’s rush to get the cloak for Cara had been worth it.
She looked sensational, a grown-up version of Little Red Riding Hood. The reddish-black fur framed her English rose complexion and rich brunette hair beautifully. His eyes had felt like a cartoon character’s, bugging out on stalks when he’d seen her after the makeover.
And hearing her laugh for the first time floated his heart as if it was a helium balloon.
But he’d need to be more careful.
When he’d taken hold of her hand, something had kicked him, deep in his belly. Whatever that jolt was, it wasn’t part of his plan. Have fun, help the store, help Cara enjoy life more. Then go back to L.A. and give the producers an answer.
No emotional involvement.
But the feelings Cara stirred in him threatened to change that.
Action, that was what he needed. And to get where there were other people, not just the two of them.
“We need to get moving,” he said. “There's a cab waiting outside.”
Ushering her into the old fashioned lift and closing the ornate metal grille shut them into their own little world. Standing together in the confines of the lift felt intimate in a way he hadn't expected. As if they were in some old black and white romantic movie.
He made sure not to meet her eyes again.
At last they reached the ground floor, where he pulled the grille back and hurried her to the waiting cab.
Light-hearted fun to win the dare, help the store and help Cara smile again.
Nothing more.
Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride Page 20