Her eyes clenched tight, shutting him out.
She wasn’t falling for Nick. She couldn’t. To let herself fall for him would be madness.
Come Christmas Eve, he'd be gone.
The empty feeling of being left alone again, the way she’d been after Mum died, would be more than she could bear. Her heart wasn’t strong enough to survive being broken another time.
A guy like Nick wouldn’t stay for her. Best get that thought out of her mind.
She didn’t deserve his love. Or anyone’s love. She spun around, away from him.
Straight into Edgar’s waiting arms, right under the mistletoe. Turning her head to the side so his clumsy attempt landed on her cheek, not her lips, she narrowly evaded his kiss.
Now she really wanted to run and hide. Her cheeks flamed, and she shrank away from him as he tried to hug her.
“Cara, I…” he began to say, then trailed off.
From the smell of his breath, he’d been at the punch. Dear naive Edgar probably had no idea it wasn’t the fruit juice it looked like.
“I’m sorry, Edgar.”
She hurried away from the mistletoe without meeting his eyes, and without looking to see if Nick had noticed.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. There’d never been a party as awful as this one.
What was it with men?
Seemed they were like London buses. None for ages then three or four arrive at once.
None of the male staff had tried to kiss her at any other staff event, but as soon as it looked like Nick was interested in her, they flocked around her. Not just Edgar. Rob from Furniture and Dimitri from the Warehouse tried to kiss her, too, when she’d accidentally gone too close to the mistletoe.
If Nick stood under the mistletoe?
She’d have to call the Fifth on that.
Because she knew, in her secret heart, if Nick stood under the mistletoe and wanted to kiss her, she wouldn’t be turning her cheek. She’d be lifting her head and closing her eyes as she waited with sweet breathless anticipation for his lips to touch hers.
Even the thought had her heart pounding.
And she didn’t want to feel like that. She didn’t want to feel like that at all.
Especially when they still had so many dates to go. Especially when Nick planned to go back to L.A. right after Christmas. Especially when the longer this went on, the higher the risk became that everything she’d kept hidden would be splashed out in public for everyone to see.
No-one would want to kiss her then.
Not Nick.
Not Edgar.
Not anyone.
~~+~~
The next morning, Cara arrived early at the office. Sipping coffee, she wanted a chance to leaf through the Friday paper before starting work.
There shouldn’t be anything to see. No date with Nick yesterday. The new window display might be interesting enough for them, but she doubted it.
Maybe the lack of a date would produce a ‘cooling off’ rumour. Sometimes what people didn’t do created just as much gossip as what they did.
Thankfully, no-one had bothered to track down who she was, yet.
Most of the press had decided the whole thing was an advertising stunt, and dismissed her as a ‘Pettett and Mayfield’s employee’, someone not worth following up. That suited her. The less attention she attracted, the better.
She reached the centre of the Metro. A grainy phone photo from last night’s party led the gossip page, headlined ‘Micki who? Nick G finds his rebound girl’. Under that she read ‘The Soap Star and the Shop Girl ̶ romance for real?’
Oh no. Oh no no no.
Cara put her coffee down before she dropped it.
Covering her face with her hands, she prayed she’d imagined what she’d seen. One peek between her fingers confirmed she hadn’t.
They’d made the newspaper all right.
How did these photos show what wasn’t there? She and Nick gazed at each other across the room, looking for all the world like they longed to be together. The camera angled to appear as if she were waiting under the mistletoe for him, while a queue of other men waited for her. Anyone seeing this would get totally the wrong idea.
Worse, someone at the party must have sent it to the newspaper before the party even finished.
Doing the dare for publicity was one thing. Knowing there was a traitor in their midst made her nauseous. Knowing that the media attention could turn to her as an individual and not just a nameless employee made her even sicker.
The only bright side was the store’s internet ranking had jumped. Dramatically.
For the first time ever, they’d made it onto the second page of search results for ‘London department store’. That was as good as it got for a smaller store. Pettett and Mayfield’s could never compete with the first page big boys like Harrods and Selfridges and Liberty.
They were even mentioned in the Financial Times, with a snippet in their humour column about ‘Santa Baby’ downloads jumping fifteen per cent.
Though she hated it, the leaked picture could attract a lot more customers.
For the rest of the morning, Cara's concentration deserted her. Between the sly looks from other staff, and the complete silence from Nick, her composure was shot to pieces. She had no way of guessing whether he’d seen the photo, or what he thought of it. She had no idea if they had another date tonight.
Every time her email pinged, she rushed to check if it was him.
Time after time, it was only more work, and plenty of it.
Edgar’s emails had been even more stiffly worded than usual, since his embarrassed apology for last night. He’d get over it soon enough. That awkwardness at the party had to be nothing more than the punch and proximity, there’d been no other sign he had feelings for her.
Just before lunch, her mobile phone beeped. She snatched it up to check.
Not Nick.
A text from Maggie, asking her to come down and check the new window display.
Cara frowned. There wasn’t another display planned, not until after the next date.
With a quick word to the girls in the office on the way past, she ran down the stairs. For once, the store seemed busy, but worry about what Maggie had done stopped her feeling the delight she should have felt.
Maggie waited outside the north entrance. Her mischievous grin sank any hope of the window being something Cara wanted to see.
She forced herself to walk closer, with all the enthusiasm of a condemned prisoner walking to the gallows.
The display made her stop dead. Any hope Maggie hadn’t seen the photo was blown. A female mannequin with long dark hair stood under the mistletoe, palming off a couple of smartly dressed male mannequins, while she gazed longingly at Santa.
Cara screwed her eyes tight shut and opened them again, but the window remained the same. Looked like wishful thinking wouldn’t take this away, any more than it had taken away the photo in the newspaper.
Too late now, but she had to try to stop this. Edgar was already arctic with her, this would send him into a deep freeze.
“Maggie, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Of course it’s a good idea.” Maggie looked at her as if she was mad. “Every photo in the papers deserves a display, till we run out of windows. And it’s in the song.”
Cara shook her head. “No it’s not.”
Maggie laughed and patted her arm. “Okay, I’m guessing you and Nick didn’t plan this one. But it fits perfectly. The guys she could’ve kissed, but didn’t, because she was waiting for Santa. I think it’s sweet. Anyway, who’s it going to upset?”
“Oh I say, Cara,” a voice protested behind her. “This really is too much!”
Cara turned. Here was the answer to Maggie’s question, in Edgar’s flushed face and outraged expression.
Maggie smiled at him impishly. “Blame me, I did it,” she said. “Cara knew nothing about it until thirty seconds ago.”
Edgar’s in
dignation vanished like a popped balloon. He stared at Maggie. Then his dropped jaw lifted into a smile, and his chest visibly puffed out as his paunch pulled in.
“Edgar, this is Maggie Golding, the set designer doing the windows for us. Maggie, meet Edgar Pettett.”
Maggie, oddly, seemed just as taken with Edgar as he was with her.
Cara would never have imagined these two together. Edgar correctly turned out as always in a dark suit, polished shoes, and regimental tie. Maggie with her multicoloured hair and purple suede boots and the coat made from yak wool she’d bought in Nepal.
But here they were, making moon eyes at each other.
Cara smiled at the sight. “Maggie, our window displays are usually approved by Edgar or his mother. Perhaps you should run the rest of your plans by him so he can okay it?”
“What a good idea. Shall we discuss it over a coffee?” Maggie asked him.
“Oh yes, of course,” Edgar agreed gratefully.
He would never have gotten up the courage to ask her out himself, Cara knew.
She wanted to dust her hands in glee. One less thing to feel guilty about. Judging by the look on his face, Edgar had already forgotten all about the party mishap.
“I have so much work to do, I’m afraid I need to get back to the office.”
True, and a handy excuse to leave them together.
Maggie led Edgar away, with a wink over her shoulder at Cara.
After they left, she stood looking at the display, then shrugged. If Edgar didn’t object to it, she had no grounds to complain.
What Nick would make of the window, she hated to think. He’d probably see the whole thing as a great joke. That seemed to be his approach to life. He’d never understand why she couldn’t lighten up the way he wanted, and she couldn’t tell him.
With a glance at her watch, she hurried back to her desk. Whether they had a date tonight or not, she’d need to work through lunch.
No email from Nick in her Inbox. She tried not to feel too disappointed.
If she didn’t hear from him, she’d have to go down to his personal beach and ask when their next date would be. The thought of seeing him in board shorts and a T shirt, his tanned muscular arms peeking from the short sleeves, gave her goosebumps.
He’d better email. No way was she going to the ground floor.
At last his message arrived, while she was in a meeting.
Sorry so late. Next date tomorrow 6 pm, Westminster Pier. Dress warm and comfortable. Want to meet for coffee after work tonight? N x
That ‘x’ bothered her.
The fact that she spent the entire day checking email meant the dates had started to mean more than they should. What she’d seen in her face in that Christmas party photo scared her.
She didn’t want to feel that longing for Nick. She shouldn’t let herself feel it.
She kept her reply simple.
Tomorrow okay. Not tonight. C
The less she saw of Nick outside of the dare, the better. Keeping things strictly business was the only safe way to play this.
And coffee after work most definitely wasn’t in the song.
~~+~~
Nick waited on the Embankment above Westminster Pier, stamping his feet against the chill and chatting with Mac. Interesting guy, but his thoughts were on Cara, not what Mac was saying.
He didn’t expect she’d be disappointed with his arrangements for tonight’s date. He just hoped she’d turn up.
Mac limped down to the riverside to set up the angles for his shots, leaving Nick alone with his thoughts.
Cara’s attempts to avoid him were so obvious it was comical.
Like Thursday night at the party. Every time he’d so much as looked at her she’d run away. Whoever took that photo and passed it on to the gossip columns must have watched the two of them all night to get it.
Still, it had worked. Yesterday, the line for his ‘California Dreaming’ stand had nearly reached the door. He’d stayed late, signing autographs and snapping selfies with customers.
Afterwards, he’d gone to Cara’s office, hoping she’d have coffee with him. She was in a meeting, but one of her staff made it far too obvious she’d happily fill in for her boss. He’d brushed her off, nicely. Girls like her with everything on display didn’t interest him.
Not now he’d met Cara. Her far more subtle approach, hiding so much more than she revealed, intrigued him in a way no other woman had.
Her terse email had agreed to meet him here at six. He glanced at his watch again. A quarter past. No reason to think she wouldn’t stick to that. Cara might be snarky, but he doubted she’d be quite that deliberately rude.
Being stood up would be a new experience.
Usually, women chased him, attracted by the glitter dust of fame. He’d never needed to chase. Never wanted to chase. If it didn’t come easy, he let it go.
But Cara didn’t give one red cent for his fame, apart from how it would help the store.
He ignored the quiet voice whispering that maybe the Lord wanted to teach him that some things were worth pursuing. Where was the sense in pursuing her, when he’d be returning to L.A. so soon?
He turned his back on the Thames, glittering with the reflections of thousands of lights, and the slowly turning wheel of the London Eye, as he scanned the street for her.
At last, she hopped off a bus. His senses jumped to attention at the sight of her smile as she recognised him and hurried his direction. Her face flushed rose pink, and soft puffs of steam escaped her lips as she breathed.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I do have a good excuse.”
He grinned as he led her down the steps to the pier.
Crazy. He never waited. Yet he would have stood there hours more for her, gladly.
Maybe he enjoyed the thrill of the chase.
“We’re due for the yacht in the song. But I didn’t think you’d like a flashy yacht, so here you are.”
With the ‘tah-dah’ air of a magician pulling a rabbit out of the hat, he waved his hands at the old timber narrowboat, decorated simply with white fairy lights and evergreen branches.
“You’re right. This is way better than a gin palace.” Cara reacted with an excited smile that made him want to hug her.
Mac gave him the chance, waving to show it was time for the photos.
“Smile for the camera,” Nick said, then grinned. “Let’s really give them something to write about tomorrow.” He slipped an arm around Cara's waist and pulled her close.
Startled, she looked up at him, brown eyes wide. Her lips parted.
Nick longed to kiss her, to savour this once-in-a-lifetime moment, to never let her go. This was no longer about the cameras. Just her sweet scent had his head spinning.
With terrible timing, Bronnie called out from the deck. “Nick, Cara, welcome.”
He flung her a go-away look, but too late.
Cara pulled back, putting a full arm’s length between them, and burst into frantic speech. “Is this your boat? It’s lovely!”
“Please, come aboard, it’s all ready for you.” Bronnie gave Nick an apologetic grimace, then led them through to a covered deck at the back of the boat.
If the candlelight and the tiny white lights in the greenery weren’t enough, the flickering flames of the warming wood stove added more atmosphere. A small round table with two chairs was set for a romantic dinner.
Not that he wanted tonight to be romantic.
Tonight was just showing Cara how good life could be, what gifts God had to offer if she’d only reach out to accept them. He had no intention of romancing Cara, no matter how much he wanted to.
How could he?
Cara deserved nothing less than forever.
But no matter how much he tried to convince himself that almost-kiss on the dock had been for the photographs, he couldn’t ignore the truth. He’d wanted to kiss her. Wanted to hold her close. Wanted to see if her lips tasted as sweet as they looked.
Bronnie
poured sparkling apple juice into the tall champagne glasses as the boat pulled away from the pier, before bustling off to prepare their meal.
The flames brought out the reddish glow in Cara’s dark hair, and her emerald coat put green glints in her sparkling eyes. Something made her happy. More than just the boat. He wasn’t quite egotistical enough to imagine it was being with him.
“So, what made you late?” he asked, making sure his tone indicated only curiosity, not disappointment. She wouldn’t be late without good reason.
“You remember that homeless man I gave my coffee to, the day we met?”
Nick nodded. The simple act of kindness and depth of feeling she’d shown towards the old man was what attracted him in the first place, how could he forget.
“I visited him at the homeless shelter to follow up. His name’s William. They’ve helped him get cleaned up, I hardly recognised him. He’s a lovely man. I’m going to volunteer there.”
She beamed, joyful as someone who’d just been given a million dollars.
The weirdest sensation of something in the centre of his chest opening up surprised Nick. He’d been trying to get her to enjoy herself doing fun things with him. She’d found delight in helping someone else, instead.
A Bible verse popped into his mind. ‘Let us love not with words or speech but with actions and in truth.’
Cara might be prickly, difficult, and a drama queen, but she loved in truth. Unconditionally, and with passion.
Few among the girls he’d dated from his church or the acting world would have given a tramp their breakfast and found him a place to stay. None would have followed up and visited him.
He’d told Cara she needed to lighten up, but maybe the truth was, he needed to get more serious and look for ways to help others less selfishly. Twelve fun dates to encourage people to spend might save Pettett and Mayfield’s but it wasn’t exactly a charity circuit.
He’d been right to think she was God’s wake up call.
Every bit of him felt more awake than it ever had before.
Chapter 12
Nick smiled and spoke impulsively. “Cara. Your parents named you well. You’re one of the most caring women I know.”
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 24