Far from it.
She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “We need to get to the kitchen and start earning our keep. We’ll talk again before we leave.”
Nick lifted his shoulders and gave her a don’t-get-mad-with-me look as they walked away from William. “We have to have our photo taken first. When I give Simon the cheque.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Haven’t I been in enough photos already?” She was only half joking. She really didn’t want to see her face in the newspaper any more.
“Only a couple extra to keep Mrs Pettett happy, then you’ll be a free woman again.” He grinned as he slipped an arm around her and hugged her.
So much for her resolve to keep her distance. The butterflies in her tummy were doing overtime tonight. And she’d never be a free woman again. When Nick flew home, he’d take a part of her heart with him.
If things were different, if her past was different, his hug could have been a promise of more, of something good and true and real happening between them.
Dutifully, she smiled for Mac, as the photographer took shots of them handing the cheque over, half a dozen times. Nick charmed him into volunteering for a Christmas shift too. Despite his leg wound, Mac agreed he could do dishes if pushed.
The rest of their shift zipped by.
Nick surprised her by mucking right in, doing everything from peeling potatoes to scrubbing the cooking pots. And he had a real gift for talking to the people there, and even more, for listening.
Seemed like the acceptance and attention he gave the residents nourished and warmed them just as much as the hearty hot-pot and doorstops of bread they’d served.
She kept busy, always on the move or talking to someone, but the whole time she couldn’t help the awareness of Nick that fluttered her senses.
Too soon, she stood outside in the bitter cold, ready to argue as Nick refused to allow her to make her own way back to the apartment. Couldn’t he tell she needed to get away from him, so her heart rate could return to something vaguely resembling normal and her insides could stop trembling?
“Getting from here to Mayfair is nothing. Usually, I’d be walking to a bus stop or the underground station, then have a long tube trip or an even longer bus ride back to my place, and a walk at the other end, too.”
Nick shook his head. “It’s late, this isn’t the best neighbourhood, and they’ve forecast snow.”
She rolled her eyes. Nick had no idea how she really lived. “This is a far nicer neighbourhood than mine. Anyway, it never snows before Christmas in London. The most we’ll get is a little sleet.”
“So humour me. Where I live, a little sleet is enough to shut down the entire state. Please let me see you safely home. I wouldn’t want one of my sisters walking alone at this time of night.”
He switched on the killer weapon she had no defence against.
His smile.
That decided her.
She thought of the people in the shelter. All those wrong decisions. All those regrets. All those wasted lives.
Just like her.
She’d been given this gift of a few days with Nick. Too soon, he’d leave, and she’d never see him again. The pain and the guilt could bite her then, as hard as they wanted to.
She’d been wrong to think she needed to forget Nick. Remembering was what she needed. The precious memories she stored up now would need to last her for the rest of her life. She’d never find another man like Nick.
Her heart was his, now and always.
~~+~~
Nick couldn’t figure Cara out.
At the shelter, she’d acted like she couldn’t wait to get rid of him. She didn’t even want to let him see her safely home. But now they were on her doorstep, she asked him in for a hot chocolate.
He looked at his watch. “Okay.” The word dragged out of him. He really shouldn’t be alone with her, feeling how he felt. “I won’t stay long, it’s getting late. I don’t want to start any real gossip about us.”
While Cara went to the kitchen to make their drinks, he lit the logs in the fireplace, and turned on the Christmas tree lights.
Maybe a mistake, but he wanted to feel this special moment of Christmas with Cara. His family arrived back from Paris tomorrow, it might be his last chance.
This felt almost like they were married, and in their own home.
She came back out with a tray, and the twinkling lights reflected in her eyes. A few flakes of snow drifted past the windows, but in here, everything was cosy and warm and light.
She poured hot chocolate for them both, and sat at the opposite end of the sofa. Much as he wished she was closer, keeping their distance was wise. The domestic set up suddenly felt far too cosy.
He started talking to break the intimacy of their silence.
“Thank you for taking me to the shelter tonight. William’s doing well, isn’t he?”
“He’s scrubbed up nicely.” Cara grinned, with a hint of rare mischief. “You did better than I expected, Gallagher. I thought it might be a new experience for the big star, getting his hands dirty.”
“It was a new experience. I’ve never done hands on volunteering like that before. But now I have, it won’t be the last time.”
The approval shining in her eyes lifted his heart more than winning an Oscar would. Something warm and full and happy expanded in his chest, like a gift from God.
“So tell me, have I won the dare? We've nearly finished the song.” He ticked the list off on his fingers. “Sable. Blue convertible. Yacht. Platinum mine. Duplex. Cheques. Christmas tree with Tiffany ornaments. We even have a real fireplace with a chimney. So, have I convinced you Christmas isn't such a bad thing yet?
Sadness chased the warmth from her eyes. Slumping a little, she looked away. Then she shook her head. “Nice try, Gallagher, but I said you wouldn’t do it.”
He wanted to reach over and hug the hurt away, make it all better. But he didn’t dare touch her. If he started anything, he wouldn’t want to stop.
He gulped the sweet chocolate, and stood. “I still have a couple more days till Christmas. I’ll keep trying.”
Cara stood too, then looked up and laughed. Over their heads, mistletoe hung from the light fitting.
“I know you’re far too much the gentleman to do anything about that. But I can. Why waste the opportunity.” She stood on tiptoe and buried her fingers in his hair, pulling his face down to hers.
He knew he should resist. He knew he should be stronger.
For an endless moment his lips hovered over hers, a breath apart, while his heart galloped like a Kentucky Derby winner.
He didn’t want to lead her on, promise more than he could give her. But one kiss, that was all he wanted.
One kiss to remember his lovely Cara by, when he was back in L.A.
His lips lowered against hers, moving tentatively and softly at first then with increasing pressure. His arm slipped around her, drawing her closer, while his other hand supported her neck, fingers twining in her hair. It curled around his fingers, like silky ropes binding him to her.
She kissed him right back, shyly and sweetly, so obviously inexperienced. Her arms crept around his neck, holding him gently. He trailed his lips from her forehead to her eyelids, from her cheekbones to her vulnerable neck.
The kiss was like no kiss he’d ever had before. It felt good. So good.
Too good to risk continuing.
They had to stop.
He didn’t want to, God knew. But he had to be strong, and stop things while he still could.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
Her lips clung to his as they parted, seeming as reluctant to let his go as his were to end the kiss. Her eyes blinked open, clouded and dazed with bliss.
He felt just as dazed. The depth of emotion the kiss aroused shocked him, and he had no idea what to do about it.
She felt so right in his arms. This was the way God intended it to be between a man and a woman.
He’d neve
r kissed a woman like that, ever.
And he guessed she didn't kiss men the way she'd kissed him, either. She’d put all of herself into it. So much passion and yearning.
He cradled her head in his hands and gazed into her eyes. “I need to go, Cara. Not because I want to, but because I respect you too much not to.”
She nodded wordlessly.
He grazed her lips with his one last time, then let her go before he could be tempted to deepen the kiss again.
He closed the apartment door carefully behind him, walked down the stairs, and out the front door, though he really didn’t want to go.
From the other side of the street, he looked up at the uncurtained apartment window, glowing with golden light. Cara stood there, gazing down through the lightly falling snow. She saw him, smiled and raised a hand. Her other hand touched her lips.
Seeing her there, he realised Micki had been wrong. He did know how to commit, after all.
You decided you wanted to be with someone, and you kept on deciding and deciding and deciding. Every minute of every day, for as long as you lived.
Somewhere in the past week, he'd changed.
It was time to chuck his Mr Unattached act. He wanted to be with Cara.
For the rest of his life.
He just had to figure out how to make it work.
Chapter 17
The first thing Cara thought of when the cheery birdsong of the alarm woke her was Nick.
Even now, next morning, just remembering the kiss made her body fizz and her mind buzz with bliss. She jumped out of bed and stretched, feeling ridiculously alive, full of wonder and joy. She hadn’t felt this good for a long time.
Maybe ever.
The kiss had been one of those crazy impulsive things. She’d decided to not just accept the gift of the last few days with Nick, but to grab it with both hands.
They’d been there together. The mistletoe was there, right over their heads.
She hadn’t been able to say ‘No’ to the opportunity, and she refused to regret it.
That kiss would still be warming her heart and curling her toes when she was an old, old woman.
After Nick left, she’d turn herself back into the human calculator her staff had called her before he came along.
Though something told her that after opening her heart to Nick, it wouldn’t be so easy.
No matter. It was worth the eventual grief to feel this good now.
Perhaps love really was worth the price, after all.
In a happy whirl, she got ready for work. With Nick’s help, they’d solved the financial crisis. The jobs were safe. Maybe together they could figure out how to make what was growing between them work, too.
She’d switched off her cell phone and the front door intercom before bed. She turned the phone back on, ready for the work day. And, she had to admit, in hope there was a message from Nick.
Her phone beeped, and beeped, and beeped, and kept on beeping. Message after message came in, none from numbers she recognised. Not Nick. Finally, it stopped, at 29 new messages.
Puzzled, she rang voicemail.
The first message made no sense. Some guy asking for an exclusive so she could tell her side of the story. The second one was almost the same, just a different voice.
Then she realised.
Reporters. What she’d dreaded right from the start of the dare. Her past coming out, her life as gossip column fodder.
She pushed the button to switch on the front door intercom, making sure it was set so she could see who was out there but they couldn’t see her. She gasped.
There had to be twenty reporters and photographers out there. They must have heard her, because they dropped their cigarettes and coffee and jostled to get to the intercom, shouting questions.
They looked like a pack of wild dogs, ready to attack and tear her apart. Overnight, they’d decided she was today’s target, to be stalked like prey, chewed up, and spat out when public interest moved on.
Pulse pounding, she slammed the switch off, praying the security system would keep them out.
This couldn’t really be happening.
She moved to the desk in the corner, lifted the lid on her laptop, and checked Google. What she saw tightened her throat and dried her mouth. She hit the refresh button and stared at the screen, willing it to show something different.
Not in her worst nightmares of what the dare might result in had she imagined this.
On the screen, a lurid headline topped a grainy shot of them kissing in front of the uncurtained window last night. The article was full of nasty innuendo that they were holed up together in a love-nest, and that Nick’s squeaky clean image was a lie.
Her secrets were there for everyone to see. Her father’s fraud and his disappearance with the company pension fund. Her mother’s suicide. They’d painted her as a mentally unstable femme fatale, from a criminal background, tempting Saint Nick from the straight and narrow.
Anything for a good story.
She dropped into the chair and covered her face with her hands, rocking slightly. The singing joy Nick’s kiss had awoken in her fled, replaced with a pain so vast and all-encompassing she couldn’t see any way around it. She could barely breathe past the huge lump of guilt and grief in her chest, let alone allow the release of tears.
This was too big for tears. Way too big.
How it affected her didn’t matter. The worst that could happen would be Mrs Pettett sacking her. She’d survived loss of her reputation, loss of her future, loss of her home before, she’d survive this time too.
What bothered her was the damage this would cause Nick.
His career.
His family.
They came back today, right into the middle of this mess. And his father was a pastor. She knew from past experience how harshly judgmental church congregations could be.
Everyone she touched she hurt. The Curse of Cara.
It was safer making no connections. That way, no-one got hurt.
Too late for that now.
She picked up her phone to warn Nick, but before she dialled two numbers, the knocking on the door started.
Dear God, they’d gotten in.
Panic surged in her, tightening her throat. Like a cornered rat, she had nowhere to run.
“Cara, it’s me, let me in.” Nick’s voice.
Her heart leaped at the sound and she let loose the breath she’d held.
She ran to the door and unlocked it, looking fearfully past him as she let him in.
“It’s safe.” He smiled reassuringly. “My poor girl.” He enfolded her in his strong arms.
For a moment, she let herself take comfort in his hold. Then she flattened her hands on his chest and pushed him away.
“No, Nick. It’s all my fault. This is even worse than I feared.” She waved at the laptop screen. “How will this affect your career, your family? I don’t want them walking into this madness.”
He smiled and shook his head. “My family will be fine. I’ve already made arrangements for them. I’m more worried about you. Will you trust me to take care of things?”
Something in her chest tightened at the thought, folding her in on herself. Like a child, she held her closed hands in front of her trembling mouth.
He’d held her up on the ice. He hadn’t let her fall. Maybe she could trust him not to let her fall now, as well.
Then once they were safely away, she’d have to push him as far and as hard away from her as she could, so she didn’t drag him any further into the mire.
Lips too tight to speak, she nodded.
“Good girl. Pack your bag, and let’s get out of here.”
Packing her small suitcase took just a few minutes. The only thing she didn’t have room for was the new art materials. Part of her wanted to leave them behind, just another silly dream she needed to give up on all over again, like letting herself fall in love with Nick.
Part of her wouldn’t let go that easily.
&nbs
p; She pulled a plastic shopping bag out of the wastepaper bin, and bundled them into it.
Nick took the bags from her as she emerged from the bedroom.
“How will we get out?” she asked.
He grinned, looking particularly proud of himself. “They’re at the front door, but they don’t know the building has a service entrance too, via the building next store.” He held up a key. “That’s how I got in. There’s a car waiting.”
Cara couldn’t help returning his endearing smile.
Seeing Nick again felt good, even under these circumstances.
She tried to convince herself it was an adventure as they snuck out through the restaurant, though furtively glancing around to see who was watching them made her feel more like a criminal than one of the Famous Five.
Heart pounding, she collapsed rather than sat in the rear seat of the anonymous looking dark Volvo idling in the delivery bay. Nick leaned forward and spoke in a low voice to the driver.
As the car pulled away from the building and the waiting pack of journalists, he turned to her with a triumphant smile. “Looks like we got away with that one.”
Cara nodded. Her pulse still raced and she had to fold her hands tightly in her lap to stop them shaking. The experience stressed her more than she wanted Nick to know. Being in the car with him wasn’t exactly lowering her stress levels, either.
At least it was only a couple of minutes’ drive to work. She’d be away from him soon.
“So the car will drop me off at Pettett and Mayfield’s?”
His expression sobered. “Sorry Cara, you’re not going to be able to go into work today, or to your own apartment, either,” he said. “They’re waiting there, too.”
She’d been afraid of that, but hadn’t been able to help hoping. “I have to go to work. Mrs Pettett won’t need a second excuse to sack me.”
He shook his head. “You can’t, Cara. Even if we somehow got you into the building, anyone could walk into your office, and they’d all still be outside the store waiting when you walk out the door. I won’t leave you to deal with that. You’ll need to phone your instructions in, or email your staff.” He smiled, a smile that trembled her tummy despite all this. “And Mrs Pettett will hardly fire you after you’ve saved the store.”
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 30