by Mandy Baggot
Oliver hid his face in his mug of coffee, drinking some of the liquid down and hoping it would settle his intoxication as well as his thoughts.
‘Ben died five years ago this week.’ He took in a breath. ‘My mother likes to ramp up the emotion at this time of year, as if we don’t acknowledge it somehow we’ll forget about him. I have a different opinion,’ Oliver stated.
‘What do you think?’ Hayley asked.
‘I don’t want to forget him, but sometimes I feel he’s hanging over me like something out of A Christmas Carol.’
‘And your mother thinks you’d be perfectly cast as Scrooge?’
‘You got it.’
He looked to her then, watching her shift in her seat, wrapping her fleece-encased legs under herself. Did she understand? Perhaps now, with just the vague outline. But if he told her what he was really, ultimately, afraid of, what would she think then? He swallowed.
‘Well, if it’s any consolation at all, I’m pretty sure my mother hates me.’
Her voice came out so matter-of-fact, it took him a second to realise fully what she’d said.
‘Hates you?’ he queried.
‘Too strong?’
‘I don’t know. Do you think it is?’
‘She adores Dean, but then he’s the handsome, intelligent, not-pregnant-at-eighteen one.’
‘And you are?’
‘I’m the one who does everything wrong. I’m the one who threw away her dreams to have a baby. I’m the one she glosses over talking about at bingo.’
‘And that hurts.’ He watched her expression. She seemed to mull over his sentence. She brushed her hair back off her face and leant an elbow on the chair, propping up her head with her hand.
‘I don’t know if it hurts anymore. I’ve got used to it.’
* * *
‘Have you talked to her about it?’
‘No. We don’t do that sort of talking in our family.’ She sighed. ‘But seeing as I left my ten-year diary at her house, full of angst and issues and referring to her as Grotbags … well, if she finds it it probably won’t be long before she reads what I could never say.’ A chill ran through her. She didn’t want her mother finding the diary. She shouldn’t have left it unsupervised behind the Gonks. The trouble was it was just as dangerous here in New York where Angel could come across it as it was at Rita’s home. She unfolded her legs. ‘I see what you did there. Nice moves but I’m the counsellor here.’
‘Who said it had to be a one way street?’
‘You’re intoxicated. Everyone knows you never take advice from a drunk guy.’
‘Everyone knows you always tell the truth when you’re drunk.’
‘Well then, if that’s the case … why did you kiss me last night?’
Hayley’s cheeks caught alight and straight away she wished she had a way of filtering her thoughts instead of letting them blurt out of her lips. She should say something else, lighten the mood. But nothing was forthcoming.
She couldn’t stop looking at him and his eyes were locked on hers. And again, his proximity was doing strange things to her insides.
‘I kissed you because I couldn’t bear the thought of you walking away thinking I was the biggest jerk in the city.’
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘It was a PR exercise.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I just … didn’t want to never see you again.’
She swallowed, seeing the truth in his eyes, feeling the sincerity flowing from him. Oliver Drummond, superficial, serial-dating Superman, was as complex as they came and now he was looking at her like he might want to rip her clothes off. How did she feel about that? Crazy excited was the truth of it. But in reality, her stakes were high and she couldn’t throw any sort of caution to the wind.
She smiled, trying to dampen down the passion. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’
He shook his head. ‘No, actually, you’re the first I’ve ever said that too.’
‘Wow,’ she said quickly. ‘What was that beer the bar served you?’
‘Now who’s swerving the topic?’ He smiled.
‘I’m sober.’
‘Pity.’
She smiled and let out a breath. ‘You don’t want to get mixed up with me.’ She stood up. ‘I’m here looking for another man.’ She sighed. ‘There’s too many complications.’
‘I’m already mixed up with you, Hayley.’ He rose to his feet.
They were still a couple of feet away from each other but her body was reacting like a raging inferno was about to burn her to the ground. This couldn’t happen. Her mission to find Michel was paramount. Getting involved with anyone was not on her agenda.
‘I’m a mess, Hayley.’ He moved closer. ‘Nothing in my life is how I want it to be right now.’ He put a hand to her cheek, let his fingers rest on the skin. ‘But then there’s you. When I’m with you …’
She could barely get breath inside her. His fingers cupped her jaw and all her pleasure senses engaged at once. She shouldn’t let this happen.
‘When I’m with you everything else matters a little bit less,’ he whispered.
‘You’re forgetting you came here under the influence, wanting to give me a piece of your mind.’ She almost wished she had sold a story to the press. Having him still angry wouldn’t be leading to … whatever this was.
He nodded. ‘When I should have known the truth.’ He brushed her hair with his fingers. ‘Because I’ve gotten to know you.’
She swallowed. ‘You only know what I’ve told you.’
He nodded again. ‘And instead of telling me you wanted a trip to Honduras or you longed for a Ferrari, you said you wanted to find Angel’s father.’
She took a breath. ‘And you hated that.’
‘I still do.’ He trailed a finger down from her jaw to her neck and the zip of the onesie. ‘But you were honest with me. You were real.’
She shivered as his finger fixed over the zipper and tugged slowly downwards. Trust her to be dressed up like a toy room helper from Angel’s Christmas storybook when there was a chance she was going to be seduced.
She was getting drawn in by his eyes, her body inching nearer as his fingers pulled her zipper lower. She ought to move away. She needed to just take half a step backwards and achieve even a hair’s breadth of distance. Except she couldn’t move, didn’t want to.
His lips touched hers and she felt the same zing fizzle through her as she had the night before. His mouth was hot, his fingers parting the material of her inappropriate nightwear.
‘God, what is this thing?’ he asked, tugging at the zipper a little more.
‘It’s a onesie,’ she replied.
‘I hate it.’
‘Right now, I hate it too.’
He kissed her again, yanking the fleecy material over her shoulder to release some of her flesh.
Then the front door slammed and Hayley jumped like a startled kangaroo.
She clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘It’s Dean and Angel.’ She pulled the zipper back up.
‘What do you want me to do? Go? Hide? It’s your call,’ he told her.
‘Hide?’ She couldn’t stop herself from smirking.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, a small laugh escaping. ‘What would happen in the Gilmore Girls?’
‘There would be hiding, definitely, and lots of talking about random stuff that only highlights the fact that you’re here and we’ve had coffee and …’ There was no hiding the number of cups on the table. Hiding wasn’t an option. She widened her eyes. ‘You have to make this about the Globe. Yes! That’s it! You’ve come here to ask Dean something about the Globe that couldn’t wait.’
‘Like what?’ Oliver asked, tucking his shirt in.
‘I don’t know! I’m not the owner of a consumer electronics company.’ She thought for a second, almost able to hear the footfalls on the stairs. ‘It overheats!’
‘What? I can’t say that!’
The door to the lounge area swung open and Angel and Dean en
tered the room. Hayley leapt forward, pulling Angel into an over-the-top embrace, coddling her head to her bosom. ‘Did you have a lovely time? Was Vernon’s food a-ma-zing?’
‘Hey,’ Oliver greeted, waving a hand.
Angel struggled from her embrace and eyed Oliver with suspicion.
‘Mr Drummond … what are you doing here? I mean … is there something I can help you with?’ Dean started, putting a plastic container on the dining room table behind him. ‘Oh no … it’s the Globe, isn’t it?’
Hayley nodded her head up and down, eyes on stalks, willing Oliver to agree.
‘Rabbit Nation works fine. I’ve been playing that all the way there and all the way back,’ Angel remarked.
Hayley nodded all the more vigorously, then shot Dean an innocent look, toying with the zipper on her onesie.
‘Yes, I’m afraid it’s the Globe,’ Oliver cleared his throat. ‘I think we have an overheating issue.’
27
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
Her brother was still looking at the product like it might explode in his hands as Oliver talked to him about something he’d found out on the electronics grapevine to do with one of the components they had used. Hayley felt bad for making Oliver lie and for getting Dean hot under the collar about the apparent failure of his baby. But the alternative was to try and explain what the billionaire was doing in the apartment with her. The two men were huddled over the Globe on the breakfast bar, Dean talking and swiping and Oliver looking back to her every now and then for a get-out.
‘Did you know, Vernon’s meatball recipe has been in his family for six generations,’ Angel said, appearing at Hayley’s elbow, a bowl of ice cream in her hands.
‘I didn’t know that,’ she replied, her eyes still on Oliver.
‘I know there’s nothing wrong with the Globe,’ Angel said, digging her spoon into the dessert and pushing the food into her mouth.
Hayley turned to Angel. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘There are shortbread biscuits on the coffee table,’ Angel said through a mouthful.
Hayley looked to the table. The half-empty coffee pot, the glass of water, the biscuits. Did the scene have incrimination written all over it?
‘He’s Uncle Dean’s boss. What was I supposed to give him when he turned up here? Leftover pizza?’
‘Billionaires don’t just turn up at people’s houses,’ Angel continued. ‘They make appointments in work time.’
‘How many billionaires do you actually know that you’re basing that judgement on?’ Hayley put her hands on her hips.
‘I know what’s going on,’ Angel stated loudly.
Hayley watched Oliver glance over his shoulder and away from Dean’s dissection of the tablet. Her heart was hammering now. She wasn’t that transparent, was she? She made certain the zipper on her onesie was up to her neckline.
‘You got him to come over here and you’re going to ask him for a job,’ Angel said, finishing the sentence off with a firm nod.
‘I have a job,’ she reminded, in a whisper.
‘You think? After the way we were almost ordered to leave that house today?’
Hayley let out a sigh. She hadn’t heard anything from Majestic Cleaning and she didn’t dare call. She shrugged. ‘It will blow over.’
‘Are you crazy? The woman looked like she wanted to kill us and the housekeeper screamed like she was in a horror movie.’
‘Which you are not old enough to watch.’
‘Biscuits never lie,’ Angel said, looking triumphant.
She held her hands up. ‘OK, you got me, I wanted to ask him for a job.’
Angel’s eyes grew big. ‘And?’
‘And you and Uncle Dean burst in and I didn’t get the chance.’
‘So there’s nothing wrong with the Globe?’
‘No … I mean yes … I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t say that.’
Angel’s eyes misted over and she slumped down onto the sofa, ice cream spoon still in her hand. ‘I really wanted that lady to like what we’d done to her room today.’
Hayley moved, plumping down next to Angel and taking the spoon from her. ‘Yeah, me too.’ She dug into the ice cream and ate a mouthful.
‘I thought it looked beautiful. It was warm and inviting, the fire was cosy and the lights made her photographs stand out,’ Angel continued, grabbing back the spoon.
‘We did a great job. It just wasn’t to her taste, that’s all.’
‘And you’re probably going to get fired because of me,’ Angel added, looking glum.
Hayley shook her head. ‘No, not because of you, because of me.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t be working here. I don’t have the right paperwork and this is supposed to be a family holiday. I should be making the most of not working and spending every second with you.’ She put an arm around Angel and drew her close.
‘But what about money?’
Hayley shrugged. ‘We’ll work something out.’
Angel moved slightly, turning her head to look at her. ‘So no more mopping and silly outfits?’
‘No more mopping and no more Agatha. Now go and get another spoon for this ice cream. You can’t possibly eat it all yourself.’
* * *
‘I think Dean would have had me stay here all night taking it to pieces with him.’ Oliver smiled as Hayley showed him down the stairs to the front door of the apartment. He felt almost human again after water and coffee and the bathroom visit that lost him half his body weight.
‘I’m so sorry. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.’ She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and put her hand to the gold latch. ‘He’s not going to rip it all apart and start again, is he? I don’t want to be responsible for the crumbling of an empire.’
‘I’ve put his mind at rest I think. Said I wasn’t sure of the model number. He’ll probably Google it.’
‘Or Globe it.’
‘Voyage it actually. That’s the name of our search engine.’
‘I like it.’ She nodded. ‘All about the journey and no connotation of wild animals.’
He looked quizzical.
‘Safari?’
Oliver smiled then. Her eyes were shining as she looked back at him, dewy, alive. ‘Can I take you out somewhere?’
She didn’t reply and he realised he was holding his breath and his stance. He was almost bracing himself for the negative response.
‘I made you stand there for half an hour getting fictitious about a piece of equipment and you want to take me out somewhere?’
‘I came round here drunk and behaved badly. Let me make it up to you.’ He swallowed, then reached for her hand. He turned it over and gently stroked her palm with his fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time he had stroked a woman’s hand this way.
She nodded, smiling. ‘OK.’
‘OK?’ He shocked himself by how surprised he sounded. She’d said yes. ‘Well, what do you want to do?’
He felt her squeeze his hand.
‘No more wishes. You decide,’ she replied.
‘Are you sure about that? I don’t want to take you out somewhere and have you disappointed.’ In truth he was playing for time, his brain desperately wondering where he could take her, what he could do, how to make the best possible impression.
‘I’m sure, Superman.’ She rose up on her tip-toes and planted the lightest of kisses on his lips. She let go of his hand and backed up the first step.
‘Well, shall I call you? I don’t have your number.’ He reached into the pocket of his trousers and drew out his cell phone.
‘Ready?’ she asked.
‘Hold up just a second.’ He tapped at the screen.
‘077026 415798.’ She turned away and headed back up the steps.
‘What? Was that seven nine eight or seven eight nine?’ he called.
‘Bye, Clark.’ She stopped walking and turned back. ‘By the way, Angel loved the Christmas tree in your l
obby.’
28
Drummond Global Offices, Downtown Manhattan
Oliver took a deep lung full of the frosty air before he pushed the door to the office block. Despite the hangover headache he was managing, it was a good day. He had coffee and he had a plan. Today he was going to create the perfect date for a woman he really wanted to get to know better. And he was going to set Daniel Pearson on another mission. He’d granted lots of wishes and no matter how much it irked him, he was going to try and do something about Hayley’s.
He stepped into the reception area and straight away saw Clara. He smiled and made his way over to her.
‘Good morning, Clara. How was your day off? If you tell me you spent it anywhere but the bedroom I’m going to be disappointed.’