Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
L2HU
Acknowledgments
Also by Alexandra Silva
Also by Sophie Blue
About Alexandra
About Sophie Blue
Copyright © 2020 Alexandra Silva & Sophie Blue
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by LJ Designs
Editing by One Love Editing
Proofreading by Gem’s Precise Proofreads
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
1
Adam
The Range crunches over the snow-covered road leading to the cottage Daphne booked last minute. Trust my sister to go overboard with lodgings for a business trip.
“You have reached your destination,” the GPS tells me over Daphne’s rattling on the phone.
“Is it as pretty as it looked online?”
“It’s hard to tell, Daph. It’s sort of buried,” I answer her while I squint, trying to get a better look at the surroundings.
There’s nothing but leafless trees and white-covered fields with a few other houses dotted in the distance.
Note to self: next time, book your own shit.
Normally, my assistant takes care of my itinerary. Fly in and fly out; if I need to stop over, she makes sure it’s convenient. Unlike this place—I’d be surprised if there’s internet, let alone Wi-Fi.
“Where the hell did you find it? It’s in the middle of freaking nowhere. You realize that I’m here for work, right?”
“Do you have to be so miserable? It’s a beautiful cottage in the middle of gorgeous English countryside. I’m so jealous…”
“I asked you to book a hotel, not a freaking vacation. Besides, the weather is worse here than it is in New York right now.”
“There was no room at the inn, so suck it up, killjoy, and enjoy it!” Daphne huffs, and I can imagine her bratty expression. “How did the meeting go anyway?”
“Fine.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell Dad when he calls you later?”
“Maybe.”
“Liar!” Her snicker makes me smile.
I don’t think there’s anyone that knows me quite as well as my baby sister—by four minutes.
As I park in front of the cottage, my focus is drawn to the movement on the other side of the drive.
“I thought you said the keys were under the boot brush.”
“That’s what the guy messaged me on the website. Why?”
“Umm…” A chuckle involuntarily pushes past my lips as I watch the woman argue into her phone at the same time as she’s trying to brush the couple of feet of snow off her tiny car. The more she tries to brush it off, the worse the situation becomes. “No reason.”
The wind picks up, dusting another generous layer of the white stuff everywhere. It’s not looking good for her as I disconnect my phone from the car and hold it to my ear. The sound of my door closing has her spinning to face me, fiery red hair flurrying around slender shoulders from beneath her Santa-style bobble hat.
“Can we FaceTime? I want to see it for myself. Please?”
“God, you’re so damn ridiculous, you know that?” Pulling my small case from the trunk, I head for the open front door.
I’m about to leave my case and ask the woman if she’s management or maybe the cleaner when I hear her cry into her phone, “This cannot be happening, Kate! I’ve been out here forever, and it’s useless. Even the freaking cleaner gave up… God! I cannot be stranded here…”
The familiar accent gives me pause. What are the chances of meeting a fellow American in the middle of buttfuck England?
“Adam?” Daphne tries to grab my attention again.
“I’ll call you back.”
“What? Why? Who’s that?”
“Talk later. Bye.” Hanging up, I pocket my phone and edge closer to the stranger.
“I have a flight to catch—Seb will never forgive me if I don’t make it home for Christmas.”
Obviously, she wants to be here as much as I do because she’s literally trying to dig her wheels out of the snow with her bare hands.
“No. No…why today? Why couldn’t the snow wait until I was back in London?” I take a step forward to offer my help, but she jumps up from where she’s kneeling on the ground. “What? All flights? Canceled? Heathrow?” Pause. “Any other London airport? Or Manchester? Birmingham?”
There’s a breath of silence before she growls, “Fuck! Scotland? Any airport in Scotland flying to the States? I’ll take anywhere.” Clearly, whatever is relayed to her on the phone isn’t what she wants to hear. “Fuckity fuck, fuck…fuck!”
The red-and-white bobble hat falls off her head as she shakes it furiously. With a lunge, I try to catch it pointlessly. When I pick it up from the ground and shake it off, she looks up at me, hazel eyes wide and full lips pursed with annoyance.
“Thank you,” she tells me with a hopeless sigh, while she takes her hat back.
It’s cold, shrivellage kind of cold, and where she’s been touching the snow, her hands are a purpling shade of red along with her nose.
“I don’t think digging your car out with your hands is a good idea,” I tell her, inspecting the bright red Fiat 500 beside us. “Have you tried hot water…or just water?”
Possibly not the best question to ask as it earns me a glare at the same time as I glimpse the electric kettle on the window ledge.
“Seems like you’re going to need some help getting it…ummm…” I pause at her pissed-off expression, backing up a little before I tell her, “I’ll leave you to…” Gesturing at the situation, I turn and start back to the front door.
The wind is sharp, the kind that makes it through the thick weave of my suit. I don’t know how the hell she’s been out here long enough to make a dent in the snow without freezing half to death.
I’m barely inside when I hear her grumble, “No room at the inn…great!”
The familiar remark has me spinning to find her clasping her phone in one hand as she looks up at the sky as if asking why.
“So not only am I stranded, but my flight is canceled, the only hotel in this place is full, and this fucking storm is still nowhere near over.”
Don’t do it, I tell myself the minute the idea pops into my head. The woman looks like she could be dangerous if I say the wrong thing…still, she’s tiny. Her dainty, upturned nose is all red. And with the slump of her shoulders, I’m certain she’s either about to give up and collapse into the snow or cry. Maybe both. Oh fuck.
It’s the worst idea I’ve ever had. I don’t even know if there are enough rooms for the both of us, but…
“You’re already here,” I say, keeping enough distance that if she gets crazy, I can make it out alive.
“Get me out of here,” she pleads into her phone in defeat while holding my stare. “Kate…”
Don’t be an idiot, I grit to mysel
f as I pause in front of the woman and hold out my hand. “Adam Cohen.”
Teary eyes flit between my gaze and my hand. Clearly, she’s got the stranger danger thing down pat. I wish that my mother’s lessons on kindness hadn’t been so good because I’m that fool that’s inviting a complete stranger to share accommodation.
“Amelia Harding.” Finally, there’s the smallest of upturns to her mouth, hitching so that a dimple appears on the right side of her face.
The sight of her this close gives me pause. As though I’ve never seen anything quite as pretty as she is. Amelia is stunning and maybe a little obsessed with Christmas from the bobble hat to the candy cane pin on the lapel of her red coat. When she tucks her messy waves behind her ear, I almost burst out laughing.
What the fuck?
Little green tartan bow-accented bells jingle from her ear as she rakes her eyes from the top of my head to my toes.
Okay…
“It doesn’t look like you’re going to have much luck getting out of here,” I start, taking a step closer even though my brain is telling me to step back. Slowly.
“No shit.” Her retort is part sob and part scoff.
“Wouldn’t want you to turn into a yeti or something…”
Fuck, probably not the best thing to call a woman I’ve only just met. Man, talk about a bad choice of words. I don’t know what the hell is happening right now, but I’m not this goof. The reason I’m here is because I’m great at negotiating situations and deals. For some reason, I can’t seem to get the right thing out. Maybe it’s the jet lag. Maybe I’m too exhausted to think straight—it would explain why I’m contemplating inviting her to stay here with me.
“Are you trying to say I’m a crazy abominable creature?”
“Ahhh, no.”
“Right.” With a shake of her head, Amelia starts murmuring into the phone. “This can’t be happening to me. It’s Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year.”
“Amelia?” A smile tugs at my mouth at the sound of her name falling from my lips.
“You can’t abandon me now! He could be a serial killer! The Christmas Ripper. The Snow Slasher. The Merry Murderer.”
Wow.
“Amelia.”
Pulling her shoulders back, she levels me with a straight face, taking a deep breath at the same time as she grabs the kettle. There’s no doubt that in her hands it could be a weapon of mass pain.
“I can assure you that I’m no ripper, slasher, or murderer. I don’t even do Christmas, so you are entirely safe. Trust me.”
I wish I could say the same thing in reverse.
“You heard that.” She grimaces.
Nodding, I rock back on my feet. “Yup.”
Talk about awkward moments, and yet, I don’t want it to end so that I can take in her bashful blink and nervous gnaw of her lip. As charming as her coyness is, the defiant jut of her chin tells me that she’s a force of nature.
Long lashes flutter before she tells her friend, “Seb is going to hate me.”
Seb. My gut twists at the name, a sudden spike of anger slashing through me.
“I’m sure your boyfriend would want you to be safe and warm rather than stranded out here. Unless you intend on building yourself an igloo?”
A laugh erupts from her as she tells me, “I’m pretty certain my brother would tell me to build an igloo instead of—” She stops with a shrug, looking toward the house as though she’s waiting for my formal invitation.
“Shacking up with a stranger for the night?”
“Excuse me?”
Fuck. “That came out wrong. It’s been a long day, and I’m jet-lagged to fuck and beyond, but I’m sure there’s more than one room in the place.” I gesture to the cottage while reminding myself that I haven’t actually been jet-lagged in years. “If you’d like, you can stay until we can resolve your issue or the snow lets up.”
“I don’t know you.”
“I don’t know you either.”
There’s a beat of silence where she listens to whatever her friend is saying down the phone before she asks, “ID?”
Huh, she actually waits for me to pull out my wallet and license before she snaps a picture and sends it to her friend.
This has got to be the most absurd situation I’ve ever found myself in. For some reason, I’m not as annoyed by it as I think I would normally be. Amelia has something about her that makes me curious. Clearly she’s smart, takes her safety pretty fucking seriously—which I find more pleasing than I probably should—and has a spark that has rendered me absolutely fucking stupid. She’s what my father would call a spitfire.
“Love you,” she says into her phone. “Call later.”
Hanging up, she walks around me, searching for her case in the snow before she heads inside the house.
“Coming?” she asks, looking back at me as though I’m the one that’s kept her outside all this time.
“Sure.”
I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into, but a part of me knows I’m not ready for it.
The cottage is rather beautiful. Daphne would probably refuse to leave if she were here. The rooms aren’t as big as you would think when you look at the place from the outside. It’s not what I would usually go for, but it’s cozy, and now that I’ve managed to light the fire, it’s warm too.
Amelia walks into the sitting room as I send off a summary email from the meeting this morning. Thank God there’s Wi-Fi because my cell phone coverage isn’t doing that great. It picks random spots to work, and I have enough on my plate without having to sit out in the cold sending emails and making calls.
Being CFO to our family’s global fund isn’t as glamorous as the private jets and million-dollar penthouses suggest. It’s a constant need to prove that I’m worthy of the role. There’s always someone waiting for me to fuck up so they can diminish all the long hours and hard work I put in to nothing but family privilege.
“I’m not really sure what we have in the cupboards that we can use for dinner, but I can make something.”
I look up and my breath catches at the sight of her with her messy curls pulled into a high ponytail. Where she was out in the snow so long earlier, her lips and cheeks are a little raw, giving her a gorgeous flush that makes the green in her hazel eyes stand out.
With her fingers tapping away on her phone, she looks as though she’s about to scream the place down. At the same time, she keeps declining whatever persistent call keeps buzzing. Amelia wanders over to the armchair by the fire, opposite mine, and perches on the arm.
She’s so engrossed in whatever’s happening on her phone that I tell her, “I’ll Uber something.”
A grin cuts her face as she replies, “Go for it.”
We may be practical strangers still, but I already know that grin means trouble. Ignoring the warning, I pull up the website on my laptop to search for something decent only to find there’s literally nothing. We really are in the middle of goddamn nowhere. This makes remote seem urban.
“Any luck?” Amelia snickers, getting up as I close my laptop.
The sweater dress she’s wearing allows me a glimpse of her creamy thighs. Velvety skin calls to my hands, making me itch to touch. It’s been a while since I’ve looked twice at a woman, let alone felt the pull to touch.
Glancing up, I find her watching me as though she knows the effect she’s having on me. If that’s not enough, my pulse races at our proximity. Her soft scent fills my lungs as I drag in a deep breath.
“I didn’t think so,” she rasps, pulling back.
The hem of her dress rises slightly with the defined curve of her ass as I watch Amelia walk away.
“Coming?” she asks, looking back at me over her shoulder.
God fuck it all, if she asks me that again, giving me that know-it-all, I-told-you-so look, I can’t be blamed for what will happen. I might not be the serial killer she joked about, but I am a man. With eyes and a dick that’s aware enough of her presence that the reasons
why I’ve stayed away from women begin to fade.
2
Amelia
Pulling back the curtains in the living room, I frown when I see the thick coating of snow on the ground and covering my car. It’s stunning, truly it is. But does it have to be so impractical? I’m meant to be in London with my best friend right now, packing to fly to LA so I can spend Christmas with my brother. Not holed up in a cottage with an attractive stranger. I mean, there are definitely worse places to be stranded, but nevertheless, if it could clear up soon, I’d be eternally grateful.
The sound of my phone ringing breaks me out of my thoughts. Seeing Seb’s goofy face flashing up on the screen has me smiling.
“Hey loser, you okay?” I ask.
“Nice, Mills. First you ditch me at Christmas, now you insult me,” he jokes, and I roll my eyes at my idiot brother.
This is exactly why I was avoiding his calls last night, hoping that I’d be able to give him some better news this morning. Sadly, I can’t. After stalking the airport websites, airlines, and news pages, the general consensus is that the weather isn’t letting up anytime soon.
Fantastic!
“I haven’t ditched you! I’m trying to get back to London or at least get on another flight closer to here.”
“Relax, I’m just messing.”
“I know, but I feel stupid. I should have left straight after the event, but I was exhausted and couldn’t face the five-hour drive home.” I sigh, annoyed at myself for not anticipating that this could have happened.
“Now that would have been a stupid idea. You did the right thing staying put and safe. Besides, we’ll figure it out. So long as you’re all right, we’ll fix this.”
Love 2 Jingle U: A Sweet Vine Christmas Romance Page 1