‘Here.’ He handed Alex one of the glasses and she accepted it.
‘Thank you. I can’t believe it’s got dark already. I used to like the lead-up to Christmas, the dark evenings, but now I’m just holding out for spring.’
‘You don’t like Christmas?’ Scarlett stopped in the middle of unwrapping an ornament, her mouth a perfect O of surprise.
‘It’s not that I don’t like it,’ Alex reassured her. ‘But my Christmases are very quiet.’
‘You’ll have to come to my school play,’ Scarlett told her. ‘We’re doing it here on Christmas Eve and then singing carols—aren’t we, Uncle Finn? I’m a lamb and Saffy is the narrator, which is a really big part. Bigger than Mary, whatever Polly Myers says.’
The last place Alex wanted to spend Christmas was Blakeley, but she forced a smile. ‘I need to get back on Christmas Eve. My friend is waiting for me, and we always spend Christmas together.’
‘Invite your friend,’ Saffy suggested.
‘I’ll see. We were thinking of going away for Christmas, so it depends on our flights. But thank you. The party sounds amazing and I bet you two will be excellent.’
‘Going away for Christmas?’ Scarlett looked up from the box. ‘Won’t your family be sad?’
‘Okay,’ Finn interjected. ‘Stop cross-examining Alex. Come on, step to it. More tree decorating, less chat. Someone pass me a reindeer.’
Over the next ten minutes Finn finished the tree, after arbitrating a short but fierce quarrel about whether to use tinsel or garlands—a squabble resolved by Alex declaring that she liked both.
‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘I think we’re done here. What do you guys think? No?’ His nieces were adamantly shaking their heads. ‘We’re not finished? What have I forgotten? Can’t be the apple...we have two this year. Can’t be the tinsel... Scarlett took care of that. Definitely isn’t the chocolate because I sorted that...’
‘The star!’ Scarlett burst out. ‘We haven’t done the star.’
‘The what?’
‘The star!’ Both yelled at once and he covered his ears.
‘I think Father Christmas could probably hear that all the way in the North Pole,’ he said feelingly. ‘Okay. You know the drill. Out!’
Finn sensed Alex watching him as he ushered the girls out of the room. She’d curled up on the sofa, glass of wine in hand. She was contributing little to the conversation, but seemed contented, more relaxed than he’d seen her all week. It was partly the casual weekend clothes—the red sweater dress matched with grey tights and boots, the chunky silver necklace round her neck—and partly the way her smile finally reached her eyes. Maybe it was also partly the way the girls had pulled her into their circle, disarming her defences.
And possibly...probably...the talk they’d had earlier had helped. It had certainly made her presence easier for him, the long overdue clearing of the air, the explaining of misconceptions. The only problem was that without that barrier between them he was remembering all the reasons he’d failed to stay away from her all those years before. Not just her beauty but her empathy, her warm wit. The way she had seemed instinctively to know him better than anyone else. And even now her perceptive glances warmed him through.
Finn had to face the truth: Alex was the only woman he’d ever loved. But that knowledge changed nothing, because in the end she’d walked away.
He needed to remember that. Needed to remember that the girls needed stability. They only had him. Alex had made her choice long ago, and that choice had been to believe the worst of him. Even if she was still interested, even if he wanted to rekindle what they’d had, he couldn’t allow anyone with so little faith near his already damaged nieces. Particularly as they both seemed to have taken to her—even the usually wary Saffron.
‘Pass me the star,’ he said, and Alex uncurled herself, picking up the finely wrought glittering silver star and walking over to hand it to him.
‘You’re doing a Mrs Atkinson!’ Her smile lit up her whole face. ‘Oh, how I remember the utter deliciousness of the anticipation, waiting outside, desperate to peek, knowing when I came in the tree would be lit and the star on the top. I think of it every Christmas.’
‘You should go and see her. She would love to see you.’
‘And I would love to see her. I couldn’t before, I didn’t want to be anywhere near Blakeley, but maybe now it might be easier.’ She pushed his shoulder impatiently. ‘Go on, put the tree lights on! I’ll switch the main lights off and let the girls back in before they combust.’
Finn obeyed, after making sure the star was straight. The tree lights sprang to life, flickering more brightly as Alex dimmed the overhead lights. She stood silhouetted by the door and Finn had a sudden vision of how his life might have been if she’d believed in him all those years ago...if she’d allowed him to support her through the fallout of her parents’ fall from grace.
But that life had disappeared as surely as Lola. All that could ever be was a friendship of sorts. It was all he could risk for the sake of his girls.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALEX HAD NO idea why people complained about Monday morning. She liked Mondays. Too often there was so little purpose to the weekend. She’d clean, run, do some dutiful yoga, maybe cook, occasionally see a film or see a play, but it was all just killing time until Monday, when she could fill her mind and her time with work, reminding herself that she had a purpose, that she was good at what she did. It helped that she worked in public relations and had a legitimate interest in checking her emails and social media channels throughout the weekend, never switching off her phone.
Her life might seem small to some, but it was the life she wanted, the life she’d chosen. Just as she’d chosen London, cacophonous and dirty and full of people. The city surrounded her, protected her. No one saw her there. She was hidden in plain sight, able to sleepwalk through her life untouching and untouched.
Which meant she’d better be careful not to spend too many more cosy evenings with Finn and his cute-as-a-button nieces. There had been moments on Saturday evening when his dark-eyed gaze had rested on her for just a second too long...moments when she’d been über-aware of his every movement...moments when she’d been fixated on the vee of his throat exposed by his shirt, his wrists, the nape of his neck, all those soft, vulnerable spots in such a hard, fit body. A body she’d once had the freedom to love and to explore. The only body she’d ever...
No. She wasn’t going there. She couldn’t. It didn’t matter that Finn hadn’t sold those photos—maybe deep down she had always known he wasn’t capable of such cruelty. What did matter was that she’d made herself vulnerable and it had backfired spectacularly. She could never allow that to happen again.
With renewed energy, Alex returned her focus to her laptop and the social media plans she’d been reviewing, pausing only to scribble notes and thoughts, the coffee Kaitlin had brought her cooling at her elbow. When she finally looked up the weak winter morning sun had disappeared and the sky had turned an ominous yellowy grey, the clouds low and heavy. A snow sky if ever she had seen one.
The air shifted and Alex knew Finn had walked into the office. She didn’t need to look and check if she was right. A sixth sense had shivered through her body, every nerve awake.
‘Okay, everyone,’ he said. He didn’t need to raise his voice. It was clear and commanding it reached every corner of the room. ‘The forecast is for snow, and lots of it, so the minibus is waiting outside for those of you who live in Reading and London. I suggest you take work home with you. It may be a couple of days before the roads are passable. I remember being snowed in for a week when I was a boy.’
Alex couldn’t stop herself from looking up as he finished speaking, knowing the exact week he was referring to. He was looking directly at her, and their eyes held for what seemed like an eternity as they were caught in their own private world of memories.
It wasn’t until someone claimed Finn’s attention that she was recalled to her surroundings. Cheeks hot, she checked to make sure no one had noticed their momentary lapse, but everyone was too busy talking about the snow to have paid her any attention.
‘Alex?’
Finn strolled over to her desk and she willed her cheeks to cool. ‘Hi.’
‘I’m aware that you won’t have anything suitable for snow with you. I could send you back to London...’
Yes! That would be perfect, and give her exactly the breathing space she needed. So why wasn’t she jumping up at his words and grabbing her laptop?
‘But if you’d rather ride out the weather here then of course you may,’ he continued. ‘I can’t see the snow lasting too long, and if you do want to stay then I can kit you out. Time you started living the brand.’
Oh, that smile! The way it lit his whole face, turning a slightly aloof handsomeness into something much warmer—and so much more dangerous.
‘I’d better stay,’ she said, only a little reluctantly. ‘There’s a lot to do and there’s something I want to discuss with you. Work,’ she added.
‘Of course,’ he said lightly. ‘What else could it be?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Give me fifteen minutes to sort everything out and then I’ll be right with you.’
‘Fine.’
She didn’t mean to be so curt, but there were so many things unsaid, so many things she was scared of saying. So many things best left in the past where they belonged.
Alex stayed at her desk as the rest of the staff gathered their belongings, most of them about to leave. She scrolled through various social media feeds, adding notes when something caught her eye, gradually falling back into the absorbed spell of the world she preferred. A world where noise dimmed and people faded and all she knew was her work.
After a few minutes she looked up, aware that the very atmosphere of the room had changed again. It was no surprise when she looked around to see that the office had emptied and there was just Finn, leaning against the wall, watching her.
‘You look busy.’
‘That’s what you’re paying me for.’
‘So busy that you haven’t even noticed the snow?’
He nodded towards the window and Alex turned and stared at the view. The grass had already been covered with a fine dusting of snow, but judging by the big, fat flakes floating down from the sky in ever-increasing spirals it wouldn’t be long before the snow was ankle-deep.
‘Time to get you some boots. Come on.’
Closing her laptop, Alex followed him down the back stairs. His stockroom was in the old tack room at the back of the stables. It was almost unrecognisable, the rough wood panelling sanded and painted, the tack pegs replaced with neat shelves, the dirt floor covered in grey tiles. Each shelf was filled with folded clothes, labelled by size and type.
‘All employees have a generous clothes allowance,’ Finn explained as he ushered her in. ‘They need to believe in us, live our values and look the part. Hawk isn’t just spin and fancy campaigns, it’s a way of life. Here, try these.’ He held out a pair of sturdy yet oddly elegant leather boots. ‘They’re lined, waterproofed, and the sole has been especially designed for icy conditions.’
He eyed her up and down in a way that was purely professional and yet still made her feel exposed. She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself.
‘Okay, and try this, these, this and...let me see...this.’
‘So when you say “live the brand”, you mean be kitted out from head to toe?’ She took the grey trousers and the white shirt, the berry-red fleecy jumper and black down jacket from him. ‘I hate to break it to you but I’m a city girl. There’s not much use for waterproof trousers in Chelsea.’
‘You’re back in the country today and you’ll be glad to have those trousers by this evening. Try them. They might surprise you. Our Chiltern range combines cutting-edge technology and fabrics with design-led style. And even Chelsea girls need warm hands and feet.’ He added socks, gloves and a hat to the pile. ‘You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you since last week...’
‘Oh?’
Alex’s heart began to hammer, with strong, painful thuds. There had been enough treading old ground at the weekend. She needed to concentrate on moving forward. Being back at Blakeley, spending all this time with Finn, was dangerous. It was reminding her of all she’d used to be, all she’d used to want. They had to get their relationship back on purely professional ground before it was too late.
‘Is your agency really called the Happy Ever After Agency? That’s its actual name?’
That was his burning question? Alex didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh in relief. ‘I know. It’s unusual, whimsical in some ways, but that was our purpose. We wanted to stand out.’
‘You’ve managed that.’
Alex shifted, balancing the pile of clothes more securely. ‘It has a dual meaning. Obviously we want all our clients to have complete peace of mind, and to know that using us means there will always be a successful outcome. But at the same time it’s a personal wish. Once none of us had the security we wanted; our futures felt unsure. The agency was our way of taking back control. It’s our happy-ever-after.’
Alex looked up and saw such utter comprehension in Finn’s eyes it almost undid her. It was as if she were naked in front of him.
She smiled awkwardly. ‘Thanks for these, but I’d better get back to work. Let me know when you’re ready to have that talk.’
But as she left the room, Finn fell into step beside her.
‘There are four of you, aren’t there? I did my research before employing you. Obviously the Armarian royal ball was a huge coup, but I needed to know that such a new agency was capable of handling my work. And I have to tell you, Alex, I was impressed. Not only do you have lots of glowing testimonials, but you’ve also managed to make one archduke very happy. And apparently there’s another equally happy billionaire—Deangelo Santos? Not bad work for just eight months in existence.’
Alex couldn’t see his expression, but the teasing note in his voice was enough to raise her defensive hackles. ‘You’re right, our testimonials are impressive. And that’s because we work dammed hard to make them that way. As for the rest, the love lives of my business partners are really none of your business. What’s important is that we offer exemplary service for everyone, whether they are an archduke or a local café wanting some social media advice.’
‘As I said, glowing testimonials.’ He paused, and when he spoke again there was a curious tension in his voice. ‘So how did you end up in Chelsea? Did you stay in touch with your godmother? I often wondered if that was where you went. The two of you were pretty close, I remember. I did try her a few times, but she wouldn’t speak to me. It makes sense if you were living there, I suppose.’
They’d reached the top of the stairs and Alex dropped the pile of clothes onto the nearest desk. ‘What does it matter, Finn? It’s history. None of it is relevant to why I’m here and the job I’m here to do.’
He didn’t answer at first, running a hand through his dark hair, expression unreadable. When had he achieved that inscrutability? She’d always been able to read him before.
Shame engulfed her. She should have read him when he’d told her he hadn’t sold those photos, should have seen his innocence in his eyes then.
‘It matters because I let you down,’ he said at last, his voice hoarse. ‘You needed me and I let you down. That’s why I need to know what happened to you back then. Why I need to know that you were safe and happy. That you fled to your godmother’s and were looked after and loved. I need to know that, Alex. Because I failed you. That’s why I wanted you back here at Blakeley. I needed to know that you’re okay. And I don’t think you are, are you?’
* * *
The silence was absolute. Just the two of them stood there in the large, cavernous space, his words echoing around them. Alex was still, staring at him, wonder and fear warring in her expression.
‘You don’t need to worry about me. Not then, and not now,’ she said at last.
‘That’s nonsense. We were best friends. You gave me your virginity, Alex, and I gave you my heart. I loved you, and I think you loved me. And then your life fell apart and I just watched it happen.’
Her mouth quivered. ‘You were twenty.’
‘I was old enough to do more. Do something.’ He should have held on to her, should have offered her refuge and the unconditional love she had needed. But he’d failed her, utterly and completely. ‘I let you drive me away because you hurt my pride. What kind of man did that make me? Does it make me?’
At that, her eyes softened. ‘You were always the proudest boy. You would never accept help with anything. I should have trusted you, Finn.’
She touched his cheek: a fleeting caress, burning through him.
‘Never question what kind of man you are. Look at your girls, look at the village—I never knew it so prosperous. And look at this office, full of people willing to move their lives for you and your vision. You’re a better man than I ever deserved.’
‘Tell me what happened.’ It was as much command as plea. ‘Tell me where you’ve been.’
She regarded him for a long few seconds then sighed, a deep shuddering sigh that seemed to come from her soul. ‘I don’t talk about it, Finn. I try not to even think about it. It’s buried deep inside. It has to be. It’s the only way I can keep going. But you are right. You of all people deserve the truth. But not here. I need some air, need to breathe properly if I am going to do this.’
Finn glanced out at the still whirling snow, now ankle-deep on the ground, then nodded at the pile of clothes on the desk. ‘In that case it’s time you got branded up.’
Reawakened by His Christmas Kiss Page 9