12 Men for Christmas

by Phillipa Ashley

  “God knows why,” muttered Will.

  “I’m sorry?” Emma shook her head, only half listening. In her mind, she was still back in London, and suddenly an image popped into her head, bringing a half smile to her lips. She shook her head at the recollection. “At least I went out in style.”

  His voice softened. “That doesn’t sound like you.” He reached up his hand as if to touch her cheek and then dropped it again and took a step back, letting her continue. “What did you do, sweetheart?”

  Emma heard him clearly now. His voice was calm as he encouraged her, just like on the fellside.

  Gulp.

  Emma hesitated for a moment.

  “Come on, out with it.”

  “I was very calm, really, considering. It was a hot day. Phaedra had ordered in smoothies, so I picked up mine, called her a lying bitch and him a two-timing snake, and threw it over them both.”

  “Cold, were they?”

  Emma raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

  “The drinks?”

  “Oh yes. Very cold and very messy.”

  She saw him look at her with great earnestness. “What flavor?” he asked.

  “Sorry?”

  “What flavor smoothie was it?”

  “Mango.”

  He raised his eyebrows now. “Good choice. I hate mango.”

  “I would have thrown a kiwi one too, but I couldn’t reach it.”

  She saw his face break into a huge grin as bright as the sun dancing off the surface of the tarn. It reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling the corners. How could he be a man to hide anything? To do what he’d done—to her and to Kate? How?

  Then Emma started laughing too. Here in the quiet of the mountains, a million miles from the pain and upset, with Will next to her, she could finally see the humor in the situation.

  She would never fathom him out—this man who seemed to care so much for people yet seemed to have treated Kate and other women with such casual cruelty. Perhaps he didn’t know what he’d done to her on that fellside, when he’d built up her hopes and then rejected her. Or come on to her so…so calculatingly in her office.

  Perhaps it had meant nothing to him. Not after what he’d done to his fiancée and the other women he’d used for nights of casual sex. They must have gotten hurt too, if they’d wanted more from him than he would give.

  She didn’t believe it. Today had given her a glimpse of what he could be, of what he might be underneath the professional rescuer, the serial seducer. She was sure there was a gentler, more vulnerable man trying to reach out. Someone with secrets that went beyond village gossip. Someone who cared about her beyond scoring points off her or getting her into his four-poster. There had to be more layers to Will than there had seemed at first, if only she knew how to uncover them.

  * * *

  Behind his laughter, Will was vowing that, come Monday morning, he was going to end his contract with Viper GPS, and if he ever got his hands on the wonderful Jeremy, he’d have him dangling off the end of a rope from a cliff, and he might even let go.

  The urge to protect and care for Emma was scaring him silly.

  So far, he’d behaved like a perfect gentleman. It hadn’t been easy. The moment he’d walked into the flat and seen her in that skirt, when he’d thought of unzipping it and shimmying her out of it, wriggling her tight little bottom into the trousers he knew were a little too small. That image had ensured his drive to the picnic tarn had been pretty uncomfortable at times.

  When she’d tasted the strawberries and the juice had trickled out of her cute mouth and when her fingers had brushed his and she’d snatched them away…that had raised his temperature too. Maybe she was feeling the sexual tension between them as much as he was; maybe she was scared he’d make a move. If she’d left her hand there a moment longer, she’d have felt the tremor in his own fingers. It wasn’t just lust but something that went deeper…when she’d told him what had happened to her, how she’d been betrayed and cast aside, he’d felt moved. He sensed a new bond between them—he understood her humiliation and shame and the desire to hide it all and run away.

  Then, when he’d touched her, helped her with the stones, her hand in his, the intimacy had felt like a balm. What he was feeling now, standing here with Emma, was new and yet familiar—the echoes of past embraces and shared understanding. They resonated almost painfully in his heart.

  As she’d looked up at him, her eyes unnaturally bright as she’d told him how she’d been betrayed and hurt, he’d ached to take her in his arms and comfort her. And to lower her to the fellside and make love to her slowly, tenderly, deeply, as she deserved.

  No, he reminded himself, she must come to him willingly.

  Will felt the hairs on his arms stand on end, and the afternoon breeze freshened. Looking down at his watch, he made a decision. “Time to pack up and go.”

  Emma’s face fell. “But it’s only three o’clock.”

  “I’ve got to call into the base before I go home,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “And you need to get ready for tonight. I expect that could take some time.”

  Seeing her fire up in indignation, he set off quickly toward the picnic site.

  “By the way, you’ll be pleased to know you can dress up as much as you like,” he called over his shoulder. “In fact, it’s compulsory.”

  He drove her home steadily, carefully, knowing she was worryingly quiet. He mustn’t hurt her, he realized. She deserved more than that. No matter how tempting it was to kiss her, to have her soft golden curves pressed against his body, to know her, inside and out, he knew she deserved so much more than that. He’d messed up so badly in the past, and he wasn’t sure he could be trusted tonight. In fact, he knew damn well he couldn’t be trusted. He hoped that this time, no one would have to have their hopes and dreams shattered into a thousand pieces. Because if he got it wrong again, he didn’t think he could live with himself.

  * * *

  Sitting next to him, Emma was already regretting their conversation by the tarn and the way she’d bared her soul and told Will everything about herself.

  She risked a tiny glance at him while he was concentrating on a hairpin bend. Their journey home was virtually silent. Will kept his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel. They had almost reached the flat now without a single comment escaping his lips. Emma tried to relax and enjoy the passing mountains and lakes, set off to impossible perfection by a ludicrously blue sky, but it was a hopeless cause.

  She felt no further on with him than she had that morning, but then again, her mind kept returning to his question about having children. She wasn’t sure which was more disturbing: him asking her or her response. She told herself she was being ridiculous. It had just been a casual remark that she’d answered on the spur of the moment. She also resolved that things were going to change that evening. She was going to get some answers out of him if it was the last thing she did.

  As they drew up outside the flat, he didn’t offer to get out of the car.

  “Pick you up at six,” he called, leaning across the passenger seat.

  “Six?” she protested as he started the engine. “That’s a bit early for dinner.”

  Will just grinned and pulled away, leaving her standing at the bottom of the steps to her apartment.

  Chapter 9

  Stepping into the hall, Emma glanced at the clock on the wall. Four o’clock. That left two hours to get ready. Even for an occasion that required “compulsory dressing up,” there was plenty of time. Throwing her house keys on the hall table, she went straight into the bathroom for a shower, switched it to power setting, and let the jets of water pummel her skin.

  As she stood under the stream of water, she wondered what she should wear. She’d planned on jeans and a top after her previous experiences, and she certainly didn’t want to look as if she’d tried too
hard. So nothing too short, low cut, or flamboyant. But now—well, it would have to be something smart.

  Later, as she dried her hair, a horrible thought struck her. What if he was being ironic! She wouldn’t put it past him. What if they were going to the pub or a barbecue at a friend’s house?

  No. Even he wouldn’t do that to her. He’d said dinner, so it must be a restaurant or a hotel. There were several very good and expensive ones on the lakeside and a couple with Michelin stars up in the hills. One had even boasted a famous footballer and his wife and an infamous Hollywood couple—now divorced, she reflected ruefully—as guests.

  If it was one of these, she would wear something really nice. The black silk dress, maybe…the one she’d bought to wear for a PR awards ceremony, but then she’d been fired before it had even been out of the shopping bag.

  She took it out of the wardrobe and slipped it on. It was a tiny bit tighter around her breasts and hips than when she’d bought it—she had definitely put on a bit of weight. She sighed. It would have to do, and the boned bodice did show off her cleavage—not too much, she hoped; she didn’t want to look like she was encouraging him in any way. Although it only had tiny spaghetti straps, the skirt hung halfway down her calves. She had a final glance in the mirror and congratulated herself. All very simple and modest. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

  * * *

  Sometime later, Emma found herself studying the clock again. It was ten to six. She felt a bit fluttery, and it occurred to her that this was so much like a first date, it was ridiculous. Heavens, she wasn’t some nervous teenager; this was only Will. Infuriating, annoying, gorgeous Will.

  She had to do something to take her mind off her nerves. Maybe she needed to touch up her lip gloss—a bit more wouldn’t do any harm.

  In the corner of her bedroom, the laptop was still on from the day before. Emma looked at the bedside clock and saw that she still had a few minutes before Will would arrive, so she clicked the mouse, hoping for an email from Steve and Gina in New Zealand.

  The message she found waiting was not from that far away. It was from London. From Echo GPS, in fact, sent quite late on Friday evening, and when she’d read it, she forgot all about her lip gloss and sat back in the chair.

  The irony of it brought a bitter smile to her lips.

  Hi, Emma,

  Good news. I finally got the board to say yes to your Bannerdale Mountain Rescue calendar proposal. They have agreed that Echo GPS systems will be the main sponsor in return for meeting all the production costs. Your PR strategy really impressed the directors, and we look forward to discussing it in detail next week.

  Yours

  Rachel Brockhouse

  Marketing Director, Echo GPS Systems

  P.S. Our MD has asked me to let you know we have a vacancy for communications director coming up at our London head office. I strongly advise you to apply. You did a fantastic job with Viper GPS before you left. Your work for them cost us a 5 percent market share! I look forward to announcing the calendar deal to my old adversary Jeremy Forbes. Do you see much of him these days?

  Leaning back in the chair, Emma sighed. Well, that was a surprise for the books. Persuading her ex’s main competitor to sponsor the calendar was a major coup. She’d done a good job—so good that Echo GPS wanted her to work for them. After only six months up here, she had the chance to go back to London again. A job with Echo would mean more money, a higher profile again, parties, events. Everything she’d left behind and once prized so highly.

  When the one thing she wanted was here.

  He is here.

  In fact, he was late, and by the time she’d managed to get up from the chair and find her lip gloss, it was twenty past six. Perhaps he wasn’t coming. Perhaps she should reply to the email right now. Except she didn’t know what to reply.

  It was the most fantastic offer, and six months ago, she’d have jumped at the chance, but now? Emma didn’t want to think about what it all meant, her lack of excitement, her utter confusion in fact. For it meant admitting how very deep she was in up here, with the people, her friends, the place, and worse, with Will.

  Even though she had no reason to believe he felt anything—anything other than lust for her—she hoped… No, that wasn’t fair, she admitted to herself. This afternoon, he had shown her respect, affection even, that he cared about her. But nothing to compare with what she knew was growing in her heart for him—what had been growing since that day on the mountain, even though he’d laughed at her, goaded her, and challenged her. She was still here, waiting for him, with no certainty of getting anything from him.

  As she began to wonder whether or not he would turn up, she heard the metal staircase protesting as someone heavy took the steps—two at a time. Then there was a knock on the door, as loud and insistent as she would have expected. She smiled to herself. At least some things about Will were predictable.

  “Hi there, Emma.”

  She opened the door to find him standing there, to her astonishment, in a dinner suit and white shirt. The only thing missing was the bow tie.

  “Well, I did say dress up,” he added, obviously reading the surprise in her eyes. “Sorry I’m a bit late. I had to help Bob with a comms problem in the control room, and I had a real rush in the end.” He rubbed the top of his head. “Hair still a bit damp, I’m afraid. I’ve only just come out of the shower, and I didn’t have time to tie this properly before the taxi arrived,” he said, pulling a black silk tie out of his pocket.

  “I suppose I’ll have to let you off this once.” She relented, holding open the door. Still, she was puzzled. Not even the swankiest hotel on the lake shore demanded black tie. They must be going to one of those open-air concerts or even a business dinner. She hoped not. She’d have to share him with hundreds of other people. On the other hand, it would be so much safer, and perhaps that was the idea. She wasn’t sure whether he wanted things to get cozy or not…

  She showed him into the living room, and he stood rather awkwardly for a moment before looking at his watch. “Emma, I’m sorry, but we need to go. I know it’s my fault that we’re late, but…”

  “It’s a bit early for a dinner, isn’t it?”

  “I thought we’d have a drink first, and the table’s booked for a quarter to seven—they couldn’t fit us in any later. They’re doing me a favor as it is.” His voice tailed off as he met her eyes. “By the way, you look gorgeous.”

  Totally gorgeous and totally beddable, he thought. Her dress was sensational, especially the way the silk clung like a second skin to her hips. And the way her cleavage almost spilled over the top of the…he didn’t know what it was called, but it looked like an eighteenth-century corset to him. Whew. The fact that the dress was long only tantalized him more, and he longed to explore what lay underneath.

  “Thanks,” muttered Emma. “I must get my handbag.” Her face was turning pink as she darted out of the room, leaving him standing by the fireplace.

  This was going to be so awkward…it was turning into a date. But if he hadn’t complimented her, she would have been so disappointed. When she got back, he was struggling to tie the bow tie in the mirror above the mantelpiece.

  “Blasted thing. Really awkward…always takes me ages…OK?” he asked, turning around to face her as he gave the silk one last tweak.

  “Absolutely fine.” She smiled, wondering if his self-deprecation was just a tactic to put her at her ease. So far, he was doing a good job of the gentleman act, though how long he could keep it up remained to be seen. Oh God, she was obsessed—good job she hadn’t voiced that one out loud.

  “Have you got one of those shawl things or something?” he asked as he followed her to the front door. “I mean, you look great, but it might be a bit cold out.”

  No danger of that if you keep looking at me like that, thought Emma. Or if you keep looking like that, full stop. The suit
enhanced the breadth of his shoulders and his height. He must have been nearly a foot taller than her, even in her killer heels. He was good enough to eat. She grabbed a pashmina off the bedroom chair and wrapped it around her before following him out the door.

  “Is this enough to protect me from the elements?”

  He smiled. “I should think so. Now, are you ready to set off?”

  “Set off?”

  “Yes.” He checked his watch again. “We need to get going—now.”

  “Where’s the taxi?”

  “There isn’t one.”

  “But you said you’d got here in one…”

  “I did, but we’re walking to the restaurant.”

  “Walking? In these shoes? In this dress? Will, even you must know this is not an outfit for doing anything other than stepping out of a car and into a building. I can’t possibly get more than a few hundred yards in these.”

  “That’s all we need” was the enigmatic reply. By now, he had her totally confused. There were a few tea shops close to her flat—and the Mereside Inn, a modest hotel-cum-pub. But nothing, absolutely nowhere, that merited a little black dress and a dinner suit.

  As he followed her down the driveway, Will debated whether to give her his arm. It was steep, and those amazing shoes really did have very high heels. He tried to think of them in purely practical terms, but seeing the thin straps circling her slender ankles, he was struggling.

  In the end, he decided not to touch her. Once he laid hands on her, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to let go, that his hands would travel from her arm to her waist and maybe his fingers might accidentally brush that pert rear. He was glad too, if he was really honest with himself, that she’d hidden that delicious honey-colored skin underneath a demure shawl. Otherwise, he didn’t think he could get through the evening.

  “OK. Now where?” she demanded at the foot of the drive, hugging the shawl tighter around her as if she could read his mind. The early evening breeze was refreshing, tugging at her carefully swept-up hair.