A New Year Bride

Alice Archer was currently sparking off a whole host of similar feelings.

Her eyes took on a straight-to-the-point look. ‘He asked you to get him some Christmas decorations, didn’t he?’

Grace set the cup and saucer down. ‘Yes,’ she replied hesitantly.

‘Then, he’s reached the stage that he’s ready to start living again.’

The words were so matter-of-fact. So to the point. But Alice wasn’t finished.

‘It’s time to bring a little Christmas magic to The Armstrong, Grace, and you look like just the girl to do it.’

One hour later the black shirt was crumpled in a bag and her long-sleeved deep pink shirt with funny little tie thing at the collar was firmly in place. She grabbed some more deodorant from her locker. She was feeling strangely nervous. A quick glance in the mirror showed her hair was falling out of its bun again. She pulled the clip from her hair and gave it a shake. Her hair tumbled in natural waves. She was lucky. It rarely needed styling. Should she redo her lipstick?

She pulled her plum lipstick from her bag and slicked some on her lips. There. She was done. She took a deep breath, reaching into the apron that she’d pushed into her locker for her array of pictures. Her last touch was the black suit jacket—the only one she owned. She’d used it for her interview with Clio some months ago and thought of it as her good luck charm.

Finally she was satisfied with how she looked. She’d never be wearing designer clothes, but she felt presentable for the role she was about to undertake.

She pushed everything else back into the locker and did her final job—swapping her square-heeled black shoes for some black stilettos. She teetered for the tiniest second and laughed. Who was she trying to kid? She pulled open the locker again and slid her hand into the inside pocket of her black bag. There. Drop gold earrings that her gran had given her for her twenty-first birthday. She usually only wore them on special occasions but in the last few months, and particularly at this time of year, she missed her gran more than she could ever say. She slipped them into her ears and straightened her shoulders, taking a deep breath.

There it was. The little shot of confidence that she needed. She glanced down at the papers in her hand and smiled.

She was going to give this hotel the spirit of Christmas no matter what.

He could hear a strange noise outside his room. Like a shuffling. After more than a few seconds it was annoying.

Finlay’s first reaction was to shout. But something stopped him. Maybe it was Alice Archer? Could she have come looking for him?

He sat his pen down on his desk. ‘Is someone there?’

The noise that followed was almost a squeak. He smiled and shook his head. ‘Well, it’s obviously an infestation of mice. I’d better phone the exterminator.’

‘What? No!’ Grace’s head popped around the door.

Grace. It was funny the odd effect that had on him.

She kind of sidled into the office. ‘I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you, Mr Armstrong.’

He gestured towards the chair in front of him. ‘It’s Finlay. If you call me Mr Armstrong I’ll start looking over my shoulder for my father.’

She shot him a nervous smile and walked hesitantly across the room towards the chair.

He tried his best not to stare.

Grace had already caught his attention. But now, she wasn’t wearing the maid’s outfit. Now, she had on a black suit and stiletto heels.

Finlay Armstrong had met a million women in black suits and heels. But he’d never met one quite like Grace. She had on a pink shirt with a funny tie at the neck.

And it was the colour that made him suck in his breath. It wasn’t pale or bright, it was somewhere in the middle, a warm rose colour that brought out the colour in her cheeks and highlighted the tone of her lipstick. It suited her more than she could ever know.

Her hair swung as she walked across the room. It was the first time he’d seen it down. Okay, so the not staring wasn’t going to work. Those chestnut curls were bouncing and shining like the latest shampoo TV advert.

Grace sat down in the chair opposite him fixing him with her warm brown eyes. She slid something across the desk towards him.

‘I just wanted to check with you.’ She licked her pink lips for a second. ‘How, exactly, do I use this?’

He stared down at the company credit card. ‘What do you mean?’

She bit her lip now and crossed one leg over the other. Her skirt slid up her thigh and he tore his eyes away and fixed on her eyes.

Big mistake.

‘I mean, do I sign—can I sign? Or do I need a pin number or something?’

‘You haven’t used a company credit card before?’ He hadn’t even considered it.

She shook her head. He could see the slight tremble to her body. She was nervous. She was nervous coming in here and asking him about this.

‘Sorry, Grace. I should have left you some instructions.’ He’d just left the card for her in an envelope at Reception. He scribbled down some notes. ‘This is what you do.’

She leaned forward on the desk as he wrote and a little waft of her perfume drifted towards him. He’d smelled this before. When he’d been inches from her in the penthouse he’d inhaled sharply and caught this same scent, something slightly spicy with a little tang of fruit. He couldn’t quite place which one it was.

He finished writing and looked up. ‘Have you had some ideas about what you need for the hotel?’

She nodded and lifted up some papers in her hand, unfolding them and sitting them on the desk. She still looked nervous. ‘I know quality is important to you. But, because you’ve left things so late this year, I can’t really pre-order or negotiate with anyone for a good price. We’ll have to buy straight from the retailer. So…’ she pressed her lips together for a second ‘…I’ve prepared three price ranges for you. You can let me know which one you prefer and we’ll go with that one.’

He waved his hand. ‘The price isn’t important to me, Grace. The quality is.’

Her face fell a little. Wasn’t that the right answer he’d just given her—that she had no limits to her spending? Any other designer he’d ever met would have cartwheeled out of the room at this point.

She shuffled her papers.

‘What is it?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

There were a hundred other things he could be doing right now. But since he had worked on the plane on the way home most things were up to date. Just as well really. After his experience last night, sleep hadn’t come quite as easily as he’d expected.

Oh, he’d eventually blacked out. But he’d still managed to spend a few hours tossing and turning.

Her brown eyes were now fixed on those darn papers she was shuffling in her hands and he was strangely annoyed. He reached over and grabbed them.

It didn’t take long to realise what he was looking at. He started to count them. ‘Nine, ten, eleven, twelve… Grace, how many versions of these did you do?’

‘Well, the first one was my absolute wish list. Then, I thought maybe you wouldn’t want lights, or the big tree, or some of the other ideas I had, so I made a few other versions.’

He couldn’t believe it. He’d only sprung this on her yesterday. The last company he’d worked with had taken three months just to give him a quote for something.

He shook his head. ‘How long did this take you?’

She met his gaze again. It was clear she didn’t really want to answer.

‘Grace?’

She pulled a face. ‘Maybe most of last night.’

‘Until when, exactly?’

She pulled on her game face. ‘I’m not sure exactly.’

He smiled and stood up, walking around towards her. She knew exactly how long it had taken her. He guessed she’d hardly had any sleep last night.

He put one leg on the desk, sitting just a few inches away from her. ‘Grace, if I gave you free rein today, where would you go and what would you buy?’

She was silent for a few seconds. Then, her head gave a little nod. To his surprise she stood up.

Because he’d changed position she was only inches from his face. From close up, he had a much better view of her curves under her suit. He could see the upward and downward movements of her chest beneath the muted satin of her shirt.

Even more noticeable was her flawless complexion. There was a warmth about Grace. It seemed to emanate from her pores. Something trustworthy. But something else, a hint of vulnerability that just didn’t seem to go away.

He’d seen other little glimpses. A spark of fire when he’d obviously annoyed her in the penthouse. She’d taken a deep breath and answered him back. Grace didn’t like people treating her like a fool. She knew how to stand up for herself.

His smartphone buzzed and he glanced at it. An email he should deal with. But the truth was he didn’t want to.

‘What’s your idea for the hotel?’ he asked Grace.

She blinked at the suddenness of his question, but she didn’t miss a beat. She held out her hands. ‘I’m going to bring Christmas to The Armstrong. The hotel is missing something. Even you know that.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘And you’ve given me the job of finding it.’

He picked up the phone on his desk and stared at her. ‘Tell me where you’re going and I’ll order a car for you.’

She waved her hand and shook her head. ‘I can catch the Tube.’

This time it was him that raised his eyebrows. ‘Aren’t you going to have some purchases to bring back?’

She put her hand up to her mouth. ‘Oops.’

He asked again. ‘So, where do you want the car to go?’

‘First Selfridges, then Harrods, then Fortnum and Mason.’ She didn’t hesitate.

‘You really think you can do all that in one day?’

She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I can do all that in an afternoon. You’ve obviously never met a professional Christmas shopper, Finlay.’

It was the first time she’d said his name. Actually said his name. And it was the way she said it. The way it rolled from her tongue with her London accent.

He spoke quickly into the phone on his desk, put it down and folded his arms across his chest. He smiled as he shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think I have.’

She wrinkled her brow. ‘How old are you, exactly?’ She matched his stance and stood in front of him with her arms folded across her chest.

It was almost like a challenge.

He stood up to his full height and stepped a tiny bit closer. He could take this challenge. ‘Thirty-six.’

‘Oh, dear.’ She took a step backwards and put her hand up to her head. She looked out from under her hand with a wicked glint in her eye. ‘Did you play with real live dinosaurs as a boy?’ Her smile broadened as she continued. ‘And shouldn’t we watch the time? I guess you make all dinner reservations for around four-thirty p.m.—that’s when all the early bird specials are, aren’t they?’

He’d met a lot of people in this life—both before and after Anna—but he’d never met anyone who had the same effect as Grace. Even though she was officially an employee, he kept seeing glimpses of the woman underneath the uniform. Whether it was fun and jokes, a little melancholy or just a hint of real.

That was what it was.

Grace felt real. She was the only person who didn’t seem to be watching how they acted around him—watching what they said. He liked the fact she was teasing him. Liked the fact she didn’t treat him as if he were surrounded by broken glass.

‘Seriously?’

She nodded. ‘Seriously.’ But it was clear she was teasing.

He laughed and shook his head and countered. ‘You’re probably not that much younger than me. You’ve just found some really good face cream.’

He handed over the company credit card as his phone rang. ‘On you go and have some fun buying up any Christmas decorations that are left.’ He answered the phone and put his hand over the receiver. ‘I look forward to seeing what a professional Christmas shopper can do.’

Sixty minutes later Finlay Armstrong didn’t look happy at all. He looked as if he were about to erupt.

Grace cringed as he strode across the store towards her. She was already feeling a little intimidated. Three security guards were standing next to her. She’d understandably almost been out on the street. That was what happened when you couldn’t remember the pin number for the credit card you were using or answer any of the security questions.

Finlay walked over to the counter. ‘What’s the problem?’

Once she started talking she couldn’t stop. She’d been having the time of her life. ‘I’ve bought a huge Christmas tree for the foyer of the hotel, along with another two large trees for the bar and the restaurant.’ Then she held her hand up towards the counter and the serious-faced woman behind it. ‘Well, I haven’t really bought them. I got here and…’

She held up the piece of paper that he’d given her. It had managed to get smudged and the numbers on it were indecipherable. She leaned forward. ‘Please tell them I really do work for the hotel. I’m not on their list and don’t know any of the questions they asked me.’

Finlay’s jaw tightened, but he turned and addressed the woman with impeccable politeness. ‘I’m Finlay Armstrong. I own the company. I can either use the correct pin, or answer any of the security questions you need.’

The woman gave a nod. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to do both on this occasion. And, Mr Armstrong, if you add another member of staff onto the card—you really should let us know.’

Grace wanted to sink through the floor. This shopping trip definitely wasn’t going to plan. She was behind already.

Finlay was finished a few minutes later. ‘If I give you the number, do you think you can remember it again?’

The staff member cleared her throat behind them, ‘Actually, Mr Armstrong, your card has already been flagged today. You might be asked security questions if you use it again.’

Grace gulped. ‘What does that mean?’

Finlay glanced at his watch. ‘How much longer will this take?’

Grace glanced down at the list still in her hands. She wanted to lie and say around five minutes. But London traffic would be starting to get heavy. ‘Probably another couple of hours.’

Finlay rolled his eyes. He stared off into the distance for a second. ‘We need the decorations for the hotel,’ he muttered. ‘Okay, let’s go. The car’s outside.’

The cold air hit her as soon as they came outside and she shivered. ‘Where’s your coat?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘I just got so excited when you gave me the card and told me there was a car outside, I forgot to go and get my coat and gloves.’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t really matter. We’ll be inside for most of the time.’

The car pulled up and he held the door as she slid inside and he climbed in next to her. He was talking on the phone—obviously still doing business.

It wasn’t deliberate. But all her senses seemed on alert. The wool from his black coat had brushed against her hand sending weird vibes everywhere. The aroma of his aftershave was slowly but surely drifting towards her in the warm atmosphere of the car. And even though it was cold outside, she was praying her pink shirt wouldn’t show any unexpected perspiration marks.

It was only early afternoon but the sky already had a dark purple tinge at its edges.

Finlay glanced at his watch. There was a tiny shadow around his jaw line. The hint of a little stubble. Mixed with those unusual blue eyes it was enough to make any warm-blooded female catch her breath.

Part of her heart was going pitter-patter. So many expectations. What if he hated her ideas? What if he couldn’t see how they translated to The Armstrong?

He closed his phone and leaned forward to speak to the driver. ‘How much longer?’

‘Just another ten minutes,’ was the reply.

Grace felt nervous. Jumpy around him. Small talk seemed like the best solution.

‘You mentioned your mum and dad earlier—are you spending time with them this year?’

He frowned. She wondered if he wasn’t going to answer, then he shook his head. ‘No. My parents are still in Scotland. My sister is expecting their first grandchild and will probably be fussed over non-stop.’

The answer was brisk. It was clear Christmas was still an issue for him—even if he was agreeing to decorations for the hotel.

As she went to speak again, her hand brushed against his. He flinched and then grabbed it. ‘Grace, your hands are freezing.’ He started rubbing his hands over hers. She was taken aback. After the frown it was a friendlier gesture than she might have expected.

His warming actions brought the aroma of the rose and lavender hand cream she’d used earlier drifting up between them. She hadn’t even thought about how cold her hands were.

The car pulled up outside one of London’s oldest and most distinguished department stores, Fortnum and Mason. Grace was so excited she didn’t wait for the driver to come around and open the door—she was out in a flash. She waved at Finlay. ‘Come on, slowcoach. Let’s get started. We need Christmas wreaths and garlands.’

She walked swiftly, darting her way between displays and heading for the elevators. But Finlay’s footsteps faltered. It was like…whoosh!

Christmas everywhere. Every display. Every member of staff. Perpetual Christmas tunes piping overhead. Grace had even started singing along. Did she even notice?

It was like Christmas overload.

It was clear he’d unleashed the monster. He hadn’t seen someone this enthusiastic about Christmas since his sister was five years old and thought she might get a horse. She did—but it was around twelve inches.

He pushed back the wave of emotions that was in danger of rearing its ugly head. He’d chosen to be here. He’d decided it was time to try and move forward. The perpetual little ache he felt would always be there. But should it really last for ever?

They walked through the tea hall that was jostling with people. ‘I love the Christmas shop in here. There’s so much to choose from.’ She kept talking as they darted between shoppers.

The lifts were small and lined with wood. He found himself face to face with her, their noses inches away from each other. In this confined space he felt instantly protective, his hand reaching up and resting on her hip.

She smiled and tipped her head to one side. ‘Did you listen to a single word I said?’

He shook his head as the doors closed and the piped music continued. ‘Not a single word,’ he admitted.

She gently slapped his chest. ‘Shocker. Well, remember only these words: I will not complain about the price.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Grace, what are we buying in here?’

She still looked happy. It was obvious Christmas decorations were something that she just loved. ‘I told you. Christmas wreaths and garlands to decorate the foyer, the bar, the corridors, the restaurant and the elevators.’ She counted them off on her fingers.

He blinked for a second. Wreaths. He’d forgotten how often they were used as Christmas decorations now. It was almost as if the world had misplaced what they actually were.

They were lucky: no one else rode to the top floor with them. The elevator pinged and she looked over her shoulder. ‘This is us.’ She wiggled around, her backside pressing straight into him.

Finlay felt numb. No matter how she’d joked, he was still a young guy. And like any young man, his body reacted to a woman being up close and personal—even if it was unintentional.

Grace seemed not to have noticed anything. She dodged her way through the bodies.

As soon as they stepped outside the lift Grace almost started skipping. She handed him a basket and picked up a few delicate glass and white tree decorations. Then, she walked over to the counter. ‘I phoned earlier about a special order. Wreaths and garlands—you said you’d put them aside for me.’

The clerk nodded. ‘They’re through here. Do you want to see them before you pay?’

Finlay let Grace work her magic. She was loving this. This wasn’t the vulnerable woman that he’d seen on the rooftop. This was in control and in her element Grace. Within a few minutes he’d handed over the company credit card and heard her arrange for delivery in a few hours’ time.

Grace let out a squeal. ‘My favourite ever Christmas song—“Last Christmas”—let’s sing along.’

He looked at her in surprise. ‘This is your favourite song? It’s not exactly cheery, is it?’

But Grace was oblivious and already singing along. A few fellow shoppers gave him an amused stare. She really was singing and didn’t seem to care who was listening. The fleeting sad thoughts disappeared from his head again. Grace had a little glance at her lists and made a few random ticks before folding them up again and belting out the main part of the song.

The pink flush in her cheeks suited her. But what caught his attention most was the sparkle in those dark brown eyes. He wouldn’t have thought it possible. But it was. He sucked in a breath. If he didn’t watch out Grace Ellis could become infectious.

Grace came back and pressed her hand on his arm. ‘I’ve seen a few other things I like. You stay here or it’ll spoil the fun.’ She waved her hand. ‘Have a look around. I’ll only be five minutes.’

He frowned as she disappeared. Fun?

He wandered around, watching people gaze in wonder at all the decorations. The garlands in store were beautiful. They had a whole range of colours and they covered walls, shelves and the Christmas fireplaces that had been set up in store. Next to them was a whole range of wreaths: some holly, some twisted white twigs, some traditionally green decorated with a variety of colours. He stopped walking.

He was looking at wreaths and not automatically associating them with Anna. Guilt washed over him. Shouldn’t she always be his first thought?

But she hadn’t been. Not for the last few months. It was as if his head was finally lifting from the fog it had been in these last five years. But Christmas time was a little different. It seemed to whip up more memories than usual. It made the thought of moving on just a little more tricky.

A little girl walked into him as she stared at a rocking horse. He bent down to speak to her. She was like something from a chocolate box. A red double-breasted wool coat, a little worn but clearly loved, dark curls poking out from under a black hat. She hadn’t even realised she’d walked into him—her eyes were still on the white rocking horse with a long mane decorated with red saddle. She let out a little sigh.

‘Come along, Molly,’ said a harassed voice. ‘We just came here for a little look. It’s time to go.’

He lifted his head instantly. The woman looked tired—her clothes even more so. Her boots were worn, her jacket was missing a few buttons and the scarf she had wrapped around her neck looked almost as old as she was. But it was her accent that drew his attention.

He straightened up and held out his hand. ‘Hi, Finlay Armstrong. What part of Scotland are you from?’

She was startled by his question and took a few seconds to answer. He could almost see the recognition of his own accent before she finally reached over and shook his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Karen. I’m from Ayrshire.’

There was something in the wistful way she said it that made him realise this wasn’t a visit.

He kept hold of her hand. ‘Have you been in London long?’

She sighed. ‘Three years. I had to move for work.’

He nodded his head towards the rocking horse. ‘Your little girl was admiring the rocking horse.’

Karen winced. ‘I know. I asked for one every year too as a child.’ She glanced down at her child again then met his gaze. ‘But we can all dream.’