His Mistletoe Proposal. Christy McKellen
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really do with a hair of the dog.’
Nodding, she fell into step alongside him on strangely wobbly legs and they rejoined the crowd, moving slowly onwards.
* * *
Alex Trevelyan took a deep breath and willed his heartbeat to slow down as he and Flora pushed their way through the dense throng of Christmas shoppers.
He really didn’t want to be here right now. His head was pounding and he was having trouble keeping a smile on his face after Flora’s insinuation that he wasn’t mourning his sister properly.
From what he’d seen of her so far, he was surprised this rather uptight woman could have been such a good friend of his sister’s, until he remembered the look of near reverence on Amy’s face when she’d described Flora to him.
‘She’s really something,’ Amy had said with enthusiasm. ‘She comes across as a bit—’ She’d paused, searching for the right word, her nose wrinkling with the effort. ‘A bit spiky, I guess you’d say—especially if you don’t know her well. All the people where we worked were intimidated by her.’ She’d smiled as if remembering her friend’s tyranny fondly. ‘But underneath she’s got a heart of gold. You’d like her. Honestly.’
It was the ‘honestly’ that had spoken to him. Knowing his sister as he did, Alex knew that it meant she wanted him to like Flora, but wasn’t sure that he would.
Well, he could see now why Amy might have been sceptical. He wasn’t entirely sure that he did like Flora, with her side-eyeing and staid pragmatism. Though he’d be a liar to say he didn’t find her physically compelling. Who wouldn’t, with her long sweep of shiny caramel-blonde hair and big grey-green eyes. She was definitely an attractive woman—though more because she made the most of her assets rather than being a stop-you-in-your-tracks beauty and she had a magnetism that kept drawing his gaze back to her. She was dressed as if she was going to a business meeting rather than getting a bite to eat with a friendly acquaintance though. And she was just so polished. Everything about her shone, from the tips of her manicured nails to the toes of her high-heeled leather boots. Wealth and good taste seemed to exude from every pore of her being.
She was not his usual type at all. He preferred women who weren’t afraid to get their hair wet in the rain or get covered in mud on a long walk through the woods. He liked natural and down-to-earth and simple. Like his ex-girlfriend, Tia. The woman he’d thought he’d spend the rest of his life with.
Pushing away the sinking feeling that thinking about his ex created, he stared blankly ahead of him. He’d moved on now. There was no point in looking back. He’d promised Amy he wouldn’t do that.
As they walked on, he noticed Flora turning her head from side to side, as if trying to take in as many of the Christmassy sights as possible. The magic of the season held no allure for him at all this year. In fact, it would be fair to say that he was looking forward to the month of December being over and done with. Christmas Day was only going to remind him of how alone he was now.
‘Take a left here,’ he said into Flora’s ear, attempting to cut through the noise of the crowd as they approached the side street leading towards the pub. The expensive scent of her perfume wafted into his nose, making him shiver in the strangest of ways. It had been months since he’d been in intimate contact with a woman and his body seemed to have gone a little haywire from the absence of it.
She nodded in acknowledgement and they moved slowly towards an opening in the crowd.
He watched her sashay ahead of him—elegant but entirely self-aware.
It made him think about something else Amy had said about Flora. ‘I worry she’s losing herself in her ridiculous quest for perfection.’ Well, that fitted with what little he’d seen of her so far.
He wondered what else he was going to discover about her before the end of the day.
FLORA TRIED NOT to wrinkle her nose at the smell of stale beer that seemed to rise up in waves from the ugly red-and-brown patterned carpet as they entered the gloomy pub that Alex had insisted on bringing them to.
‘I’m going to order a burger at the bar. Want one?’ Alex asked as she settled herself at one of the sticky mahogany-stained tables, trying to avoid sitting on a suspicious-looking brown stain on the vinyl padded bench.
‘Er...no, thanks. I’ll just have a drink for now.’
He gave her a bemused frown, then shrugged. ‘Okay. What would you like to drink then?’
She thought about it for a moment, then decided that alcohol might actually make this situation a little bit easier. ‘I’ll have a pint of the local cider.’
His brows shot up. ‘Really? It’s pretty potent stuff.’
She bristled. ‘I might look like a lightweight, but I bet I can drink you under the table.’
‘Now there’s a challenge,’ he said, grinning at her before turning away to head over to the bar.
She watched him charm the barmaid, wondering how on earth she was going to successfully insinuate herself into his life without it looking really suspicious. She was pretty sure he’d be entirely resistant to the idea of her keeping an eye on him if he knew that was what she was really here for.
He was so different to Amy, she mused while waiting for him to come back with the drinks. It was odd, considering that they’d both been brought up in exactly the same environment at the same time. But then she and her younger sister weren’t exactly alike either. Violet was vivacious, artsy and beautiful, the total opposite of her: sensible, conventional and, if she was being totally honest with herself, only modestly attractive. Violet had always cast Flora into shadow whenever she was around; she was just one of those people with a natural joie de vivre that drew people to her.
Men, particularly.
An uncomfortable tightness had formed in Flora’s throat and she coughed to clear it as Alex finally returned to the table with her cider and a pint of lager for himself.
‘Thanks,’ she said, forcing her mouth into a smile as she took her drink from him.
He gave her a nod and sat down in the chair opposite. ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ll have something when I get home.’ She really didn’t fancy eating here. Their table looked as though it hadn’t been wiped in ages, which didn’t give her much confidence in the state of the kitchen.
Picking up her drink, she took a few good gulps of it. The alcohol warmed her as it rushed down her throat to her stomach, lifting her spirits a little.
‘So how long have you been living in Bath?’ she asked, watching him knock back half of his own pint in one go.
His eyes met hers and she saw a reaction in them that she couldn’t quite decipher. Wariness, maybe?
‘Just over a year. I was in London for a long time, but then I got together with the band I play with now. They’re mostly based in Bath, so it made sense to move here so I could practise with them more easily.’
‘Amy told me you play jazz.’ She hadn’t meant that to sound so derisive, but she’d never understood the lure of jazz and couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to listen to it every day, let alone make a career out of playing it.
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, but he didn’t pick up on her disparaging tone. ‘Yeah, we specialise in thirties-inspired jazz and blues, but sometimes we give our sets a more modern slant if we’re in the mood and the occasion calls for it.’
‘And how’s it all going?’ she asked, this time making sure to keep her tone upbeat. ‘Is it fulfilling? How do you make it lucrative? Do you play at weddings and parties?’