A New Year Bride. Scarlet Wilson
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Grace was still working on this? He’d have to pay her overtime. And bonuses.
He walked down to the basement. It was well lit and everything stored was clearly labelled. But that didn’t help when he walked into the room he heard rustling in and found Grace upended in a large storage barrel. All that was visible was black kicking shoes and a whole lot of leg.
‘Grace?’ He rushed over to help.
‘Eek! Finlay! Help.’ He tried not to laugh as he reached inside the barrel and grabbed hold of her waist, pulling her out.
‘Finlay,’ she gasped again as she landed in a heap on the floor. Blue. She was wearing a blue shirt today. Not as cute as the pink one. But she’d just managed to lose a button on this one so he might like it even more. Her hair must have been tied with a black satin ribbon that was now trailing over her shoulder.
He burst out laughing. And so did Grace.
She thumped her hands on the floor. ‘Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen.’ She followed the line of his vision and blushed, tugging at her skirt.
He peered into the barrel. ‘What was supposed to happen?’
She pointed to the label. ‘As I left the hotel last night I realised that although it was gorgeous when people walked inside, there was nothing outside. Frank told me there used to be lights outside. I was looking for them.’
He frowned, trying to remember what the lights had looked like. They’d been made by some American company and had cost a fortune. ‘We did have. Is this where they’ve been stored? What makes you think they even work any more?’
She shrugged. ‘I figured it was worth a try. I can always check them first. Then I was going to try and order some purple light bulbs—you know, carry the theme outside.’
Wow. She thought of everything.
He held out his hand to help her up. ‘Grace, can I ask you something?’
He pulled a little harder than he should have, catapulting Grace right forward crashing into his chest. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, placing both hands on his chest. She looked up at him. ‘What is it you want to ask?’
He couldn’t remember. Not for a second. All he could concentrate on were the warm palms causing heat to permeate through his shirt. Grace lifted one finger. ‘Oops,’ she said as she stepped back.
Finlay looked down and sucked in a breath. Two hand prints on his white shirt.
To the outside world it would look amusing. To him?
A permanent imprint that he was in a place he wasn’t quite sure of.
What exactly was he doing here? He’d deliberately come down here to find Grace. There was no point in him denying it to himself. He wanted to find out more about her. But was this a betrayal of Anna? He now had another woman’s hands imprinted on his chest. And for a few seconds, he’d liked the feel of them being there.
He was exasperated. Exasperated that he was drawn to this woman. Confused that he felt strangely protective of her. And intrigued by the person beneath the surface. There seemed to be so much more to Grace than met the eye. But how much did he really want to know?
Her hands were now clenched in front of her. He’d been quiet for too long.
‘Finlay?’
He met her gaze. ‘Are you free for lunch?’
‘What?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Are you free for lunch?’
She looked down at her dishevelled clothing and pointed at his shirt. ‘I don’t think either of us can go anywhere like this.’ He actually thought she looked fine.
He shrugged. ‘I have other shirts.’
She shook her head. ‘I only have what I’m wearing.’ She bit her lip. ‘But I think I might be able to borrow one of the bartender’s black dresses.’
He gave her a nod. ‘Five minutes, then?’ He started to walk to the door.
‘Finlay?’ Her voice was quite serious.
‘Yes?’
‘Can I pick where we go?’
‘Of course.’ He was amused. He had no idea where he’d planned to take her. His brain hadn’t got that far ahead.
‘See you in five, then.’
Grace was trying hard not to breathe. The only female bartender she could find was a size smaller. She’d managed to do up the zip on the dress but there wasn’t much room. Lunch could be an issue.
Why had he asked her to lunch? Did he want to talk more decorations? And now she was late. After he’d left she’d grabbed the end of the lights to check they worked. They did.
Then she’d phoned a rush order for purple light bulbs. They would be delivered in a few hours. She’d need to find out how the lights normally got up there. This could be a disaster if she needed scaffolding. Maybe one of those funny little cherry pickers would do the trick?
Finlay was waiting for her at the front door. She tried not to notice the obviously interested looks they were getting from other members of staff.
She pulled down her woolly black sequined hat. She’d got it in the bargain bucket at the supermarket and it was the least likely match for her designer pink coat and gloves. But it was all she could afford at the time.
He smiled at her. He’d changed his white shirt for a blue one. Her stomach gave a little somersault. Yikes, it just made those blue eyes bluer.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked.
‘What do you like for lunch?’
She still hadn’t quite worked out why they were going for lunch. She assumed he wanted to talk about the decorations some more. And that was fine. But she intended on doing it somewhere she was comfortable.
‘I’m easy.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘What do you like?’
They started walking along the street. ‘Are you okay with the Tube?’ she asked.
‘You want to go someplace else?’
She licked her lips. ‘I don’t normally eat around here.’ It was best to be upfront. There were lots of pricey and ultra-fashionable places to eat around here. Artisan delicatessens where a sandwich generally cost three times as much as it should.
She veered off towards the steps to the underground. Finlay just kept pace with an amused expression on his face. She pulled out her card to use while he fumbled around in his pockets for some change and headed for the ticket machine. She shook her head. ‘Just scan your credit card. It will just deduct the payment.’
He frowned but followed her lead. They were lucky—a train had just pulled into the station. She held onto one of the poles and turned to face him as the train started to move. ‘I’ll give you a choice of the best breakfast around or some fantastic stuffed croissants.’
He looked at her warily. ‘What, from the same place?’
She laughed. ‘No, silly. They’re two different cafés. I’m just trying to decide which one we go to.’
‘I had breakfast at six. Let’s go for the croissants.’
She gave him a solemn nod. ‘I warn you—you might get angry.’
‘Why?’
She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. ‘Because the coffee in this place is miles better than it is in the hotel.’
She could see him bristle. ‘No way.’
‘Way.’