The Notting Hill Diaries. Sarah Morgan
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Day?’
I wondered why she was so sure he wouldn’t call me. I had his jacket. It was Tom Ford. If nothing else, he should want it back. A guy like him was bound to be going to lots of smart dinners over the holidays. ‘This project is important. And you’ll be busy once Christmas is over.’ Rosie’s phone never stopped ringing with people wanting her to help them get into shape. Usually I didn’t see her until February when everyone went back to being inactive slobs.
The doorbell rang. We were nowhere near ready for guests and I looked at her in horror but Rosie smiled, which I thought was a very odd reaction. Given the hairy turkey and the state of our kitchen I would have anticipated screaming.
She vanished to answer the door and I decided life was too short to pluck a turkey. And anyway, I needed rapid results.
I formulated a plan, congratulating myself on my ingenuity. Behind me I could hear our apartment slowly filling up with people and it was quite a few minutes before Rosie came back into our pretty country-style kitchen. ‘Hayley, you need to—’ She broke off and stared at me in disbelief. ‘You’re waxing the turkey?’
‘You told me to remove the stray feathers.’ I ripped the strip, removing feathers and most of the skin. ‘Oops. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to turn out.’
‘You were supposed to pluck it!’
‘There was no time to pluck each feather individually.’ We both stared at the skinless leg of the turkey, me with morbid fascination and Rosie with horror.
‘I can’t believe you waxed our turkey! You’ve ruined it.’
I felt a stab of guilt. ‘Just one leg. And leg meat is often dry.’
‘I’m never letting you near my kitchen again.’ Rosie shoved me aside and it was only then I remembered she’d come in to tell me something.
‘You were telling me I needed to do something. What?’ I turned my head and almost passed out because Nico was standing there, his broad shoulders blocking my view of the living room and the other guests.
I’d thought about nothing but him for the past few days. Sometimes when you fantasized about a guy and then you saw him again, you realized you’d built him up in your head. Not Nico. He was truly spectacular. And imposing. He filled the doorway of our kitchen and he glanced from me to the turkey and lifted an eyebrow.
Seriously unbalanced by his unexpected appearance, I gave what I hoped passed for a casual shrug. ‘Not everyone likes leg.’
‘True.’ Those dark eyes met mine with sardonic humour. Not a smile, but definitely humour. ‘I’m more of a breast man myself.’
Oh, God, why did he have to say that?
Immediately I was back in that room at the wedding, with him showing me just how much of a breast man he was. I wondered what the hell he was doing here.
Presumably he needed his jacket for some Christmas gathering or other, but this seemed like an odd time to show up on our doorstep.
I turned to look at Rosie, but she was in a panic over the waxed turkey.
My sister had no sense of priorities.
I was about to fetch Nico’s jacket and send him on his way when I realised he wasn’t alone.
Kiara stood in the doorway, groomed and polished as ever. She gave me an awkward smile, which I returned. At a guess I’d say mine was more awkward than hers. I felt more naked than the turkey (although without being vain, I’d say my legs were looking a hell of a lot better).
Nico was leaning casually against the doorframe watching me from under those thick lashes, the way he had when we’d kissed. He might as well have been touching me because I could feel his gaze right through me. The sensation started as a tingling on the surface of my skin and then it was a warmth through my veins, and then the warmth turned to heat. The heat pooled low in my pelvis and I didn’t think it had anything to do with my fur-trimmed panties. It exasperated me that I could feel like this. And what was even more exasperating was the fact he knew I was feeling like this. Not that he looked smug or anything. Oh, no. If I’d had to describe his expression I would have said ‘watchful’.
He kept looking at me. Unflinching. Unembarrassed. As if he’d asked himself a question and was now looking at the answer.
Then he glanced from me to the woman standing quietly next to him.
‘You haven’t been formally introduced, have you?’
Oh, great. He was going to ram home the fact that his sister had only ever seen me half-naked. ‘No.’ I spoke between my teeth. ‘We haven’t.’
‘This is Kiara. Kiara, this is Hayley. You saw her briefly at the wedding.’
All right, enough!
It might have been brief, but I had a feeling it had been fairly comprehensive.
What was the guy playing at? One more comment like that and I’d give him one of my own kicks, which might not have been as impressive or elegant as my sister’s, but would still have threatened his ability to father children.
‘Hi, Kiara. Lovely to meet you.’
I tried not to look at him even though I could feel him looking at me. He hadn’t stopped looking at me since he’d walked into the kitchen. Being on the receiving end of that smoldering, intense gaze made my legs turn from a solid to a liquid. I was about to reach for the fire blanket Rosie kept in the kitchen and throw it over myself.
‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ Kiara said earnestly. ‘I know you’re an engineer. I’m in awe. I’m hopeless at Math and Physics. Nico used to tear his hair out helping me with homework.’
He’d helped her with homework?
I blinked.
I tried to imagine this smooth, sophisticated guy sitting patiently by his sister, helping her with algebra.
‘Well that’s, er, lovely.’ And honestly I did think it was lovely. Except that I was confused by the contradictions. ‘You came here for your jacket, so I ought to get that for you—’
Nico was still watching me. I wondered if part of his job involved interrogation because his gaze was like a laser. If I’d had a mirror I would have checked there wasn’t a red dot on my forehead.
There was a long, pulsing silence and he continued to look at me as if something I’d said had answered a question lingering in his head.
‘I’m not here for the jacket. We’re here because Rosie invited us to join you for Christmas.’
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