Loe raamatut: «His Mistletoe Proposal»

CHAPTER ONE

To my darling Flora—confidante, cheerleader and anchor to my universe,

So this is weird, right? Me speaking to you from the grave. But I wanted to get all my thoughts down on paper because I knew I’d get all choked up and make a mess of it if I tried to say it out loud. So here goes...

I know this is a lot to ask, but please don’t be too sad now that I’ve gone. I feel as though I’ve made peace with what’s happened to me and I’d hate to think of my passing as something that would hold you back from living your own life to the full. I’ve had a good and happy existence. All twenty-eight of my years have been blessed with love and wonderful experiences and my life’s been all the better for having you in it, Flora.

I’m so proud of you for all that you’ve achieved. I always knew you’d be successful in whatever you did, but your drive and determination have astounded even me. I know you probably won’t take a minute to step back and see the enormity of what you’ve accomplished, but get this: you truly are an incredible person, as well as the kindest, most generous woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Which leads me on to two favours I have to ask of you, Flora. Firstly, and I know it’s a biggie, please look out for Alex now that I’m not around to do it any more. As you know, I was the only family he had left and I hate to think of him being alone in the world. He wouldn’t admit it—I think he was trying to protect my last few weeks on earth so they’d be stress-free—but I think someone broke his heart recently and he’s really hurting.

Secondly, check your breasts for lumps EVERY DAY. Or, even better, get a gorgeous sex-god to do it for you *wink*. Don’t make the same mistake I did and shrug cancer off as something that happens to someone else. Someone older. Or less busy.

You have such a good heart, Flora. You deserve to be happy, so go easy on yourself, okay?

I love you.

Your best friend for ever,

Amy

FLORA MORGAN CAUGHT the tear on her finger before it fell onto the precious, now rather crumpled, piece of paper she clutched in her hand. She’d carried the letter around with her ever since it had dropped through her letter box nearly a month ago, and she’d taken it out regularly since then to read it, hoping to conjure Amy’s spirit during her weaker moments.

She missed her friend so much it made her heart physically ache. She had no idea how she was going to live her life without having Amy around, always ready to jolly her out of a funk and lift her spirits with one of her rousing pep talks.

But she was going to have to. Because her best friend was gone.

The hum and chatter of Bath’s famous Pump Room restaurant faded away as she lost herself in some of the happy memories she’d shared with Amy during the six years they’d known each other. They’d met at their first jobs after graduating from university, sitting side by side in cramped, scruffy cubicles at the blue-chip company based in Glasgow that had selected them for their highly competitive fast-track programme. They’d hit it off immediately—their mutual love of order and precision drawing them together like paper clips to a magnet. Sharing both the professional and personal exciting highs and painful lows over the years that followed had cemented their tight friendship.

Folding the letter carefully away into the Italian leather handbag she’d bought herself for a birthday present, Flora took a deep breath to centre herself. Now wasn’t the time to get all emotionally tangled up. She needed to focus on her reason for being here today and for that she needed to have her wits about her.

Not that her reason for being here today had turned up yet.

Sitting up straighter, Flora became aware of a burst of movement over at the maître d’s desk and she turned to see that her companion for afternoon tea had finally arrived. Eighteen minutes late. But then who was counting?

Shaking off her lingering melancholy, she straightened the neckline of her silk blouse and smoothed her fingertips over her eyebrows to make sure they were both still following the required curve. They were.

Standing up, she tried not to notice how out of place Alex Trevelyan seemed in jeans that looked about ready to lie down and die, black Chelsea boots with scuffed toes and a crumpled leather jacket. She doubted very much that he’d even glanced in the mirror that morning considering how his mussed-up chestnut-brown hair fell over his cobalt-blue eyes and what must have been a week’s worth of stubble darkened his prominent cheekbones and square jaw.

A few years ago, his just-rolled-out-of-bed sexy musician charisma would have been irresistible to her naïve, overly optimistic self, but not any more. She’d learnt her lesson about men like that the hard way. If she dated anyone these days, she went for smart, business-orientated men who were just as focused on their careers as she was. Though, as Amy had regularly pointed out, that was probably why she’d remained mostly single for the last couple of years. Which Flora was fine with. She didn’t need a man to fulfil her.

As he drew nearer, Alex’s bloodshot eyes ringed with dark circles made her heart squeeze. She mentally berated herself for being so critical of his appearance when the poor man’s twin sister had died barely a month ago. He was obviously still grief-stricken.

She’d only seen him briefly at the funeral; he’d turned up at the last second wearing casual grey trousers and a bright blue shirt that had been open at the neck and glaringly free of a tie. To be fair, Amy hadn’t wanted them to wear the usual black mourning clothes. Afterwards, he’d been busy with the vicar and a group of people whom she’d guessed were old friends of the family. She, in turn, had been caught up talking to mutual acquaintances of her and Amy’s. By the time she’d looked round to offer her condolences to Alex he’d disappeared, not even turning up at the wake afterwards. She’d guessed he’d been too upset to face any more sympathy from strangers.

Amy’s words swam across her vision—I was the only family he had left. He needed her support and kindness right now, not her judgement.

Relaxing her posture so that her hands fell neatly to her sides, Flora gave Alex her warmest smile as he finally navigated past the last couple of linen-covered tables and came to a halt in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she was just about to launch into the short monologue she’d composed in her head about how pleased she was that he’d agreed to meet her so they could talk about Amy and support each other during such a difficult time, when he leaned past her to pick up her glass of mineral water and proceeded to chug the whole lot of it, not even acknowledging her presence until he’d satisfied his thirst.

‘That’s better,’ he gasped, slamming the glass back down onto the table before finally turning to face her with a wink. ‘Don’t let anyone talk you into drinking whisky after four pints at the pub. It’s a life event catalyst.’

She stared at him, aghast.

Instead of looking contrite, he yawned loudly into his hand. ‘Sorry, I’ve only just got up. Late night.’

Flora swallowed back her shock before replying, ‘It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.’

He smiled, his expression one of wry audacity. ‘Like I said, late night.’

This wasn’t the grieving, broken man she’d been expecting to turn up today and the incongruity was playing havoc with her composure—something that made her really uncomfortable. She hated to be on the back foot; years of facing difficult clients in tense business situations had taught her that.

Pulling herself together, she said, ‘Thanks for meeting me. I thought it might be nice for us to get to know each other, what with us being the two people closest to Amy.’

He nodded, then motioned for her to sit down, taking the seat opposite.

‘You were in the States, right? New York?’ he asked once he was settled.

‘Yes, I was working as Head of Marketing for Bounce soft drinks,’ she said proudly. ‘I transferred over there when the company opened up a New York office about a year ago.’

Usually when she mentioned her job and the position she held, people would look impressed and start asking her questions about what that entailed and how she’d risen so quickly up the ranks, but Alex didn’t say a word. And he didn’t seem impressed either; he seemed...bored.

This didn’t surprise her though; Amy had told her all about her brother’s attitude towards people who worked for corporations and how he thought it was ‘capitalist gluttony with a corporate greed cherry on top.’ Flora privately thought that a man who had given up a perfectly good job in corporate finance to faff about as a musician had no right to judge others and their career choices. If he wanted to waste his talents just so he could sit on his high horse, looking down on others who were slogging away to make a success of themselves, then that was his business.

She wasn’t going to rise to it. She had more important things to worry about—like gaining the trust and respect of her new boss. After transferring to the London-based office it was proving harder than she’d expected to do this.

Not for the first time, it had made her question whether she should set up her own business at some point, but she was keenly aware of what a big risk that would be.

She gave herself a mental shake. She really shouldn’t be allowing her thoughts to wander back to work right now.

‘Anyway, since I’m over here now I thought it might be nice for us to get to know each other a bit so we could support each other,’ she said, waving for the waiter, who appeared not to notice her. Biting back a sigh of frustration, she refocused on Alex, who was lounging back in his chair with his arms folded and his brow furrowed.

Was it her imagination or did he really not want to be here?

She cleared her throat. ‘I didn’t want to be one of those people who kept away for fear of not knowing what to say to someone who’s just lost someone close to them,’ she said, deciding just to plough on. ‘Sending flowers and cards is all very well, but sometimes you just need some human contact, you know?’

He cocked his head and gave her a slow grin. ‘Is that why you came back to England? For some human contact?’

She shifted in her seat, feeling heat rise up her neck. ‘I needed a change of scene,’ she said, straightening the cutlery on the table.

What she didn’t tell him was that he was the real reason for moving back here. She was determined to take Amy’s last wish seriously, and if that meant living in the same city as Alex for a while then so be it. London was too far removed from Bath to keep an eye on him easily, and she certainly couldn’t have done it from New York. So she’d jumped at an opportunity for a temporary transfer to the West London office, commuting in from Bath to oversee a UK-only product launch.

Alex appeared to be thinking about what she’d said, and after a short pause he leaned forwards in his chair to look her right in the eye, as if making the decision to finally engage with the conversation. ‘It’s good to meet you in the flesh,’ he said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a grin. ‘Amy talked about you a lot over the years.’ He paused. ‘And during the last weeks of her life.’

At last there was a flash of emotion in his eyes, which he blinked away quickly.

Flora nodded, taking a moment to relax her throat, which had tightened with sorrow at the sound of her best friend’s name. ‘It’s good to meet you too. I—’ She took a breath. ‘I feel awful that I didn’t make it back in time to see her in the hospice. I tried to get back to England as fast as I could, but—’ She’d run out of words. The pathetic ring to her excuse made her cringe inside.

She’d thought she had more time. That Amy had more time. Her friend had told her during one of their regular video calls that she was doing better and not to worry about rushing back to see her. But then she’d taken a sudden, unexpected turn for the worse.

As if he’d read her mind, Alex leaned forwards and put his large, warm hand over hers where it lay on the table. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. None of us realised she’d go that soon. She did seem to have a reprieve at one point. You couldn’t have known. Amy knew you would have come sooner if you’d been able to. She told me that.’

Flora could do nothing but nod like one of those tacky toy dogs you saw in the back of cars sometimes. She was suddenly terrified she might start crying in the middle of the restaurant and have to sit there with her make-up running down her face and nowhere to hide.

Alex obviously read her distress because he gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Hey, let’s get out of here. This place is making my headache worse.’ He glanced around the magnificent room with a pained grimace. ‘There’s a really good pub round the corner that does amazing burgers.’

Wrestling her emotions back under control, Flora shot him a bewildered look. ‘But we’ve come here for afternoon tea.’ She gestured round at the magnificent eighteenth-century room with its cut-glass chandelier hanging from the ornate ceiling and the grand piano, which was being expertly played by a gentleman in a tuxedo.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘For a tiny plate of overpriced cucumber sandwiches? Sorry, but that’s not going to cut it for me today.’

‘Actually, this place is known for having one of the best—’ But he’d already stood up and was waving for the waiter to bring the bill.

Deciding not to fight him on this—she wanted to keep things as friendly and light-hearted as possible considering why they were meeting each other today—she gritted her teeth and stood up, taking her purse out of her bag ready to pay for her drink.

He spotted her pulling out a twenty-pound note and waved it away.

‘I’ll get this.’

‘You don’t have—’ But he’d already taken the bill from the waiter. He proceeded to rummage in his pockets to produce a handful of coins, which he emptied into his hand.

‘Thanks, man,’ he said. ‘Keep the change.’

The waiter gave him a tight smile, then walked away, no doubt cursing them both for being the most awkward customers of the day.

Outside the Pump Room crowds of shoppers were stopping and starting along the pavement, as every now and again someone would halt at one of the little German-style wooden huts belonging to the large Christmas market that had taken over the whole of the city centre.

‘Wow, it’s busy out here,’ Flora said as they waited for a break in the flow so they could join the slow-moving crowd.

‘Warm inside the throng though,’ Alex said with a smile. ‘Free heat.’

He was right. Despite the biting cold of the day, it felt cosy and comforting being encased in the large mob of people. There was an excited, almost magical, feeling in the air too, no doubt an eagerness for the upcoming festivities.

Flora had spent many years in her youth loving the excitement of the run-up to Christmas, but she felt nothing but numbness about it now. It was all too tangled up with the fallout from her last serious relationship.

Pushing away the wave of gut-churning despondency she always felt whenever she thought about that, she looked round and focused on a stall selling silk scarves in every colour of the rainbow, taking comfort in the beauty of the sight.

‘So you live in Bath but work in London?’ Alex asked as they walked away from the scarf stall, stopping at the next one along to peruse a tantalising display of mince pies and Christmas cakes. Alongside them an assortment of delicious-looking pastries covered in snow-white icing gleamed in the soft winter sunshine.

She nodded. ‘Yes. I commute into Paddington and the office is only a ten-minute walk from there. I felt like taking a break from living in the middle of a big city,’ she said, telling herself she wasn’t exactly lying by saying that. Recently she’d started to think that living outside the city where she worked would be better for her health. She’d be less inclined to pop into work at the weekends and less likely to stay as late in the evenings if she had to catch a train home.

Looking round at Alex, she realised that he wasn’t even listening to her, but smiling at the pretty young stallholder instead. ‘Nice buns,’ he said to the woman, giving her a wink and making her blush and giggle coquettishly.

Flora rolled her eyes at the stallholder’s reaction to Alex’s cheesy pickup line. Okay, he was a good-looking man, she supposed—he had the same smile as Amy, which could light up a room—but the guy was a rumpled mess.

He turned and caught her staring at him.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Nothing. It’s just—’

‘Yes?’

‘You don’t seem—’

He appeared frustrated with her lack of words. ‘What? Sad, bereft, miserable? Just because I’m not bawling my eyes out in public doesn’t mean I don’t miss my sister.’

Prickly heat washed over her. ‘I know that. I wasn’t criticising the way you’re mourning her.’

‘Weren’t you?’ He gave her a look that made guilt pool in her stomach. ‘I promised her I wouldn’t let grief get in the way of getting on with my life and I intend to keep that promise. She’d hate it if either of us was sitting around moping.’

‘Yes, okay.’ She held up her hands as a peace offering. ‘I understand that. I guess it’s just taking me longer to adjust to life without her, that’s all.’

His expression softened and he flashed her his beguiling smile, making something twist oddly in her stomach. ‘Fair enough. I know how close you two were. I don’t mean to criticise you either. Each to their own, I suppose. I’ve chosen to move on with my life. It doesn’t mean that I don’t think about her all the damn time.’

Flora gave him a sympathetic smile, her guilt dissipating a little.

‘Come on, let’s get to the pub,’ he said, gesturing to somewhere off in the distance. ‘I could 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.