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Guys would never admit that. Not to their friends. Not even to themselves. But most guys hadn’t loved someone with every part of their heart, soul and being and had it ripped out of them and every feeling and emotion buried in a brittle, cold grave.
Most guys wouldn’t know that they didn’t think it could be possible to ever get through that once. Why would they even contemplate making any kind of connection with another person when there was even the smallest possibility they could end up going down the same path?
Once had felt barely survivable. He couldn’t connect with someone like that again. How could he risk himself like that again?
Where was his self-preservation? The barriers that he’d built so tightly around himself to seal his soul off from that kind of hurt again.
Somehow being around Grace had thrown his sense of self-preservation out of the window. All he could think about right now was how much he wanted to touch and taste the beautiful woman in front of him.
She was still watching him with those questioning brown eyes. She was bathed in the muted lamplight—her silver dress sparkling—like an old-fashioned film star caught in the spotlight.
He stopped thinking. ‘Because I couldn’t wait to do this.’
He pulled her sharply towards him, folding his arm around her waist and pulling her tightly against the length of his body. He stopped for a second, watching her wide eyes, giving her the briefest of pauses to voice any objections. But there were none.
He captured her mouth in his. She tasted of cocktails and chocolate. Sweet. Just the way he’d imagined she would. One hand threaded through her tumbling curls and the other rested on the satin-covered curve of her backside. He’d captured his prize. He wasn’t about to let her go.
After two seconds the tension left her body, melding it against his. Her hands wound their way around his neck again, her lips responding to every part of the kiss, matching him in every way.
This was what a connection felt like. He hadn’t kissed a woman like this since Anna died. This was what it felt like to kiss a woman you liked and respected. It had been so long he hadn’t even contemplated how many emotions that might toss into the cold night air.
Her hand brushed the side of his cheek, running along his jaw line. He could hear the tiny scrape of his emerging stubble against her fingernails. The other hand ran through his hair and then down to his chest again. He liked the feel of her palm there. If only it weren’t thwarted by the suit jacket and shirt.
Their kiss deepened. His body responded. He knew. He knew where this could potentially go.
Grace pulled her lips from his. It was a reluctant move, followed by a long sigh. Her forehead rested against his as if she were trying to catch her breath. He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest.
His hand remained tangled in her soft hair and for a few moments they just stood like that, heads pressed together under the street light.
He eventually straightened up. Should he apologise? It didn’t feel as if the kiss was unwanted. But they were right in the middle of the street—hardly the most discreet place in the world for a first kiss. He could ask her up to the penthouse but somehow that didn’t feel right either—and he was quite sure Grace wouldn’t agree to come anyway.
‘Thank you for coming tonight,’ he said quietly.
Her voice was a little shaky. ‘You’re welcome.’
He took a step back. ‘How about I get one of the chauffeurs to drop you home?’
He had no idea what time it was—but whatever time it was, he didn’t want her travelling home alone. He trusted all the chauffeurs from The Armstrong. Grace would be in safe hands.
She gave a little nod. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’ This time her voice sounded a little odd. A little detached. Had she rethought their kiss and changed her mind?
He put his arm behind her and led her back to the main entrance of the hotel, nodding to one of the doormen. ‘Callum, can you get one of the chauffeurs to take Grace home?’
She shivered and pulled the stole a little closer around her shoulders. ‘Do you want me to get you another coat?’
She shook her head, not quite meeting his gaze. ‘I’ll be fine when I get in the car. That’ll be warm enough.’
For a couple of minutes they stood in awkward silence. Finlay wasn’t quite sure what to do next. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do next. And he couldn’t read Grace at all.
The sleek black car pulled up in front of them and the driver jumped out to open the door. Grace turned to face him with her head held high. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Finlay,’ she said as she climbed into the car.
‘You too,’ he replied automatically as he closed the door, and watched the car speed off into the distance.
One thing was for sure. Finlay Armstrong wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight.
CHAPTER SIX
SHE COULDN’T DESCRIBE the emptiness inside her. It was impossible to put into words.
She stared at the texts on the phone from her friends, teasing her about the party and assuming she’d had the time of her life.
She had—almost.
But last night when she’d opened the door to the cold and empty flat, everything had just overwhelmed her.
Silence echoed around her.
Unbearable silence.
The home that had once been filled with love and happiness shivered around her.
She actually felt it happen.
Even when she flicked the light switch, the house was dark. Emptiness swamped every room. She’d started to cry even before she’d made it to bed, wrapping herself in her gran’s shawl, her own duvet and wearing the thickest pair of flannel pyjamas imaginable—but nothing could keep out the cold. Nothing at all.
That feeling of loneliness was enormous. Somewhere, on the other side of the planet, her mother was probably cuddled up to her husband or sitting around a table with her two children. Children she actually spent time with.
It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. Getting pregnant at sixteen would be difficult for any teenager. But to move away completely and form a new life—without any thought to the old—was hard to take.
It made her more determined. More determined to never feel second best with any man. She’d spent her whole life feeling second best and a cast-off. Although her relationship with her gran had been strong and wonderful, there had still been that underlying feeling of...just not being enough.
For the briefest spell tonight, under that lamp post, she’d felt a tiny bit like that again. All because of that kiss. Oh, the kiss had been wonderful—mesme
rising. The attraction was definitely there. But the connection, or the sincerity of the connection? She just couldn’t be sure if when Finlay kissed her he was thinking only of her.
She shivered all night. The heating was on in the flat and it didn’t matter how high the temperature was—it just couldn’t permeate her soul.
The night with Finlay had brought things to a precipice in her head.
Alone. That was how she felt right now.
Completely and utterly alone.
She’d thought being busy at Christmas would help. She’d thought decorating the flat the way it always used to be would help.
But the truth was nothing helped. Nothing filled the aching hole that her grandmother’s death had left.
A card had arrived from her mother. The irony killed her. It was a personalised card with a photo of her mum with her new husband, Ken, and their two sons on the front. They were suitably dressed for a Christmas in Florida. It wasn’t meant to be a message. But it felt like it.
Her mother had moved on—playing happy families on another continent. She’d found her happy ever after. And it didn’t include Grace. It never had.
She received the same store gift card each year. Impersonal. Polite. The sort of gift you sent a colleague you didn’t know that well—not the sort of gift you sent your daughter.
As she rode the Tube this morning people seemed to be full of Christmas spirit. It was Christmas Eve. Normally she would be full of Christmas spirit too.
But the sight of happy children bouncing on their parents’ knees, couples with arms snaked around each other and stealing kisses, only seemed to magnify the effect of being alone.
Tonight, she’d go home to that dark flat.
Tonight, she’d spend Christmas Eve on her own. There was no way she could speak to any of the girls. They were all too busy wrapped up in their own lives, finding their own dreams, for Grace to bring them down with her depressed state.
The train pulled into the station and she trudged up the stairs to work.
