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Finlay Armstrong had met a million women in black suits and heels. But he’d never met one quite like Grace. She had on a pink shirt with a funny tie at the neck.
And it was the colour that made him suck in his breath. It wasn’t pale or bright, it was somewhere in the middle, a warm rose colour that brought out the colour in her cheeks and highlighted the tone of her lipstick. It suited her more than she could ever know.
Her hair swung as she walked across the room. It was the first time he’d seen it down. Okay, so the not staring wasn’t going to work. Those chestnut curls were bouncing and shining like the latest shampoo TV advert.
Grace sat down in the chair opposite him fixing him with her warm brown eyes. She slid something across the desk towards him.
‘I just wanted to check with you.’ She licked her pink lips for a second. ‘How, exactly, do I use this?’
He stared down at the company credit card. ‘What do you mean?’
She bit her lip now and crossed one leg over the other. Her skirt slid up her thigh and he tore his eyes away and fixed on her eyes.
Big mistake.
‘I mean, do I sign—can I sign? Or do I need a pin number or something?’
‘You haven’t used a company credit card before?’ He hadn’t even considered it.
She shook her head. He could see the slight tremble to her body. She was nervous. She was nervous coming in here and asking him about this.
‘Sorry, Grace. I should have left you some instructions.’ He’d just left the card for her in an envelope at Reception. He scribbled down some notes. ‘This is what you do.’
She leaned forward on the desk as he wrote and a little waft of her perfume drifted towards him. He’d smelled this before. When he’d been inches from her in the penthouse he’d inhaled sharply and caught this same scent, something slightly spicy with a little tang of fruit. He couldn’t quite place which one it was.
He finished writing and looked up. ‘Have you had some ideas about what you need for the hotel?’
She nodded and lifted up some papers in her hand, unfolding them and sitting them on the desk. She still looked nervous. ‘I know quality is important to you. But, because you’ve left things so late this year, I can’t really pre-order or negotiate with anyone for a good price. We’ll have to buy straight from the retailer. So...’ she pressed her lips together for a second ‘...I’ve prepared three price ranges for you. You can let me know which one you prefer and we’ll go with that one.’
He waved his hand. ‘The price isn’t important to me, Grace. The quality is.’
Her face fell a little. Wasn’t that the right answer he’d just given her—that she had no limits to her spending? Any other designer he’d ever met would have cartwheeled out of the room at this point.
She shuffled her papers.
‘What is it?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
There were a hundred other things he could be doing right now. But since he had worked on the plane on the way home most things were up to date. Just as well really. After his experience last night, sleep hadn’t come quite as easily as he’d expected.
Oh, he’d eventually blacked out. But he’d still managed to spend a few hours tossing and turning.
Her brown eyes were now fixed on those darn papers she was shuffling in her hands and he was strangely annoyed. He reached over and grabbed them.
It didn’t take long to realise what he was looking at. He started to count them. ‘Nine, ten, eleven, twelve... Grace, how many versions of these did you do?’
‘Well, the first one was my absolute wish list. Then, I thought maybe you wouldn’t want lights, or the big tree, or some of the other ideas I had, so I made a few other versions.’
He couldn’t believe it. He’d only sprung this on her yesterday. The last company he’d worked with had taken three months just to give him a quote for something.
He shook his head. ‘How long did this take you?’
She met his gaze again. It was clear she didn’t really want to answer.
‘Grace?’
She pulled a face. ‘Maybe most of last night.’
‘Until when, exactly?’
She pulled on her game face. ‘I’m not sure exactly.’
He smiled and stood up, walking around towards her. She knew exactly how long it had taken her. He guessed she’d hardly had any sleep last night.
He put one leg on the desk, sitting just a few inches away from her. ‘Grace, if I gave you free rein today, where would you go and what would you buy?’
She was silent for a few seconds. Then, her head gave a little nod. To his surprise she stood up.
Because he’d changed position she was only inches from his face. From close up, he had a much better view of her curves under her suit. He could see the upward and downward movements of her chest beneath the muted satin of her shirt.
Even more noticeable was her flawless complexion. There was a warmth about Grace. It seemed to emanate from her pores. Something trustworthy. But something else, a hint of vulnerability that just didn’t seem to go away.
He’d seen other little glimpses. A spark of fire when he’d obviously annoyed her in the penthouse. She’d taken a deep breath and answered him back. Grace didn’t like people treating her like a fool. She knew how to stand up for herself.
His smartphone buzzed and he glanced at it. An email he should deal with. But the truth was he didn’t want to.
‘What’s your idea for the hotel?’ he asked Grace.
She blinked at the suddenness of his question, but she didn’t miss a beat. She held out her hands. ‘I’m going to bring Christmas to The Armstrong. The hotel is missing something. Even you know that.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘And you’ve given me the job of finding it.’
He picked up the phone on his desk and stared at her. ‘Tell me where you’re going and I’ll order a car for you.’
She waved her hand and shook her head. ‘I can catch the Tube.’
This time it was him that raised his eyebrows. ‘Aren’t you going to have some purchases to bring back?’
She put her hand up to her mouth. ‘Oops.’
He asked again. ‘So, where do you want the car to go?’
‘First Selfridges, then Harrods, then Fortnum and Mason.’ She didn’t hesitate.
‘You really think you can do all that in one day?’
She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I can do all that in an afternoon. You’ve obviously never met a professional Christmas shopper, Finlay.’
It was the first time she’d said his name. Actually said his name. And it was the way she said it. The way it rolled from her tongue with her London accent.
He spoke quickly into the phone on his desk, put it down and folded his arms across his chest. He smiled as he shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think I have.’
She wrinkled her brow. ‘How old are you, exactly?’ She matched his stance and stood in front of him with her arms folded across her chest.
It was almost like a challenge.
He stood up to his full height and stepped a tiny bit closer. He could take this challenge. ‘Thirty-six.’
‘Oh, dear.’ She took a step backwards and put her hand up to her head. She looked out from under her hand with a wicked glint in her eye. ‘Did you play with real live dinosaurs as a boy?’ Her smile broadened as she continued. ‘And shouldn’t we watch the time? I guess you make all dinner reservations for around four-thirty p.m.—that’s when all the early bird specials are, aren’t they?’
He’d met a lot of people in this life—both before and after Anna—but he’d never met anyone who had the same effect as Grace. Even though she was officially an employee, he kept seeing glimpses of the woman underneath the uniform. Whether it was fun and jokes, a litt
le melancholy or just a hint of real.
That was what it was.
Grace felt real. She was the only person who didn’t seem to be watching how they acted around him—watching what they said. He liked the fact she was teasing him. Liked the fact she didn’t treat him as if he were surrounded by broken glass.
‘Seriously?’
