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‘Yes.’
Etta waited, but clearly that was it.
Instead of elaborating Gabe glanced at his watch. ‘If you’re ready we should leave now. The hotel is booked.’
‘I’ll pay for it. We’re only staying in London because of Cathy.’
‘It’s all part of the job package. The deal we have is all-expenses-paid, and we’ll be discussing the parameters of the job over dinner.’
‘But that doesn’t seem fair—really, I’d rather pay...’
His eyebrows rose in a look of surprise that was almost comical—presumably he wasn’t used to women offering to pay their own way. Yet if she didn’t she would feel like one of those women, and the idea swirled in a conflict of sensation inside her tummy. His words still echoed her brain—‘Any time you change your mind and want to be my girlfriend—fake or otherwise—let me know.’
Not happening.
‘Really. Really. Really.’
Now amusement touched his face, and she knew he had read her mind. ‘And I’d really, really, really prefer to pay myself. Don’t worry—there is no hidden meaning to this. If it makes you feel better it’s tax-deductible.’
Etta hesitated, then nodded. Perhaps she could have a word with Reception and work out a way to settle the bill once they got there.
* * *
As Gabe pulled into a space in a public car park in central Mayfair he glanced across at Etta. ‘It’s a minute’s walk from here.’
‘Where are we staying?
Snapping his seatbelt undone, Gabe named one of London’s most prestigious hotels.
‘We can’t stay there.’
‘Why not?’ No woman he knew would pass up the opportunity.
‘Because it will cost a fortune.’
‘That is not your concern.’ Though the mutinous line of her lips indicated otherwise. ‘There’s little point in refusing—it’s booked and paid-for already.’
Her eyes narrowed, but she unclicked her seatbelt and minutes later they emerged into the crisp, cold dusk. The streets were adorned by spectacular Christmas lights that arched over them in a glittering extravagant swirl of stars and planets.
Etta exhaled on a gasp of wonder. ‘It’s incredible. Every year I forget how fantastic it is.’
Every tree was festooned with brightly lit baubles. The smell of roast chestnuts mingled with the aroma of mince pies, and a group of teenage carol singers tinged the air with festive songs.
As they joined the bustling throng of Christmas shoppers Etta paused outside each shop window. Every single one was filled with a different festive theme. One designer shop was festooned with greenery and foliage, and enormous red bows, and another was more minimalist, with hundreds of square white presents dangled in an eye-catching concentric design. Another boasted a tableau of angels and cherubs...another depicted an incredible ‘partridge in a pear tree’ ensemble, made up of different fabrics and beads. But Gabe derived more pleasure from the intent look on Etta’s face, as if she were taking mental photographs of each window.
They approached the hotel, where eight abundantly lit gold Christmas trees filled the balustrade above the entrance. The windows blazed and sparkled with strings of dazzling lights, and liveried hotel staff waited to usher them through the ornate revolving doors and into the foyer.
Etta stood stock-still as she gazed at the Christmas tree inside, and Gabe didn’t blame her. The enormous realistic-looking spruce was placed in the middle of a carousel straight from Victorian times. Each brightly painted horse seemed to have a character of its own, and each one somehow gave an illusion of movement. The tree itself towered over the signature sweep of the hotel’s grand staircase. Hundreds of blown glass ornaments rested amid the branches, and as he stepped closer Gabe could see that each one depicted an aspect of a funfair: a stick of candy floss, a windmill, a toffee apple, a hoopla ring...
Next to him, Etta stirred herself out of her trance. ‘Awesome. I could stand and stare at it for hours.’
‘And you can. But l
et’s check in first.’
They walked across the marbled floor to the impressive long reception desk.
‘Hi. I have a booking under the name of Derwent for a suite with two interconnecting rooms.’
