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The shadows fell a little from his eyes. ‘There won’t?’
There was the hint of a teasing tone in his voice. As if he was trying his best to push himself back from the place he’d found himself in.
‘My Christmas could never have black trees. I’ll do my best to keep things in the style you like. But think of Christmas as a colour burst. A rainbow shower.’ She held up one hand as she tried to imagine what she could do. ‘A little sparkle on a gloomy day.’
Finlay nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll get you a credit card. Is there anything else you need?’
She licked her lips. Her throat was feeling dry. What had she just got herself into?
Her brain started to whizz. ‘Use of a phone. And a computer. A space in one of the offices if you can.’
Finlay stood up. ‘I can do that.’
It seemed the businessman persona had slotted back into place. Then, there was a tiny flicker of something behind his eyes.
He smiled and held out his hand towards her.
She stood up nervously and shook his hand.
‘Grace Ellis, welcome to The Armstrong Hotel.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘WHAT’S WRONG WITH you today?’ asked Alice.
Grace was staring out of the window, lack of sleep making her woozy.
She turned her attention back to Alice. ‘Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired.’
Alice narrowed her gaze with a sly smile on her face. ‘I’ve seen that kind of distracted look before—just not on you.’
Grace finished making the bed and turned to face Alice. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
The last thing she wanted to do was admit to Alice the reasons that sleep had evaded her. It would be easy to say it was excitement about the job offer. Stress about whether she could actually do the job. But the truth was—while they might have contributed—the main sleep stealer had been the face that kept invading her mind every few seconds.
There was something so enigmatic about Finlay Armstrong. It wasn’t just the traditional good looks, blue eyes and sexy Scottish accent. It was something so much more.
And there was no way she could be the only one that felt it.
A successful businessman like Finlay Armstrong must have women the world over trying to put themselves on his radar.
She had no idea how he behaved in private. Five years was a long time. Had he had any hook ups since his wife died? Probably. Surely?
She didn’t even want to think like that.
It was just...that moment...that moment on the roof. The expression in his eyes. The way he’d looked at her when he’d reached up and touched her cheek.
Grace hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how low she’d been feeling up there. She hadn’t wanted to admit how she was missing her gran so much it felt like a physical pain.
But for a few seconds—up on that roof—she’d actually thought about something else.
She’d actually only thought about Finlay Armstrong.
‘Grace?’ Alice Archer had walked over and touched her arm.
‘Oh, sorry, Alice. I was miles away.’
Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘And where was that exactly?’
Grace bit her lip and pulled some folded papers from her white apron. ‘I’ve to help choose some Christmas decorations for the hotel. I was up half the night trying to find something appropriate.’
Alice gave a little smile and reached her thin hand over to look at the printouts. Grace swallowed. She could see the blue veins under Alice’s pale skin. A few of her knuckle joints were a little gnarled. They must give her pain—but she never complained. Another reminder of how much she missed her gran.
Alice glanced over the pictures, her eyes widening at a few. Grace had spent hours tracking down themes and stockists for particular items. All of them at costs that made her blink.
Alice gave her a thoughtful look as she handed the pictures back. She patted Grace’s hand. ‘I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect. It will be nice to have some Christmas cheer around the hotel.’
Grace couldn’t help but smile. ‘Christmas cheer, that’s exactly what I’m trying to capture. Something to make people get in the spirit.’
Alice walked over to her Louis XV velvet-covered chair and sank down with a wince.
‘Are you okay? Are you hurting?’
Alice shook her head proudly and folded her hands in her lap. ‘No. I’m not sore, Grace. I’m just old. I’ll have some lemon tea now, if you please.’
‘Of course.’ Grace hurried over to complete their morning ritual. She sliced the fresh lemon and prepared the tea, boiling the water and carrying the tray with the china teapot and cup and saucer over to the table at Alice’s elbow.
