Christmas in the Boss's Castle

He smiled. ‘Her name is Grace Ellis, but you can’t have her, Ailsa, she’s all mine.’

He put down the phone with a smile, imagining the email he’d get in response.

He stood up and walked through to the main reception; Frank was just waving off some guests. ‘Frank, do you know where Grace is?’

Frank gestured off to the left. ‘Back down in the basement. She’s had some more ideas.’

Finlay looked around. Even though it was daytime the decorations still looked good. He could smell something too, even though he had no idea what it was. It reminded him of walking into one of those winter wonderland-type places as a child.

Grace was still working on this? He’d have to pay her overtime. And bonuses.

He walked down to the basement. It was well lit and everything stored was clearly labelled. But that didn’t help when he walked into the room he heard rustling in and found Grace upended in a large storage barrel. All that was visible was black kicking shoes and a whole lot of leg.

‘Grace?’ He rushed over to help.

‘Eek! Finlay! Help.’ He tried not to laugh as he reached inside the barrel and grabbed hold of her waist, pulling her out.

‘Finlay,’ she gasped again as she landed in a heap on the floor. Blue. She was wearing a blue shirt today. Not as cute as the pink one. But she’d just managed to lose a button on this one so he might like it even more. Her hair must have been tied with a black satin ribbon that was now trailing over her shoulder.

He burst out laughing. And so did Grace.

She thumped her hands on the floor. ‘Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen.’ She followed the line of his vision and blushed, tugging at her skirt.

He peered into the barrel. ‘What was supposed to happen?’

She pointed to the label. ‘As I left the hotel last night I realised that although it was gorgeous when people walked inside, there was nothing outside. Frank told me there used to be lights outside. I was looking for them.’

He frowned, trying to remember what the lights had looked like. They’d been made by some American company and had cost a fortune. ‘We did have. Is this where they’ve been stored? What makes you think they even work any more?’

She shrugged. ‘I figured it was worth a try. I can always check them first. Then I was going to try and order some purple light bulbs—you know, carry the theme outside.’

Wow. She thought of everything.

He held out his hand to help her up. ‘Grace, can I ask you something?’

He pulled a little harder than he should have, catapulting Grace right forward crashing into his chest. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, placing both hands on his chest. She looked up at him. ‘What is it you want to ask?’

He couldn’t remember. Not for a second. All he could concentrate on were the warm palms causing heat to permeate through his shirt. Grace lifted one finger. ‘Oops,’ she said as she stepped back.

Finlay looked down and sucked in a breath. Two hand prints on his white shirt.

To the outside world it would look amusing. To him?

A permanent imprint that he was in a place he wasn’t quite sure of.

What exactly was he doing here? He’d deliberately come down here to find Grace. There was no point in him denying it to himself. He wanted to find out more about her. But was this a betrayal of Anna? He now had another woman’s hands imprinted on his chest. And for a few seconds, he’d liked the feel of them being there.

He was exasperated. Exasperated that he was drawn to this woman. Confused that he felt strangely protective of her. And intrigued by the person beneath the surface. There seemed to be so much more to Grace than met the eye. But how much did he really want to know?

Her hands were now clenched in front of her. He’d been quiet for too long.

‘Finlay?’

He met her gaze. ‘Are you free for lunch?’

‘What?’

He glanced at his watch. ‘Are you free for lunch?’

She looked down at her dishevelled clothing and pointed at his shirt. ‘I don’t think either of us can go anywhere like this.’ He actually thought she looked fine.

He shrugged. ‘I have other shirts.’

She shook her head. ‘I only have what I’m wearing.’ She bit her lip. ‘But I think I might be able to borrow one of the bartender’s black dresses.’

He gave her a nod. ‘Five minutes, then?’ He started to walk to the door.

‘Finlay?’ Her voice was quite serious.

‘Yes?’

‘Can I pick where we go?’

‘Of course.’ He was amused. He had no idea where he’d planned to take her. His brain hadn’t got that far ahead.

‘See you in five, then.’