Christmas in the Boss's Castle

She nodded. ‘Seriously.’ But it was clear she was teasing.

He laughed and shook his head and countered. ‘You’re probably not that much younger than me. You’ve just found some really good face cream.’

He handed over the company credit card as his phone rang. ‘On you go and have some fun buying up any Christmas decorations that are left.’ He answered the phone and put his hand over the receiver. ‘I look forward to seeing what a professional Christmas shopper can do.’

* * *

Sixty minutes later Finlay Armstrong didn’t look happy at all. He looked as if he were about to erupt.

Grace cringed as he strode across the store towards her. She was already feeling a little intimidated. Three security guards were standing next to her. She’d understandably almost been out on the street. That was what happened when you couldn’t remember the pin number for the credit card you were using or answer any of the security questions.

Finlay walked over to the counter. ‘What’s the problem?’

Once she started talking she couldn’t stop. She’d been having the time of her life. ‘I’ve bought a huge Christmas tree for the foyer of the hotel, along with another two large trees for the bar and the restaurant.’ Then she held her hand up towards the counter and the serious-faced woman behind it. ‘Well, I haven’t really bought them. I got here and...’

She held up the piece of paper that he’d given her. It had managed to get smudged and the numbers on it were indecipherable. She leaned forward. ‘Please tell them I really do work for the hotel. I’m not on their list and don’t know any of the questions they asked me.’

Finlay’s jaw tightened, but he turned and addressed the woman with impeccable politeness. ‘I’m Finlay Armstrong. I own the company. I can either use the correct pin, or answer any of the security questions you need.’

The woman gave a nod. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to do both on this occasion. And, Mr Armstrong, if you add another member of staff onto the card—you really should let us know.’

Grace wanted to sink through the floor. This shopping trip definitely wasn’t going to plan. She was behind already.

Finlay was finished a few minutes later. ‘If I give you the number, do you think you can remember it again?’

The staff member cleared her throat behind them, ‘Actually, Mr Armstrong, your card has already been flagged today. You might be asked security questions if you use it again.’

Grace gulped. ‘What does that mean?’

Finlay glanced at his watch. ‘How much longer will this take?’

Grace glanced down at the list still in her hands. She wanted to lie and say around five minutes. But London traffic would be starting to get heavy. ‘Probably another couple of hours.’

Finlay rolled his eyes. He stared off into the distance for a second. ‘We need the decorations for the hotel,’ he muttered. ‘Okay, let’s go. The car’s outside.’

The cold air hit her as soon as they came outside and she shivered. ‘Where’s your coat?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘I just got so excited when you gave me the card and told me there was a car outside, I forgot to go and get my coat and gloves.’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t really matter. We’ll be inside for most of the time.’

The car pulled up and he held the door as she slid inside and he climbed in next to her. He was talking on the phone—obviously still doing business.

It wasn’t deliberate. But all her senses seemed on alert. The wool from his black coat had brushed against her hand sending weird vibes everywhere. The aroma of his aftershave was slowly but surely drifting towards her in the warm atmosphere of the car. And even though it was cold outside, she was praying her pink shirt wouldn’t show any unexpected perspiration marks.

It was only early afternoon but the sky already had a dark purple tinge at its edges.

Finlay glanced at his watch. There was a tiny shadow around his jaw line. The hint of a little stubble. Mixed with those unusual blue eyes it was enough to make any warm-blooded female catch her breath.

Part of her heart was going pitter-patter. So many expectations. What if he hated her ideas? What if he couldn’t see how they translated to The Armstrong?

He closed his phone and leaned forward to speak to the driver. ‘How much longer?’

‘Just another ten minutes,’ was the reply.

Grace felt nervous. Jumpy around him. Small talk seemed like the best solution.

‘You mentioned your mum and dad earlier—are you spending time with them this year?’

He frowned. She wondered if he wasn’t going to answer, then he shook his head. ‘No. My parents are still in Scotland. My sister is expecting their first grandchild and will probably be fussed over non-stop.’

The answer was brisk. It was clear Christmas was still an issue for him—even if he was agreeing to decorations for the hotel.

As she went to speak again, her hand brushed against his. He flinched and then grabbed it. ‘Grace, your hands are freezing.’ He started rubbing his hands over hers. She was taken aback. After the frown it was a friendlier gesture than she might have expected.

His warming actions brought the aroma of the rose and lavender hand cream she’d used earlier drifting up between them. She hadn’t even thought about how cold her hands were.

The car pulled up outside one of London’s oldest and most distinguished department stores, Fortnum and Mason. Grace was so excited she didn’t wait for the driver to come around and open the door—she was out in a flash. She waved at Finlay. ‘Come on, slowcoach. Let’s get started. We need Christmas wreaths and garlands.’

She walked swiftly, darting her way between displays and heading for the elevators. But Finlay’s footsteps faltered. It was like...whoosh!

Christmas everywhere. Every display. Every member of staff. Perpetual Christmas tunes piping overhead. Grace had even started singing along. Did she even notice?

It was like Christmas overload.

It was clear he’d unleashed the monster. He hadn’t seen someone this enthusiastic about Christmas since his sister was five years old and thought she might get a horse. She did—but it was around twelve inches.

He pushed back the wave of emotions that was in danger of rearing its ugly head. He’d chosen to be here. He’d decided it was time to try and move forward. The perpetual little ache he felt would always be there. But should it really last for ever?

They walked through the tea hall that was jostling with people. ‘I love the Christmas shop in here. There’s so much to choose from.’ She kept talking as they darted between shoppers.

The lifts were small and lined with wood. He found himself face to face with her, their noses inches away from each other. In this confined space he felt instantly protective, his hand reaching up and resting on her hip.

She smiled and tipped her head to one side. ‘Did you listen to a single word I said?’

He shook his head as the doors closed and the piped music continued. ‘Not a single word,’ he admitted.

She gently slapped his chest. ‘Shocker. Well, remember only these words: I will not complain about the price.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Grace, what are we buying in here?’

She still looked happy. It was obvious Christmas decorations were something that she just loved. ‘I told you. Christmas wreaths and garlands to decorate the foyer, the bar, the corridors, the restaurant and the elevators.’ She counted them off on her fingers.

He blinked for a second. Wreaths. He’d forgotten how often they were used as Christmas decorations now. It was almost as if the world had misplaced what they actually were.

They were lucky: no one else rode to the top floor with them. The elevator pinged and she looked over her shoulder. ‘This is us.’ She wiggled around, her backside pressing straight into him.

Finlay felt numb. No matter how she’d joked, he was still a young guy. And like any young man, his body reacted to a woman being up close and personal—even if it was unintentional.

Grace seemed not to have noticed anything. She dodged her way through the bodies.

As soon as they stepped outside the lift Grace almost started skipping. She handed him a basket and picked up a few delicate glass and white tree decorations. Then, she walked over to the counter. ‘I phoned earlier about a special order. Wreaths and garlands—you said you’d put them aside for me.’

The clerk nodded. ‘They’re through here. Do you want to see them before you pay?’

Finlay let Grace work her magic. She was loving this. This wasn’t the vulnerable woman that he’d seen on the rooftop. This was in control and in her element Grace. Within a few minutes he’d handed over the company credit card and heard her arrange for delivery in a few hours’ time.

Grace let out a squeal. ‘My favourite ever Christmas song—“Last Christmas”—let’s sing along.’

He looked at her in surprise. ‘This is your favourite song? It’s not exactly cheery, is it?’

But Grace was oblivious and already singing along. A few fellow shoppers gave him an amused stare. She really was singing and didn’t seem to care who was listening. The fleeting sad thoughts disappeared from his head again. Grace had a little glance at her lists and made a few random ticks before folding them up again and belting out the main part of the song.

The pink flush in her cheeks suited her. But what caught his attention most was the sparkle in those dark brown eyes. He wouldn’t have thought it possible. But it was. He sucked in a breath. If he didn’t watch out Grace Ellis could become infectious.