There was no point sitting around moping.
But first…
“Okay, Mouse. You’re home. Welcome—” She turned full circle and decided to put the mouse Alexei had given her on the windowsill where he would be the first thing she’d see each day when she came home. Next she needed some London armor to protect her from the cold. Reaching inside the battered wardrobe she’d rescued from a skip, she pulled out her sludge-green parka. The shabby jacket had seen better days and had been sitting neglected in the cold for so long, it was like shrugging on an ice jacket, but critically, it had a hood.
She had intended to leave the post until she got back. There was a stack of mail, most of which was destined to go straight into the recycling bin, but one thick envelope caught her eye. It was from Hard News.
Perching on the bed, she opened it. And blinked. It was an offer in response to the success of her article, for her to work as a reporter-at-large, traveling the world to find stories. She sat back to think what this meant. She wouldn’t be tied down anywhere and could maybe afford a proper apartment with a separate bedroom. The accompanying letter informed her that as her article about life on board Russian Thunder had been so well received, another article about the world’s hottest polo team would be appreciated by return.
That might be a bit of a problem, Amber reflected as she put the letter back inside the envelope.
~o0o~
This was it? He checked the address again. The paint on the front door of Amber’s house was peeling. There was no garden. The entrance opened directly onto the busy main road…
Da. This was definitely it. With a shake of his head, he huffed a surprised laugh to see the small felt mouse sitting in the front window. At least she hadn’t tossed his gift in the trash. Pulling up his collar, he left the black Lamborghini and wove his way through the steady flow of pedestrians. The area she lived in had energy and a real personality. Very Amber, he thought. The lights were off at her address, so he guessed she was out shopping for essentials. He’d passed the local shops as he drove by at a crawl in the busy London traffic. All the shops were open and busy, most of them still boasting Christmas decorations, as if the upbeat neighborhood was in no rush to say good-bye to the happy holiday season. He could only hope Amber was in the same sort of mood.
The bell over the corner shop door chimed a cheery welcome as Amber hurried inside, exclaiming with pleasure as an effective heating system embraced her.
“Amber! We’ve missed you!” Cindi, the woman who owned the corner shop, exclaimed. “Welcome back!”
“It’s good to be back.”
And it was. She’d enjoyed this same welcome all the way down the street. But this wasn’t so great, Amber thought as she stood in front of the counter trying to decide what to eat from the wide selection of meals for one.
“Amber?” Cindi looked at her shrewdly. “Whatever you decide to take, take a packet of these as well,” Cindi insisted, pushing a box of chocolate biscuits into Amber’s hands. “My belated Christmas gift to you—I overbought,” she explained with a shrug when Amber tried to refuse and wanted to pay for them. “There’s nothing like a bit of chocolate to ease a heartache.”
“That obvious?” Amber asked ruefully.
Cindi smiled wryly. “Flashing neon sign?”
Leaving Cindi’s, she went to the florist. They still had glittery leaves and red berries left over from Christmas, she’d noticed when she’d walked past.
The florist had closed early.
Oh well. She’d have trouble carrying anything more, Amber told herself, turning for home.
It was a cold night, and she walked briskly back to her flat and was glad to see her front door as the driving sleet started to find its way down a rip at the back of her hood. Lowering her bag to the step, she put her key in the lock—and nearly died of shock when the door swung open. “Alexei!”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Amber tried to catch her breath. “What are you doing here? How did you get in? Okay—” Holding up her hand like a traffic cop, she sucked in a steadying breath. “You have a jet. Your name works miracles. A flight plan to London’s no problem for you. And then…” She tried her hardest not to scream with outrage and didn’t quite make it. “You broke into my home?”
Alexei remained perfectly composed. “The lock didn’t take much ingenuity,” he admitted as she walked past him.
“You had no right,” she flared.
“Correct,” he agreed. “But I needed to see you, to make things right between us.”
She shook her head, still trying to get over the fact that he was there and taking up all the available space—and looking more than gorgeous—big and strong and tanned, and ridiculously sexy in his heavy winter clothes, and as fiercely determined as she’d ever seen him. Most people would quail beneath that laser stare, Amber decided, lifting her chin determinedly. Not a chance she would. “And you bought out the florist, I see?” She surveyed the riot of floral exuberance that took up every spare inch of her room, exotic flowers in fantastic displays: bird of paradise, protea, and sunflowers, all imported, she was sure, at this time of year, and all strikingly fabulous. There were peonies and lavender roses in romantic posies secured with jute laces, and, of course, seasonal displays of poinsettia, orchids, and white Christmas roses.
Her expression as she stared at them and then looked at him brought a mock rueful expression to Alexei’s face. “You don’t like them?”
She loved them, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so.
“Apologies if you’re allergic.”
“I’m not allergic. So, what are you doing here, Alexei?”