Scarlet Wilson - A New Year Bride

Ah. He got it. It wasn’t how he was paying her. It was how much he was paying her.

‘I can increase it,’ he said simply.

Her eyes widened even further. ‘No.’

It almost came out as a gasp.

Ah. Now he understood.

‘Grace, I based this on what we paid our last interior designer, plus inflation. That’s all. As far as I’m aware, this is what I’d normally pay for these services.’

The waitress appeared and set down their plates. She’d caught the tail-end of the conversation—and glanced at the cheque under Grace’s fingertips before making some kind of strangled sound.

Grace was looking distinctly uncomfortable. Finlay waved his hand and looked at the food in front of him. ‘Take it, it’s yours. You did a good job. You deserve it.’

He’d decided to follow Grace’s lead. The croissant in front of him was stuffed with tuna and melted cheese. Salad and coleslaw were on the side and the waitress came back with steaming cups of coffee. She winked at him. ‘Try the rhubarb pie after this, it’s to die for.’

He almost laughed out loud. She’d seen the cheque and would expect a decent tip. He could do that.

‘I think I might have to lie down after this,’ he said, taking in all the food on the plate.

Grace was still watching the cheque as if it would bite her. He picked it up again and looked under the table, sliding it into her bag.

‘Let’s lunch.’ He said the words in a way he hoped she’d understand. The amount wasn’t open to debate. ‘Where do you live?’

‘What?’ That snapped her out of her dreamlike state. ‘Why?’

He shrugged. ‘I’d like to know a bit more about the woman I’m having lunch with.’

Didn’t she want to tell him where she lived?

She lifted her knife and fork. ‘I live in Walthamstow,’ she said quietly.

‘Did you go to school around there?’

She nodded but didn’t add anything further.

‘How long have you worked for Maids in Chelsea?’

Her shoulders relaxed a little. That seemed a more acceptable question. ‘Just for a few months.’ She met his gaze, ‘Truth is, it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Clio, the boss, is lovely and the rest of the staff are like…family.’

Family. Interesting choice of word for work colleagues.

‘What did you do before?’

She smiled. ‘You name it—I’ve done it.’

He raised his eyebrows and she laughed. ‘Okay, there are certain things I’ve never done. But I have had a few jobs.’ She counted off on her fingers. ‘I worked in the local library. Then in a few temp jobs in offices. I worked on the perfume counter of one of the department stores. Then I got poached to work on the make-up counter.’

‘You got poached?’ Somehow, he could see Grace with her flawless complexion and friendly personality being an asset to any make-up counter.

She nodded. ‘But it wasn’t really for me. I had to eventually give up due to some family issues and when I needed a job again Maids in Chelsea kind of found me.’

‘Family issues? You have children?’

She shook her head and laughed. ‘Oh, no. I’d want to find a husband first.’

He hadn’t even considered the fact she might have children, or a husband! What was wrong with him? He tried to tease out a few more details. ‘So, you haven’t found a husband yet?’

She shook her head again. ‘I haven’t had time.’ She looked up and met his gaze. ‘I’ve dated casually in the last few years, but haven’t really had time for a relationship.’

Due to her family issues? He didn’t feel as though he could press.

‘I take it you were brought up in Scotland?’

He smiled. ‘What’s the giveaway?’

She laughed and took a sip of her coffee. ‘Is Sean Connery your father?’

‘Sean Connery wouldn’t have got a look-in. My mum and dad were childhood sweethearts. They lived next door to each other from the age of five.’

Grace set down her knife and fork. ‘Oh, wow. That’s so nice.’

It was nice. His mum and dad’s marriage had always been rock solid, even when half the people he’d gone to school with seemed to have more step-parents than grades at school.

‘Are they still in Scotland?’

‘Always. They’ll never leave.’

She gave him a fixed stare. ‘Why did you leave?’

He hesitated then spoke quickly. ‘Business.’ There was so much more to it than that. He had a home—a castle—in Scotland that had been his pride and joy. He hadn’t set foot in it for over a year. The penthouse in The Armstrong was where he now called home. He needed to change the subject—fast.

‘Tell me about the Christmas stuff?’

She quickly swallowed a mouthful of food. ‘What do you mean?’

He sipped his coffee. Then stopped and connected with her gaze. ‘Wow.’

A smile spread across her face. ‘I told you.’

He kept his nose above the coffee and breathed in the aroma, then took another sip. The coffee was different from most of the roasts he’d tasted. Finlay was a self-confessed snob when it came to coffee. This was good.

He looked over his shoulder to where the coffee machine and barista were standing. ‘I have to find out what this is.’

She was still smiling. ‘You’ll be lucky if they tell you. The coffee in here has been this good for years. My gran and I used to come here all the time.’

Her voice quietened. He wanted to ask some more but it felt like prying. Could he really go there?

He went back to safer territory. ‘The Christmas stuff. You seem to really enjoy it.’

She gave him a careful stare. Her voice was soft. ‘I do. I’ve always loved Christmas. It’s my favourite time of year.’ She stretched her fingers across the table and brushed them against his hand. ‘I’m sorry, I know you said you didn’t like it.’

He took a deep breath. The coffee was excellent in here. The food was surprisingly good. And the company…the company was intriguing.

Grace was polite, well-mannered and good at her job. She was also excellent at the unexpected job he’d flung on her the other day. She’d more than delivered.

It was more than a little distracting that she was also incredibly beautiful. But it was an understated beauty. Shiny hair and a pair of deep dark brown eyes that could hide a million secrets. But it wasn’t the secrets that intrigued him. It was the sincerity.

Grace didn’t feel like the kind of person who would tell lies. She seemed inherently good. All the staff at the hotel liked her. Frank was strangely protective of her.

He took a deep breath. ‘It’s not that I don’t like it. I know I said that—’

She touched his hand again. ‘No, you said you hated it.’

He nodded. ‘Okay, I said I hated it. And I have. For the last five years. But I didn’t always hate it. I had great Christmases as a kid. My sister and I always enjoyed Christmas with our mum and dad.’

Grace pressed her lips together. ‘I’ve spent all my Christmases with my gran. My mum…’ She paused as she searched for the words, ‘My mum had me when she was very young. My dad was never on the scene. I was brought up by my gran.’

‘Your mum wasn’t around?’

Grace shook her head. ‘Not much. She’s married now—lives in Australia—and has a new family. I have two half-brothers.’ Her gaze was fixated on her plate of food. ‘She’s very happy.’

‘Do you talk?’

Grace looked up. ‘Yes. Of course. Just…not much. We have a relationship of sorts.’

‘What does that mean?’

Grace sighed and gave a shrug. ‘I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman. There’s not much point in holding a grudge against someone who couldn’t cope with a baby as a teenager. I had a good life with my gran. And we had the best Christmases together.’