Page 13 of Kiss Me at Christmas
“Riiiight.” She gave him an exaggerated wink, which he pointedly ignored. After a moment more of scribbling in his leather-bound notebook, he raised his head and speared her with a look dead-on. A sudden flashback to those eyes boring into hers last night as she lowered herself down onto…“Holy Moses!” The words exploded out of her like an involuntary spasm before she could check herself. Her cheeks burned. She tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat, adding more quietly, “How much longer do you think we’ll be here?”
The left side of his mouth quirked up infinitesimally. It was the first indication she’d had that he wasn’t an AI robot. But just as quickly the micro-smirk disappeared.
“Ms. Smith, I have been instructed by my client to inform you that no charges will be pressed, provided you clean up the mess on my client’s property made by you and your accomplices.”
“I didn’t make any mess! The place was already apoop hole when I got there—god only knows how many people have broken into the place before I did.”
“Try not incriminate yourself further, Ms. Smith.”
Embarrassment, indignation, and shame made a sickly brew that swirled in her stomach.
“Oh, for god’s sake, take the stick out of your bum for five seconds and act like a human!” she snapped, and regretted it instantly. Used to being quite far up on the moral high ground in any given situation, Harriet was well out of her comfort zone, having pulled a Cinderella disappearing trick, engaged in an Inspector Clouseau–style pursuit, and been seized by the old bill, all before lunch.
He didn’t bat an eyelid. Clearly this was not the first time he’d been confronted about his bum-stick.
“I’m afraid my client’s terms are non-negotiable. Clean up the mess or face charges.”
“And when do you suggest I clean up a whole theater? I work full time.”
“That is not my problem.”
Well, she thought,at least I’ll be busy during the holidays.
“Fine. I’ll clean your client’s dingy old theater.”And I’ll make flapping sure those pesky kids help me do it.“Can I get out of here now?”
“Just as soon as you’ve signed the initial agreement, you are free to go. I will draw up a more formal contract and have it ready for you to sign tomorrow. You will be contacted with regard to the time and place of the meeting in due course. This is just for our insurance. We wouldn’t want you sneaking off without so much as a by-your-leave.” He looked at her, his face a mask of blank disinterest, but his turn of phrase was a shot fired in her direction.
Yep, he’s hacked off that I left without saying goodbye. Hypocrite. I wonder if “Lyra” knows I slept over?
James slid a piece of paper across the coffee table for her to sign. He handed her a pen and she scribbled her name. This guy was really pressing her buttons and not in a good way anymore. Her mind filled with memories of his mouth on her body, long fingers exploring…Stop! Stop thinking about it. This man is the enemy. I will not be turned on by him.Name signed, she held the pen out and he took it, his finger brushing hers. Sparks zipped through her.Traitor!she told herself.
They stood at the same time, the coffee table between them. Harriet looked up at him to find him staring straight at her. She stared back. The space between them was charged. She could feel the energy, like if she leaned in it would prickle her skin or suck her into a vortex. She didn’t know whether she wanted to throw a chair at him or kiss him. He held her gaze for a moment more and then nodded.
“Goodbye, Ms. Smith.”
“Goodbye.”
And he left.
Six
Harriet couldn’t take her friend’slunchtime call for obvious reasons, which meant that Emma, unable to contain her need to know everything that had happened from the night before up to and including Harriet’s stint in police custody, arrived promptly at seven p.m. with a Chinese takeaway, two liters of cranberry juice, and a bottle of D-mannose. A friend bearing cystitis remedies was a friend indeed.
“Howdy, jailbird! I want you to know that I was fully ready to hide a chisel in a loaf of banana bread to spring you from the clink.” Emma beamed. “Ooh, it smells gorgeous in here.”
Harriet always had candles burning for when people came over; she was known for her cozy ambience.
Emma marched into the sitting room with the white plastic takeaway bags dangling from her hands. She was petite, swore like a sailor, and wore her dirty-blond hair in a pixie cut which suited her heart-shaped face. Harriet was barely five foot six, but when she stood beside her bestie she often felt like Hagrid.
“Where are the decorations? You’re normally the first person I know to get your Christmas groove on.”
“Oh.” Harriet tried to act casual. “I haven’t had time to put them up yet.”
“You want me to help you? We could do it after we eat.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll probably put them up at the weekend when I’ve got a bit more time,” she lied.
Emma nodded and took the bags through to the kitchen.
