Page 40 of Only for Christmas

He had a flashback to her holding the art deco vase. ‘You don’t like modern, right?’

‘Not when it comes to furniture, but this is quite nice.’ She seemed genuine enough. She certainly looked comfy on his couch. She fitted right in. Fred too.

He looked around at the cream walls, wooden furniture and black leather couch. White kitchen and bath, blinds at the windows, wooden flooring. No rugs. No fuss. No clutter. Just a few cushions and a large cheese plant. ‘It suits my needs.’

She crinkled her nose. ‘What’s that smell? It’s divine.’

‘Vegetable tagine. I’ve discovered the wonders of a crockpot. I’d never used one before. It’s great. I threw a bunch of stuff in the pan this morning and twelve hours later I have dinner.’

Sarah stopped rubbing Fred’s ears. ‘Twelve hours?’

‘Too long?’

‘Did you have it on the low setting?’

‘No idea.’ He got up and headed for the kitchen. ‘Are you an expert cook?’

‘Not in the slightest. Although I am a fan of eating. I like my food.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ He lifted the lid. It looked fine. It smelt even better. ‘Want to join me for supper? I have plenty.’

‘I should say no.’

‘Why should you?’ He switched off the heat and stuck his head around the kitchen door. ‘Oh, I get it. You think it’s a date, or that I’ll assume you like me. Or it might start rumours that you don’t really hate men.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘You know, you might have a point. I mean, two people eating tagine together is pretty racy. Scandalous, in fact. You’d best leave now.’ He gave her a pointed stare. ‘Or you could stop fretting and just eat the damned food.’

‘Fine, I’ll eat the damned food,’ she said, throwing a cushion at him. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic.’

Fred jumped off the couch and grabbed the cushion, thinking it was playtime.

Lucas dropped to his knees and tried to rescue the suede accessory before it was decorated with bite marks. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll stop being sarcastic, if you stop being so defensive and reacting as though everything I do is an attack on you.’

‘I don’t do that,’ she said, sounding offended. ‘Fred, stop that. Let go!’ She removed the cushion from his grip and stood up. ‘Is that really what I do?’

She looked so wounded that he felt bad for ribbing her. ‘You’re bruised, I get it. But I am not the enemy here. I have no agenda, no ulterior motive. I’m a guy visiting London for a few weeks to see the sights and spend time with his sister. That’s it. I am not on a mission to persuade you to marry me.’

She stepped back, feigning hurt. ‘You don’t want to marry me? Why not? What’s wrong with me?’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Now who’s being sarcastic. And it was you who kissed me, remember?’

‘Well, I don’t want to marry you, either,’ she said, shoving him playfully in the chest. ‘And you know why I kissed you. It was a necessary evil.’

‘Well, I’m glad we’ve got that sorted. So, we can skip the part where you suspect me of trying to seduce you and just hang out. Fake dating. Real mates.’ He held out his hand. ‘Deal?’

She shook his hand. ‘Do you have any couscous?’

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ Rolling his eyes, he returned to the kitchen. ‘And yes, I have couscous.’

Ten minutes later, they had lap trays and were on the couch eating tagine, with Fred sitting between them staring longingly at their food. The place had warmed up, and Sarah had removed her suit jacket and kicked off her shoes. With her hair loose and colour in her cheeks, she looked less uptight, bordering on relaxed. An old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie played quietly on Film4, and he had to admit it was nice to have some company.

‘How’s your sister doing?’ she asked, accepting the offer of more wine.

‘Not great,’ he admitted, filling his own glass. ‘I had dinner with her last night. My nephews are staying with their dad this week, so I took Harper to The Ivy, a fancy restaurant near Leicester Square. You know it?’

‘Everybody knows The Ivy. Very few of us mere mortals get the luxury of eating there. It’s quite well-to-do.’

He tilted his head. ‘Well-to-do?’

‘Posh. Elite. Where all the celebs dine.’

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