Kiss Me on This Cold December Night Read online

  ‘No! I really am NOT that kind of girl,’ she gabbled desperately, then saw his cocked eyebrow, his half smile, realised he was teasing.

  She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and grinned as she looked back at him.

  ‘I just realised how that sounds,’ she said. She sighed and put her bag down for a moment on the marble floor, passing a hand over her eyes. ‘Believe it or not I don’t do one-night-stands, I don’t actually do any kind of stand. What happened in Devon was a blip.’

  ‘A blip?’

  A smile played on his lips, as if having her on the back foot amused him all the more.

  ‘A one-off,’ she clarified madly.

  It was true, that night in Devon had been a one-off, never repeated before or since. For some reason that night the conditions had been perfect for one-night-stand requirements. Need to prove herself alive - check. Don’t-care attitude – check. Both had come from the loss of her grandmother a few months earlier, which in light of the fact that when it came to parenting skills, her mother and father had proved themselves on a par with a chocolate teapot, had meant Ella was truly on her own in life at the age of twenty-two. Add in the fact she was sacked from her waitressing job and that Tom had come to her aid, and mix in the fact that he was leaving the country the next morning. No repercussions to worry about when the other person was on another continent – right?

  Result – a one-night stand that had been so hot it made her toes curl just thinking about it. And the whole point of one-night stands was they stopped at one night. The clue was in the name.

  ‘It’s nice to see you, Tom,’ she said. She kept her tone detached, polite. ‘But I really need to get settled in.’

  This time he didn’t follow her, but she felt his eyes on her as she took the stairs to the galleried landing above.

  ‘Coffee,’ he called after her. ‘Open invitation, grab it while you can. The moment the snow melts I’ll be out of here.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  She had absolutely no intention of grabbing it while she could.

  It was perfectly simple. This was the UK after all, not Lapland. How long could the snow possibly last before he would be winging his way to Barbados as planned? One day? Surely two at most. All she needed to do was keep her head down and stay out of his way until Liz got here, avoiding any further encounters. Unfortunately, her ready-made excuse of a travel companion still hadn’t shown up. A harried phone call later and she understood the reason why.

  Turned out Tom Henley had a point. Liz’s train was delayed by at least three hours due to snow on the bloody tracks. Plans to simply hang out in the room for a bit until her friend showed up suddenly morphed into the most boring waste of time imaginable.

  Half an hour later and she’d drunk two coffees and eaten all the complimentary biscuits in the room. She bounced on the bed and glanced through the hotel information brochure for the second time, thinking it over. She could stare at four walls while she waited for Liz or she could while away some time in the award-winning Spa.

  No contest. She stood up and tugged her swimsuit from her case.

  A gorgeously relaxing ambience, muted lighting, fluffy towels and complimentary robes. The Spa was virtually empty, it being that lull just around lunchtime, between check-in and check-out. With all the snowy London sights to take in swimming wasn’t a big daytime attraction. Ella swam a few laps of the pool, then climbed out and settled herself on a wicker lounger, magazine at the ready. Soothing background music filled the air. Bliss. Not a sign of Tom Henley anywhere. And of course there wasn’t. With a flight on standby at any moment, Tom Henley was hardly likely to change into swimwear and be parted from his mobile phone, right?

  Wrong.

  Ten minutes later and she glanced up from her magazine to see him stroll casually into the pool, a towel slung around his neck, dark blue swim shorts topped with perfect tight abs, broad muscular shoulders and damply tousled dark hair. It seemed that for all his grouching about missing eggnog parties, Tom Henley was in no rush whatsoever to get back to the airport. Her heartbeat immediately picked up as if she’d done a couple of circuits in the beautifully equipped gym. She saw him clock her from the opposite side of the pool and he sauntered over leisurely.

  ‘What, no friend?’ he said, when he was a few feet away as if he thought she was some billy-no-mates with a fictional travelling companion. He sat down next to her, although the room was full of empty loungers and her stomach knotted into a ball of tension.

  ‘Liz is delayed in the snow,’ she said. ‘A bit like you.’

  She saw his eyes sharpen.

  ‘So you’re at a loose end, then? Time to kill.’

  The look on his face was open and friendly. His smile was as melting as she remembered, the way it started slowly and then moved upwards to crinkle the corners of his eyes. And she’d forgotten he had a way of holding her gaze with his that made her limbs feel like they might turn to jelly. She forced herself to sound detached.

  ‘Not for long. Just until her train makes it through, then it’ll be on with the Christmas shopping weekend.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t do Christmas,’ he said.

  He was referring to the fact that back in Devon she’d turned the festive season into nothing more than a work opportunity, waiting table or bartending all the hours she could muster, all geared towards glossing over the fact that there was actually anything to celebrate. She was surprised he remembered that kind of detail about her and had assumed his recollections would be all about the bedroom.

  ‘I don’t.’ She shrugged. ‘Liz won a competition. A weekend for two Christmas shopping in London. She asked me along.’ She glanced around the beautifully-finished opulence of the Spa. ‘It seemed a shame to turn her down for a principle. Shame she’s running late.’

  He settled himself back on the wicker lounger next to hers, propped up on one elbow to face her, clearly intent on a proper conversation. And what the hell, maybe if she got it over with, did the whole small talk catch-up chat, he would leave her be.

  ‘So how’ve you been?’ he asked. She thought she saw genuine interest in his eyes now. ‘You had another waitressing job lined up didn’t you? Back in Devon. Did you finish college?’

  A smile rose on her lips as she remembered her former self. Big dreams. Not on his scale of course with his medical training and his father’s footsteps, but big for her who’d dropped out of school and drifted from one temp job to the next.

  ‘I did,’ she said. ‘I did the jewellery course. I’m surprised you remember.’

  A brief hesitation and then she held her small hand out towards him, a swirl of beaten silver on her forefinger. Without thinking he took it in his; the resulting flip in his chest at the touch of her soft skin took his breath away. When had he last been this on edge with a woman? His love life had been a bit of an afterthought these last months as his family piled on the work pressure. Without realising what he was doing he automatically checked beside the silver ring for a wedding band. There was none. She withdrew her hand and he let it go.

  ‘I sell some of it online now,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to build up a business but it takes time. I do craft fairs, that kind of thing. And in between I still give good waitress.’ She smiled. ‘What about you?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘After you left Christmas went pretty much as planned. Then I went back and got on with my medical training.’

  Again, pretty much as planned. As planned played a big part in his life.

  She smiled. Her light brown hair was pinned up on her head and she wore a blue and white striped bikini which was far from skimpy but which still did nothing to hide her slender frame and long legs. Just looking at her like that made heat begin to course through him.

  ‘We’re from different worlds, you and me,’ she said. ‘You had your rugby playing, your future medical career, your public school background, your family, your life plans. I waited tables at a hotel in Ilfracombe that Christmas and I was sofa sur
fing my way around my friends. It’s amazing we ever hooked up at all really.’

  He remembered that. How she’d had no real base, no family ties, and most of all how she made that seem liberating instead of lonely.

  She looked away, and he followed her gaze back across the glassy surface of the swimming pool.

  ‘For a while I stayed with my Gran at this time of year but now I just go wherever the mood takes me,’ she said. ‘Last year I waitressed in a hotel in the Lakes – the Christmas lights were just the prettiest thing ever, but it was freezing cold. Even more than this. The year before that I did charity work in a soup kitchen and the year before THAT I was working my way round France.’

  She counted off the Christmases on her fingers. He only needed one finger for his last four Christmases. Every single one had been the same.

  ‘And this year?’

  ‘I’m doing this weekend with my friend Liz. She entered some competition on the back of a breakfast cereal packet. It’s supposedly for Christmas shopping, all expenses paid and some spending money thrown in. But I’m going to try and drag her round the sights a bit. Shopping’s not really my thing.’

  ‘What about after this weekend?’

  ‘Well then I’m working again. I’ve got a waitressing gig back in Cornwall. In Looe. I lived there for a while with my Gran. Brilliant time for earning, Christmas, if you’ve got nowhere else you need to be. My speciality is unsociable hours. When this weekend is over I’m booked up right through Christmas and New Year, I’ll barely have a minute to think. Whereas you’ll probably be having cocktails at sundown and a leisurely break – right?’ She sat back in her lounger and looked at him with interest. ‘Come on then, give me a rundown of your last four Christmases.’

  ‘Well I don’t need to use my fingers to count them off, if that’s what you mean,’ he said. ‘Touch down in Barbados a few days before Christmas. Catch up with friends and family. Head back after New Year.’

  His tone was throwaway, unenthusiastic. Then again, mustering up excitement when you’d done the same thing year on year since you were a kid couldn’t be easy.

  ‘Your life is one big déjà vu,’ she said, and seeing the fed-up expression on his face she couldn’t resist adding, ‘And where’s the fun in that?’

  There was a spark in his eyes as he held her gaze a moment too long and smiled, and she realised, too late, that he’d considered that comment a flirt. She whipped her eyes back down to her magazine, feeling warmth rise in her cheeks. She really ought to get her mouth under control and get this encounter over with right now.

  ‘I’d better get back,’ she said. ‘Check my phone, see when Liz is getting here.’

  She tossed the magazine onto a low wicker table and climbed off the lounger, being careful to swing her legs off onto the floor first to avoid giving an impression of beached whale. And since she really didn’t have the confidence or the heeled wedges to pull off flouncing out in a bikini, she settled for wrapping the towel around her hips sarong style. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away from him and then, just as she thought she was home-free, in her fluster she managed to take the left turn toward the crystal steam room instead of the right turn into the ladies’ changing room.

  The option was there, of course, to scuttle back the other way, thereby losing the unruffled poise she was doing her best to channel. But he’d shown no sign of following her so instead she opened the glass door and sat down on the tiled bench in the small square room, letting the hot mist wash over her skin. She could while away five minutes in here and then nip off to the showers with her poise intact.

  She had the steam room to herself and she sat back with a sigh on the bench and leaned her head against the smooth tile of the wall. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the soothing scent of the aromatherapy oils clinging to the steam.

  And then the glass door slid open and closed, letting the steam clear a little, and she was looking through the mist right at him.

  Oh hell.

  ****

  He ignored the empty bench opposite and instead sat down next to her. Up close the steam was clearer, she could see tiny droplets of water clinging to his hair.

  ‘I thought you were heading out?’

  Heat was pulsing through her that wasn’t entirely down to the steam room.

  ‘Changed my mind,’ she said airily. ‘Thought I’d have a quick steam first.’

  As if she were a carrot or a stem of broccoli.

  A pause that was long enough for her to wonder if he might actually just want sit in silence next to her and take in the relaxing facilities, and then his deep voice echoed slightly in the tiled room.

  ‘You ever think about it, what it was like back then?’

  From time to time, when she couldn’t sleep, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

  Her heartbeat had leapt into instant thundering mode. Instead of answering, mad laughter cackled forth at the utter craziness of the situation.

  ‘Ahahahaha! It?’ she questioned preposterously. He didn’t so much as flinch.

  ‘Us,’ he clarified. ‘You ever think about us?’ He lifted a hand and tucked a damp stray curl of hair behind her ear. ‘I do.’

  Her pulse was going crazy at his light touch and part of her, the part she really needed to crush into submission here, wanted to go with the flow. What the hell, let him go ahead, just to see if his kisses were as bone-melting as she remembered. She made a last-ditch effort to hang on to sense.

  Rules, Ella, think about your life rules. They’re there for a REASON!

  ‘Tom,’ she said, speaking slowly in the hope that it would make her voice steady and that he might actually listen to what she was saying. His thumb continued to stroke her jaw lightly. Her stomach was pooling with heat that had nothing to do with the steam. ‘You’re here for – what – a couple of nights while you wait for your plane to be rescheduled? If what you’re hoping for is some kind of rerun, it’s just not going to happen. I’m not that kind of girl,’ she said. ‘I never really was.’

  ‘Where would be the harm?’ he said. ‘What would be the big deal? It’s not like we haven’t been here before.’

  And of course he had a point. Any reservations had been discarded five years ago. They’d been intimate on such an intense level that maybe it was really no leap at all to pick up where they’d left off all that time ago.

  She drew in a breath, ready to list all the reasons why, actually, it was a big deal. How it would be a regression, how it couldn’t possibly end well, and then he stopped all planned protestations with a kiss. His hand slid back from her jaw to cradle the nape of her neck, his tongue slipped softly against hers and her stomach dissolved like melting toffee.

  His hand slipped to her bare thigh, began stroking its way higher. Her mind followed it, inch by slow inch, although her eyes were tightly shut. He reached the delicate skin of her inner thighs and then his fingertips teased their way beneath the edge of her bikini bottoms. She gasped into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside her in one smooth movement and she felt him smile.

  ‘Tell me again, why this is a bad idea,’ he whispered, the ball of his thumb now beginning to circle her most sensitive spot, while his fingers continuing their slow rhythmic grind in and out. The sweet friction made her feel weak. Reasons jumbled into a mess of words in her mind.

  ‘I don’t do second-time-rounds,’ she managed. ‘Of anything. It’s kind of like a personal rule of mine.’

  ‘Still living in the moment then?’ he said, holding her gaze. ‘You haven’t changed.’ He smiled, moved his lips to her ear. ‘No one around but us,’ he whispered. ‘I could have you right now and no one would see.’

  The recklessness of it all had its own seductiveness, it took her straight back to the last time they were together. At the time, her own situation had been what drove her, the need to escape from the yawning absence of family and love that Christmas had been throwing at her from every angle. He had been the perfect distraction, a rea
son to disengage from everything that was going on around her.

  No such excuse this time. In fact, all sense of rationality warned her off. Yet still there was the voice in her mind breaking through, reasoning with her, working with that physical desire for him. Where, really was the risk? He’d be gone in a couple of days, maybe even sooner. She would return to her life again just as she had before, unscathed. Couldn’t she just step back into that moment again, enjoy a rerun of the delicious past encounter?

  She let her own hand slide over his hot, damp skin, over hard muscle. He caught her fingers in his free hand as she reached his shorts. Her hand was drawn away and held still while he continued to stroke her, adding a third finger, increasing his pace, stretching and teasing until she could think of nothing else but the sensation. The steam room was forgotten, hotel was forgotten, self-preserving life rules were forgotten and she cried out against his neck as he took her over that delicious edge.

  As consciousness began to slip back she realised shadows were moving outside the glass door, the heat was intense now and they were both dripping sweat. He withdrew his hand, not rushing, just as the door clicked open and a middle-aged couple took the bench opposite, vague outlines in the steamy air. She kept her head down as if they might by some super power know what they’d just been doing in here, stood up and tugged him by the hand out of the steam room and immediately turned left into the circular aromatherapy shower. He curled his arms around her waist, pulling her hot skin against his and she forced herself to STOP THIS RIGHT NOW. Her body might have been conquered by the heady combination of hot steam and his intoxicatingly expert touch but her mind still just about had a handle on reality.

  ‘What now then?’ he said, his voice was thick and she could feel his rigid erection hard against her. ‘We could go up to my suite.’