Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

CHAPTER SIX

LOUISE’S eyes were closed. A gentle summer breeze warmed her skin and she could hear the waves half-heartedly lapping against the jetty below the balcony. She let out a long therapeutic sigh, stretched her legs and opened her eyelids.

The sky was the colour of cornflowers and the sun a glaring dot of white gold high above.

‘Perfect timing.’ The male voice was warm and lazy, and accompanied by the dull pop of a cork exiting a wine bottle. ‘I thought you were going to sleep all afternoon.’

She shook her head and stood up. The chequered red and white cloth on the small table fluttered, lifted by the warm air curling in and out of the boathouse balcony. Self-consciously, she reached for the wineglass he offered her and dipped her head to hide behind the curtain of her hair.

‘Don’t do that. Not with me.’

She froze, anticipation and vulnerability sending both hot and cold bolts through her simultaneously. He stepped forward and brushed the hair away from her face. His thumb was warm and slightly rough on the skin of her cheek. The tips of his fingers threaded through the hair above her ear until he held her head in his hand. She couldn’t help leaning in to it, letting him support her.

Slowly, he tipped her head until she was looking him in the eyes.

‘You don’t have to hide from me.’

Oh, she would have given anything to believe that was true. Tears sprang to her eyes and clung to her lashes. Even in the bright sunshine, she could see his pupils growing, become darker and darker. But it wasn’t just desire she could see there. Deep in the blackness were the answers to all the questions she’d ever wanted to ask.

Yes, the eyes said. Yes, you are good enough. Yes, you deserve to be loved like this.

One tear escaped, pulled by gravity, and raced away down her cheek. She couldn’t move, not even to swipe it away. It carried on running as he continued to stare at her, his expression full of texture and depth, until it trailed down her neck.

A question flickered across her face-she felt it as surely as the salty river air.

Do you?

He didn’t move a muscle, except to stroke the skin of her temple with the edge of his thumb. The eyes held the answer once again. Yes.

Something inside her, something that had been clenched tight and hard for years, unfurled. And Ben Oliver stepped back into the cool darkness of the boathouse, pulling her with him and repeated his answer over and over again with his lips on hers.

Louise woke up with a gasp, her eyes wide. The fire was little more than burnished embers and a talk show host was skilfully plying a reluctant guest with questions on the television.

She pressed a hand to her pounding chest. Just a dream. It had only been a dream. Calm down, you daft woman. Is this how pathetic you’ve become? A man shows you just a little bit of concern and neighbourly decency and your subconscious decides he’s the love of your life? Just how starved of affection have you been?

Well, her subconscious could just think again. Starving or not, this was one meal she was going to refuse. All her brain had done was jumble up the events and people of her day with the events and characters of the late-night film. A simple crossing of wires, that was all. In the morning, when she was coherent again, she’d make sure everything was rerouted back the right way.

She straightened the stiff arm she’d been lying on and was rewarded with a click. Serves you right for falling asleep in front of the telly, she told herself. Although love should be like falling in love in a cheesy old movie, it wasn’t. And it never would be. The sooner the right side of her brain caught up with that fact, the better.

At three-thirty the following afternoon, Louise still wasn’t sure if she’d won the battle with her subconscious. She pressed the doorbell on the Olivers’ cottage door and tried to work out where all the butterflies in her stomach had migrated from. Wherever they had come from, it seemed they were making themselves at home.

There was a click and the door started to open. Louise stopped breathing.

The blonde-haired woman who answered frowned slightly. ‘Yes?’

Louise swallowed. ‘I’m…er…here to help Jasmine. Mr Oliver is expecting me.’

The woman nodded, opened the door wide and Louise stepped inside and followed her into a funky modern kitchen with glossy red cabinets and black granite work surfaces. Not exactly what she’d pictured Ben Oliver would have chosen but, then again, maybe he hadn’t chosen it. Maybe Mrs Oliver had had something to do with it.

Right there was a good reason to stamp on all the butterflies waltzing inside her. Both she and Ben had too much history, too much baggage.

‘Hey!’ Jasmine was sitting on a cushioned stool next to a breakfast bar with a glass counter. She jumped off and walked towards Louise, her hands in her pockets. A blush stained her cheeks and she looked at the floor as she came closer.

Louise smiled. It didn’t seem that long ago that she’d been all awkward gestures and blushes herself. ‘Hey, yourself. Ready to bake?’

Jas nodded. ‘Is Jack with you?’

Louise shook her head. ‘He’s gone to football and then to a friend’s for tea.’

‘More cake for me, then!’ Jas giggled.

‘Is…um…’ Louise glanced at the anonymous woman, who was standing in the doorway, staring at her with undisguised curiosity. ‘Is everyone joining in?’

‘Oh, no.’ Jas shook her head. ‘Just you and me.’ She scowled at the woman, who took the hint and sloped away. ‘Don’t mind Julie. First of all, her nose is out of joint that she can’t stay and snoop on a famous person, but most of all she’s probably worried she won’t get as much child-minding money if you’re looking after me.’

‘Your dad’s not here?’

‘Nah. He doesn’t finish work until five o’clock and probably won’t be home until six. She looks after me until then most days.’

Louise wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Relieved, she told herself quickly. It was much better to be relieved. Still, that didn’t explain the black hole that had opened up inside her tummy that the butterflies were now being sucked into.

Even before Ben’s key had turned in the lock the most amazing smells hit his nostrils: warm butter and cinnamon, sugar and vanilla. He’d been on a site visit most of the day and lunch had merely been a fleeting fantasy as he’d tried to explain to his client, in the most polite way possible, that his ideas for a visionary garden were actually going to be a blot on the landscape. His stomach rumbled, and he ordered it to get a grip.

He didn’t want any cake. He didn’t want to be hungry for anything at all.

He found Julie sulking in the sitting room reading a magazine. She really wasn’t the greatest substitute for the regular child-minder, but at least she’d been amenable to relocating to the cottage today so Jas could cook. With Louise.

His stomach gave up growling and did something more akin to a backflip.

Get a grip, Ben.

It meant nothing. It would always mean nothing. He’d just not been on a date for a while, that was all. He nodded to himself as he made his way to the kitchen. That was it, he was sure. Lack of female company had left him a little hypersensitive to having a woman around. Especially a woman as beautiful as Louise Thornton. It was just his testosterone talking.

But did it have to yell quite so loudly?

His hand was almost on the kitchen door, but he snatched it back and veered off in the direction of his study. He closed the door firmly behind him and let out a long breath. Work would distract him. And he needed to update his files on today’s project and come up with something that fulfilled his client’s brief to be ‘ground-breaking’ and ‘organic’ without being hideously ugly.

Instead of turning his computer on, he reached for a large sketch-pad and a soft pencil. All his best ideas came when he did the designing the old-fashioned way. Somehow, just holding a pencil and having a creamy sheet of cartridge paper beneath it made him want to fill it with shapes and shading and curves, to change the blankness of the bare paper into something that came alive.

He threw the pencil and pad down on his desk, took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair, then sat down and set to work, his empty tummy momentarily forgotten.

Half an hour later, he stood back and surveyed his handiwork.

Great, just great. Best ideas? What a laugh.

He squinted at the drawing and then turned the pad ninety degrees. A long, low groan escaped from his mouth and he ran his hands over his face. From this angle, the aerial view of the garden looked like a giant cupcake with a cherry on top. Why, when he’d been thinking of paths and borders, had he come up with this?

Best thing to do was admit defeat. He should just go into the kitchen, say hello and then leave again, proving to himself that he was just working himself up about nothing. And maybe this evening he would call his pal Luke and get him to set him up with one of his wife’s friends. Gaby had been trying to matchmake for more than a year now. Perhaps he should just put her out of her misery?

Ben grinned, but it turned into a grimace. The truth was, he didn’t really want to go out on a date with anyone. No one he’d met in the last couple of years had been anything more than pleasant company for an evening. No one had been the sort of woman he could envisage fitting into his and Jas’s lives. Even Camilla.

Camilla had been stylish and intelligent and funny, but there’d just been no spark-even though he’d done his utmost to get something to ignite. For a while now, he’d just thought it would be better to wait until Jas was older. She deserved love and stability after all she’d been subjected to because of his and Megan’s mistakes, not a string of unsuitable girlfriends being tramped through the house. Not that he’d actually brought any of them home, anyway.

Unsuitable. That was a good word.

Louise Thornton was totally unsuitable, no matter how mouth-watering her cakes might be. Okay, she wasn’t the airhead the tabloids made her out to be, but her life was full of turmoil, and that was the last thing he and Jas needed at the moment. He’d do well to remember that.

He pushed open the kitchen door and found exactly what he’d feared-turmoil. He blinked at the two females giggling on the other side of the room as a puff of icing sugar billowed up from a glass bowl and settled on them like microscopic snow. ‘Not that way…’ Louise was saying. ‘Gently!’

Jas was laughing so hard she inhaled some of the icing sugar and started to cough and sneeze at the same time. Louise, who was starting to cough herself, patted Jas on the back. Neither of them had any idea he was there.

He looked around the room. On every available space, there were cake tins and wire racks, assorted cake ingredients and almost-clean mixing bowls with finger marks in them. Megan would have had a fit if she’d seen her precious kitchen like this. It looked wonderful.

‘Dad!’ Jas spotted him, pulled away from Louise and ran over to him.

‘Jasmine.’ He tried very hard to keep a straight face. Someone had to bring some sanity into the proceedings.

‘Come and see what we’ve made!’

Before he could argue, she slipped a sticky hand into his and pulled him across the kitchen to where a row of cooling racks stood, with various cakes, all in different stages of decoration. Louise was there, standing straight and tall. She’d been laughing a moment ago, but now her eyes were watchful and her mouth was clamped shut. He saw her gaze sweep around the kitchen.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘We kind of got carried away.’

He wanted to say something grown-up, sensible, but not one word that fitted the bill entered his head. He was too distracted by the smudge of icing sugar on Louise’s nose.

‘What?’

‘You’ve got-’

Ben leaned forward, meaning to brush it away, but she stepped back and went cross-eyed trying to see what he was looking at. Then she rubbed at her nose with the heel of her hand, which only served to add a drop of jam to the proceedings.

He stayed where he was. She could sort herself out. It was better that way.

Louise was staring at him. Slowly, she walked over to the double oven and checked her reflection in the glass door. He handed her a piece of kitchen towel and she took it, without looking at him, and dabbed at her face. When she stood up again, she was blushing.

It was so unlike her normal armour-plated façade that he couldn’t help but smile. ‘Much better.’

She blushed harder and smiled back. ‘Good,’ she said quietly.

Only he wasn’t sure if it was better. There was something rather appealing about an icing sugar covered, vanilla-smelling Louise Thornton in his kitchen. She seemed…real. Not unapproachably beautiful or spikily vulnerable. Just real.

‘It’s time we started clearing up, Jas.’ Louise reached for a tin and headed for the dishwasher.

Ben waited for the whining to start, but Jas just nodded and started closing up bags of flour and putting egg cartons back into the fridge. He shook his head, then decided to put the kettle on-mainly to distract himself from the rows of cupcakes, sitting silently on the counter, just waiting for someone to notice them. Saliva started to collect in his mouth and he found himself swallowing three times in a row.

He turned round to offer Louise a cup of tea and found her standing right behind him, a plate full of cakes in her hand. He swallowed once again.

‘Would you like one?’

Now, if it had been Jas doing the offering, he would have immediately responded with, What do you want? However, Jas was earning her halo washing up the wooden spoons. He looked at Louise and just nodded.

‘Raspberry and lemon muffins, jam doughnut muffins or iced fairy cakes?’

His eye fell on something golden-yellow and covered in sugar.

She smiled. ‘Jam doughnut muffin it is, then.’ She looked down at the cakes for a few seconds, then up into his face. ‘Actually, I’m trying to butter you up.’

She was? ‘You are?’

Louise nodded. ‘I saw something on the television last night…’ her eyes glazed over and she seemed adrift for a few seconds before she caught herself and carried on ‘…about Laura Hastings and Whitehaven. The garden…well, it looked lovely and I wondered if you’d consider…um…taking on the job of restoring it for me.’

He was speechless. For years he’d wanted to have free rein at Whitehaven. Now was his chance. He should be whooping with joy and dancing round the kitchen hugging someone-hugging Jas, of course.

‘You do that kind of thing, don’t you?’ She was looking at him strangely.

Twice his head dipped in a nod. He’d started off in landscape gardening and when that had been going well, he’d trained as a landscape architect. The resulting design practice, with specialist teams to do the ground work when required, was one of the things that made his firm so successful. However, he didn’t seem to be able to articulate any of this to Louise.

‘Good. Perhaps we can chat another day-during work hours. I don’t expect you to give up your time to…’A tiny frown creased her forehead and she stared at him for a couple of seconds, then her gaze dropped to the plate in her hands. ‘Still want one?’

The muffin was still warm when he picked it up and, when he bit into it, liquid raspberry jam burst out and added its acidity to the dense but moist texture of the muffin. Pure heaven. Louise just nodded. Oh, she knew she was good! She knew exactly how much her baking had reduced him to a salivating wreck. And she was enjoying it.

Ben stood up very straight and resisted the urge to lick the sugar off his fingertips. Suddenly, this wasn’t just about cakes any more. Perhaps it had never been about cakes.

Yup, he was pretty sure he was in big trouble. Because, despite all his efforts at logic, he was starting to think that, far from being the wrong kind of woman, Louise Thornton might suit him just fine.

December, so far, had been incredibly mild, but a cold snap was coming. He could feel it in the slicing wind that raced every now and then up and down the river. Ben hunched his shoulders up to try and escape the draught snaking down the back of his neck as he steered the little dinghy through the sharp, steely waves.

Jas moved into the stern with him and he held up an arm for her to snuggle under. He smiled down at her and she buried her head further into his side. His lips were still curved when he returned his attention to the river. It didn’t matter if the weather was cold enough to freeze the Dart solid, the fact that he’d managed to create a living thing so wonderful would always melt his heart.

This was one of those perfect snapshot moments that would live in his memory for ever. Everything on the river seemed to be in shades of grey and silver-the waves, the reflection of the pearly sky. And, directly in front of him, perched on the hill like a queen on her throne, was the bright white house he was heading towards. In their waterproof coats-his dark green and Jas’s vibrant purple-they were the only blobs of colour on the river spoiling the effect.

‘Do you think it’s going to snow, Dad?’

He pursed his lips, thinking. ‘I don’t know. It would be nice, though, wouldn’t it? The last time we had a white Christmas I was a boy.’ He hugged Jas to him, then released her as they neared the jetty below Louise’s boathouse. ‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

After tying up the dinghy, he stood for a moment and stared up the hill. The house was hidden by the curve of the land and by the trees, but he knew in which direction it was.

There were ugly gashes in the earth near the house which his team had created in the midst of doing the hard landscaping. It would look a mess when he approached the front lawn. But, in his experience, things often had to get a lot messier before they were transformed into something beautiful. In the spring, the digging and paving would be finished and they’d be able to plant. Come summer, Whitehaven’s garden would be transformed. And, over the years, it would mature into something unique and stunning.

Unique and stunning…

How easy it was for his thoughts to turn to Louise.

Recently Jas had taken to showing him any photographs of Louise which she found in the Sunday papers or magazines. Most of them weren’t current, as she hadn’t really been anywhere to be photographed recently. Photographers who turned up in the village these days were often sent on a wild goose chase by the locals, who had warmed to Louise as quickly as he had and were now very protective of the celebrity in their midst.

‘Ready, Jas?’

Jas, who had been throwing stones into the water, nodded and ran off up the hill. Ben tucked his hands into his pockets and strolled after her. As he walked, an image from an article in one of the Sunday magazines filled his head. Tobias Thornton had given an extensive interview about his new life with a blonde actress whose name Ben was struggling to remember. Of course, there had been photos of Louise and Toby in their glory days.

He punched his hands deeper into his pockets. What did it mean if he admitted to himself that the photos had made him feel sick? He couldn’t figure out why; they were fairly innocuous shots of the then Mr and Mrs Thornton on the red carpet somewhere. The body language had been convincing-he’d had an arm around her waist and she’d hooked a hand around his neck. They’d been smiling.

Ben kicked a stone on the path and watched it hit a tree trunk, then roll down the hill out of sight. And then he thought about her eyes. There had been a deadness there, just a hint. Most people, if they’d noticed it at all, would have just assumed it was because it had been the five-hundredth photo they’d posed for that evening. Not him.

That same soul-deep weariness had been in her eyes the day he’d first met her, and no one had been watching her then. He had a good mind to track her ex down and give him a piece of his mind for putting it there.

Ben stopped in his tracks. What he really wanted to do was punch Tobias Thornton’s lights out. When had he suddenly got so primitive? He never wanted to hit people. It just wasn’t him. Not even Megan’s new man. Actually, he felt kind of sorry for that guy…

Slowly, he started walking again, then picked up speed because he realised that he couldn’t see Jas any more. He called out and a few moments later saw a flash of purple in between the trees up ahead.

His heart rate doubled. Would Louise be up there on the lawn, strolling as Jack played? Or would she be waiting for him in the kitchen, the kettle blowing steam? He could easily have sent a guy to care for the carnivorous plants in the greenhouses, but he’d kept on coming on Sundays, hoping she wouldn’t ask him why he still dealt with it personally.

Sunday was now officially his favourite day of the week. And he had a feeling that Louise knew the plants were just an excuse. Each week they spent more and more of his visit talking, walking round the grounds. He’d never drunk so much tea in his life. But if those giant mugs kept him leaning against the rustic kitchen counters while she hummed and pottered round the kitchen, stopping every now and then to smile at him, how could he complain?

At that moment the trees parted and he saw her. It felt as if every molecule of blood had drained from his body. She was chasing both Jack and Jasmine, who were running round in circles, and when she saw him she stopped, brushed the hair from her face and waved.

Normally, he didn’t have any problem speaking his mind. He was never rude or insensitive, but he just called things as he saw them. So why, when all he could think about was asking her out to dinner, or see if they could spend some time alone-just the two of them-did the syllables never leave his lips?

He was now within shouting distance. Hands that had been cold and stiff were now clammy in his pockets and he took them out and did a half-wave with one hand. Louise smiled and his insides jumped up and down for joy. The warm laughter in her eyes erased any form of sensible greeting.

Just admit it, Ben. You’ve got it bad.

He was here.

She waved, just to seem friendly. And, of course, if she didn’t smile it would look funny, so she did. Only she didn’t seem to be able to control how wide, how sparkling it was.

He took long strides across the lawn, minding the gouges of red earth revealed by the landscaping team. Something to do with re-establishing the rose garden, she’d been told. The details were a little fuzzy at present. He gave a little wave, but his face remained serious.

She didn’t care. She liked it when he looked serious. His jaw would tense sometimes when he was in this kind of mood and his eyes became dark. She allowed herself a little sigh before he got close enough to see the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest.

She was playing with fire, she knew. But there was nothing wrong with fire if you kept your distance, let it warm you but not scorch you. And that was what she intended to do. To keep her distance from Ben Oliver-romantically, at least. But it had been so long since she’d felt this alive.

What was the harm in a little crush? To feel her blood pumping and all those endorphins speeding round her system. It was good for her. And no harm ever came from a little bit of daydreaming.

That was all it would ever be. That was all she would allow herself.

It would be enough, because to indulge in more just wasn’t a good idea for her-or Jack. She’d felt this way before-worse, even. She’d fallen so totally in love that she’d lost herself completely, had allowed herself to become completely overshadowed. It would happen again if she let it. She couldn’t help herself. When she fell, she fell hard, completely.

She took a sideways look at Ben as he joined her and they silently started walking towards the kitchen. Jas and Jack had already disappeared inside and were probably trying to work out how they could raid the biscuit barrel without being rumbled.

He was walking with his head bowed, looking at the ground in front of his feet, but he must have sensed her looking at him, because he mirrored her and the smallest of smiles crossed his lips. Without warning, another sigh sneaked up and overtook her.

Ben Oliver represented all she’d ever wanted in a man, she could see that now. He was strong and kind, thoughtful and funny-although sometimes without meaning to be, but that just made it all the more charming.

He was all wrong for her, of course.

Or maybe, more to the point, she was all wrong for him. She could picture a new wife for Ben quite clearly in her mind: someone who was capable and strong. A woman who had a quiet confidence, a gentle heart. And when evening came, and it was time to turn out the light, he would reach across and stroke her face with the palm of his hand, look deep into her eyes…

Tiny pinpricks behind her eyes took her by surprise and she was glad they’d reached the back door and she could busy herself removing her coat and hat and putting the kettle on before she had to face him again.

He hadn’t said it out loud, but she knew he would do anything to keep his and Jas’s life on an even keel. And so it should be. It was just such a pity that the only thing she could bring him were the ups and downs of a rollercoaster life-a life that was way out of control and she was powerless to stop. She didn’t wish it on herself, so how could she wish it on him when he’d worked so hard to build a solid foundation for himself and his daughter?

Louise watched Ben as he sat down with the kids at the kitchen table and refereed as they argued about who had had the most cookies. Another sigh. And this one hurt right down to her toes. If only this could be real…

She shook herself and made the tea. There was no point wishing for things that couldn’t be, but something about Ben made her feel whole, alive in a way she’d never known. So she was going to hang on to that feeling as long as she could and use this crush, this infatuation-whatever it was-to help her heal.

And, one day, when she was good as new, she wouldn’t need to dream about him any more and she’d let the fantasies go and watch them swirl up into the air and blow away like the autumn leaves.