Her Christmas Romeo. Carole Mortimer

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down at his expensively shod feet rather than at the man himself.

      ‘At least you weren’t hurt,’ he said encouragingly.

      Her pride was in tatters, but, no, she wasn’t physically hurt! Maybe if she had been she could have cried off sick for these last few days before Christmas. She was absolutely—

      ‘Which floor?’

      Juliette looked up at him blankly. Only the fact that one of those long, elegant fingers was held poised over the lift buttons made her realise that he was waiting for her to tell him which floor she worked on.

      ‘Four,’ she sighed. ‘Thank you,’ she added with a grimace as the doors closed and the lift began its ascent.

      With Juliette’s stomach plummeting every foot of the way.

      Not a great fan of lifts, or enclosed spaces, she usually chose to walk up the four floors to her department.

      ‘Come and work at Romeo’s,’ her friend Lisa had prompted her five weeks ago, when Juliette had left her last job.

      Left? She had been thrown out through the door so fast her size fours had barely touched the ground! ‘It’ll be fun,’ Lisa had assured her brightly.

      Fun? For the first month Juliette had been so bored by the lack of customers that she had been in danger of falling asleep half the time. But the last week had more than made up for that, as hordes of men—old, young, fat, thin, handsome, ugly—had crowded in from morning till night in search of that ‘special’ piece of underwear for the woman—or in some cases women—in their lives.

      Why was it, she had wondered at least a dozen times, that it was only women who worked in the lingerie department? Especially at Christmas. Because some of the conversations she’d had over the last week had been enough to make her blush to the tips of her ears.

      Were all men total morons, she had asked Lisa, when it came to buying underwear for the wives, girlfriends, sisters—and in a lot of cases, she was sure, the mistresses—in their lives?

      ‘Totally,’ Lisa had answered with a giggle. She was part of the permanent staff at the huge Romeo’s store, but in the perfume department.

      Lucky her!

      Maybe if Juliette’s father hadn’t died when she was eighteen, or if she’d had brothers, it might not have been so embarrassing for her, but as it was—

      ‘What’s happening?’ she gasped, her thoughts interrupted as the lift began to make a grating, groaning sound. Her eyes widened and she reached out instinctively to grasp the arm of the man at her side.

      ‘I have no idea, but—’ The man didn’t finish what he was saying as the lift came to an abrupt halt. The light flickered on and off, and mere seconds later they were plunged into complete darkness.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘OH, NO! Oh, no!’ Juliette’s fingers tightened on the muscled arm beneath her hand even as she began to hyperventilate. ‘I can’t—We’re going to—”

      ‘Stay calm,’ the man’s disembodied voice advised firmly. ‘The emergency light will come on in a—There,’ he said with satisfaction as a dim red light flickered on over the top of the doors, throwing a dim, eerie red glow over the interior of the lift. Not in the least reassuring!

      ‘I hate lifts.’ Juliette heard herself begin to babble. ‘I only got in one this morning because I was so late. And I was only late because my alarm didn’t go off. And then I missed my bus. And I had to walk. And then you didn’t hold the lift for me. And I slid. And my heel got stuck. And my boot’s ruined. And—’

      ‘Are you becoming hysterical?’ the man asked warily, no more than a blurred outline in the dim red interior.

      The lift had stopped somewhere between floors, and probably no one even knew they were in here. Because this was the staff lift and everyone else had arrived for work on time, instead of late, as they were. And the reason she hated lifts was because small enclosed spaces made her feel claustrophobic. And the lift had stopped somewhere between floors!

      Juliette took a deep, steadying breath. ‘No. I’m … I’m fine.’ Perhaps if she said it out loud, it might feel true.

      ‘Good. Hysteria really isn’t going to improve our situation.’

      She hadn’t been trying to ‘improve’ their situation; she really was terrified.

      Although not so much now, she realised begrudgingly.

      ‘Isn’t there an emergency button or something we can press?’ She groped her way over to where the lift panel had been when she’d last been able to see it—only to find the man had moved in that direction, too, and her hand was making contact with some part of his anatomy rather than the lift buttons.

      ‘Sorry,’ she muttered awkwardly. Her cheeks blushed heatedly and she snatched her hand away as she realised exactly which part of his anatomy she had grabbed.

      ‘Perhaps if you just stood still?’ His voice was icy with impatience now.

      Possibly because he didn’t like being groped by a complete stranger in a lift, Juliette acknowledged with a self-conscious wince, as he pressed one of the buttons. A bell could be heard ringing somewhere.

      ‘Er—I’m Juliette, by the way,’ she offered, trying to regain her cool and feeling very glad he couldn’t see her flaming cheeks.

      ‘Juliette?’ he repeated incredulously.

      At least she thought he sounded incredulous. Although she couldn’t for the life of her imagine why. Except, of course …

      ‘Don’t bother. I’ve already heard all the “Juliette working at Romeo’s” jokes that I can stand,’ she said brusquely. ‘Believe me, with a name like mine, I wouldn’t have even considered working here if it weren’t for—’ She broke off abruptly.

      This man was one of the executives, after all. And this job might not be what she really wanted to do, but it was better than being unemployed at Christmas.

      ‘If it weren’t for …?’ the man prompted interestedly.

      ‘Nothing,’ Juliette said with bright dismissiveness. ‘And you are …?’ It would be nice to put a name to the person she was marooned in this lift with.

      ‘Rob,’ he supplied economically. ‘Don’t you like working at Romeo’s?’

      ‘Not when I’m stuck in one of their lifts, no,’ she came back evasively.

      But it paid the rent, and it also meant that she didn’t have to crawl home and admit to her stepmother and stepsister, not to mention her stepsister’s boyfriend—the fourth and most recent disaster in Juliette’s love-life, David having preferred her stepsister to her!—that her life in London wasn’t the success she had assured them it would be.

      She shook her head just at the thought of having to do that. ‘Do you think that anyone heard—?’

      ‘Hello? Hello,

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