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Anger settled between his brows. ‘I want to just enjoy today. Enjoy your company. Like we used to.’
And he didn’t want it to stop, which was not what she’d expected when she got out of the taxi sixty floors below. She thought he’d have just shrugged and wished her well and found someone else to start an annual Christmas tradition with.
‘Well, things have changed now,’ she urged. ‘Like it or not.’
Something flickered in his eyes, his face grew unnaturally intent. And she grew inexplicably nervous.
‘So,’ he started, ‘if we’re not friends what are we?’
She choked slightly on her wine. ‘Sorry?’
‘I accept that we’re not friends. But I wonder, then, what that means we are.’
She just stared.
‘Because there were two things that defined our relationship for me…’ He used the word “defined” as though it meant “constrained”. ‘One was that you were the wife of a friend. Now—tragically—no longer the case. And the other was that we were friends. Apparently also now no longer the case. So, tell me, Audrey—’
He leaned forward and swilled the liquid in his glass and his eyes locked on hard to hers.
‘—where exactly does that leave us?’
Dear Reader,
Have you ever heard the saying, ‘why let the truth get in the way of a perfectly good story’? A friend told me how she catches up, once a year, with a longstanding (male) friend in a gorgeous restaurant high above a beautiful Asian city. They spend a full, lazy day catching up and sharing stories and squeezing a year’s worth of friendship into that one day of the year and then they fly back to their respective countries. And it’s entirely, completely, unquestionably wholesome.
So of course I had to go and ruin it.
The simple premise grabbed me and filled me to overflowing with those ‘what ifs’ that authors love. What if it wasn’t completely wholesome? What if one of them was secretly attracted to the other one but never, ever planned to act on it? What if they did this for years and then one year something changed…?
And I realized that this story was really about the biggest ‘what if’ of all…one that we can all relate to. What if you’d turned right instead of left that day, or taken the bus instead of walking, or been brave enough to give your phone number to one man instead of his friend? What if you’d just grabbed opportunity by the shirt-collar the first time around? Where would you be today?
This is a story about the patience of Love, the beauty of Friendship and the magic of Christmas.
If you’re reading it at Christmas, please accept my best wishes to you and your family for a wonderful and safe holiday season.
May love always find you,
*Nikki*
www.nikkilogan.com.au – A Romance with Nature
His Until
Midnight
Nikki Logan
NIKKI LOGAN lives next to a string of protected wetlands in Western Australia, with her long-suffering partner and a menagerie of furred, feathered and scaly mates. She studied film and theatre at university, and worked for years in advertising and film distribution before finally settling down in the wildlife industry. Her romance with nature goes way back, and she considers her life charmed, given she works with wildlife by day and writes fiction by night—the perfect way to combine her two loves. Nikki believes that the passion and risk of falling in love are perfectly mirrored in the danger and beauty of wild places. Every romance she writes contains an element of nature, and if readers catch a waft of rich earth or the spray of wild ocean between the pages she knows her job is done.
This and other titles by Nikki Logan are available in eBook format—check out www.millsandboon.co.uk
For Alex and Trev who let me turn their entirely
platonic annual tradition into something much more
dramatic. Thank you for the inspiration.
Contents
ONE
December 20th, four years ago
Qīngtíng Restaurant, Hong Kong
Audrey Devaney flopped against the back of the curved sofa and studied the pretty, oriental-style cards in her hands. Not the best hand in the world but when you were playing for M&M’s and you tended to eat your stake as fast as it accumulated it was hard to take poker too seriously.
Though it was fun to pretend she knew what she was doing. Like some Vegas hotshot. And it wasn’t too hard to imagine that the extraordinary view of Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbour stretching out behind Oliver Harmer was really out of the window of some casino high-roller’s room instead of a darkened, atmospheric restaurant festooned with pretty lanterns and baubles in rich, oriental colours.
Across from her, Oliver’s five o’clock shadow was designer perfect and an ever-present, unlit cigar
