to come to my place to drink it. And you’ll have to do a bit of work.’
‘Jeez, I’ve decorated your apartment, I’ve bought your Christmas gifts and I’ve organised your Christmas party,’ she complained good-naturedly. ‘What else do you want me to do?’
‘You’ll see,’ James said cryptically. ‘You haven’t bought Morgan and Noah’s wedding present yet; is that why you’re hanging onto my credit card?’
She looked at him from under those long, long lashes. ‘Mmm. I suppose I should tell you that I used it at a number of Madison Avenue stores today. Thanks for my new winter wardrobe, by the way.’
James shook his head and grinned. ‘Liar.’
Riley sucked in her cheeks to keep herself from smiling. ‘How can you tell?’
James placed his hand on the back of her neck. ‘Firstly, you can’t lie worth a damn. Secondly, you’re not the type to allow any man to buy your clothes and thirdly, you would consider using my card for your benefit stealing. And you’re the most honest person I know. And lastly …’
‘What?’
James laughed down at her. ‘No banking alerts.’
Riley shrugged and gave him a shoulder bump as they crossed the street. ‘So, did you look at those portfolios I gave you?’
He pretended not to know what she was talking about because he hadn’t looked at anything to do with the possible candidates to replace her. He had no intention of ever looking at anyone to replace her. ‘What portfolios?’
‘Dammit, Moreau. You told me to look for someone to replace me; I found six people, all of whom would do a stupendous job as window designer.’
‘Is your portfolio in there?’
‘James …’ Riley said in warning.
‘Then not interested.’ He dropped a kiss on her nose and sent her a grin. ‘Stop fighting with me; you’re going to spoil your surprise.’
‘You are the most annoying human being alive,’ Riley muttered.
James shrugged, knowing that she wouldn’t feel like that for long.
‘A CHRISTMAS TREE? You bought me a Christmas tree?’
‘The American tradition is to decorate it on Christmas Eve but I thought that it would be fun to have one up for the Christmas party, and it’s your favourite thing to do at Christmastime.’
‘That and singing carols.’
‘Which you are amazingly bad at.’
Riley pulled a tongue at him and then her eyes went back to the massive bare fir tree that stood in the corner of James’s apartment, dropping slivers of green onto his expensive floor. As soon as James took her coat she walked over to the tree and touched its branches.
‘As a little girl, your favourite part of Christmas was doing this—decorating the tree. I remember that you’d start sketching designs in mid-November and by the first of December you’d have the one in your house decorated and you’d start nagging us to get ours done.’ James shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels. ‘When we finally gave in to you, you became a bossyboots, ordering us about and dictating where to place the ornaments and how to place them.’
Riley grinned. ‘I did. I love putting up the tree.’
James gestured to it. ‘It’s all yours; decorate away. Ornaments are in the boxes.’
Riley sank to her haunches and reached for the nearest box and opened the lid. Inside were exquisite hand-blown glass ornaments, crystal angels and perfectly wrapped miniature boxes. ‘James, these are beautiful. Where did you get them?’
He shrugged. ‘Sorry, no idea. I wish I’d had the time to track them down myself but, you know, mining company to run. I called Mum’s personal shopper and told her that I wanted the nicest, artiest, most unusual ornaments she could find.’
‘The bill is going to be enormous,’ Riley warned him, cradling a golden glass ball with a jewelled angel on it. ‘They’re exquisite.’
‘And they’re yours, by the way. For the tree now, for all your Christmas trees in the future. Your early Christmas present.’
Riley stared at him, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. What an utterly perfect gift, she thought. The tree, the ornaments, the fact that he knew her so incredibly well. How was she ever going to get on that plane just over a week from now—how would she do that? And how could he let her go when there was so much emotion shimmering between them, so much fun to be had?
James, say something to make me think that you believe in me, believe in us, she silently begged him. Something that will wipe away the confusion and tell me that there is more to the James and Riley story than massive attraction and a blossoming friendship.
James just rubbed the back of his neck and softly shook his head. ‘I’ll get you that wine.’
Riley blinked back tears as she started to unpack the boxes filled with the fragile, exquisite works of art. Decorating this tree would take the longest time, she decided, because she couldn’t help inspecting each ornament, marvelling at the craftsmanship, the artistry.
‘What about some Christmas carols later?’ James asked, putting her glass of wine on the floor next to her knee. He ran his hand over her hair. ‘I don’t have any Christmas songs on my iPod but I thought that, after supper, maybe I could play a couple on my guitar and test how rusty I actually am.’
Riley grinned at him, delighted. ‘I haven’t heard you play for … jeez … ten, twelve years! That would be amazing. And I could sing …’
‘Uh … no; you sing as well as I skate. I’ll sing, you decorate the tree. Deal?’
Riley over-exaggerated her pout. ‘Can I hum?’
‘No. Eat, drink, decorate. That’s it.’
‘Huh.’
‘THANKS FOR COMING with me today,’ Riley told James as they stood in the small meeting room of the community centre, a plastic cup of warm punch in her hand. It was the community centre’s modest Christmas party and her art students had begged her to come. James, dressed in jeans and a leather bomber jacket, had tagged along. He was looking around curiously and ignoring the appreciative looks of her female students. It didn’t matter that they weren’t out of school yet—James was hot and he was worth a second look.
And a third, and a fourth.
‘Tell me again what you do here.’ James took a sip of his punch, swallowed manfully and managed not to look horrified. It wasn’t twelve-year-old whisky or Bon Chance wine but James didn’t let that bother him. It seemed that he was only a coffee snob.
‘I teach art to the kids. Mostly at risk teenagers.’
‘Okay. How and why and when did this come about?’
Riley
