‘I didn’t mind staying on to lock up when the others left.’
His brows shot up. ‘It’s Christmas Eve. Has everyone else gone out on the town and left you here on your own?’
‘I didn’t want to go out tonight.’
He thumbed his stubble, feeling the inclination to prolong the encounter. ‘London still too much for you?’
He felt bad when she blushed. ‘Relax, Lucy. You don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.’ He shrugged as he smiled. ‘And I’m sorry if I startled you when I came in.’
‘I’ll get over it.’
He felt more than a beat of interest when she smiled.
He’d liked this girl from the first moment she walked into the club. Lucy had no airs and graces. The customers loved her because she was open and helpful, friendly and funny. She was a real asset to the club.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked him softly. ‘It’s none of my business,’ she added with a shrug, her cheeks glowing a brighter shade of red.
He loved the way she pressed her lips together, as if to prevent any more words spilling out, but he didn’t explain himself to anyone.
‘I’d better get going,’ she said when he remained silent.
‘Not yet, Lucy.’
Her worried eyes flashed to his face. ‘Sorry. I should have asked. Can I get you a drink or something?’
‘You’re off-duty, so why don’t I get you a drink?’ he suggested. ‘You’ve been working all night.’ Moving behind the bar, he reached inside the fridge for a bottle of champagne.
‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed when he brought it out.
He smiled to himself, trying to imagine any other woman refusing. ‘Won’t you share a Christmas toast with me, Lucy?’
Arranging the scarf around her neck, she shook her head. ‘I really should be getting home.’
Natural empathy was warring with her caution, he guessed. Unscrupulous to the last, he worked on her empathy. ‘Humour me. I’ve had a bad night.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry…’
‘Don’t be. I’ve had a lucky escape.’
‘If you need to talk about it…’
He laughed. He couldn’t lead her on. Lucy was fast proving herself to be unique. A woman who cared more about him than herself? ‘Are you a good listener, Lucy?’
‘Some people say I am.’
He removed the wire netting from the foil covering the cork, and started to ease it with his thumb. ‘I have – I had,’ he corrected himself with a wry look, ‘a rather grand girlfriend.’
‘Someone royal?’ she guessed.
‘I couldn’t possibly say,’ he admitted, but it amused him to think that Lucy had instantly put him in the type of high society he had no time for.
‘You’ve broken up with her?’ she pressed.
Was there more than interest in her voice? ‘I don’t do grand, Lucy.’
‘Me neither!’ she exclaimed, but this was swiftly followed by the lip-pressing routine. ‘Sorry—I didn’t mean to interrupt you.’
‘That’s okay. Come on—sit down.’ He angled his chin toward the nearest bar stool, and noticed Lucy’s gaze skimming the mistletoe overhead. The designers had really gone to town. ‘If you’re allergic to mistletoe we can sit over there.’ He indicated one of the booths, and then realised she’d hate that. Booths were far too intimate.
Gathering her jacket around her like a protective cloak, she confirmed this. ‘I’m fine standing.’
‘Sit,’ he insisted. ‘You must be tired.’
‘A little,’ she admitted. ‘And, okay, just one glass,’ she agreed when he glanced at her for her agreement as he began to pour.
‘You don’t get the champagne until you sit down, Lucy.’
She laughed and relaxed a little, and came to perch on a stool.
As he pushed the crystal flute across the bar toward her, she rested her chin on her hand and turned her face up to his. Did she realise how tempting she looked?
‘So, you had a bad night,’ she prompted.
‘I planned for a Christmas without complications,’ he admitted, ‘but my on-off girlfriend had other ideas, and made the mistake of trying to prise a proposal of out of me.’ Along with a whole host of financial favours for her high-living, feckless parents, he remembered.
‘So you’re a confirmed bachelor,’ Lucy supplied.
‘You guessed it,’ he said, playing along. But she was right in that he liked being able to pick and choose when he socialised and when he was alone. He was a focused man. Polo was his life. He occasionally envied his friends with their wives and children, but falling in love wasn’t for him. He wasn’t ready. He doubted he ever would be. He liked his life exactly as it was.
‘So if you could have one thing for Christmas what would it be?’
He stared at Lucy, surprised at her openness, but then again, not. ‘I’m supposed to be asking the questions here, Lucy. I’m the boss.’
‘Ah, but as you reminded me, I’m off-duty,’ she said, ‘so we’re just friends having a chat.’
‘Are we now?’
Friends? No woman had ever called him that before. He had enjoyed arrangements in the past that suited him, sharing pleasures that were freely offered.
‘If I could have one thing for Christmas…’ Lucy said, distracting him.
‘What would that be?’ His interest surprised him.
‘I’d want something simple, something meaningful…’
A woman who cared nothing for wealth and fame? She was certainly unique. But if everyone was like Lucy he’d have to stop giving lavish presents and he loved giving lavish presents. He laughed. ‘So you’d rather have a bag of penny sweets I’d picked out myself than all the expensive gifts in the world, if someone else chose them for me to give to you?’
‘Too right I would,’ she agreed. ‘But I do love this champagne,’ she said, grinning at him over the rim of the glass. ‘And I’m guessing this isn’t cheap.’
‘You’re right.’
‘It’s delicious.’
And so was she.
‘I’m sorry to hear
