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SOPHIE PEMBROKE
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
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HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014
Copyright © Sophie Pembroke 2014
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Sophie Pembroke asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
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written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © November 2014
ISBN: 9780008123154
Version 2014-12-09
Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
For my magical mum on her 60th birthday this December 25th. Wishing you many more happy years of mince pies, fortune telling fish and Christmas miracles.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Also by Sophie Pembroke…
Sophie Pembroke
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
CHRISTMAS EVE EVE
Molly Mackenzie couldn’t help but think that free Prosecco in the office, while awesome in theory, might just end badly. She’d only been at the company for six months, and the bosses had already found reasons to celebrate at least once a fortnight on average. But usually they went down to the local pub, where the only electronics that stood to get damaged by spillages was the karaoke machine.
Molly knew she was still getting used to the idea of nine to five office work, but she hadn’t honestly expected it to involve more alcohol than working in a hotel with two fully stocked bars.
“It’s Christmas Eve Eve!” Jenna announced, sloshing bubbles over the side of her plastic cup as she hopped up to sit on Molly’s desk. She leant back against the cubicle wall, and it groaned ominously.
“I’m not sure that Christmas Eve Eve is really a thing.” Molly grabbed hold of the flimsy partition to try and keep it upright.
“Of course it is!” Jenna straightened up with indignation, and the cubicle wall creaked back into its usual position. “It’s the eve of Christmas Eve, and well worthy of celebration. Hence the Prosecco.”
Who could argue with that kind of logic? Grinning, Molly lifted her own plastic glass to tap against Jenna’s, sending another waterfall of bubbly over the edges of the overfilled cups. It might be miles away from her dad’s traditional mulled wine, but it was tasty. Molly licked her fingers. No point wasting good Prosecco.
“Ooh, I think you’re giving Bobby from accounts ideas,” Jenna said, eyes wide.
Molly lowered her hand from her mouth. Quickly. “No time for ideas,” she said, checking her watch.
“Are you sure?” Jenna asked, doubtfully. “He’s pretty cute, you know.”
Molly glanced over as casually as she could in the direction of the accounts team. They’d set up some sort of Prosecco fountain with a tower of plastic cups. Not exactly the Great Gatsby champagne saucer tower, especially since the glasses seemed to be held together with zebra print paperclips. Any interest the pretty cute Bobby had displayed had disappeared in the face of experiments with alcohol, and the chances were Jenna had been making it up anyway. Another thing Molly had learned over the last few months; if there was an office drama to be drummed up, Jenna would usually be behind it.
“I’m sure,” Molly said. “Besides, even if I was interested, my train leaves in an hour. I need to head out soon.” Especially given the light snow that had started falling half an hour ago. Her mum had been texting her weather updates all day. The last thing she needed, two days before Christmas, was to get stuck in the snow on a train somewhere. Almost home, but not quite.
She would miss her dad’s mulled wine and mum’s mince pies, for one thing.
Last Christmas, she’d been living at home, but a training course in Manchester had meant she only got home on Christmas Eve – the same day her brother Tim had arrived from Edinburgh. Their sister Dory had flown in from New York with her surprise new boyfriend on Christmas Day.
This year, Mum seemed very keen to have them all home and safe before the twenty-fourth, to avoid any last minute surprises. Especially since it was the first time in seven years that Molly wouldn’t be working either Christmas Day or New Year’s Eve at the Liverpool hotel that had taken her on part-time at sixteen.
Tim was easy; he’d moved back in with their parents when his contract ended in Edinburgh that summer – conveniently two short weeks after Molly moved to London. And Dory and Lucas’s flight should be landing any time now.
It was going to be the perfect family Christmas.
Jenna groaned. “God, how long are you going to be gone again?”
“Until the second of January.” Just like Molly had told her eighty-four times already.
Jenna’s despair grew more dramatic, her drink tilting dangerously close to Molly’s computer. “That’s forever! You’re going to miss everything fun about living in London over the holidays. My New Year’s Eve party most of all! It’s the only place to be in London on December 31st.”
Molly wasn’t entirely convinced Jenna’s party actually rivalled Trafalgar Square or fireworks on the South Bank, but she let her friend keep her illusions. “Sorry.” She gave her an apologetic smile because it was easier than explaining that, actually, there was no place she’d rather be this Christmas than home with her family. Well, her family and Jake.
“You know I’d love to be there,” she went on, “but I’ve got family stuff to do. My sister and her boyfriend will be over from the States, so my parents are planning another big party for New Year’s Eve, since last year’s was such a success.”
Well, for most people anyway. For Molly it had managed to be simultaneously one of the best – and then worst – parties ever. All thanks to Jake Sommers.
Jenna leant in closer, her eyebrows knitting with suspicion. “Your family. That’s the whole and only reason you’re going home for ten long days.”
“Nine and a bit, really.” Just enough time to soak up all the family-ness, that feeling of home, before she came back to London.
“You’re avoiding the question.” Jenna straightened up, her eyes wide, and waved her Prosecco at Molly accusingly. “It’s not your family at all, is it? You’ve got a guy waiting at home for you! It all makes sense now.”
“Jenna, you know I’m single. Unless you count Bing Crosby singing White Christmas on the stereo, the only guys waiting at home for me are my dad and my brother.” Although, she couldn’t deny the rather expensive, definitely lacy and barely there lingerie she’d stuffed into the top of her case that morning, in a last minute fit of optimism.
Jenna kept staring, and Molly felt the lie start to strain and then break inside her. “Well, and Jake, I suppose. But he’s practically family.” Except for how last Christmas, Molly had suddenly looked at Jake in a totally different way to how she looked at Tim, her actual brother.
“A secret family member you’ve never ever mentioned before, even though I’ve heard everything about your brother and sister and your great-aunt Mabel!” Was it the Prosecco or the indignation making Jenna’s voice rise in volume with every word?
“People are staring,” Molly muttered, trying not to catch the eye of any members of their audience. How weird was it that Jenna could be her closest friend in London, and not know about Jake? Lara, her actual best friend, had known him almost as long as Molly had. And had been the first person she’d called on New Year’s Day to tell her everything.
“Then you better start telling me all about Jake, hadn’t you? Before I start asking more questions.” Jenna shouted the last part for extra effect.
Molly downed her Prosecco. “Okay. Fine. Jake is Tim’s best friend – has been since they were, like, five – before I was even born. His parents died when he and Tim were eighteen, just before they left for uni, so Mum and Dad invited him to ours for Christmas that year. He doesn’t have any other family, really, so we’ve just sort of adopted him into ours, ever since.” She shrugged. “He’s part of home for me. No big deal.”
Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “That’s it. He’s like a brother to you. And there’s never been even a hint of anything more between you?”
How did Jenna always manage to zero in on the things Molly didn’t want to admit to? Like the slight lie on her CV about her fluency in French, or the fact that she accidentally kissed Stefan from marketing after one too many tequila shots at the karaoke bar six weeks ago?
“I knew it!” Jenna declared triumphantly. “You’re blushing. Tell all, immediately.”
Dammit! Fair skin and a huge capacity for embarrassment just wasn’t a fair combination.
“Fine.” Molly dumped her empty glass on a passing tray, carried by one of the senior account managers, and snagged another full one. “So we might have kissed. Just a little bit. Last New Year’s Eve.”
Understatement of the year.
“And this New Year’s Eve…?” Jenna leered at her, just a little bit.
Molly shrugged. “Probably nothing. I haven’t seen him since, and we’ve never talked about it. We were both pretty drunk. He might not even remember.”
Even if Molly was never going to forget. How could she? The slide of his hands up her arms, then down to her waist. The heat of his mouth on hers. The strength of his chest, pressing up against her. The wall at her back the only thing holding her up.
No. If Jake had forgotten all of that he wasn’t human. Or – and the thought sent a cold shiver running through her – it hadn’t been as incredible for him.
“I think you’re giving up too easily,” Jenna said, leaning back on her hands, her Prosecco finished and thoughts of another drink long since abandoned for the obviously more interesting pastime of tormenting Molly. “I think you should go after him.”
Molly shook her head, trying to forget about the ridiculous lingerie in her bag. “It’s a bad idea.” Even if her subconscious obviously thought it was a good one. And, she had to admit, it hadn’t seemed bad, in the early hours of January first, with tequila still coursing through her veins and the heady lust of possibility making it impossible to think straight.
“Why?” Jenna’s eyes widened. “Was it that bad?”
“No,” Molly groaned. “It was that good.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
The problem, of course, was what had happened next. The door had opened and Jake had wrenched himself away before anyone saw them. By the time Molly had managed to open her eyes properly, he was gone, and her brother was staring at her with suspicion.
Jake had avoided her the rest of the night.
“He’s not interested,” Molly said, wishing her friend wouldn’t push the point – but knowing she probably would.
“He kissed you. That’s a pretty good indicator of interest.”
“Apparently not.” She’d believed it could be, for the first couple of days, and had even made a stupid resolution – to get Jake into bed by the end of the year. But then he’d failed to reply to her most casual, long time friend texts, and hadn’t even shown up to her ‘Molly’s Moving to London!’ party.
She might not always be that great at subtle, but even Molly could take a hint that heavy.
Jenna frowned, and reached out to steal Molly’s cup for a sip of Prosecco. “This is actually a thing, isn’t it? I mean, I was just teasing, but you actually have a thing for this guy, don’t you?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Molly grabbed her drink back.
“Liar. I bet you’ve been lusting after him since puberty.”
Except she really, really hadn’t. It was just this last year that she seemed to have gone crazy – the first year in forever when she hadn’t seen Jake with any kind of regularity. Maybe this was just absence making the heart grow… lustful.
“No.” Molly spoke firmly, then winced. “Just the last twelve months.”
“Aha!” Jenna pointed a slightly wobbly finger at her, and Molly buried her head in her arms on the desk. One kiss, and she’d lost her mind over a man who’d only ever been a friend.
“I know, I know, I’m pathetic.” The words came out rather muffled, thanks to the fluffy cardigan she’d thrown over her work dress that day.
“Not pathetic.” Jenna tugged on her hair to make her look up. “You just need a plan to get what you want.”
“You think?” Was that hope in her voice? God, she really was pathetic. How clear did the guy need to make it that he wasn’t interested before she moved on?
And no, kissing Stefan at karaoke really didn’t count as moving on. Not least because it hadn’t caused even one per cent of the tingles her hurried encounter with Jake had.
“So, he’s going to be there all Christmas, right?” Jenna asked.
Molly nodded. “Normally he just arrives on Christmas Eve and leaves on Boxing Day – he doesn’t live that far away, and his office is in the city. But with Tim moving away to Switzerland for his new job in January, I think mum said she’d talked Jake into staying with us until New Year’s Day.”
“Perfect! That gives you nine and a bit days to win him over.” Jenna smiled in a way that Molly had already come to mistrust. “In fact, I’m going to set you a holiday challenge. Your mission, and you have no choice but to accept it, is to seduce that man! And then come back and tell me all about it, obvs.”
“What, are you going to double dog dare me?” Molly asked, forcing a laugh. She wasn’t serious, right?
“If I have to!” Jenna leant closer, as if about to impart some vital, probably inebriated, wisdom. “Look. You’ve been a single girl in London for more than six months now, yeah? And you’ve barely shown a hint of interest in anyone - apart from that blip with Stefan at the karaoke. Which means that being hung up on this Jake guy is affecting your chances of meeting a great guy and having some incredible sex. Right?”
Molly blinked. “You think that if I sleep with Jake over Christmas it will enable me to have more sex with other men down here in London next year?”
“Exactly!” Jenna patted her on the head like a proud teacher.
“There’s a flaw in this plan somewhere.” Except, she was a grown up now, right? Twenty-three, single, living it up in London. She had a proper job in a real office – not just working the same reception desk at the same hotel she’d been a chambermaid at when she was sixteen. She could totally do one-night stands and meaningless flings, right? Especially since she no longer lived with her parents.
So why hadn’t she? Could it be because of one stupid kiss with Jake? Maybe she did need to get him out of her system.
“Don’t be pessimistic!” Stealing Molly’s cup of Prosecco, Jenna hopped off the desk. “Come on, you’re going to miss your train. Go forth and seduce that man!”
Laughing, Molly stood, pushed her chair under her desk, double checked her out of office autoreply was on and shut down her computer.
“And I want a full debrief the moment you get back,” Jenna added, pulling up the handle of Molly’s case and handing it to her. “So don’t get too attached – you’ve got a life here now, remember?”
“If there’s anything to report, I promise you’ll hear it.” It was a fairly safe promise, Molly decided. After all, the chances of her managing to get Jake alone long enough in her parents’ four-bed terrace in the suburbs, with Dory and Lucas and Tim all home too, were phenomenally slim.
“Merry Christmas everyone!” Molly called out, as she headed for the front door. “See you in the New Year.”
When, no doubt, everything would be exactly the same as it was now. Unless she did something to change that.
Chapter 2
Molly couldn’t forget Jenna’s dare as she lugged her suitcase down the escalator towards the Northern Line, shaking the snow from her hair as she went. Even amongst the crowd of Christmas Eve Eve travellers, with the scarf that had been essential outside in the winter chill now making her overheated neck itch, she couldn’t help but remember that kiss, one more time.
Come to think of it, the memory probably wasn’t helping the overheating any more than the overcrowded tube was. She had to put Jake Sommers completely out of her head, and focus on her journey home.
She stood all the way to Euston, crammed up against the door and clutching the handle of her suitcase for dear life, then struggled up the escalator into the overground station. Dragging her case behind her, she wove through the holiday season crush, past at least ten people in Santa hats and avoiding a group of guys in suits warbling Silent Night, all the way to platform five.
The queue to get onto the train stretched right back to the main concourse, and Molly mentally thanked her mother for insisting she book ahead to make sure she got a seat. Sure, she thought as she handed her ticket to the inspector, there would probably be someone sitting in it by the time she got there, but hopefully the festive spirit would prevail and they’d give it up once she waved her ticket in their face.
The only problem was, once she was settled into her window seat, with the businessman beside her tapping away on his laptop, there wasn’t much to do but watch the snowflakes drifting down outside and think about Jake.
Not just Jake, though. That line in her diary, the one she always started keeping daily on the first of January and slipped to monthly updates around mid February. The last line under the heading Goals For The Year.
The first two goals she’d actually knocked off by the summer. New job? Check. Move to London? Check.
But goal number three, which should have been the easiest of them all if that December 31st kiss had been anything to go by, had remained elusive.
Sleep with Jake Sommers.
A little hard to achieve when she hadn’t actually been in the same room as him all year, and not even in the same city most of the time.
Why had she even added that to the list anyway? Without it, she was two for two on the real, important things she wanted to achieve that year. Getting away from Liverpool and starting her own, grown up life in London had been a goal for so long that she’d started to doubt she’d ever make it. But she had. On her own terms, without any help from anyone.
Sure, maybe her tiny shared flat wasn’t a New York penthouse with weekends on a charmingly rustic farm with a fabulously gorgeous rich American, like Dory had somehow landed, but it was hers and she’d made it there herself. And that counted for a hell of a lot, especially to Molly.
But still, the last goal at the front of her journal nagged at her. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t set it; that wasn’t how things worked. Every New Year’s Eve when they were kids, Molly, Dory and Tim had huddled together in the girls’ room to make their resolutions. Sometimes they were joke ones – like the year Tim resolved to convince their mum to believe in aliens. Sometimes they were things that mattered, like exams and friendships. And sometimes they’d forced them on each other, like the year she and Dory ganged up to make Tim give up smoking when he was fifteen.
They’d stopped some years ago, and Molly wasn’t even really sure why. Probably it had something to do with them all being in different places for New Year – different friends, different jobs, different parties, even different cities. But Molly always set her goals for the year – even though her track record for meeting them wasn’t great. This year was the first year she stood a chance at a clean sweep. But not with the memory of Jake Sommers’s kiss and the unfulfilled resolution hanging over her head.
Outside the window, the snow that had been light and magical in London was growing heavier and more threatening. Beside her, Mr Businessman stopped clicking keys long enough to look up and say, “Well, it looks like getting a taxi will be fun tonight.”
Molly wasn’t worried about taxis. Her dad drove one of those, for heaven’s sake. But if he was out on a job and the trains stopped running then she might be in trouble. Well, not trouble, exactly. Dad would drive into the city to pick her up from Lime Street station if the local line shut down, but it wouldn’t be fun for either of them. Liverpool city centre two days before Christmas was not a place anyone wanted to drive around if they didn’t have to. Especially since she knew her dad had taken Christmas week off to spend with the family.
“I’m practically retired now, Moll,” he’d said, last time she called. “What’s the point of getting to my age if you can’t sit back and enjoy it, eh?”
Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t do a few jobs, when it suited him, Molly knew. Especially on the days when it was to his benefit to be out from under her mother’s feet.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to report that due to the inclement weather, there will be no local or national trains departing from our final stop, Liverpool Lime Street. There will be staff on hand to advise you on local hotels and taxi firms, and we hope to have all services running again tomorrow morning.” The crackly announcement sent waves of muttering through the carriage.
“Damn it,” Molly murmured, reaching for her phone. She’d known she should have booked an earlier train, but Jenna had been adamant that she couldn’t miss the work drinks that evening.
She tried the home phone first, but there was no reply. Firing off a text to her mum, she called Tim next.