About the Author

NINA MILNE has loved Mills & Boon, since as a child she discovered stacks of M&B books ‘hidden’ in the airing cupboard so is thrilled to now write for them. Nina spent her childhood in England, US and France. Since then she has acquired an English degree, one hero-husband, three gorgeous children and a house in Brighton where she plans to stay. After all she can now transport herself via her characters to anywhere in the world whilst sitting in pyjamas in her study. Bliss!

Christmas Kisses with Her Boss

Nina Milne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-00273-8

CHRISTMAS KISSES WITH HER BOSS

© 2015 Nina Milne

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

This one is for my dad,

because I always remember him at Christmas

and always lift a glass to his memory.

CHAPTER ONE

LOITER. SKULK. PANIC. Who knew it was possible to do all three at once? Ruby Hampton shoved her hands into the pockets of the overlong padded coat, worn for the purpose of disguise as well as to keep the bite of the December wind out.

This was nuts. All she had to do was cross the bustling London street and enter the impressive skyscraper that housed Caversham Holiday Adventures HQ. Easy, right? Clearly not, because her feet remained adhered to the pavement.

On the plus side, at least there didn’t seem to be any reporters around. Unless they were camouflaged as one of the Christmas vendors touting anything from chestnuts to reindeer-daubed jumpers. Not that she’d studied them too closely as she’d walked through Knightsbridge, head down, in desperate hope that her furry hood and sunglasses would save her from recognition and the mortification of a public lynching.

But so far so good, and maybe the fact there were no paps in hot pursuit meant they had finally got the message and realised that not a single comment would fall from her zipped lips, effectively sewn shut by Hugh’s threats.

His American drawl still echoed in her ears.

‘One wrong word and my publicity machine will chew you up, spit you out and leave your remains for my lawyers to kick.’

So the paps were better off camping on Hugh’s doorstep, where comments flowed in a stream of lies from his glamorous Hollywood lips. No change there. Mind you, she couldn’t even blame his legions of fans for their implicit belief in him. After all, she had fallen hook, line and sinker for every honeyed word he’d conned her with. And now…

Now the headlines screamed across her brain.

Ruby Hampton—exposed as two-timing gold-digger!

Hugh Farlane: Hollywood megastar. Heartbroken!

Christmas Engagement Extravaganza off!

Ruby Hampton vilified by Farlane’s adoring public!

‘Vilified’ was an understatement—Hugh’s besotted fans were baying for her blood. No one believed in her innocence—instead they believed she had broken Hugh’s heart whilst in hot pursuit of filthy lucre. The idea made her toes curl in abhorrence—she’d vowed in childhood never to exist on someone else’s handouts and it was a promise she’d faithfully kept. Her parents had produced child after child to reap state benefits to fuel their addictions—had cadged and lied and cheated. No way could she do that.

For a moment shades of the past threatened. Tom… Edie… Philippa… Siblings she’d never see again.

Whoa, Ruby.

The past was over. Done with.

Right now she needed to haul ass and get herself to this job interview—it was time to do what she did best: pick up the pieces and move on. Put Hugh Ratbag Farlane and the past firmly behind her.

Ah…

Therein lay a cracker of a problem—an explanation for her skulk, loiter and panic manoeuvre in blustery December on a London kerbside.

A piece of her past awaited her inside Caversham HQ—a veritable blast from the past was about to interview her.

Ethan Caversham.

The syllables unleashed another onslaught of nerves. The last man she’d ever expected to lay eyes on ever again. The last man she’d wanted to lay eyes on ever again.

Get a grip, Ruby—Ethan was so far in her past he was history. She was no longer that wide-eyed teenager with a ginormous crush. Ginormous and short-lived. She still cringed at the memory of that crush exploding into smithereens, bombed by Ethan’s words.

‘Stop following me around. I don’t want your gratitude. I don’t want your help. I don’t want you. So please just leave me alone.’

Clearly times had changed, because fast-forward ten years and Ethan had contacted her to offer her an interview. His email, via a business media site, had been short and to the point—no hint of whether he remembered her, not much clue as to what the job even entailed. But that didn’t matter. Right now she needed a job—any job.

She had been a fool to quit her previous job, but she had believed Hugh.

Frustration at her own idiocy clogged her throat—she’d free fallen for Hugh’s persuasive words—had let him mess with her head, believed he needed her by his side. As a result she had given up an incredible job. Idiot.

Work was her lifeline—her salvation, her security—and right now no one else would give her so much as an opportunity to ask the time of day. They didn’t want to be tainted by all the negative publicity, and she didn’t want to sit around and wait until the public furore died down. Not her style.

So… Time to walk the walk, talk the talk and nail this role.

Ethan Caversham meant nothing to her any more—he had walked out on their friendship and as far as Ruby was concerned he was simply a prospective employer with the potential to offer her a job that would enhance her CV.

It would do more than that—crystal-clear determination solidified in her gut. This job would provide her with money and security…the wherewithal to start the adoption process—to have a family. By herself.

Pulling her hands out of her pockets, she urged her feet into walk mode, crossed the street and entered the glass revolving door of the sleek glass-plated building. An elevator ride to the third floor allowed her just enough time to take off her coat and check that the severe professional chignon was still in place, the subtle make-up intact.

The doors slid open, and with a deep in-haul of breath Ruby entered the lobby of Caversham Holiday Adventures.

She braced herself as the receptionist looked up, and on cue there was the expected glare of condemnation. Clearly the svelte blonde woman was yet another of Hugh’s legion of fans.

No way would she cower—instead she smiled, and took courage from her carefully chosen outfit: a grey woollen jacket that nipped in at her waist over a tailored black jersey dress. Severe, smooth, professional.

‘I have an interview with Ethan Caversham.’

The receptionist nodded, tight-lipped. ‘I’ll let him know you’re here.’

‘Thank you.’

Adrenalin started to spike and Ruby focused on her surroundings. It was an old childhood trick that had always grounded her in tricky times—helped her concentrate on reality and the importance of the tasks ahead—how to convince social workers that all was well, how to angle a bottle of milk so that the baby didn’t cough it up, how to keep her siblings safe…

This backdrop was way different from the squalid environment of her youth—here there was marble flooring, lush green exotic plants, and a lustrous glass reception desk. Imposing photographs graced the walls. Glorious rugged mountains. The turquoise-blue of the sea. A surfer cresting the swell of a wave. The pictures exuded energy and exhilaration.

After a brief telephone conversation the receptionist rose to her considerable height. ‘I’ll take you to him,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’

Ruby followed her down a corridor and curiosity, panic and anticipation mingled in her tummy. Ethan Caversham. Ethan Caversham. Ethan Caversham. The syllables beat a tattoo in her brain that matched the click-clack of her heels on the parquet floor. Even as she tried to remind herself that he meant zilch to her now.

The receptionist pushed the door open. ‘Ethan. Your ten o’clock appointment is here.’

‘Thank you, Linda.’

One more censorious look and Linda withdrew, the door snapping shut behind her.

Heart pounding so hard it was a miracle her ribcage remained intact, Ruby stepped forward as a man rose from behind the curved cherrywood desk.

Oh.

Sure, she’d researched him. Sure, the internet had revealed that present-day Ethan Caversham was hot, rugged and handsome. Come to that, teenage Ethan had been no slouch in the looks department.

But now… Now she was adhered to the plush carpet, mouth agape, as she took in his chiselled features, thick brown hair, cool blue-grey eyes. Six foot plus, with a body that had been honed over the years into muscular perfection. The angry vibe of a decade ago had been muted into an edgy aura of toughness; this wasn’t a man you’d mess with.

Nerves that had already been writhing serpent-like in her tummy renewed their snaking.

Come on, Ruby. Don’t blow this.

Uprooting her feet, she moved towards the cherrywood desk and held her hand out. ‘Ruby Hampton.’

The feel of his fingers round hers brought back a blast of memory and an undefinable, ridiculous sense of safety, and for an insane second she wanted to hold on to his broad, capable hand. For a lingering second his eyes met hers and something glinted in their blue-grey depths.

‘Good to see you again,’ he said.

‘You too.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘You don’t sound convinced.’

‘I… I…’

Oh, for heaven’s sake. This was ridiculous. She’d known the past would come up and she’d planned to deal with it with brightness and breeze. Unfortunately the plan hadn’t allowed for the poleaxed effect on her of this version of Ethan. What was the matter with her? Instant attraction wasn’t something she believed in. Any more than she believed in instant coffee.

‘I wasn’t sure you knew who I was, given we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.’ The words escaped her lips with a lot more tartness than she’d intended—more ice-cold than bright and breezy.

‘No.’

There was a pause, but it soon became clear that Ethan wasn’t planning to vouchsafe any more. For a moment the urge to berate him—to force an apology for a decade-old insult, a hurt she hadn’t deserved—tempted her vocal cords.

Bad idea, Ruby.

The past needed to remain firmly anchored in the past. Plus, no way did she want Ethan to know he could still incite such a seething of emotional turmoil. Truth be told, she wasn’t that happy about it herself.

Forcing a cool smile to her lips, she nodded. ‘I guess the important thing is that we’ve both come a long way this past decade.’

He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. ‘That we have. Please—have a seat and let’s get started.’

Easier said than done.

Annoyance flicked in Ethan at his inexplicable reaction to Ruby Hampton.

Inexplicable? Get real.

Ruby was dynamite. Somewhere in the past decade she had morphed from street urchin to professional beauty—dark hair swept up in a chignon, flawless skin glowing translucent and cheekbones you could climb. The problem was his response was more than physical.

Physical attraction he could deal with—attractive women were ten a penny. But Ruby had awoken something else. Because he’d glimpsed a flash of quickly masked vulnerability in her sapphire eyes. The very same vulnerability that had been there all those years ago. An indefinable yet familiar emotion had banded his chest, and for an instant he could taste those youthful emotions—anger, confusion, panic.

Back then her eyes had held incipient hero-worship too. A look he’d loathed. He had known then, as he knew now, that he was no hero, and the idea of adoration had flayed his soul. Sudden guilt thumped his chest. Pointless guilt. Ten years ago he’d done what had been right for Ruby—ripped her fledgling crush out at the roots before it developed into more. Because then, as now, he had known he couldn’t offer more.

Enough, already.

That had been then—this was now. And right now all Ruby’s eyes held was a cool wariness as she waited for him to start the interview.

So… ‘How did you end up in the catering industry?’

‘After you and I…’ a small hesitation ‘…went our separate ways I started a waitressing job and enrolled on an adult education course. I worked every shift I could and studied the rest of the time.’ Sheer determination etched her features. ‘I wanted out of the hostel and out of the care system. I wanted to make my own way in the world and I wanted to do it as fast as possible.’

‘I get that.’

He totally understood the need to spend every second busy, busy, busy, until you fell into bed so exhausted that the past didn’t dig its talons into your dreams. He fully grasped the necessity of achieving success for your own salvation.

‘Once I got some qualifications the owner of the café I worked in offered me promotion to manager and I took it. From there I moved into hotel work, and…’

As she continued to outline her impressive career trail admiration touched him.

‘And your last job was front-of-house manager at Forsythe’s?’

Forsythe’s being one of London’s most prestigious restaurants. Graced by the rich and famous, it adjoined Forsythe’s Theatre, run by the Forsythe family for centuries.

‘Tell me about your experience there.’

‘I worked closely with the manager to give the restaurant a new touch. I introduced a Regency theme—spent hours trawling the internet, art shops and markets, finding some incredible items.’

All wariness clearly forgotten, she leant forward; her hands flying the air as she made a point, her classical features illuminated by enthusiasm as she described finding a genuine two-hundred-year-old sketch of the theatre.

‘I researched new menus…liaised with customers—’ She broke off and a shadow crossed her face as she sat back in her chair.

‘Like Hugh Farlane,’ Ethan stated.

‘Yes. And many others.’ Her tone was noncommittal, her dark blue eyes once again guarded. ‘I hope that my experience at Forsythe’s ties in with whatever role you have in mind for me?’

‘Yes, it does. Let me tell you more about the position.’

And then, if she was interested, he would return to the subject of Hugh Farlane.

‘So, how much do you know about Caversham Holiday Adventures?’

‘A holiday company with a twist, Caversham offers very high-end packages that incorporate extreme sports and hotels with a difference around the world. Your clients include billionaires, jetsetters and celebrities. Your latest project is a castle in Cornwall.’

‘Correct.’

For a second Ethan lingered on his vision for the castle and adrenalin buzzed through him. The brooding Cornish castle had captured his imagination, fired him with a desire to do something different—to mix his business life with his charity work.

‘Renovation there is nearly complete, and I’m ready to get the restaurant up and flying. I need a restaurant manager to work with me on the design, the menus and the staff, and to plan a grand New Year’s Eve opening. The hotel opens for normal business January fifteenth. I know that’s a tight deadline. Especially with Christmas. Can you do it?’

‘Yes.’ There was not a sliver of doubt in her tone. ‘But I’m not sure I understand why you don’t already have someone in place.’

‘I did. We didn’t see eye to eye and he quit.’ It had turned out that the guy hadn’t bought into Ethan’s vision for the castle. ‘I’ve been interviewing for a week or so and no dice. This is an important project and I need the right person. You could be it.’

Her eyes lit up and for the first time since she’d entered the room a small, genuine smile tugged her lips up and sucker-punched him straight in the chest.

‘That’s great.’ Then a small frown creased her brow. ‘I can do the job,’ she said with utter certainty, ‘but as I am sure you are aware I am currently not the public’s most favourite person. Social media and the tabloids are awash with vitriol aimed at me—if you hire me there may be a backlash.’

Although her voice was even there was a quickly veiled shadow in her eyes that jolted him. Her words were an understatement—the comments being aimed at Ruby were vicious, awash with menace, and in some cases downright obscene.

Ethan’s lips tightened in distaste even as his brain clouded with a black shadow. The knowledge of the tragic consequences that could ensue after such unconscionable bullying twisted his very soul.

Pushing the dark memories away, he focused on Ruby. ‘I realise that. It’s not a problem. I stand by my employees because I trust them. Which brings me to my next question.’

Her credentials were excellent. Now all he had to do was confirm his gut instinct and make sure he could believe in her.

‘Go ahead.’ Her body tensed in palpable anticipation.

‘Obviously I read the papers, and I’ve seen the accusations that you are a gold-digger who used your position at Forsythe’s to attract Hugh Farlane. At Caversham you would be on the front line, liaising with my clients, so I need to trust that you will be delivering customer service without an eye on their wallets. You haven’t denied any of the allegations in the press. Could you clarify the situation for me?’

He leant back and waited for her to do just that.

Instead the smile plummeted from her lips with maximum velocity. Her hands twisted together so tightly that her knuckles clicked in protest, the sound breaking the depth of silence.

Then, ‘No comment.’

CHAPTER TWO

RUBY BRACED HERSELF as his brown eyebrows rose. ‘You’re sure you don’t want to expand on that?’

What was she supposed to do? Frustration danced in her tummy even as her brain scrambled for a way to salvage the situation. She knew she was innocent, but logic indicated that she could hardly expect Ethan to give her the benefit of the doubt without some semblance of an explanation.

But there was no way she could risk discussing Hugh Farlane—she knew the power he wielded. All it would take was for Ethan to go to the papers with her ‘story’ and whoomph—her life would go further down the toilet.

But, she wanted this job. The thought of a return to her solitary apartment for another ice-cream-eating stint was not an option. However much she liked double-double choc-chip.

Ugh. How had this happened? Ah—she knew the answer. The reason she was in this mess was because she had been a fool—had allowed herself to do the unthinkable and dream. Again. Dream that she could have it all—love and a family. Stupid. Dreams were fantasies, fiction. In real life she had to concentrate on real goals. Such as this job.

The drumming of Ethan’s fingers on the cherrywood desk recalled her to the fact that he was awaiting a response. The slight slash of a frown that creased his brow looked more perplexed then judgemental.

Come on. Answer the man.

‘I would like to expand further but I can’t risk it. Anything I say could be twisted, so it seems best to me that I say nothing. If you decide to quote me, or post something on social media, it will spark off another barrage of hatred.’ And consequences from Hugh that she didn’t want to contemplate. ‘And I… I don’t want that.’ She hated that quiver in her voice; she didn’t want Ethan to think her scared. ‘But I give you my word that if you give me a chance I’ll do a fabulous job for you and won’t let you down.’

His frown deepened. ‘And I give you my word that I won’t betray your confidence. There is no way that I would aggravate the situation.’

A shadow crossed his eyes and for a second Ruby saw a depth of pain in his eyes that made her want to stretch her hand across the desk. Then it was gone, and yet the deep sincerity of his words echoed in her brain.

For an insane second she felt the urge to tell him the whole truth. ‘I…’

Stop, Ruby.

Had she learnt nothing from the debacle of Hugh Farlane? She’d trusted him and look where it had landed her—up to her neck in metaphorical manure.

Yet it was impossible to believe that Ethan Caversham was cut from Farlane cloth. The man had saved her life ten years ago.

Yes, and then he’d vanished from her life without trace. Cut and run.

But he’d also bothered to call her for an interview.

Head awhirl, she hauled in breath. It wasn’t as if she’d be a contender for any Best Judge of Character awards right now. There were times when she still felt enmeshed in the illusions and lies Hugh had woven. So the best rule of all was Trust no one.

‘Okay.’ Ethan raised his hands. ‘Think about what I’ve said. If we’re going to work together there has to be an element of trust. On both sides. Now let’s consider another of my concerns. I need to know that you would be fully committed to this job.’

That was easy. ‘I would be. All yours. One hundred per cent.’

For an instant his gaze locked on hers and the double entendre of her words shimmered over his desk. She gulped.

‘Yet you left Forsythe’s after just two months.’

A flush heated her cheeks. ‘That was what I believe is known as “a career mistake”.’ Of monumental proportions. ‘I’d got engaged, and at the time it seemed like the right course of action. The Forsythe sisters were very understanding.’

‘I get that. Most women would get carried away by the lifestyle of fiancée to a Hollywood movie star compared to working in an all-hours pressured job. I saw the press coverage of those swish parties—you’re clearly a natural partygoer.’

‘No!’

The world might believe that of her, but she felt affront scrape her chest at the idea that Ethan should join that bandwagon of opinion.

‘I loathed those parties. I’m so used to fronting events or serving tables that being a guest was hard. All that glitter and glam and there was nothing for me to do except—’ She broke off.

Except play the part of Hugh Farlane’s besotted girlfriend.

How could she have fallen for it? For him? At first she hadn’t been interested in a man with his playboy heartbreaker reputation. Certainly she had wanted zilch to do with his fame, the limelight, his money. But slowly he’d chipped away at her resistance, and then he’d confessed that he needed her, that she was the one woman who could heal him, and his honeyed voice had called to something in her very soul.

After all, she’d failed to heal her family on so very many levels—with heart-rending consequences.

So when he had gone down on bended knee, when he had poured out his desire to turn his life around, her heart had melted and she’d known she would do whatever it took to help Hugh. And if that meant she’d have to embrace a lifestyle she disliked, play the part of the glamorous girlfriend and smile at the paps, then she would do that. After all, playing a part was second nature to her—and Hugh had needed her.

Yuck! Talk about deluded…

‘Except what?’ A hint of unexpected compassion softened his eyes as he picked up a pencil and rolled it between his fingers. ‘Except be Hugh Farlane’s girlfriend? Guess it must have been hard to lose your identity…’

For a second her brain scrambled, mesmerised by the movement and the broad capability of his hand, and shocked by his understanding. For a second the impulse to confide in him returned. To tell him just how hard it had been, and how much worse it had made Hugh’s subsequent betrayal.

Swallowing it down, she met his gaze. ‘If possible I’d like to keep Hugh out of this. I get that I’m asking a lot, but I promise you can trust me. I will do a brilliant job and I will not leave you in the lurch. Give me a chance to convince you.’

This job was perfect for her—exactly up her street—and her fierce desire to achieve this role had nothing to do with the man offering it. At all. All she wanted was to put the last few weeks behind her, to consign the whole Hugh debacle to oblivion and move on.

The pencil thunked down on the table with finality and she felt panic glimmer. She’d blown it.

Silence stretched and yawned as his blue-grey eyes bored into her. Then he blinked, and a slight hint of ruefulness tipped up his lips. ‘Okay. I’ll give you the job. Trial period until the grand opening. Then we’ll take it from there.’

Triumph-tinged relief doused her and tipped her own lips up into a smile. ‘You won’t regret it. Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me yet, Ruby. I’m a hard task master and I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

‘You will?’ Just peachy—the idea sent a flotilla of butterflies aswirl in her tummy.

‘Yes. This project is important to me, so you and I will be spending the next few weeks in close conference.’

Close conference. The businesslike words misfired in her brain to take on a stupid intimacy.

‘Starting now. I’m headed down to the castle this afternoon. I’ll meet you there, or if you prefer I can give you a lift.’

Common sense overrode her instinct to refuse the offer of transport. The only other alternative was a train journey, where the chances of recognition would be high.

‘A lift would be great.’ The words were not exactly true—the whole idea of time in an enclosed space with Ethan sent a strange trickle of anticipation through her veins. ‘Thank you…’

Ethan gave his companion a quick sideways glance and then returned his gaze to the stretch of road ahead. Dressed now in a pair of dark trousers, a white shirt and a soft brown jacket cinched at the waist with a wide belt, she still looked the epitome of professional. Yet his fingers still itched to pull the pins out of her severe bun and then run through the resultant tumble of glossy black hair. Even as her cinnamon scent tantalised…

This awareness sucked.

An awareness he suspected was mutual—he’d caught the way her eyes rested on him, the quickly lowered lashes. So why had he hired her? This level of awareness was an issue—he didn’t understand it, and the niggle of suspicion that it was more than just physical was already causing his temples to pound.

Employing someone from his past was nuts—he should have known that. The woman next to him triggered memories of times he would rather forget—of the Ethan Caversham of a decade ago, driven to the streets to try and escape the harsh reality of his life, the bitter knowledge that his mother had wanted shot of him made worse by the knowledge that he could hardly blame her.

Shoving the darkness aside, he unclenched his jaw and reminded himself that Ruby was the right person for the job.

But it was more than that.

The quiver in her voice had flicked him on the raw with the knowledge that she was scared—he’d looked across his desk at Ruby and images had surged of Tanya…of the beautiful, gentle sister he’d been unable to protect.

Of Ruby herself ten years before.

A far scrawnier version of Ruby stood in a less than salubrious park trying to face down three vicious-looking youths. He’d seen the scene but the true interpretation of the tableau had taken a moment to sink in. Then one of the youths had lunged and sudden fear had coated his teeth as adrenalin spiked. Not fear of the gang but fear he wouldn’t make it in time.

Once he got there he’d take them on—bad odds but he’d weathered worse. Flipside of growing up on a gang-ridden estate meant he knew how to fight. Worst case scenario they’d take him down but the girl would escape. That was what mattered. He couldn’t…wouldn’t be party to further tragedy.

The element of surprise helped. The youths too intent on their prey to pay him any attention. The jagged sound of the girl’s shirt rip galvanised him and he launched knocking the youth aside.

‘Run,’ he yelled at the girl.

But she hadn’t. For a second she had frozen and then she’d entered the melee.

Ten vicious minutes later it was over—the three youths ran off and he turned to see a tall, dark haired girl, her midnight hair hacked as if she’d done it herself. Her face was grubby and a small trickle of blood daubed her forehead. Silhouetted against the barren scrubland of the park, she returned his gaze; wide sapphire blue eyes fringed by incredibly long lashes mesmerised him. Their ragged breaths mingled and for an insane second he didn’t see her there—instead he saw his sister. The girl he hadn’t managed to save.

He held his hand out. ‘Let’s go. Before they come back with reinforcements. Or knives.’

‘Go where?’ Her voice shaky now as reality sunk in.

‘Hostel. You can bunk in with me for the night. You’ll be safe with me. I promise.’

She’d stared at his hand, and without hesitation she’d placed her hand in his, that damned hero worship dawning in her brilliant eyes.

Present day, and the end result was he’d offered her a job. Because every instinct told him that Hugh Farlane had done her over somehow. Because he would not leave her prey to the online bullies. Because—somehow, somewhere that protective urge had been rebooted.

The dual carriageway had reduced to a single lane. Dusky scenery flashed past the windows—a mixture of wind turbines and farmland that morphed into a small Cornish hamlet, up a windy hill, and then…

‘Here we are,’ he said, and heard the burr of pride as he drove down the grand tree-spanned driveway and parked in the car park.

He turned to see Ruby’s reaction—hoped she would see in it what he saw.

She shifted and gazed out of the window, her blue eyes fixed to where the castle jutted magnificently on the horizon. ‘It’s…awesome. By which I mean it fills me with awe,’ she said.

He knew what she meant. Sometimes it seemed impossible to him that he owned these mighty stone walls, these turrets and towers weighted with the history of centuries, the air peopled by the memory of generations gone past.

Ruby sighed. ‘If I close my eyes I can see the Parliamentarians and the Royalists battling it out…the blood that would have seeped into the stone…the cries, the bravery, the pain. I can imagine medieval knights galloping towards the portcullis—’ An almost embarrassed smile accompanied her words. ‘Sorry. That sounded a bit daft. How on earth did you get permission to convert it into a hotel? Isn’t it protected?’

‘Permission had already been given, decades ago—I have no idea how—but the company that undertook the project went bust and the castle was left to fall into disrepair. I undertook negotiations with the council and various heritage trusts and bought the place, and now…’

‘Now you’ve transformed it…’ Her voice was low and melodious.

Lost in contemplation of her surroundings, she shifted closer to him—and all of a sudden it seemed imperative to get out of the confines of the car, away from the tantalising hint of cinnamon she exuded, away from the warmth in her eyes and voice as she surveyed the castle and then him.

‘So, let me show you what I’ve done and hopefully that will trigger some ideas for you to think about.’

‘Perfect.’

The gravel of the vast path crunched under their feet as they walked to the refurbished ancient portcullis. Ethan inhaled the cold, crisp Cornish air, with its sea tang, and saw Ruby do the same, her cheeks already pink from the gust of the winter breeze.

They reached the door and entered the warmth of the reception area. A familiar sense of pride warmed his chest as he glanced round at the mix of modern and ancient. Tapestries adorned the stone walls, plush red armchairs and mahogany tables were strategically placed around the area, with Wi-Fi available throughout.

‘This is incredible,’ Ruby said.

‘Let me show you the rest.’

Ethan led the way along the stone-walled corridors and into the room destined to be the restaurant.

‘We believe this was once the banqueting hall,’ he said, gesturing round the vast cavernous room also with stone walls and floor.

‘Wow…’ Ruby stepped forward, her eyes wide and dreamy. She walked into the middle of the room and stood for a moment with her eyes closed.

Ethan caught his breath—Ruby got it. She felt the thrill of this place and that meant she’d do her best.

Opening her eyes, she exhaled. ‘I can see how this hall would have been in medieval times. Jugglers, singers, raconteurs—a great table laden with food…’

‘Let me show you the other rooms.’

Ruby paused outside a large room adjoining the hall. ‘What about this one?’

‘You don’t need to worry about that one.’

Ethan knew his voice was guarded, but he had no wish to share his full vision for the castle with Ruby. There would be time enough to explain, as and when it was necessary. Right now she was on trial.

‘But it looks perfect for a café. Your guests won’t always want to dine in splendour—they might just want a sandwich or a bowl of soup. I could—’

‘I said you don’t need to worry about it.’

Seeing the flash of hurt cross her face, he raised his hand in a placatory gesture and smiled.

‘Right now I want you to see the parts of the castle that I have renovated—not worry about the ones I haven’t. Let’s keep moving.’

Another length of corridor and they reached a bar. ‘I want the castle to be representative of all periods of history. This room shows the Victorian era,’ he explained.

‘It is absolutely incredible!’ Ruby enthused as she stood and gazed around the room before walking to the actual bar, where she ran a hand along the smooth polished English oak.

Ethan gulped, mesmerised as her slender fingers slid its length. He turned the sound into what even he could hear was a less than plausible cough. ‘Would you like a drink? The bar’s not fully stocked yet, but I do have a selection of drinks.’

‘That would be really helpful.’

‘Helpful…?’

‘Yup. Lots of your guests will sit in here before coming into the restaurant. I want their movement to segue. So if I can just soak up the atmosphere in here a bit that would be helpful.’

‘Fine by me. What would you like to drink?’

‘Tomato juice with tabasco sauce.’

Ethan went behind the bar, ridiculously aware of her gaze on him as he squatted down to grab a bottle, deftly opened the tomato juice, shifted ice and peppered the mix with the fiery sauce.

A blink and she stepped away from the bar. ‘You’re a natural.’ Her voice edged with added husk.

‘I make sure I can stand in for any of my staff,’ he said, placing her drink on the bar, unable to risk so much as the brush of her hand. He gestured towards an area near the Victorian fireplace, with two overstuffed armchairs.

Ruby sat down and looked round the room, blue eyes widening. ‘You have done such a fabulous job here—I can’t really find words to describe it. I know I’ve never been to any of the other Caversham sites, but I did do a lot of online research and…’ Slim shoulders lifted. ‘This seems different. I can’t quite put my finger on it but this feels more…personal. Does that sound daft?’

No, it didn’t. It spoke volumes for her intuitive powers. His vision for the castle was personal. And it was going to stay that way. An explanation too likely to open him up to accolades—the idea set his teeth on the brink of discomfort. Even worse, it might pave the way to a discussion as to his motivations and a visit down memory lane. That was enough to make his soul run cold and he felt his mouth form a grim line.

Ruby twirled a strand of hair that had escaped its confines. ‘I’m not trying to pry, but if you do have a different idea for the castle restaurant then I need to know, so I can come up with the right design.’

Time to say something. ‘I feel proud of what I’ve already done here, and I’m sure we can work together to come up with a concept that works for the castle.’

Another glance around and then she smiled at him, a smile that warmed him despite his best attempts to erect a wall of coldness.

‘You’re right to be proud, Ethan—you have come so far. You said ten years ago you would make it big—but this…it’s gigantically humungous.’

There it was again—the tug back to the past. Yes, he’d vowed to succeed—how else could he show his mother, show the whole world, that he was worth something? That he was not his father.

‘I’m truly honoured to be part of it. So if there is anything I need to know, please share.’

Share. The word was alien. Ethan Caversham knew the best way to walk was alone. Ten years ago Ruby Hampton had slipped under his guard enough that he’d shared his dream of success. And instantly regretted the confidence when it had seemed to make her want more—now here she was again with a request that he share, and once again the promise of warmth in those eyes held allure, a tempt to disclosure.

Not this time—this time he’d break the spell at the outset.

‘I do have an attachment to the castle—I think it’s because it does feel steeped in history. That’s why I’ve gone into such detail. You may want to take note of the stone floors. Also the reason the room is predominantly ruby-red and dark green is that there were limited colours actually available then. And did you know that it was only in the eighteen-forties that wallpaper was first mass-produced?’

Excellent—he’d turned into a walking encyclopaedia on Victorian restoration.

Ruby nodded. ‘You’ve got it exactly right with the birds and animals motif, and the faux marble paint effects are spot-on too. As for the fireplace…it’s magnificent—especially with all the dried flowers.’

Clearly Ruby had decided to humour the boss and join in with the fact-bombardment.

‘I love the brass light fittings as well. And all the ornaments. The Victorians loved ornaments.’ She rose from the sofa and crouched down in front of one of a pair of porcelain dogs on either side of the fireplace. ‘These are a real find. A proper matching pair.’

‘They are,’ Ethan agreed. ‘How come you’re so knowledgeable?’

‘We looked into the idea of going Victorian in Forsythe’s.’

That seemed to cover Victoriana, and suddenly the atmosphere thickened.

Rising to her feet, Ruby reached out for her glass, drained it and glanced at her watch. ‘Would it be okay if I clocked off for today? I need to sort out somewhere to stay—I’ve got a list of places to ring.’

For a fraction of a second a shadow crossed her sapphire eyes. Then the hint of vulnerability was blinked away as she straightened her shoulders and smiled at him.

‘I’ll call them, find somewhere, and then grab a taxi.’

Realisation crashed down. She was scared—and who could blame her? Right now the idea of an encounter with the public was enough to daunt the staunchest of celebrities.

That instinctive need to protect her surged up and triggered his vocal cords. ‘Or you could stay here.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘HERE?’ RELIEF TOUCHED RUBY, but before she could succumb she forced her brain to think mode. ‘Why?’

Ethan shrugged. ‘It makes sense. It’s a hotel. There’s plenty of room. You’ll have to make your own bed, and there’s no housekeeping service, but you can have a suite and work more effectively here. I’ll be staying here too, so you won’t be on your own.’

Thoughts scrambled round her brain. Truth be told, she would feel safer here. Because of Ethan. The thought sneaked in and she dismissed it instantly. This was zip to do with Ethan—sheer logic dictated she should stay in the castle. Nothing to do with his aura, or the slow burn of the atmosphere.

‘Thank you, Ethan. If you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure. Let’s find you a bedroom.’

‘Um… Okay.’ Freaking great—here came a tidal wave blush adolescent-style at the word. How ridiculous. As preposterous as the thud of her heart as she followed him up the sweep of the magnificent staircase to the second floor, where he pushed open a door marked ‘Elizabethan Suite’ and stood back to let her enter.

‘Whoa!’ The room was stunning, a panorama of resplendence, and yet despite its space, despite the splendour of the brocade curtains and the gorgeous wall-hangings that depicted scenes of verdure, her eyes were drawn with mesmerising force to the bed. Four-poster, awash with luxurious draperies—but right now all she could concentrate on was the fact that it was a bed.

For a crazy moment her mind raced to create an age-old formula; her body brazenly—foolishly—wanted to act on an instinct older than time. And for one ephemeral heartbeat his pupils darkened to slate-grey and she believed that insanity must be contagious…believed that he would close the gap between them.

Then Ethan stepped back and the instant dissolved, leaving a sizzle in the air. A swivel of the heel and he’d turned to the door.

‘I’ll meet you in the morning to finish showing you around. If you’re hungry there’s some basic food stuff in the kitchen.’

‘Okay.’ Though her appetite had deserted her—pushed aside by the spin of emotions Ethan had unleashed.

‘If you need anything you’ve got my mobile number. My suite is on the next floor. No one knows you’re here, so you can sleep easy.’

For the first time in the two horrendous weeks since she’d walked in on Hugh and a woman who had turned out to be a hooker she felt…safe…

‘Thank you. And, Ethan…?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you for today. For…well, for coming to my rescue again.’

A long moment and then he nodded, his expression unreadable. ‘No problem.’

‘Ethan?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I ask you something?’

Wariness crossed his face and left behind a guarded expression. ‘You can ask…’

‘Why did you call me to an interview?’

Silence yawned and Ruby’s breath caught. Foolish hope that he had wanted to make amends for the past unfurled.

‘Everyone is entitled to a chance,’ he said finally. ‘And everyone deserves a second one.’

The words were a deep rumble, and fraught with a connotation she couldn’t grasp.

‘Sleep well, Ruby. We’ve got a lot of work ahead.’

The door clicked shut behind him and Ruby sank down onto the bed.

Enough. Don’t analyse. Don’t think. Don’t be attracted to him. In other words, don’t repeat the mistakes of the past.

Ethan Caversham had offered her a chance and she wouldn’t let the jerk of attraction mess that up. Wouldn’t kid herself that it was more than that—more like a bond between them. Ruby shook her head—this was an aftermath…an echo of her ancient crush on the man. Because he’d rescued her again.

Only this time it had to play out differently. Instead of allowing the development of pointless feelings and imaginary emotional connections she would concentrate on the job at hand. Get through the trial period, secure the job as a permanent post and then she would be back on track. Heading towards her goal of a family.

One week later

Ethan gave a perfunctory knock and pushed the door open. Ruby looked up from her paper-strewn makeshift desk in the box room where she’d set up office. His conscience panged at her pale face and the dark smudges under her eyes. She’d worked her guts out these past days and he’d let her. More than that—he’d encouraged it.

Get a grip, Ethan.

That was what he paid her to do—to work and work hard. He had high expectations of all his employees and made no bones about it. Ruby was no different.

Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Ethan. Say it enough times and maybe it will become true.

‘Earth to Ethan. I was about to call you with an update. I’ve got delivery dates for the furniture for the banqueting hall and I’ve found a mural painter. I’ve mocked up some possible uniforms—black and red as a theme—and…’

‘That’s all sounds great, but that’s not why I’m here. There’s something else I need you to do.’

‘Okay. No problem. Shoot.’

‘Rafael Martinez is coming for dinner and I need you to rustle us up a meal.’

Her dark eyebrows rose. ‘Rafael Martinez—billionaire wine guru, owner of the vineyard of all vineyards—is coming for dinner? Why on earth didn’t you mention it before?’

‘Because I didn’t know. I’d scheduled to meet him later this month, but he called to say he’s in the UK and that tonight would suit him. I realise it’s not ideal. But Rafael and I are…’

Old friends? Nope. Acquaintances? More than that. Old schoolmates? The idea was almost laughable—he and Rafael had bunked off more school than they had attended.

‘We go back a while.’

‘Maybe you should take him out somewhere?’

‘I’d rather discuss business in private. But if it’s too much for you…?’

He made no attempt to disguise the challenge in his tone, and she made no attempt to pretend she didn’t hear it, angling her chin somewhere between determination and defiance.

‘Leave it with me.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Look on this as a test of your ability to handle a restaurant crisis.’

‘Yippee. An opportunity!’

A snort of laughter escaped his lips. ‘That’s the attitude. I’ll leave you to it.’

Whilst he figured out the best way to approach Rafael with his proposition… Rafael Martinez was known more for his playboy tendencies and utterly ruthless business tactics than his philanthropic traits. But Ethan had been upfront in his preliminary approach—had intimated that his agenda was a business deal with a charitable bent—and Rafael had agreed to meet. Somehow it seemed unlikely that he’d done so to reminisce over the bad old days of their more than misguided youth.

He’d reached the doorway when he heard Ruby’s voice. ‘Actually… I’ve had an idea…’

Ethan turned. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Okay. So it’s best if you eat in the bar—it’s a pretty impressive room, and I think we should make it a little bit Christmassy.’

‘Christmassy?’ Somehow the idea of Christmas and Rafael didn’t exactly gel. ‘I don’t think so, Ruby. My guess is that Rafael is even less enamoured with the schmaltz of Christmas than me.’

A shake of her dark head and an exaggerated sigh. ‘I’m not suggesting schmaltz. If we were open we would be playing the Christmas card—of course we would.’ For a second a hint of wistfulness touched her face. ‘Can’t you picture it? An enormous tree. Garlands. Twinkling lights—’ She broke off and frowned. ‘I assume all your other business ventures offer Christmas deals and a proper Christmas ambience?’

‘Yes, but I don’t do it myself.’

He wouldn’t have the first clue how—he hadn’t celebrated Christmas Day in the traditional sense since…since Tanya was alive.

For a second he was transported back to childhood. His sister had loved Christmas…had made it magical—she had made him help her make paper chains and decorate the tree, and although he’d protested they’d both known the protest to be half-hearted. She’d chivvied their mum into the festive spirit and the day had always been happy. But after Tanya… Well, best not to go there.

‘To be honest, I’m not much of a Christmas type of guy. And I’m pretty sure Rafael isn’t either.’

‘Well, luckily for you I’m a Christmas type of gal. I’m thinking a tasteful acknowledgement of the time of year so that Rafael Martinez gets an idea of how Caversham Castle would showcase his wine. The Martinez Vineyards offer plenty of Christmas wines. Plus, if we do it right the whole Christmas edge might soften him up.’

Difficult to imagine, but given he hoped to appeal to Rafael’s charitable side maybe it was worth a shot. And he believed in encouraging staff initiative and drive.

‘Knock yourself out,’ he said.

‘Fabulous. I’ll hit the shops.’

Ruby crouched down and carefully moved the small potted tree a couple of centimetres to the left of the hearth. She inhaled the scent of fir and soil and felt a small glow of satisfaction at a job well done. Or at least she thought so—Ethan clearly had reservations about the whole Christmas idea, and her research into Rafael Martinez had shown her why.

Like Ethan Caversham, he had a reputation for ruthlessness, and an internet trawl had revealed images of a man with a dark aura. Midnight hair, tall, with a dominant nose and deep black eyes. Unlike Ethan, he’d left a score of girlfriends in his wake—all glamorous, gorgeous and very, very temporary. For a second Ruby dwelled on Ethan, and curiosity about his love-life bubbled. But it was none of her business.

He’s your boss, nothing more.

‘Hey.’

Ruby leapt up and swivelled round. Chill, Ruby. Ethan was many things, but he was not a mind-reader.

‘Hey. Sorry. You startled me.’ She gestured around. ‘What do you think? I was just making sure the trees don’t overshadow Dash and Dot.’

‘Dash and Dot?’

Ruby chewed her bottom lip. Idiot.

Ethan’s lips turned up in a sudden small smile and her toes curled. For a second he’d looked way younger, and she could remember her flash of gratification at winning a rare smile all those years ago.

‘You named the china dogs?’

‘Yes. In my head. I have to admit I didn’t intend to share that fact with anyone. But, yes, I did. Queen Victoria had a spaniel called Dash, you see.’ Ruby puffed out a sigh. ‘And then I thought of Dot because of Morse code. Anyway, what do you think?’

‘Excellent names,’ he said, his features schooled to gravity, though amusement glinted in his eyes.

Ruby couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the clawing worry that he’d loathe what she’d done. ‘I meant the decorations.’

Hope that he’d approve mixed with annoyance at her need for approval. A hangover from childhood, when approval had been at high premium and in short supply.

Surely he had to like it? Her gaze swept over the small potted trees on either side of the fireplace and the wreath hanging above. Took in the lightly scented candles on the mantelpiece and the backdrop of tasteful branch lights casting a festive hint.

‘It’s incredible.’

‘No need to sound surprised.’ Sheer relief curved her lips into a no doubt goofy grin. ‘Admit it. You thought I would produce something ghastly and flashy.’

‘I should have had more faith.’

‘Absolutely. Don’t get me wrong, I can do tacky schmaltz—in fact I have done. A few years back I worked in a café called Yvette’s. Yvette herself was lovely, but she was incredibly sentimental. On Valentine’s Day you could barely move for helium-filled heart balloons, and as for Christmas… I provided gaudy tinsel, baubles, mistletoe—and this absolutely incredibly tacky light-up Father Christmas that had to be seen to be believed.’

Ethan glanced at her. ‘You’re a woman of many talents. But what about you? What kind of Christmas is your kind?’

The question caught her off guard and without permission her brain conjured up her game plan Christmas. ‘Me? Um… Well… I’ve spent every Christmas working for the past decade, so I go with my employers’ flow.’

‘So it’s just another day for you? You said you were a Christmas kind of gal.’

‘I am.’ His words pushed all her buttons and she twisted to face him. ‘It’s a time of celebration. I’m not overly religious, but I do believe it is way more than just another day. It’s a time for giving—a magical day.’

His lips were a straight line as he contemplated her words. ‘Giving, yes. Magic, no. That’s idealistic. Christmas Day doesn’t magically put an end to poverty or disease or crime.’

‘No, it doesn’t. But it is an opportunity to strive for a ceasefire—to try and alleviate sadness and spread some happiness and cheer. Don’t you believe that?’

He hesitated, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Waited a beat and then, ‘Yes, Ruby. I do believe that.’

‘Good. It’s also about being with the people you care about and…’

The familiar tug of loss thudded behind her ribcage…the wondering as to the whereabouts of her siblings, the hope that their Christmas would be a joyful one. It would. Of course it would. They had a loving adoptive family, and the thought encased her in a genuine blanket of happiness.

Seeing Ethan’s blue-grey eyes resting on her expression, she went on. ‘And if you can’t do that then I think it’s still wonderful to be part of someone else’s happiness. That’s why I’ve always worked Christmas Day; watching other families celebrate is enough for now.’

‘For now?’

‘Sure.’ Keep it light. ‘One day I’ll have a family, and then…’

‘Then all will be well in the world?’ His scathing tone shocked her.

‘Yes.’ The affirmation fell from her lips with way too much emphasis. ‘And when I have a family I can tell you the exact Christmas I’ll have. An enormous tree, the scent of pine, crackers, decorated walls, holly, ivy, stockings with a candy cane peering over the top. The table laid with cutlery that gleams in the twinkle of Christmas lights. In the centre a golden turkey and all the extras. Pigs in blankets, roast potatoes, roast parsnips, stuffing and lashings of gravy. But most important of all there’ll be children. My family. Because that is what Christmas is about. And that is magical.’

Ruby hauled in breath as realisation dawned that she might have got a tad carried away.

‘Anyway, obviously that is in the far distant future and not something I need to worry about right now.’

It would take time to save enough money to support a family—time to go through the lengthy adoption process.

‘No, it isn’t.’ Ethan’s voice was neutral now, his eyes hooded. ‘And now isn’t the time to dream of future Christmases.’

‘It’s not a dream. It’s a goal. That’s different.’

Dreams were insubstantial clouds—stupid aspirations that might never be attained. Goals—goals were different. Goals were definitive. And Ruby was definite that she would have a family. By hook or by crook.

‘But you’re right. I need to be in the kitchen—or you and Rafael will be eating candle wax for dinner.’

‘Hang on.’ His forehead was slashed with a deep frown. ‘I meant now is the time to think about present-day Christmas. What are your plans for this year?’

His voice had a rough edge of concern to it and Ruby frowned. The last thing she wanted was for Ethan Caversham to feel sorry for her—the idea was insupportable.

‘I’ll be fine. I have plans.’

Sure. Her plan was to shut herself away in her apartment and watch weepy movies with a vat of ice cream. But that counted as a plan, right? It wasn’t even that she was mourning Hugh—she was bereft at the loss of a dream. Because for all her lofty words she had been stupid enough to take her eye off the goal and allow herself to dream. And Hugh had crushed that dream and trampled it into the dust. Further proof—as if she’d needed it—that dreams were for idiots. Lesson learnt. Again. But this time reinforced in steel.

‘But thank you for asking.’

Ethan’s eyes bored into her and the conviction that he would ask her to expand on the exact nature of her plans opened her lips in pre-emptive strike.

‘What about your plans?’

His expression retreated to neutral. ‘They aren’t firmed up as yet.’

Obscure irrational hurt touched her that he didn’t feel able to share his plans with her. Daft! After all, it wasn’t as if she was sharing hers with him.

‘Well, I hope they sort themselves out. Right now I must go and cook. Prepare to be amazed!’

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