Love Under the Mistletoe Read online

  I tried to consider it logically and realised I didn’t really know a great deal about Sean anyway, so decided it must just be the sex I was missing, not the man himself. But when I had gone out with my friends last Friday night and got chatted up by not one, but two pretty good-looking and nice guys, I had found I couldn’t even muster up the enthusiasm to pretend to be interested. Something about Sean was sticking to me and as a result I couldn’t seem to get him out of my bloody mind.

  Flopping down on the sofa I began to attack my bowl of cereal as I switched on the television and was immediately met with the vision of Sean on the screen. Oh god, now as well as spending half my time day dreaming about him I was hallucinating about him too. I blinked hard to clear my mind, but as I looked at the television again I realised Sean really was there, sat on the Good Morning Hollywood couch talking to the stunning host, Jessica Leigh.

  Scrabbling to turn the sound up I heard Sean’s warm voice for the first time in weeks and it sent a delicious tingle running down my spine while simultaneously making me want to slap myself around the face for being so pathetic. Unable to turn it off I continued to watch, my cereal now forgotten. It seemed he was doing some sort of promotional interview for his latest film, but as he finished discussing the plot Jessica leaned in conspiratorially.

  ‘So, Sean, any leading lady in your life at the moment?’ I knew that as well as fishing for gossip Jessica was dropping a really unsubtle hint about all the rumours that Sean had a habit of sleeping with his leading ladies. I grimaced as unwelcome images of him in bed with other women flashed in my mind, even though I remembered Sean’s adamant statements to me that it wasn’t the case.

  Obviously reading straight through Jessica’s line of questioning Sean gave a charming smile, ‘Well that would be telling, wouldn’t it?’ he said with a soft chuckle, apparently happy to tease her.

  Jessica looked a little stunned for a second, then disappointed at the immediate lack of gossip. ‘That is a mysterious answer, Sean, I’m sure there are plenty willing to take the part though,’ she flirted blatantly, touching his knee and giggling with a flutter of her eyelashes that made me gag, but in response Sean just smiled thinly and discreetly shifted his leg which pleased me immensely. Sensing she should change tack Jessica persevered, ‘When you’re not filming you seem to practically hide yourself away in your big house in the English hills, what’s the reason behind that?’

  On screen Sean crossed his long legs and then shrugged, ‘Movie sets are chaotic places so when I’m not on one I like peace and quiet.’

  ‘So you haven’t got a fair lady hidden away up there who keeps you occupied?’ she joked lightly, still doggedly persevering with her trawl for gossip.

  ‘Afraid not, Jessica.’ Sean paused and tilted his head, ‘I did have one recently, but unfortunately she escaped.’

  ‘Sean, you are so funny!’ giggled Jessica, assuming he was joking, but my breath caught in my throat at his words. Oh my God, had that been a comment about me? At that very moment Sean looked into the camera and for a second it felt like he was looking directly through the lens into my eyes, leaving my head reeling and my chest tight. He had made no attempt to contact me in the two and a half weeks that had passed, so surely that comment had just been an off the cuff remark?

  After sitting in confused silence for a moment or two I let out a frustrated scream, switched the television off, and threw the remote control at the wall, sending a cascade of batteries and shards of plastic flying everywhere. Bloody bastard, even when he was thousands of miles away he was still managing to haunt me.

  Chapter Nine

  Later that evening I called Sarah to see if she was free to go out for a meal or some drinks, but she wasn’t. Unfortunately she sounded decidedly giddy on the phone which just made me feel even grumpier. I couldn’t get to the bottom of her good mood, she was adamantly keeping quiet about whatever had made her so giggly, but I suspected she had a hot date lined up, so after just a brief chat I let her go.

  Sat on the sofa, I finished my book and was seriously regretting smashing my television remote earlier. My set was old and could only be operated directly from the remote, so as well as being stuck in on a Friday night, now I couldn’t even watch some television to pass the time.

  I glanced at my laptop and considered attempting to download something, but my internet connection was awful, so instead I wandered over to my bookcase. Crouching down on my haunches I began perusing the well-worn spines to see if anything took my fancy. I’d read most of these books at least three times, but perhaps there was something I’d missed. Just as I was about to pull out a book my doorbell rang, making me jump so much that I tumbled backwards into a heap on the floor.

  Practically dragging myself upright I headed to the door wondering who on earth it could be at this time on a Friday night, but then pulling open the door I saw the very last person I expected. Sean.

  Trying to stomp down the immediate hope that spiralled up in my chest, I stood staring at him open-mouthed for several seconds before forgetting all rational thought and flinging myself at him.

  With my arms wrapped around his neck and my face buried in his reassuring scent I suddenly felt like I’d come home, I didn’t care why he was here, or how he knew where I lived – although I suspected this made sense of Sarah’s secretive giggling earlier; presumably he’d called her and she had told him my address – all that mattered in this moment was that he was here and he was in my arms and embracing me back equally as hard.

  Burying his face in my hair I felt his warm breath against my scalp and could have sworn he whispered something which sounded distinctly like, ‘My sweet girl,’ before he leant back marginally and smiled down at me hopefully. ‘Can I come in? Or have I lost visiting rights by not calling you?’

  Wriggling out from his arms I stood back and flapped an arm in the direction of the lounge, ‘Of course you can, come in!’ I was definitely flustered, so I took a second to breathe in and out a few times to calm myself. I seriously needed to try to stop my brain jumping to any far-fetched conclusions about Sean being here to sweep me off my feet, but mindless of my caution my thoughts were going in that direction anyway.

  ‘Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee? Or I’ve got some wine I was about to open if you’d like a glass?’ Now as well as arm-flapping I was babbling, crikey, I was so unbelievably nervous it was a miracle that I was still stood upright.

  ‘Later, but first I need to say this. I wanted to call you, Allie, every single day I wanted to, but there was no phone reception on set and filming ran over to nearly two and a half weeks.’ Taking a breath he ran a hand through his short, dark hair, leaving it a spiky mess on his head. ‘Not knowing if you were safe was driving me insane,’ he muttered under his breath before continuing, ‘I’ve literally come straight here from the airport. All I kept thinking was how I’d said I’d call in a week and then couldn’t, I felt so awful leaving you hanging, Allie, please believe me.’ Then Sean pulled his standard move of stepping right inside my personal space where he used a thumb to gently tilt my face towards his.

  ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, my sweet girl, and I don’t just mean the sex … although that was incredible,’ he added with a sly grin, but then he sobered and shook his head, ‘but it’s you Allie, something about you …’

  My face must have been a picture by this point. This was completely unbelievably amazing and to be honest I couldn’t quite believe that it was really happening, the only thing stopping me from losing it was Sean’s intense gaze which was locked with mine and keeping me sane.

  Clearing his throat, Sean closed his eyes and appeared to be about to say more. ‘I … I’ve never said this before because I’ve never felt it, but …’ He swallowed, his thumb moving from my chin to cup my face in his warm palm, ‘… it seems I’ve fallen in love with you, Allie’, he sighed, still with his eyes squeezed shut and so totally unaware of the goofy grin spreading on my face, ‘… you deserve bet
ter than me, but if you’re prepared to give me a chance I promise I won’t let you down, I’ll keep you safe …’ His final words were lost as I slid my hands around his neck and yanked his head down for a desperate kiss.

  ‘I love you too,’ I whispered in between kisses, then, with my lips melded to his I tried to ease his concerns, ‘You don’t need to be a different person or a better person, Sean, just be yourself, that’s all I want. Now stop speaking, and show me how much you love me.’ With a growl of approval Sean scooped me up, and after carrying me to my bedroom, he proceeded to spend the next two hours doing exactly that.

  First a fantastic Christmas, and now the start to my New Year was looking pretty good too, and all because I’d reluctantly covered that cleaning shift for Sarah. Boy, did I owe her big time for getting ill that day!

  Christmas For One

  Elizabeth Coldwell

  Chapter One

  The nerves don’t hit me until I climb the steps to the church. Everything else – putting on my dress, the drive over in the rented limousine – has seemed like a dream. Now, around a hundred people sit on the other side of those huge, oak doors, eager for my grand entrance. In a minute, I’ll make my procession down the aisle to where Richard waits. Richard, the man I am about to promise to love and honour for the rest of my life. I take a breath, trying to still the butterflies that dance in my stomach.

  Jill fusses with my veil, smoothing it down over my freshly styled up-do. She’s been such a calm, reassuring presence over the last few weeks. It’s hard to imagine anyone better I could have had for my chief bridesmaid.

  ‘Dionne, you look amazing. Richard’s just going to die when he sees you.’

  I say nothing; just squeeze her hand by way of reply. Inside, the organist has struck up the opening chords of Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’, accompanied by the sounds of rustling and excited whispering among the congregation, signalling my arrival.

  Until yesterday, I’d had no second thoughts, no doubts that this moment would be anything but joyous. A perfect culmination of everything I’d dreamed of and worked so hard to achieve. The letter’s arrival changed all that.

  I found it lying on the mat when I got home from work. Richard, traditional to the last, had insisted we spend the night before the wedding apart, and had booked into a hotel near his office, so I was alone. The envelope had no stamp, no address, just my name printed on the front in neat capitals. Expecting it to be a hand-delivered Christmas card, I tore it open to find instead a sheet of paper on which had been typed a single sentence. Richard Lang is fucking his secretary.

  ‘What kind of sick prank is this?’ I asked aloud into the stillness of the hallway. It had to be a joke, someone trying to upset me on the eve of my wedding. A couple of Richard’s ex-girlfriends have openly voiced their surprise at his decision to marry me, just because I don’t come from the same privileged background they share. Maybe one of them pushed this note through the door. Well, no jealous rich bitch is going to cause me to call a halt to the marriage. We’ve been together for three years, and Richard has never been unfaithful in all that time. Not once.

  The church’s interior is dark and cool, the aroma of lilies filling the vaulted, sacred space. Audible murmurs of approval from the friends and family members crowded into the pews make me grow in confidence. Holding my head high, concentrating only on the suave, morning-suited man waiting before the altar, I take one slow step after another down the aisle.

  Richard’s head turns at my approach. The love and admiration in his brown eyes are clearly visible. It should be a beautiful moment. Except he isn’t looking at me. He corrects himself, turning a beaming smile in my direction. But he hasn’t been quick enough, and I’ve caught him out. That expression of tenderness and need is directed at Marcie Grace, his secretary, who sits in the pew immediately behind him.

  My mind flashes to that anonymous note. Seems it wasn’t a joke, after all, but a warning. Someone knows what my darling fiancé has been doing behind my back. And now I know too. Instinct tells me they’re sleeping together, and have been for some time. Secure in my belief that Richard loves me, and only me, I never thought anything of the late nights he’s been spending at the office; the business trips requiring him to spend three or four days out of town every month. Maybe I should have, because the more I think about it, the more I figure he hasn’t been taking those trips alone.

  My progress down the aisle has come to a halt, the voices around me risen in volume. A wave of nausea swamps me and I think I might pass out. Jill’s hand is at my elbow, holding me steady.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ I murmur. Snatching the little satin purse Jill’s been carrying for me from her grip, I turn and flee back down the aisle, out into the cold December air.

  The organist has stopped playing, and I think I hear Richard shouting at me to stop, but that could just be wishful thinking. No one comes after me. Maybe they’re just as stunned as I am at what I’ve done.

  Outside, on the gravelled path that leads to the church, I ponder my next move. I have to get away from here. The last thing I want right now is the sympathy of friends, or any attempt to make me change my mind and go through with the wedding. Above all, I can’t bear the thought of my mother smugly telling me she’s known all along that Richard is no good for me.

  We’d planned to hold the reception in a hotel a couple of blocks from the church. I set off there at a sprint, the soles of my pretty, satin pumps slapping on the sidewalk. A couple of passers-by stop and stare at the sight of a bride running down the street in broad daylight, tears streaking her cheeks, but I’m beyond caring. Nothing can worsen the humiliation I’ve already suffered.

  In the hotel elevator, I fumble my room key card from the purse. Although all I want to do is lie on the bed and sob, I can’t allow myself the luxury of indulging my misery. A plan has formed in my mind and I have to act fast.

  Once in the room, I start to undress. My fingers tremble as I pluck at the fastenings of my dress. I’ve been persuaded to choose one with a corset-style bodice, which laces up the back, and as I tug at the strings, it quickly becomes obvious they won’t come undone without help. In my romantic fantasy of my wedding night, I’d pictured Richard disrobing me, exclaiming in delight at the exquisite – and eye-wateringly expensive – lingerie I’m wearing beneath it. Lingerie chosen for his eyes only. That fantasy disappeared with the realisation of his betrayal; replaced by the knowledge I’ve trussed myself up in this cumbersome outfit for no good reason.

  The knock at the door startles me. ‘Dionne, are you OK in there?’ Jill’s voice.

  I rush to let her in, cutting her off as she tries to fuss over me. ‘Quick, give me a hand with these laces. I have to get out of this dress. And when you’ve done that, I need you to call a cab to take me to the airport.’

  She blinks at me in surprise. ‘What’s going on? Don’t you want to talk to Richard, see if you can sort all this out?’

  ‘I have nothing to say to him. Not after he cheated on me with that bitch Marcie. But you knew about that, didn’t you?’

  Jill’s expression turns to open-mouthed astonishment.

  ‘You didn’t leave me that note?’

  She shakes her head. ‘I had no idea … Oh Dionne, that’s awful.’ Seeming to remember what I’d asked of her, she reaches for the corset strings. ‘But is running away really going to solve this?’

  ‘I have no idea. All I know is that I can’t stay here right now. I need to be alone.’ I step out of the dress and go over to the closet. Pulling the sweater and slacks I’d planned to wear as my “going-away outfit” from a hanger, I ask, ‘So how’s Mom taking this? Loving it, I’ll bet.’

  Jill doesn’t need to answer. The fact she, and not my mother, came after me when I fled the church tells me all I need to know.

  While she rings the taxi firm, I go into the bathroom to change, and do some running repairs to my make-up. My carry-on bag is already packed and waiting by the door. By the time Jill
’s phone bleeps to let her know the cab’s arrived, I’m ready to go.

  ‘You’ll call me when you get there?’ she says.

  Enfolding her in a hug, I assure her, ‘Of course.’ I don’t tell her I don’t yet know where “there” is.

  Chapter Two

  The clerk at the Venture Air desk couldn’t be more helpful. I walk into the departure hall at Oakland Airport with no idea of a destination in mind. Richard and I had booked a honeymoon in Aruba, but that – like so much about our relationship, as I’m growing to realise – was his choice.

  ‘Let me see …’ He taps at his computer keyboard. ‘And you really don’t mind where you’re travelling?’

  ‘Not at all.’ To say my choice is limited, only two days before Christmas, is an understatement, but at this point I’ll take whatever he can find.

  ‘Here we go … I have a flight leaving for Honolulu in just under an hour. If you have no baggage to check in, you should make it OK.’ Christmas in Hawaii. Now that sounds perfect. He quotes me the price for the ticket, and I agree without hesitation. Add in the cost of accommodation once I get to the island and I know I’m going to be doing serious damage to my credit card, but I’ll worry about that when the bill arrives.

  He’s printed out the ticket before I can change my mind. ‘There you go. The plane leaves from Gate 1. Have a nice holiday, Miss Suvari.’

  Sitting at the departure gate, having cleared security, I have time to check the internet for somewhere to stay. What if I can’t find anything? Will I have to sleep on the beach? For the first time today, luck smiles on me, as a site offering last-minute accommodation throws up the Cowrey Bay resort. Even on the tiny screen of my smartphone, it looks beautiful – and, more importantly, affordable. By the time the steward takes to the microphone and asks those traveling Venture Air Premium and passengers with small children to begin boarding, I’ve managed to book an all-inclusive three-night package.