Читать книгу The Office Christmas Party: A fun, feel good Christmas cracker of a romance! - Aimee Duffy - Страница 6

Two nights later, Dean Fletcher had just finished up for the weekend when his younger brother came into his office, closing the door behind him.

Well, he’d hoped he’d finished up, but Jeffrey had a panicked, jittery look that meant either a deal had gone bad or one of their systems had failed. ‘Spit it out, Jeff. I’m running late as it is.’

But his brother didn’t speak, he just paced back and forth in front of Dean’s desk.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked, pulling his laptop open and switching it on with a sigh.

‘It’s not work. Christ, I don’t know how to say this.’ Jeffrey stared at Dean with undisguised pity and his stomach took a nose dive.

There was only one other time his brother had looked at him this way – the day Dean had been jilted at his own wedding. But that was ten years ago, he was only a teenager and was so not about to rehash a past he’d long since buried. If Jeffrey wanted to bring up his personal life, Dean wasn’t having any of it – his dates were his business.

Not that he actually dated, it was more a string of flings throughout the year. Nothing serious, just a bit of fun here and there and the women were into it, so why not? It hadn’t been a problem until his brother had met Alana a few years ago, then he’d lost his wingman and gained a giant pain in the arse.

‘That’s not what I was going to say either! I was going to work up to this better but since you’re apparently incapable of patience, here goes. I’m going to ask Alana to marry me.’

Dean’s chin dropped, he couldn’t help it. His brother had seen first-hand how badly a wedding could turn out. In fact, after he was dumped on his special day, his family had blamed him. Jeffrey was the only relative who still spoke to him without contempt.

Jeffrey sighed. ‘Shit, Dean. Nobody died.’

‘Not yet,’ Dean said, then ran his hands through his hair. ‘What brought this on? I mean, after what happened to me, I thought you’d have learned the same lesson I did.’

That women were never what they seemed. They told you they loved you one minute, then ran away at the thought of spending the rest of their lives with you. Of course, now he could see that he’d dodged a bullet, but it had taken him a long time to realize that. And Jeffrey wasn’t made of the same steel he was. His brother had chased Alana around the city for months like a puppy before she’d agreed to date him.

Jeffrey rolled his eyes. ‘Love. You might want to hang around long enough to try it some time. You know, Alana’s friend is single and—’

‘I’m not interested. Now back to this proposal, are you insane? Did Mum drop you on your head as a baby? Have you forgotten everything that happened?’ He hated dragging up the past, but a reminder of his own ridicule might knock some sense into his brother.

‘Alana isn’t her. If she doesn’t want to marry me, she’ll say no.’ Jeffrey started pacing again and the wild look was back in his eyes. ‘Shit, what if she says no?’

If Dean had ever worried that he was missing out on something by refusing to commit to a relationship, he didn’t now. Over the two years Jeffrey had been dating Alana, his balls had shrunk to pips and now it finally looked like they’d disintegrated.

‘Then why bother asking?’

The look Jeffrey threw his way made him feel like an arse, but he wasn’t about to apologise. Not when his brother was being an idiot.

‘I knew you’d be a knob about this. I don’t know why I bothered coming to you first.’

‘Because you knew I’d tell you what a complete tool you’re being and talk some sense into you,’ Dean said, getting tired of this fight already.

‘Fuck you, Dean. Seriously.’ Jeffrey headed for the door and threw it open. He didn’t walk through it, not until he said, ‘While you’re out tonight with a woman you’ll have forgotten the name of next week, I’ll be home with someone I love and want to spend the rest of my life with. Whether you’re terrified of having that again or just going for the world record title of sluttiest man alive, one day you’re going to realize life’s passed you by in a blur of anonymous sex. I don’t want that for you.’

Jeffrey slammed the door, so he could have the last word, as usual. Dean clenched his teeth. What the hell did his brother know anyway? One serious girlfriend and he was now a relationship guru?

Yeah, right.

Dean closed his laptop, grabbed his keys and headed for the door. He was perfectly happy passing through life on his own terms – it had nothing to do with fear – and tonight he was going to do exactly that.

***

The party tonight had a guest list but he wasn’t worried, instead he strolled right up to the bouncer manning the door to the hottest bar in Soho and used the name he’d planted there earlier.

Having their own IT company who supplied the booking software to most of London’s hotels, restaurants and bars did more than just make them money. Jeffrey had come up with the idea of using it to get into all these swanky events a few years ago when they were just getting off the ground and what had turned into a few cheap nights out ended as a great way to score those anonymous flings his brother had recently started to frown upon.

But he really wasn’t in the mood for thinking about his brother at all, so he headed straight for the bar to take advantage of the flowing champagne. When he wound his way through the tightly packed crowd he changed his mind and ordered a scotch. Bubbly just wasn’t going to cut it tonight.

He’d missed the wine and dine portion of the evening thanks to Jeffrey and his stupid arsed ideas. On the plus side, every woman there was already half-inebriated. As he downed the scotch in one go, he welcomed the burn before taking an interested glance round the crowd.

Most of the women looked like they were from the cast of TOWIE, with boobs spilling over low necklines, unnaturally long lashes and wearing more make-up than you’d find at the Mac counter at Selfridges.

And to add insult to his already shitty mood, the same words kept playing on a loop in his head.

Whether you’re terrified of having that again or just going for the world record title of sluttiest man alive, one day you’re going to realize life’s passed you by in a blur of anonymous sex. I don’t want that for you.

Fucking Jeffrey. Until tonight, he hadn’t thought twice about what he was doing. And until Alana came on the scene, neither had his brother.

In fact, December was their favourite month for crashing parties. The venues were always packed with women looking to have some anonymous festive fun. He usually enjoyed the atmosphere and he was not about to let his brother ruin this for him. So he ordered another scotch and got serious about his surveying.

Until he saw a familiar blonde food thief. She wasn’t in that slinky short dress tonight, but a pale gold one that hugged her hips and chest even more. And she was staring at him too, with something close to rage burning in her pretty blue eyes.

He couldn’t help the way his lips curved when he remembered what happened the last time they met. It only made her eyes burn hotter and her cheekbones score pink.

But then it hit him. How could she be at two Christmas parties for totally different firms? Unless she had organised the parties. Although he doubted she’d be stealing the food if she had.

So she must be crashing too, just like him. But what his little thief didn’t know was that this was his turf, and two independent crashers in a place this small was going to draw attention, then the jig would be up.

Dean knocked back the scotch and headed her way. It was about time for a proper introduction.

***

Just as Natalie thought her week couldn’t get any worse, Mr Perfect with that smug smile and another expertly cut, expensive looking suit made his way through the crowd to her. She still hadn’t gotten over their last encounter when he’d laughed his head off after his floozy had caught a whiff of her stash.

And with Tom and Rose spending every night together at the flat with that sickly, loved-up couple thing they had going on, she realized that soon they’d either ask her to move out or she’d end up the oldest, rustiest third wheel that ever existed. She couldn’t imagine them moving to Tom’s rental when Rose’s parents had bought her the flat.

But worst of all, Rose had asked her to be the maid of honour, and how could she say no to her best friend because she didn’t think Tom was good enough? She wasn’t a complete bitch. No way would she have ruined her friend’s special night. Natalie was just grateful that, despite the fact she’d planned a dozen or so stellar weddings, Tom was so much of a control freak he’d want to organise it himself.

She really didn’t think she’d have been able to deal with it if she’d been assigned the wedding planner role. At least now all she had to worry about was the actual day and she could avoid Tom as much as possible until then.

So, business as usual.

‘That doesn’t look big enough to hide ten pounds of beef hors d’oeuvres.’

Natalie looked up to catch a glimpse of Mr Perfect’s smug grin. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

Of course she did, but she had known tonight that meals would be served and she couldn’t exactly stuff slices of turkey, stuffing balls and roast potatoes all swimming in gravy into her handbag. Especially not when there were thirty or so other people at the table.

‘Oh I think you do. And I know what your game is,’ he said, suffocating her personal space with his Lynx effect cologne and his massive-up-close body.

‘I don’t play games.’ Now run off and annoy someone else.

He laughed a little, and the sound just wound her up again.

‘You’re obviously new to this, but I could tell what you are a mile off. Just a head’s up, this area is my turf and two strangers at a party this small will get noticed,’ he said.

What she was? Like she was some desperate, starving cow who crashed parties without a cover or having done her research? ‘You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about and anyway, I didn’t see you pee on the walls so what makes you think this bar belongs to you?’

That got the grin off his face. Natalie smiled as sweetly as she could, then stood up and shoved past him. ‘If you’re so worried about being caught, the door’s that way.’ She gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. ‘I’d say I’d miss you, but …’

With that she slinked away from him, swept up a free glass of champagne, necked it and headed for the dancefloor. She melded into a group of guys and girls effortlessly, the people were too drunk to ask any questions. They were all about the dancing and rounds of shots were brought over, so she helped herself to a few of those too.

The bastard didn’t leave, just skulked at the bar with a glass of something brown – not that she was looking out for him. And what was all that rubbish about strangers getting noticed? There were a good thirty people at the party – not to mention the bar was now open to the public after the meal – and the vast majority were smashed. Natalie doubted they’d notice the arrival of the entire Manchester United football team at this point.

As she tried not to get angry at Mr Smug Bastard, the hottie she’d sat next to at dinner joined her on the dancefloor.

Steven twirled her around and around, and her anger melted into giggles. A few shots later and she was ready to show him some of her more indecent dance moves to Santa Baby.

This was what she’d been waiting for all year, she thought as she was swung around again, laughing along with Steven. This happy, mirthful, floaty feeling surrounded by sparkly decorations in a room bursting with festive cheer.

***

A loud snore against her ear snapped Natalie into consciousness. She was too warm, her skin had a thin sheen of sweat all over and she realized the problem as her ribs were constricted by a manly forearm, and her bum was pressed against a whole lot of naked groin.

And how did she know it was a groin? Because her underwear was gone along with the rest of her clothes. Crap.

Unfortunately, the hazy drunken memory sharpened with crystal clarity and she remembered agreeing to go home with Steven, breaking rule number three. No Going Home With Anyone. It was a must if you wanted to stick to rules one and two. Not to mention the whole potential serial killer issue.

At least he sounded dead to the world. If she was quiet enough, she might be able to get out before the sun rose and brought questions she didn’t want to answer. Not that she could remember him being that interested in who she was last night, but the lack of alcohol and a strange woman in his bed might make Steven a bit more courteous.

Carefully she slid out of his hold, wishing the pounding of her heart wasn’t so loud in her ears, but a quick glance over her shoulder told her he was still asleep. Steven was definitely a looker with his light brown hair ruffled from, well, probably her fingers grabbing onto it. And he had a lovely jaw line that was as smooth as a baby’s, so thankfully stubble burn wasn’t going to be an issue. He didn’t look much older than her in sleep, but he probably had a good few years on her.

Still, one-nighters were supposed to be confined to impersonal places. To come back to his house, alone, was crazy. Rose would go bananas if she knew. Though, she realized with a twist in her gut, her friend might just be relieved she wasn’t at the flat getting in the way of all the romance.

Shaking off the thought, she re-focused on an escape route and climbed out of the bed. A sharp pain cut into her foot and she hissed a chorus of ows as she plonked back down. Rubbing the sole, she glared at the belt buckle on the floor then froze as the snoring cut off on a grunt.

Behind her, Steven rolled onto his stomach and reached an arm out, grumbling in his sleep. Dodging out of the way, she was careful not to stand on the buckle again, and tried to remember where her clothes were. She spied silver lace peeking out from beneath a shirt which was abandoned by the door and flushed remembering how those had gotten there.

Natalie swiped up her bra, hooked it on, then snuck out into the hall. Her knickers were by his bedroom door and this time she didn’t let herself remember how those ended up there. Instead she just pulled them on and went on the hunt for the rest of her things.

In the living room she spotted her lovely gold dress, just dumped on the coffee table half balled up and so wrinkled she wanted to kick herself. Not only did it cost more than she made in a month, but it was the most festive dress she owned. She examined it carefully but there were no tears she could see, it just badly needed ironing.

She turned on a lamp and the room illuminated. Everything became clear from the empty beer cans in the corner to the half-eaten kebab on the arm of a tatty looking green sofa. A total bachelor pad, sans class. Fabulous, she’d gone home with a slob.

A shuffle sounded behind her. With her heart in her throat she spun around to see a guy who was not Steven wearing nothing but his boxers. His frown turned to an astonished blink, then he gave her a good once over. Even with the underwear, she felt utterly naked, so pulled the dress against her front.

As her cheeks burned, she remembered thinking the week from hell could never, ever get any worse. She really needed to stop thinking that because it seemed like fate was really into poking her repeatedly with a sharp, pointy spear of shame.

And she needed to get dressed. Like right now.

‘Hey, you here with Steven?’ the guy asked.

Who else would she be here with? Then she had a horrible thought that maybe there would be others who lived there. Others who would catch her mortifying floor show.

‘Yes. I’m just leaving,’ she said, turning around and pulling her dress over her head. ‘Have you seen a black clutch anywhere?’

Might as well put his eyes to use and take some of the heat off her.

‘Oh, yeah, here.’ He picked up something from the sofa, screwing up his nose. ‘Sorry, I think it landed in hot sauce.’

Natalie let out a whimper as she took her brand spanking new clutch, pulling a strip of saucy donner meat out of the folds. She had to get out of there, like, now.

‘Why not stay ‘til morning? I’m sure Steven wouldn’t want you walking the streets in the middle of the night.’

She didn’t know if this was just a nice guy, or if the distress was showing on her face and he felt sorry for her, but she’d had about as much as she could stand of embarrassment for one evening, so she shook her head. ‘I’ll get a taxi.’

Without making eye contact or waiting for him to say anything else, Natalie bolted out the door. Maybe Rose was right, maybe she needed to rethink the whole celebrating Christmas properly thing.

She hailed a taxi, but didn’t go home. Instead she recited the address of a block of storage units she’d not been to in ages, determined to face the contents and her past so she could finally – hopefully – move on.