Читать книгу Christmas at the Dancing Duck - Daisy James - Страница 16

Chapter 8

When Kirstie walked through the front door of the Dancing Duck, Emma immediately accosted her.

‘Someone arrived while you were out. I told him to wait in the brasserie. Just to warn you – I noticed Leon’s face when he saw who it was and I suspect he’s currently busy selecting his favourite meat cleaver.’

For a moment, Kirstie had no idea what Emma was babbling on about until she peered round the door into the room Leon had claimed as his territory.

‘Ah, I get it. Em, can you help Josh with the tree, please?’

‘Sure. I know who I’d rather spend my time with,’ Emma said, casting dark and dangerous looks in the direction of the handsome thirty-something guy who lounged in one of the crinkled leather chesterfields at the entrance to the brasserie, his ankle draped over his thigh, oozing charm and charisma.

Kirstie also caught Josh’s confused expression until he realized who Emma was talking about and his jaw tightened. She rolled her eyes at them both and strode through the door.

‘Hi, Miles. I wasn’t expecting you to call in today. Is everything okay?’

Miles leapt from his seat, his palm outstretched, his powerful physique filling the room. Just like the first time she had met him when she and Olivia had accepted his offer for the pub, he was immaculately dressed. He wore a tailored charcoal-grey business suit and psychedelic violet silk tie. His honey-blond hair had been professionally teased into random tufts and his beard neatly barbered.

‘Hello, Kirstie. Sorry to barge in unannounced, but I was in the area so I thought I’d take the opportunity to check out a couple of things my architect has raised. Also, with your permission, I’d like to take a few photographs to email to my parents in Hong Kong. If it’s not convenient, I can come back later when the pub’s closed?’

Kirstie noticed the uncertain way his sapphire eyes flickered towards the kitchen door behind which there was an increasingly aggressive concerto of hammering. She had to supress the urge to giggle. Clearly Leon was taking his objection to Miles’s presence out on that evening’s steaks.

‘It’s no problem at all. Be my guest.’

Kirstie surreptitiously inhaled the citrusy whiff of expensive cologne floating in the air between them. Miles reminded her of one of Emma’s previous conquests, Owen Green, a rugby fanatic who had insisted on dragging Emma to every match within a fifty-mile radius so she could cheer him on from the sidelines whatever the weather – their dalliance had lasted all of three weeks.

Miles possessed the same broad shoulders and bulky biceps straining against the Italian fabric of his sleeves, as well as the suspect bump on the bridge of his nose – which she had to admit did not detract one iota from his appeal. Miles was the epitome of the old adage ‘work hard, play hard ball’ and Kirstie felt the surprise stirrings of attraction.

‘Thanks. It should only take me an hour or so.’

Miles produced an electronic tape measure, collected a file from the table in front of him, and paused. Ripples of heat cascaded through Kirstie’s body as he flicked his eyes from her copper curls to the muddy tips of Olivia’s Hunter Wellingtons. She cringed. Why couldn’t she have been wearing the ivory silk Jimmy Choos she had worn to the annual FMTV awards ceremony last month?

‘I’m staying overnight at my parents’ cottage in Maltby. If you’ve got nothing else planned later, perhaps you could show me what the country folk do around here for fun.’ His lips curled into a smile to reveal his perfectly straight teeth that his obsession with rugby hadn’t yet spoiled.

For the first time in a long while Kirstie felt flustered. She prided herself on always being in complete control of every situation she found herself in, whether on screen or off. As soon as she had arrived in London, she made it her mission to be able to walk into any room, studio, or office with confidence. Yet this was the second time in a week that she had not been in control of her emotions. What was happening to her?

‘Oh, yes, I’d love that,’ she heard herself say, her voice an octave higher than usual before a cacophony of falling pans from the direction of the kitchen cut their conversation short.

‘Great. See you in the car park in an hour. I’d like to eat at the Camilla restaurant at Craiglea Hall to check out the competition. I hope you’re hungry?’ And with another flash of his toothpaste ad smile Miles strode from the room.

Within seconds Emma was at her side. ‘You can’t possibly be thinking of going out with Miles Morgan!’ she snapped. ‘It’ll be like eating with the enemy!’

‘Miles is not the enemy, Em. Looking at it from a purely financial point of view he is actually our saviour.’ Kirstie saw Emma’s expression of disbelief and hurried on. ‘Anyway, didn’t you just tell me that I should start going out more?’

‘I did, but not with that corporate shark. Okay, okay, yes, he’s scrumptious and smells like a Parisian perfumery. But that’s not the point.’

‘What is the point?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Emma slumped into the seat Miles had just vacated and selected a strand of blonde hair to twirl around her finger. ‘I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal against Miles. I would feel exactly the same way about anyone who bought the Dancing Duck, but why does it have to be some rich lawyer from London? Why couldn’t it be a lovely middle-aged couple, born and bred in Hampshire, wanting to invest their life savings in a cosy village pub?’

‘Miles was the only potential purchaser who offered the full asking price. Sadly, there was no beauty parade of buyers for me and Livie to pick from. Look, we’re having dinner – that’s all. I’ll try to ease the conversation round to the subject of what his plans are for the pub. He’ll probably have his hands full with converting the Old Barn so it’ll be years before he gets round to thinking about what to do with the pub and brasserie.’

‘I’m sorry, Kirst. None of this is your fault and I know that if you could turn the clock back you would. I should be looking for another barmaid job, but I can’t get my head around the fact that this is actually happening. Mum and Dad will probably let me off with my board until I find something else but I’m worried about Leon. You must have heard the commotion he was making in the kitchen – he loathes Miles. There’s no way he’s going to stay on at The Duck when Miles takes over and he’s refusing to even start looking for anything else until you’ve signed the papers and it’s definite. You know what his landlord old Mr Fallows is like. He’d chuck him out on the street if he falls behind with the rent.’

‘Leon is an accomplished, Cordon Bleu-trained chef! In fact, to be honest, his talents are wasted here. He could do so much more if he moved on, perhaps to a restaurant in London. This might be the catalyst he needs to force him to move on to bigger and better things.’

Emma stared at Kirstie as though she didn’t know her at all. Her magenta lips parted as if she was trying to understand what she had just said, incredulity written boldly across her face. ‘Leon loves it here. Life’s not all about the ceaseless pursuit of ambition, Kirstie.’

And before Kirstie could stop her, Emma flounced from the room, her long blonde waves flowing in her slipstream like a miniature field of golden corn.

Kirstie groaned and dropped her head into her hands. The next two weeks were going to be harder than she thought. She had hoped to find a staunch ally in Emma, her friend since junior school, her sidekick in every adventure, her partner in every escapade. She needed Emma on her side, especially when she suspected she would be sparring with Josh too.

A sudden shaft of loneliness shot through her and she craved the reassuring presence of Olivia and Harry to soothe her aching heart. But, of course, they had much more important things to worry about than her concerns about getting to the end of December with her friendships intact. She had lost Josh eighteen months ago, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Emma too.

She texted Olivia to ask how George was and dashed up the stairs to the flat to get changed before Leon emerged from the kitchen brandishing a carving knife with a murderous look in his dark eyes.

She only had the strength to deal with one drama at a time!