Читать книгу The By Request Collection - Kate Hardy - Страница 70

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘THROUGH HERE, PLEASE.’

Two days later Ruby directed the three men toting the most enormous Christmas tree she’d ever seen into the library—the room Ethan had designated as Teen Base.

‘That’s perfect,’ she stated, refusing to allow the battalion of doubts that were making a spirited attempt to gain a foothold in her brain.

It was the tyrannosaurus rex of spruces. Once the delivery men had left she contemplated the sheer enormity of actually decorating the tree, and for a second considered enlisting Ethan’s help.

No. The tree had been her idea—plus she had vowed not to orchestrate any time with Ethan that could be avoided. Somehow she had to squash the urge to try to entice him into the idea of liking Christmas—had to suppress the urge for closeness that threatened at every turn.

The problem was the more they discussed the medieval ball and ways to raise money and publicity for their cause, the more she learnt about his ideas for Caversham Castle and the worse her gooey tummy syndrome became. The more he spoke about the youths he wished to help, the more sure she was that his empathy came from his own experiences. Which in turn led to her nutty desire to enmesh Ethan in the magic of Christmas.

Only it was clear he had no wish to enter her net. In the past two days his demeanour had been always professional, with the high expectations she’d become accustomed to, alleviated by a polite charm and appreciation for her work. But there was a guardedness, a caginess that kept her at a distance.

A distance she needed to respect—to welcome, even. Because Ethan Caversham was synonymous with danger. It was an equation she had to remember—because linked to her desire for emotional intimacy was the ever-present underlay of attraction. It was a lose-lose situation all round.

So she’d better get on with the decorations herself.

Inhaling the evocative spruce aroma that now tinged the air, Ruby opened the first box of ornaments with a small sigh of pleasure. This tree would exude Christmas and be the Christmassiest tree ever seen. Or at least the bits she could reach would be...

‘Ruby.’

The sound of Ethan’s deep voice nearly sent her tumbling from the stepladder.

‘Here you are. We’re meant to be doing the final run-through of the seating plan.’

Ruby twisted round to face him. ‘I am so sorry. I lost track of time.’

‘No worries.’ His glance rested for a second on the tree. ‘Looks good.’

‘Good? Is that all you can say.’ Ruby stepped backwards to assess her handiwork so far. ‘It’s flipping marvellous, if I say so myself. I know I’ve only managed to get less than half done, but I think the bold and beautiful theme works.’

Reds, purples and golds abounded, though she had made sure that the lush green of the pine was also on display. The ornaments were tasteful, but with a vibrant appeal that she thought would at least mean the tree would be noticed.

‘So come on. Surely you can do better than “good” as an adjective.’

‘Eye-catching,’ he said, and she frowned at the obvious effort.

The syllables sounded forced. It was almost as if he didn’t want to look at the tree or at her. Well, tough! He’d agreed to her plan to try to offer these youths some Christmas spirit, so the least he could do was be polite.

Better yet... ‘Do you want to help me finish decorating it? As you can see it’s pretty big—and you’re taller than me. Plus it might be fun.’

The challenging smile slid from her lips as she clocked his sudden leaching of colour, his small step backwards. As if he’d seen a ghost.

He scraped a hand down his face as if to force his features into a semblance of normality. ‘I’ll pass, thanks. Trust me—you wouldn’t want me bah-humbugging about the place.’

It was a credible attempt to lighten his expression, marred only by the wary ice-blue flecks in his eyes and the slight clenching of his jaw.

Every instinct told her he was hurting, and without thought she moved towards him and placed her hand over his forearm—the texture of his skin, the rough smattering of hair embedded itself into her fingertips.

‘Look what happened to Scrooge. The ghosts of Christmases Past do not have to ruin the possibilities of Christmas Present.’

She’d expected him to scoff at the concept of ghosts—instead he simply shook his head. There was something intangible about him that she didn’t understand—the way his blue-grey eyes zoned in on her, haunted, glittering with something elusive, as if they could see something she couldn’t.

‘Leave it, Ruby. The tree is incredible; you’re doing a great job. Find me when it’s done. No rush.’

His voice was so flat that instinct told her his spectres hovered close. It seemed clear what she ought to do—let him go, remember his disinclination to get close, the danger signs she had already identified, his need for distance. But she couldn’t... She didn’t know what had triggered his reaction, doubted he would tell her, but maybe she could help.

‘Don’t go.’

A frown descended on his brow at her words and she clenched her fingers into her palm and forced herself to hold her ground.

‘Ethan. Stay. Try it. Let’s decorate together.’

Gathering all her courage, she squatted down and hefted a box of purple baubles.

‘Here. I get that you don’t want to, and I get that sometimes the past taints the present, but these kids will be here the day after tomorrow and there’s lots to be done.’

‘You’re suggesting tree decoration as some form of therapy?’ He was back in control now—on the surface at least—and his voice was a drawl. ‘Or have you bitten off more than you can chew?’

‘A bit of both... This tree needs help. So—are you in?’

* * *

Was he in? Ethan stared down at the box of purple ornaments. Why was he even considering this idea?

Because Ruby had a point. From a practical point of view this gargantuan tree did need to be finished, and if he left Ruby to it she probably wouldn’t get it done until past midnight.

And that was a problem because...?

Ruby was the one who had ordered the tree in the first place—and since when had he cavilled at the thought of his staff working overtime? Ethan gusted out a sigh. Since now, apparently. Because—tough business guy or not—if he walked out of this room now he would feel like an A-class schmuck.

He’d have to get over the memories and get on with it.

The shock had hit him with unexpected force. For a vivid second the memory of Tanya had been so stark he might have believed he’d been transported back in time. He’d heard his sister’s voice persuading him to help decorate the tree, remembered arranging the tinsel and the scruffy, cheap but cheerful decorations under her instruction.

The memory had receded now, and as he looked at Ruby’s almost comically hopeful expression he shrugged.

‘I’m in.’

That way maybe there’d be a chance of getting some actual work done that day.

Whoa, Ethan, play fair. He’d agreed to this whole magic of Christmas idea; he just hadn’t reckoned on the extent of Ruby’s enchantment scheme.

‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘So you’re in charge of purple. I’ll do the red.’

For a while they worked in a silence that seemed oddly peaceful. To his own irritation he found himself stepping down at intervals, to check the effect of his handiwork. A snort of exasperation escaped his lips and Ruby’s subsequent chuckle had him glaring across at her.

‘Sorry. I couldn’t help it. You look so...absorbed.’

‘Yes, well. If I do something I make sure I do it properly.’

For no reason whatsoever the words travelled across the pine-scented air and took on an unintended undertone...one that brought an image of kissing Ruby with attention to every detail. It was an effort not to crane his neck in a search for mistletoe. Instead his eyes snagged on the lush outline of her lips and desire tautened inside him.

Her fingers rose and touched her lips. He heard her intake of breath and forced his gaze to return to the tree.

‘So...’ His voice resembled that of a frog. Try again. ‘So, believe me, my share of this tree will rock and roll.’

A small shake of her head and then her lips tilted into a full-wattage smile. ‘See? It is kind of fun, isn’t it?’

Ethan blinked—to his own surprise, it was...but it would be a whole lot better if he could tell himself that the reason had zip to do with his fellow decorator. Maybe her palpable belief in the magic of Christmas was contagious. Dear Lord—he’d lost the plot big-time. If he didn’t take care he’d find himself with a pillow round his middle in a red suit.

‘Could be worse,’ he muttered as he stretched up his arm to thread a silver-spangled ball on to a branch.

Hmm... Alarm bells started to toll in his brain. If Ruby had gone this over the top with the tree, what other schemes were afoot?

‘So...any other magical plans apart from the tree?’

Ruby expertly unhooked a strand of tinsel and rearranged it. ‘I’ve planned a bake-off.’

‘A bake-off?’

‘Yup. I think they’ll go for it because of all the TV shows. My plan is that everyone has a go at Christmas cookies and gingerbread. It will be friendly—they can judge each other. Or the ones who really don’t want to bake can judge. It will make a nice start to the festivities. Then they can eat Tony’s pizzas and chill, play some games, maybe catch a Christmas movie. I’ll make popcorn.’

‘That sounds like a lot of work for you.’ Ethan hesitated; he didn’t want to hail on her parade or dim her enthusiasm, but... ‘You do know that these kids...they may not appreciate your good intentions.’

‘Don’t worry. I know I’m coming across all Pollyanna, but I have kept a reality check. I’ve got in extra fire extinguishers, plus I’ve cleared out all the sharp knives, though I’ve decided cookie cutters won’t be lethal. I know there is a chance none of them will engage. But...’ Reaching up, she attached a gold bauble. ‘I’ve got to try. Because if we get through to even one of these kids and create a happy memory of Christmas then it will be worth it. Even if they aren’t in a place to show their appreciation.’

‘The “dilute the tainted memories” approach?’ he said.

‘Yup.’

For a second Ethan wondered if that were possible—then knew he was deluded. It wasn’t. He wasn’t even sure he wanted it to be.

Once he’d believed the best thing to do was obliterate the chain of memories with mindless anger. Beat them into oblivion. Especially the memory of the Christmas after Tanya’s death. His mother, him, and the ghost of Tanya. In the end rage had overcome him and he’d hurled the microwaved stodgy food at the wall, watched the gravy trickle and blend in with the grungy paint. Once he’d started he hadn’t been able to stop—had pulled the scrawny tree from its pot, flung it down. Stamped on it, kicked it—as if the tree had been the bully who had driven Tanya to her death.

His mother hadn’t said a word; then she had left the room with a curt, ‘Clean it up.’

Seconds later he’d heard the sound of the television and known that it was the end of Christmas. By the following Christmas she’d consigned him to social services and he’d taken to the streets, consumed by grief, anger and misery. Then finally he’d decided to take control—to leash the demons and channel his emotions in order to succeed.

With an abrupt movement he stood back. ‘I’m done.’

Seeing the snap of concern in her blue eyes, he forced his lips into a smile. Ruby’s way wasn’t his way, but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t a good way—and she was right. If her way could help even one of these teenagers then it was worth every moment.

‘It looks spectacular.’

That pulled an answering smile, though her eyes still surveyed him with a question. ‘It’s a work of art.’

It was definitely a work of something—though Ethan wasn’t sure what.

‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘We need to do the star. It’s the pièce de résistance.’ She walked across the room and rummaged around in a box before twirling round. ‘What do you think?’

Ethan blinked, all darkness chased away by a star that could only be described as the Star of Bling. ‘Wow. That’s...’

‘Eye-catching?’ Ruby handed it up to him. ‘I think you should do the honours. Really.’ Her voice softened. ‘This is your scheme. I know I’m banging on about the magic of Christmas, but without you these teens wouldn’t be going anywhere. So I think it’s right that you should put the star on top.’

Ethan hesitated, a frisson of discomfort rippling through him at her tone. Too much admiration, too much emotion...best to get this whole interlude over with.

In an abrupt movement he placed the star on top of the tree, nestled it into the branches and jumped down off the stepladder.

‘There. Done. Now, how about we get some work done?’

‘Sure...’

Ethan frowned at the note of hesitation in her voice, saw her swift glance at her watch and sighed. ‘Unless you have more Christmas magic to sort?’

‘Not magic...just something I need to do. But I can do it later. It’s not a problem.’

Curiosity warred with common sense and won. ‘Okay. I’ll bite. What needs to be done?’

‘Now I’ll sound like Pollyanna on a sugar rush. I’ve bought them all gifts. Out of my own money,’ she added quickly.

‘The money’s not an issue.’ Affront touched him that she’d thought it would be.

‘I know that! I just wanted to make it personal. I’ll sign the tags from you as well. Though it would be better if you—’ She broke off.

‘If I signed them myself? I can do that.’

‘Fabulous. I’ll run up and get all the gifts now. Maybe we could wrap them whilst we discuss the seating plan?’

Ethan opened his mouth and then closed it again. What he’d meant was that Ruby could give him the tags to sign. No need for him to see the presents—presumably she’d bought them all chocolates or key rings. But she looked so pleased...

‘Sure,’ he heard his voice say.

‘I’ll be back in a mo...’

‘Bring them to my office.’ At least that way he could pretend it was work.

Ruby toted the bags out of her bedroom and paused on the landing. Time for a pep talk. It was wonderful that Ethan had bought into her ideas, but she had to grab on to the coat-tails of perspective before it disappeared over the horizon. Sure, he’d helped decorate the tree, but that was because she had given him little choice—he’d done it for those teens and so that she could resume her restaurant manager duties more quickly. Not for her.

It was time to get these gifts wrapped and get on with some work.

So why, when she entered his office, did she feel a small ripple of disappointment to see Ethan behind his desk, intent on his computer screen, exuding professionalism?

His glance up as she entered was perfunctory at best.

She hesitated. ‘If you want to get on with some work I can wrap these later.’

‘No, it’s fine.’ One broad hand swept the contents of the desktop to one side.

‘Right. Here goes. I’ve got a list that details each person and their gift.’

His body stilled. ‘You bought individual gifts?’

‘Yes. I called the social workers, got a few numbers for foster carers and residential home workers and chatted to some people. Just to find out a bit about them all, so I could buy something personal.’

His eyes rested on her with an indecipherable expression.

‘Hey... Like you would say, it’s no big deal.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘No—really. To be honest, it’s kind of therapeutic. In a weird way I feel like I’m doing it for myself. The me of all those years ago. Because I can remember what it was like in care, being the person with the token present. That was the worst of it—having to be grateful for gifts that were impersonal. Don’t get me wrong—some carers really tried. But they didn’t know me well enough to know what I wanted. Others couldn’t be bothered to get to know me. So I’d get orange-flavoured chocolate when I only liked milk, or a top that I loathed and that didn’t fit.’

For heaven’s sake!

‘That all sounds petty, doesn’t it? But I want these kids to get a gift they want—not something generic.’

‘Like a key ring or a chocolate bar?’ he said, and a rueful smile touched his lips.

‘Is that what you thought I’d bought?’

‘Yes. I guess I should have known better.’ Ethan rose to his feet. ‘Come on.’

‘Where to?’

‘Let’s do this properly. We’ll wrap in the bar and you can show me what you bought everyone and brief me on what you found out about them. I’ll light the fire and we’ll have a drink.’

‘What about work?’

The rueful smile became even more rueful, mixed with charm, and Ruby concentrated on keeping her breathing steady.

‘I think we have done all we can do. The seating plan looks fine, the food is sorted, the wine is sorted, the auction is sorted and the band is booked. The banqueting hall furniture arrives after the Christmas period. All in all, I think we may have run out of work.’

He was right—and she knew exactly why that smile was now packed with regret...because without work to focus on what would they do with themselves?

She looked down at the presents she carried. The answer to that problem was to wrap fast, then flee to bed. Alone.