Читать книгу Christmas In The Boss's Castle - Scarlet Wilson, Scarlet Wilson - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHAT’S WRONG WITH you today?’ asked Alice.

Grace was staring out of the window, lack of sleep making her woozy.

She turned her attention back to Alice. ‘Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired.’

Alice narrowed her gaze with a sly smile on her face. ‘I’ve seen that kind of distracted look before—just not on you.’

Grace finished making the bed and turned to face Alice. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

The last thing she wanted to do was admit to Alice the reasons that sleep had evaded her. It would be easy to say it was excitement about the job offer. Stress about whether she could actually do the job. But the truth was—while they might have contributed—the main sleep stealer had been the face that kept invading her mind every few seconds.

There was something so enigmatic about Finlay Armstrong. It wasn’t just the traditional good looks, blue eyes and sexy Scottish accent. It was something so much more.

And there was no way she could be the only one that felt it.

A successful businessman like Finlay Armstrong must have women the world over trying to put themselves on his radar.

She had no idea how he behaved in private. Five years was a long time. Had he had any hook ups since his wife died? Probably. Surely?

She didn’t even want to think like that.

It was just...that moment...that moment on the roof. The expression in his eyes. The way he’d looked at her when he’d reached up and touched her cheek.

Grace hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how low she’d been feeling up there. She hadn’t wanted to admit how she was missing her gran so much it felt like a physical pain.

But for a few seconds—up on that roof—she’d actually thought about something else.

She’d actually only thought about Finlay Armstrong.

‘Grace?’ Alice Archer had walked over and touched her arm.

‘Oh, sorry, Alice. I was miles away.’

Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘And where was that exactly?’

Grace bit her lip and pulled some folded papers from her white apron. ‘I’ve to help choose some Christmas decorations for the hotel. I was up half the night trying to find something appropriate.’

Alice gave a little smile and reached her thin hand over to look at the printouts. Grace swallowed. She could see the blue veins under Alice’s pale skin. A few of her knuckle joints were a little gnarled. They must give her pain—but she never complained. Another reminder of how much she missed her gran.

Alice glanced over the pictures, her eyes widening at a few. Grace had spent hours tracking down themes and stockists for particular items. All of them at costs that made her blink.

Alice gave her a thoughtful look as she handed the pictures back. She patted Grace’s hand. ‘I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect. It will be nice to have some Christmas cheer around the hotel.’

Grace couldn’t help but smile. ‘Christmas cheer, that’s exactly what I’m trying to capture. Something to make people get in the spirit.’

Alice walked over to her Louis XV velvet-covered chair and sank down with a wince.

‘Are you okay? Are you hurting?’

Alice shook her head proudly and folded her hands in her lap. ‘No. I’m not sore, Grace. I’m just old. I’ll have some lemon tea now, if you please.’

‘Of course.’ Grace hurried over to complete their morning ritual. She sliced the fresh lemon and prepared the tea, boiling the water and carrying the tray with the china teapot and cup and saucer over to the table at Alice’s elbow.

Alice gave a grateful sigh. Her make-up was still impeccable but her eyes were tired this morning. ‘Maybe you should have some help? Someone to give you some confidence in your decisions.’

Grace was surprised. ‘Do you want to come with me? You’re more than welcome to. I would be glad of the company.’

Alice laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I don’t mean me. I was thinking more of someone else...someone else who could use a little Christmas spirit.’

Grace had poured the tea and was about to hand the cup and saucer to Alice but her hand wobbled. She knew exactly who Alice was hinting about.

‘I don’t think that would be appropriate. He’s far too busy. He’s far too immersed in his work. He wouldn’t have time for anything like that.’

She shifted uncomfortably. She had a pink shirt hanging up in her locker, ready to change into once she’d finished her chambermaid duties. Alice was staring at her with those steady grey eyes. It could be a little unnerving. It was as if she could see into Grace’s head and see all the secret weird thoughts she’d been having about Finlay Armstrong since last night.

Gran had been a bit like that too. She’d always seemed to know what Grace was going to say before she even said it. Even when she’d been twelve years old and her friend had stolen a box of chocolates from the local shop. The associated guilt had nearly made Grace sick, and she’d only been home and under Gran’s careful gaze for ten minutes before she’d spilled everything.

Alice Archer was currently sparking off a whole host of similar feelings.

Her eyes took on a straight-to-the-point look. ‘He asked you to get him some Christmas decorations, didn’t he?’

Grace set the cup and saucer down. ‘Yes,’ she replied hesitantly.

‘Then, he’s reached the stage that he’s ready to start living again.’

The words were so matter-of-fact. So to the point. But Alice wasn’t finished.

‘It’s time to bring a little Christmas magic to The Armstrong, Grace, and you look like just the girl to do it.’

* * *

One hour later the black shirt was crumpled in a bag and her long-sleeved deep pink shirt with funny little tie thing at the collar was firmly in place. She grabbed some more deodorant from her locker. She was feeling strangely nervous. A quick glance in the mirror showed her hair was falling out of its bun again. She pulled the clip from her hair and gave it a shake. Her hair tumbled in natural waves. She was lucky. It rarely needed styling. Should she redo her lipstick?

She pulled her plum lipstick from her bag and slicked some on her lips. There. She was done. She took a deep breath, reaching into the apron that she’d pushed into her locker for her array of pictures. Her last touch was the black suit jacket—the only one she owned. She’d used it for her interview with Clio some months ago and thought of it as her good luck charm.

Finally she was satisfied with how she looked. She’d never be wearing designer clothes, but she felt presentable for the role she was about to undertake.

She pushed everything else back into the locker and did her final job—swapping her square-heeled black shoes for some black stilettos. She teetered for the tiniest second and laughed. Who was she trying to kid? She pulled open the locker again and slid her hand into the inside pocket of her black bag. There. Drop gold earrings that her gran had given her for her twenty-first birthday. She usually only wore them on special occasions but in the last few months, and particularly at this time of year, she missed her gran more than she could ever say. She slipped them into her ears and straightened her shoulders, taking a deep breath.

There it was. The little shot of confidence that she needed. She glanced down at the papers in her hand and smiled.

She was going to give this hotel the spirit of Christmas no matter what.

* * *

He could hear a strange noise outside his room. Like a shuffling. After more than a few seconds it was annoying.

Finlay’s first reaction was to shout. But something stopped him. Maybe it was Alice Archer? Could she have come looking for him?

He sat his pen down on his desk. ‘Is someone there?’

The noise that followed was almost a squeak. He smiled and shook his head. ‘Well, it’s obviously an infestation of mice. I’d better phone the exterminator.’

‘What? No!’ Grace’s head popped around the door.

Grace. It was funny the odd effect that had on him.

She kind of sidled into the office. ‘I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you, Mr Armstrong.’

He gestured towards the chair in front of him. ‘It’s Finlay. If you call me Mr Armstrong I’ll start looking over my shoulder for my father.’

She shot him a nervous smile and walked hesitantly across the room towards the chair.

He tried his best not to stare.

Grace had already caught his attention. But now, she wasn’t wearing the maid’s outfit. Now, she had on a black suit and stiletto heels.

Finlay Armstrong had met a million women in black suits and heels. But he’d never met one quite like Grace. She had on a pink shirt with a funny tie at the neck.

And it was the colour that made him suck in his breath. It wasn’t pale or bright, it was somewhere in the middle, a warm rose colour that brought out the colour in her cheeks and highlighted the tone of her lipstick. It suited her more than she could ever know.

Her hair swung as she walked across the room. It was the first time he’d seen it down. Okay, so the not staring wasn’t going to work. Those chestnut curls were bouncing and shining like the latest shampoo TV advert.

Grace sat down in the chair opposite him fixing him with her warm brown eyes. She slid something across the desk towards him.

‘I just wanted to check with you.’ She licked her pink lips for a second. ‘How, exactly, do I use this?’

He stared down at the company credit card. ‘What do you mean?’

She bit her lip now and crossed one leg over the other. Her skirt slid up her thigh and he tore his eyes away and fixed on her eyes.

Big mistake.

‘I mean, do I sign—can I sign? Or do I need a pin number or something?’