CHAPTER SIX
Hannah had a busy day at work the next day. She’d drawn the short straw – literally, as the non-managerial staff drew actual straws for the worst chores – and had to clean out Chadwick’s icky cage. Not her favourite task!
After that horror, Sam went off sick, sniffling and coughing like some Dickensian character from the slums, and Hannah ended up doing his chore as well, which was to clean out the hens. Then Lightning Brow escaped again, and Hannah spent a good quarter of an hour tracking her down behind the fish tanks in the Aquarium Department. She’d been pecked (by Lightning Brow), sworn at (by Chadwick, repeatedly), and was hot and tired, and feeling pretty hard done-by before it was even lunch time.
But as darkness closed in outside, the flashing Christmas lights on the tree displays gave the place a festive feel, and soon there was a rush on the tills. Camilla found Hannah in the big greenhouse among the seedlings, and told her to abandon her wheelbarrow and help out there instead.
The good thing was, dealing with customers and gift-wrapping gnomes, she didn’t have any time to think about Daniel.
But it was yet another exhausting day, when she looked forward to being her own boss and setting her own hours …
She was knackered by the time she got home in the dark. So when she opened the front door and saw that Pepper had knocked over the Christmas tree again, she just wanted to sit down and cry.
Perhaps she could just walk around it this evening, rather than struggle to pick the blasted tree up again when she was so tired.
She jumped at a knock on the door. ‘Who on earth … ?’
Perhaps it was Mr Smirthwaite, coming to tell her that he’d be working on one of the other cottages in the little terrace.
Dragging the door open, Hannah opened her mouth to say a weary, ‘Hello,’ but nothing came out.
At the level where Mr Smirthwaite’s eyes would have been was a broad chest clad in an expensive-looking black wool coat.
Her gaze travelled up to meet a pair of intense green eyes.
Good grief.
‘Hi there,’ Daniel said, tilting his head to one side as he studied her. ‘You look … tired.’
‘Impressive deduction, Sherlock.’
She was being snarky, but inwardly she wanted to wail out loud. Why did Daniel have to choose this moment to come and see her, in her dirty overalls, no doubt smelly too, her brown hair unbrushed, and so exhausted she was ready to pitch forward on her face and snore.
‘I thought I’d see how you are. After what happened yesterday.’ He caught sight of the downed Christmas tree. ‘What’s happened? Have you been burgled?’
‘Only by a cat burglar.’
He looked mystified. ‘Sorry?’
‘Pepper hates the tree, or loves it too much. I can never decide which. Anyway, it always ends up getting knocked over.’ She ran a hand through her dishevelled hair, feeling highly self-conscious under his gaze. ‘I need ornaments that can bounce.’
‘I see.’ Daniel’s mouth kicked up at the corner. ‘Can I help? It looks heavy.’
Hannah stepped back and let Daniel in, too tired to argue. He carried in with him the crisp scent of cold Yorkshire lanes and evergreen trees, and as she closed the door to shut out the dark, a few white flakes spiralled dizzily onto the doorstep.
Snow!
By the time she’d closed the door and nudged the draught excluder back into place, Daniel had put down the cloth bag he was carrying, righted the Christmas tree, and started to pick up loose baubles.
All this activity was being watched curiously by the cat, who had been curled up on the sofa, but now sat up to stretch and groom himself.
‘See what you did, you naughty cat?’ Hannah concentrated on Pepper to keep herself from staring at Daniel’s bottom, outlined in tight black jeans as he bent to retrieve a golden bauble from under her coffee table. She took the bauble from him with a murmured, ‘Thank you,’ and hung it back on the tree, then switched on the Christmas lights again. Thankfully they still worked, brightly flashing on and off in sequence.
That job done, Daniel shucked his coat without asking if he could stay, and tended the fire instead, setting a shovelful of coals on the banked embers. They began to smoke and catch, bringing the fire back to life and slowly raising warmth in the small room. At least, that was what she was blaming for her heightened colour, Hannah thought, catching an embarrassed glimpse of herself in the mirror near the front door.
‘You look wiped out,’ he said suddenly, straightening to face her. ‘Why don’t you grab a shower while I make you a drink?’
‘I’m not really in a party mood.’
‘I didn’t mean anything alcoholic. A cup of tea sound good?’
Hannah forced herself to meet his fierce gaze, and instantly regretted it. She could feel her heart jolt and start beating incredibly hard, like she’d been running over the moors. Oh, this was so silly. Yes, Daniel was very fanciable, and they were alone together in front of a cosy fire. But he was also just a very kind neighbour.
‘Thank you,’ she said huskily, and slipped out of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, feeling slightly better and one hundred percent cleaner, she wrapped up tightly in her PJs and dressing gown, then tiptoed back downstairs, only to hear the front door closing with a soft snick.
‘Hello?’
There was no response.
Daniel had gone.
A gently steaming cup of tea sat on her battered pine coffee table, alongside a toasted sandwich, and a small parcel wrapped in brightly coloured paper.
So that was what he'd brought in that bag.
She ignored the tea and the sandwich, dropping into her favourite armchair and swiftly unwrapping the parcel, childishly eager to see what he’d left her.
Inside was a box of chocolate truffles, and a plain white card on which Daniel had scrawled in rather messy, angular script:
Woody says sorry for startling you, and he’d like an opportunity to get to know you better. We both would, in fact. So we’d be delighted if you would join us for dinner at Abbey Villa on Friday night. No eyeballs or bloody cocktails, I promise. Text me if you’re coming.
Daniel
Underneath this extraordinary message was a mobile phone number.
His, presumably.
Hannah stared down at the box of expensive truffles, and could not seem to catch her breath. This was what he had come round to deliver. A dinner invitation. From none other than Daniel Elliott. Not in the Lucky Parrot café this time, nor out at some swanky restaurant in York or Whitby, but in the infinitely more intimate and dangerous setting of Abbey Villa. If she accepted, she would be completely alone with him. And … his snake.
She went quite pink.
Oh my god.
In the end she picked up her mobile and texted, ‘Yes to dinner, thank you,’, with fingers that trembled slightly, and then tried not to think about it any more.
Easier said than done, of course. In fact, she tried so hard not to think about it that she ended up thinking about it anyway.
All. The. Time.
Friday evening arrived at last. She fed Pepper an extra-special fish dinner, as she wanted him to sleep all evening and not play merry hell with the tree again. Then she jumped in the shower, excited that she was finally going to get her wish. Tonight, Daniel would see her in something other than dirty overalls, or casual jeans and over-sized jumpers. So she was determined to wear something … feminine.
Hannah chose a tight-fitting scarlet dress, the slinkiest thing in her entire wardrobe, that she had worn only once to a party last New Year’s Eve. She teamed it up with a chain of gold and green glass squares, and secured her shoulder-length hair in a loose top knot, making sure that tendrils drifted sexily around her face. At least, she hoped they looked sexy, and not like they had escaped unintentionally.
Matching red heels or sensible wellies, though?
There was a thin layer of snow outside when she opened her front door, and although Mr Smirthwaite had kindly gritted the road and cleared a path from her front door to her gate, she would still have to navigate the drive up to Abbey Villa.
Oh, sod it.
She slid her feet into the shockingly red high heels, grabbed her wrap, and a bottle of wine she had bought earlier at the off-licence, and after ordering Pepper to stay put, she set out into the dark.
There was a certain freedom in walking openly up to the front door of Abbey Villa. Though it was odd how she hadn’t felt as nervous creeping up the drive on previous occasions as she did now, approaching the house openly.
The door swung open before she could lift the knocker, leaving her hand stranded in mid air.
Daniel stood there, smiling as he looked her up and down with appreciative eyes. ‘You look ravishing.’
Was he going to ravish her, she wondered?
Or should she ravish him?
‘Hello,’ she said breathlessly, shoving that reckless thought to the back of her mad brain, and thrusting the bottle at him. ‘I’ve bought wine.’
‘You didn’t need to. I had a case of wine delivered only the other day, and I’ll never get through it all before I leave. But thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’
She also pushed aside that casual reference to him leaving, though it stung a little. If only he could live here in Yorkshire permanently.
If ifs and ands were pots and pans, as she had heard Ivy say on numerous occasions. No point wishing for what’s impossible, she told herself in the old lady’s absence. Besides, he might be heading home after Christmas, but she’d have some serious eye candy between then and now to soothe away any heartache.
And he did look totally gorgeous tonight, Hannah thought, ogling him shamelessly. His habitual black was leavened tonight by a green shirt, close to the colour of his eyes, open at the neck, revealing a glimpse of rough hair on his chest.
Oh my.
‘Come inside out of the cold.’ Daniel took the wine, and kissed her on the cheek as she slipped past him. ‘Lovely shoes.’ His eyes seemed to glow as he closed the front door and turned to study her in detail, his gaze as frankly admiring as hers had been. ‘But a dangerous choice, perhaps. Given tonight’s weather.’
‘Oh, us Northern lasses are hardy as moor ponies,’ she told him airily, and teetered off down the hallway towards the kitchen in her high red heels, leaving him behind without a backward glance. ‘Trust me, we could wander round all night in our undies and not feel the cold.’
‘Is that so?’ he said drily, following her.
‘Absolutely.’ She paused on the kitchen threshold, gazing in. The windows were slightly steamed up, the air warm and redolent with the delicious aroma of cooking. ‘Try checking out the night clubs in York on a Friday night. You’ll see what I mean.’
‘Only if you come with me.’
She glanced round at him, almost shocked by the suggestion, and her heart gave a tiny jerk of excitement or fear, or possibly both. ‘I’m not really – ’
‘A party person? Yes, so I recall.’ He went past her into the kitchen and put the red wine on the side, rummaging in Ivy’s cutlery drawer for a corkscrew. ‘Perhaps dinner in York next Friday night, then? We could ask for a window seat and knicker-spot from the comfort of a fully-heated restaurant.’
Her cheeks felt flushed now, and not just from the heat in the kitchen. ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she said carefully, not sure how deep she should plunge into this man’s company, however lovely it felt to be dipping her toes tonight. ‘It’s getting close to Christmas. I may have to work late.’
‘On a Friday night?’
‘It does happen at this time of year.’
She cast about for a way to change the subject, peering through the open plan kitchen to the dining area. Ivy’s small round table had been laid ready for their meal. If she’d had any doubt about whether this was a friendly dinner or an actual date, the immaculate white linen tablecloth, cut-crystal wine glasses, and single red candle in the centre, rapidly clarified things. Her heart sped up as she considered the significance of that romantic-looking single candle, already lit, its flame burning gently.
Was this a seduction?
Catching his gaze on her face, she managed to say, ‘How lovely! But you really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.’
‘It was no trouble. Besides, I wanted to strike a different note to the ambiance at the Lucky Parrot café,’ he said with a grin, ‘charming though it was.’
‘There’s no comparison, believe me,’ Hannah said wryly, eyeing the crystal glassware, but then felt a little disloyal to her employer. ‘Still, I actually like the décor in the garden centre café. It’s a cheerful place to have lunch on a cold winter’s day.’
Dragging the cork out of the wine bottle, Daniel smiled as though he had read her mind again. Which perhaps he had, in that spooky way of his. ‘Of course it is. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.’ A timer went off above the cooker and he grimaced, hurriedly passing her the wine. ‘Sorry, could you pop that bottle on the dining table for me? I’d better start serving dinner.’
She carried the wine through and placed it carefully on the table. The room looked cosy and intimate, the long velvet curtains drawn to shut out the cold night. There was a handsome Christmas tree in one corner, hung with delicate glassy baubles and wreathed generously in thick swathes of gold and silver tinsel. A string of coloured lights flashed cheerfully on and off in its branches, lending the room a festive air. She spotted the empty lights box next to the tree, and grinned at the price sticker, recognising it as Lucky Parrot Garden Centre stock that had been recently reduced.
So it was Daniel who had put up this Christmas tree and decorated it, not Ivy.
That was interesting.
‘Can you turn on the iPod too?’ he called through the open archway from the kitchen, then turned back to the cooker, oven glove in hand. ‘Thanks.’
‘Erm … ’
Hannah frowned, peering about for the device, then found an iPod dock on the sideboard. It appeared to be turned on, so she pressed play.
She had expected mood music. Perhaps some soft jazz, or classical music, something low and seductive to accompany dinner.
Instead, the cheerful strains of a traditional Christmas carol came pouring out of the iPod speaker, sung by what sounded like choirboys in a large church or cathedral.
‘While shepherds watched their flocks by night … ’
Her brows rose in surprise.
‘You like Christmas carols?’ he called out.
Hannah drifted back to the threshold of the kitchen area, intrigued by this contradictory man, who lived such a glamorous celebrity life in London, yet seemed to enjoy the simplest of pleasures. Dinner for two at home, Christmas carols, lights on the tree …
‘I love them.’
He glanced round at her, perhaps catching something in her voice, and smiled. ‘Excellent.’
He bent to remove a steaming ceramic dish from the oven. She tried not to stare again, but couldn’t prevent her gaze from following him about the kitchen, dishing up vegetables and snapping off the cooker. His movements were graceful and economical as he precisely placed each serving on the two oval-shaped plates.
‘Allow me,’ he said, carrying both plates through to the table.
Once they were seated opposite each other, he nodded to her. ‘Please, eat. No need to wait,’ he said, unfurling his white cloth napkin and laying it elegantly across his lap.
‘Thank you, this all looks amazing.’
‘Bon appétit!’ Daniel took a deep swallow of wine, and then made an appreciative face. ‘Mmm. Deep cherry fruit, with vanilla undertones.’
‘Sorry?’
‘The wine.’ He toasted her with his raised glass. ‘To you, Hannah, for saying yes.’ He drank some more, then nodded. ‘I love these New Zealand Merlots. Good call.’
Unsure, Hannah picked up her wine glass, then took a little sip. Not a big wine drinker, she had grabbed the first nice-looking bottle off the shelf in the off-licence, and to be honest, this one just tasted like any other red wine to her. But she could see his gaze intent on her face, clearly waiting for a reaction.
Smiling at him nervously, she took a proper gulp, rolling the fruity liquid about in her mouth as she had seen him do when first tasting it.
‘Mmm,’ she murmured, then swallowed. ‘Very … erm …’
When she tailed off, he grinned across the table at her. ‘Exactly. Very erm.’ Then he nodded to her food again. ‘So what do you think?’
Hannah was starving by then, and could probably have gobbled down a horse, but she didn’t want Daniel to think she had no manners. Besides, the wild mushroom and venison stroganoff in front of her looked like it needed to be savoured. So she did just that, eating with deliberate care and enjoying every mouthful.
And goodness, he could cook!
‘Wow,’ she said, staring at him, ‘your stroganoff is seriously scrumptious.’
He laughed. ‘Thank you.’
‘You made this all on your own, right?’ When he nodded casually, she added, ‘Sorry to sound a bit sexist here. But my dad can barely make himself egg on toast. Do you mind if I ask where you learned to cook like this?’
‘Ivy.’ He topped up her wine. ‘Back when I was a kid, I used to come here for my school holidays and she taught me all the basics.’
‘More than the basics,’ Hannah said enviously, and took another few thirsty glugs of wine. Gosh, she could taste those vanilla undertones now. At any rate, the wine was getting tastier the more she drank. ‘This is delicious.’
‘Wait until you’ve tasted dessert.’
Hannah thought maybe she’d died and gone to heaven when she took her first mouthful of the baked chocolate pudding he set in front of her.
‘Oh my. That’s… I’m – ’
He watched her eat, a distinct gleam in his eye. ‘Good, huh?’
‘Understatement of the century.’
His slow smile warmed her skin and made her toes curl in her high heels.
You are falling way too fast and hard for this man, she told herself sternly. Be careful or you’ll end up with your heart well and truly snapped in two.
‘How … erm … How do you make it?’ she asked, trying not to blush under his stare.
‘Ivy’s secret recipe,’ he whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially. ‘I would tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’
She licked her lips, chasing the last of her chocolate dessert, and saw him watching the tiny gesture.
She ran a hand across her forehead, breathing fast. Gosh, she thought, it was hot in here after her chilly cottage. Or maybe it was the wine …
‘Hey, aren’t you going to eat yours?’ A little tipsy, she waved her spoon towards his untouched dessert and it clinked against her wine glass, making it wobble. ‘Oops.’
They both grabbed the glass at the same time, his palm covering hers. For a brief moment, they remained frozen like that, and then, a sudden heat flaring in her cheeks, Hannah let go of the glass, and Daniel finally picked up his spoon and took a mouthful of dessert.
But her skin still tingled where he had touched her.
DANGER! RED ALERT!
Dizzily, she searched for something to say that might distract them both from that wickedly seductive little moment.
‘How’s Woody? You said that he … he’d be joining us for dinner.’
‘Ah yes, well, that may have been an exaggeration. Woody’s upstairs right now in my bedroom, safely contained in his tank. I thought having a snake in the dining room might give you indigestion.’ Daniel gave a rueful half-smile at her expression, as both of them recalled what had happened the day Woody escaped. As if she would ever be able to forget that surreal moment when a film director fell on her while hunting for his snake. ‘But he’s usually very well-behaved, trust me.’ He paused, his head tipped to one side as he studied her face. ‘Would you like a proper introduction?’