Dominic hummed as he worked his way back through the crowded party with a glass of champagne and a beer. He was glad he’d decided to come to this shindig after all. While it wasn’t really his style—he’d have much preferred an evening down at The Glass Bottom Boat with Pete—things had brightened up considerably since he’d met …
He paused. That’s right. They’d been so surprised to see each other again after all this time that Doug’s matchless manners had slipped. Dominic didn’t know the ‘not girlfriend’s’ name. He grinned. He would inside of five minutes, though.
She was a little more prim and sophisticated than his usual type. Not that he didn’t like sophisticated; he just tended to go for sporty girls. The women he usually met on his travels had battered plimsolls on their itchy feet, not stilettos. However, if he was going to prove he could be Mr Romantic maybe it was time to ditch the flower-child drifters and gypsy souls and try something different?
This blonde was certainly different and, although she was pretty and funny, he had the feeling she was going to be a bit of a challenge, which was perfect, actually. He needed something – or someone – to distract him for the next couple of months, because there was no way he was going to do a documentary on Jayce Ryder and his hotel chain to keep himself busy. He liked to tell the truth when he made his films and, as much as Mr Ryder kept bandying the words ‘creative freedom’ around, he had a feeling how it would go in reality. He’d end up being pushed into doing a hollow puff piece for The Hamilton and that wasn’t his style at all.
The corner of the terrace where he’d left her was more crowded now, and he elbowed his way through the last bit. He caught sight of a green and white floral dress, cool and serene against all the corporate grey and black, and realised she’d joined Doug and Jayce again. She was talking animatedly and both men were hanging on her every word, ready to laugh every time she finished a sentence. It was odd – she came across as all buttoned-up, but there was something very open and warm about her too.
He joined the group just as she was coming to a high point. ‘And you’ll never guess what he did next!’ she was telling the pair excitedly. ‘I don’t know whether to hoot with laughter or sue him for defamation of character!’
Doug wiped a tear from his eye. ‘This is too funny,’ he said between heaving breaths.
Dominic offered her the glass of champagne. Somehow she managed to smile, thank him and ask him if he could hold on to it just a little bit longer with one glance. He shrugged one shoulder and let her carry on.
She was digging around in a handbag that was the same shade of olive as the leaves on her dress. Eventually, she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. ‘Okay,’ she said, shooting a smile at her audience, ‘here it is.’
‘That’s the actual thing?’ Doug said, eyebrows high. He looked as if he was fit to bust something. ‘Can I see it?’
She nodded. ‘Let me read it first.’ She took a breath, composed herself and started to read what was on the paper.
‘Dear Ms Bixby…’
Dominic kept on grinning. He was only half listening, too busy wondering how he could steer her away from the competition and have her all to himself again. A tiny neuron in his brain flashed and winked, trying to alert him to the fact he’d just missed something important, but he ignored it.
‘I’m very sorry if I kept you awake last night. I didn’t realise my music would disturb you.’
The neuron winked harder, almost spontaneously combusting with the effort, and Dominic, who was nodding, waiting for the rest of the story he’d half missed to be over, stopped smiling. He experienced a cold rush, similar to the feeling he usually got when he realised he’d left the house without something essential. He patted his pockets and found his phone, his keys and his wallet all safely there.
‘Okay, this is the priceless bit,’ Claire was saying. ‘I was under the impression that you are a little deaf and the volume has certainly never bothered you before. However, I’m guessing you’ve recently had a hearing aid fitted, and I’ll try to keep the noise down in the future, especially late at night.’
Dominic froze. That lone neuron had finally done its job and now slumped exhausted in the corner, while a thousand others took up its cause and lit up his brain like a firework display. He took a good long slug of his beer.
It couldn’t be. How had she got hold of that?
Wh-why? Why? Why? Like a broken record, his mind seemed to have got stuck on that word.
How could this attractive woman he’d just met at a party be reading the note he’d left for his upstairs neighbour this morning? Had some weird Doctor Who thing happened and it had slipped through a wormhole and ended up in her handbag?
She was giggling, really giggling now, which made her nose crease up and look cute. Dominic got stuck looking at it, looking at the bright smile underneath. It was way easier than trying to work out what parallel universe he’d slipped into.
‘And he left the note on my doorstep along with a box of Milk Tray and the latest issue of The People’s Friend. I mean, how rude can you get?’
‘What a jerk,’ Jayce muttered.
Dominic hadn’t warmed to the hotel tycoon that much since first meeting him, but now he was starting to actively dislike him. What did he mean ‘jerk’? A lot of thought had gone into those presents. He downed the rest of his beer.
It was then that Doug spotted him standing there, confused and scowling, an empty bottle in one hand and a glass of fizz in the other. ‘Hey, you’re back! I’m so sorry, Nic. Please forgive my rudeness. I forgot to introduce you to this lovely creature …’ He turned and smiled at his guest. ‘This is Claire Bixby.’
Those fireworks inside Dominic’s head went for the finale. He put his mouth to his beer bottle and found it empty, so downed the champagne instead. ‘Claire Bixby?’ he repeated, weakly.
‘Yes,’ Doug replied, completely oblivious to anything but the lovely woman in the green and white dress he’d brought with him. ‘I’d like her to become the second Mrs Martin, but she keeps turning me down.’
‘The second Mrs Martin?’ he repeated, no less confused than before the introduction. Had Doug got married and divorced since he’d last seen him?
Claire raised a hand and shielded her mouth. ‘Second after his mother,’ she added with a wink.
‘And, Claire, this is Nic—’
Dominic thrust out his hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Claire,’ he said quickly, cutting Doug off. He didn’t know why he did that, just that he felt he needed a bit of time to gather his scrambled thoughts together before he revealed his true identity. That, and the fact he was on the verge of becoming the butt of the joke the other three were sharing.
She smiled back at him, began to say something, but then spotted the empty glass in his hand and frowned. ‘Was that … mine?’
Dominic nodded. ‘Terribly crowded,’ he muttered. ‘Got bumped. Let me just go and get you—’
And with that he was away again, putting some distance and some cold air between himself and this Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole moment.
He shook his head as he searched for a waiter with a tray. No, that couldn’t be Claire Bixby. Not his Claire Bixby. His Claire was old. Waspish. With armour-plated boobs. There had to be another one. That was the only explanation.
He lunged at a waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes and nearly went flying over a low sofa. Thankfully, he found his balance and righted himself, grabbing a glass at the right minute and almost spilling some onto the head of the girl sitting below him. He turned and headed back to Doug and Jayce and … Claire.
The straw he’d clutched at crumbled in his fingers. While there could be another Claire Bixby in London, what were the chances of her being in possession of his letter and knowing about his peace offering? The only thing he could think of was that maybe she was named after a relative like her mother or her—
Dominic felt as if he’d run into a brick wall at full sprint.
Her grandmother. And not Claire. He’d been right all along – the old lady upstairs had been called Laura or Laurel or something like that. Suddenly, it was all starting to fall into place, why his neighbour had been defying his expectations at every turn.
‘Here,’ he said, thrusting the champagne in her direction. ‘I got you another one.’
She wasn’t smiling so warmly at him now. Probably because he was being a little weird. But who wouldn’t under these circumstances? ‘So what happened …? With the note and the … other stuff?’ he asked.
She shook her head, as if she was weary of the subject and just wanted to be done with it. ‘Nothing,’ she said, ‘I was so furious I haven’t even thought about replying yet. Anything I might write would probably get me arrested!’
He blinked. ‘But chocolates are nice, aren’t they? Everyone likes getting chocolates.’
Both Doug and Jayce shook their heads. Jayce coughed. ‘Rookie move,’ he said. ‘So obvious. If you really want to win a woman round, you have to be a lot more creative than that!’
Dominic scowled at him. The adrenalin was still pumping hard through his system and he’d like to release a bunch of it via a well-timed punch. Mr Smooth over there was looking more and more like a prime target.
‘I suppose it would have been a nice gesture—’ Claire cut in.
Dominic spun to look at her, scowl erased. There. He’d known she was an intelligent woman the first moment he’d set eyes on her.
‘If he hadn’t meant it as an insult,’ she finished.
Dominic opened his mouth but no words came out.
‘I mean, all those references to knitting and cocoa and hearing aids!’ Claire said, a firm and very defined little line appearing between her eyebrows. Her nose and mouth might say ‘fun’, but that brow definitely said ‘stubborn’. ‘He’s obviously telling me – not too subtly, I might add – that I’m old and crotchety before my time!’
Dominic shook his head. ‘I’m sure he wasn’t—’
‘Just because I don’t live like a pig and have a sense of decency and a bit of consideration for other people, he thinks I’m a stuck-in-the-mud old busybody! I don’t think those are bad qualities to have, do you? I mean, decency and consideration,’ she added quickly. ‘Not the stuck-in-the-mud bit.’
Well. When she put it like that …
He shook his head dumbly, worried that anything he might say would incriminate him further. Wow. He’d really got under her skin, hadn’t he? And there was he, thinking it had all been a bit of fun … It really wasn’t a good time to break the news, was it? Better wait until she’d stopped ranting, had a bit of time to let her blood pressure go down.
He shook his head, still unable to believe it. This was his upstairs neighbour? Crikey, if he’d known that, he’d have been knocking on her door a lot sooner.
He blinked as he watched her talk with the other two men. It was hard to marry this warm, animated woman up with the starchy, sarcastic notes he’d been getting for the last week. She seemed so nice in person. It didn’t put him off much, though. If there was something he liked in a girl, it was a hidden impish side and, thanks to her extensive note writing, he knew Claire Bixby had one a mile wide.
‘Sounds like a real catch,’ Doug muttered, as she finished her tirade.
Claire snorted. ‘I wish! If he ever did find a girlfriend, he’s probably the type to mooch off her, then he’d move and be out of my hair for good.’
‘It could happen,’ Dominic said, frowning a little. The fact she assumed he was utterly charmless and useless was annoying him. She hadn’t thought that way five minutes ago when she’d been smiling at him, fluttering those long brown lashes.
She swallowed a mouthful of champagne she’d just taken and shook her head. ‘I severely doubt that.’
There. Right there she’d sounded just like one of her notes. The image of the crusty old battleaxe from upstairs and the woman in the leafy dress in front of him started to merge and blur. And to think he’d actually gone and bought her chocolates!
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘I feel disloyal wishing him on a fellow woman. What on earth could she have done to deserve someone like him? I mean, he’s a child – doing what he wants without any thought to the consequences for anyone else. He probably wouldn’t know what to do with a grown-up relationship if it walked up and bit him on the nose.’
Dominic clenched his jaw.
She was wrong. So wrong. Why did everyone keep making these snap judgements about him? It had just been a couple of notes. Okay, and a badly parked bike. And some stolen milk. Possibly the Sisters of Mercy being played at full volume in the wee small hours of the night.
Ah.
Okay, maybe he could see why she hadn’t taken a shine to him. But that didn’t mean she was right about him. Not at all. Even if some of the things she said reminded him rather too sharply of Erica. Or Pete.
The subject changed then to the best hotels in the city, and, while Jayce discussed his competition, Dominic watched Claire. Now she’d stopped looking quite so affronted she’d melted back into the woman he’d first laid eyes on not half an hour ago. For some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at her mouth. She had a really lovely smile. And she did it a lot. When she laughed, it wasn’t an elegant tinkle but a throaty giggle, which was as infectious as a case of the measles. Jayce and Doug were both eating out of her hand.
The true magic was, though, that even though she had both men enraptured, it didn’t change how she talked to them, she didn’t flirt or wield that power the way many attractive women did. It was as if she didn’t realise that she’d snared them. And that was the most captivating thing of all.
He felt his own anger melting away at the things she’d said about him. After all, he’d left her a rather unfortunate trail of clues. He couldn’t really blame her for getting it all wrong – and it was hardly worse than the truck load of conclusions he’d jumped to about her.
A distinguished-looking gentleman joined their group and soon peeled the host away to talk to another cluster of people further along the terrace. That left him and Doug and Claire together.
‘So, when are you off on your next jaunt?’ Doug said, looking at him.
Dominic opened his mouth and closed it again. ‘Soon,’ he finally said, then glanced quickly at Claire, before frowning and pretending he was listening to something. ‘Isn’t that your phone?’ he asked Doug.
Doug patted his pocket and shook his head. ‘Don’t think so. Even though it’s noisy in here, it’s on vibrate as well and I didn’t feel anything.’
Dominic leaned forward a little. ‘Are you sure? I thought I recognised that special ringtone you gave to your mother—’ The theme to Jaws, if Dominic remembered rightly.
Doug looked a little panicked. He glanced towards the lobby, where it was quieter. ‘I should probably go and … Just in case.’
Dominic nodded seriously.
‘Of course,’ Claire said, looking sympathetic.
And with that, Doug scuttled off, scanning his phone as he pushed his way through the milling party guests. Dominic felt bad about sending him off on a bit of a wild goose chase, but he had the feeling that his secret would be out in two minutes flat if he let Doug hang around.
Not that he wasn’t going to fess up eventually, but he liked Claire, and if he was going to have a romantic entanglement over the next couple of months he’d really like it to be her. Not to mention it would be rather satisfying to prove both her and Pete wrong in one fell swoop.
But he was going to have to play this carefully. Not lie, just … stall a little. He had the feeling she wasn’t going to keep smiling that warm, crinkle-nosed smile at him if she found out he was responsible for her sleepless night last night – or the host of other inconveniences he’d accidentally put her through in the last week. She’d probably throw her champagne in his face then march away and never speak to him again, and he really didn’t want that. Not now he’d decided he’d like to be more neighbourly.
A lot more neighbourly.
Claire watched Doug until he made it to the lifts. ‘I think Doug and his mother have been responsible for keeping my agency afloat since it started,’ she told Dominic. ‘The first few years for any new business are tough, and they’ve been a godsend. Thank goodness, when Mrs Martin gets bored, she likes to jet off to a new place and see the sights.’
‘You know,’ he said, going with the first thing that fell into his head, ‘that’s not such a bad idea.’
Claire gave him a wry look. ‘From your lips to God’s ears … The travel agency is doing okay now, but I want to grow too.’
‘What Jayce said was right. I’m between jobs at the moment.’ He looked out over the London skyline. It was getting darker now, the lights of the city gold and orange and white against the velvety blue sky. Some people dreamed all their lives of coming here; all he seemed to want to do was escape it. ‘And I travel a lot for work, but maybe it’s time I took a trip just for fun. A week, maybe. I haven’t had any proper time to relax in a long while.’
Claire’s smile softened, but didn’t dim. ‘I think that’s a fine idea. I’d offer my services, but I don’t think I plan the sort of holidays you’re after.’
He nodded and dived at the opportunity she presented him. ‘Well, give me your card anyway. You never know.’ No, you never did. And, as she handed him the little rectangle of card with an elegant logo and simple contact details, he congratulated himself. That had been quite easy. Now he had a way to reach at her that didn’t involve marching up the stairs, knocking on her door and getting slapped in the face.
‘Do you have one?’ she asked, as she put her business card holder away again.
Thankfully, he didn’t. Never got round to it. What was so wrong with a number scribbled on a bit of paper when the need arose? And, even if he had a card, he wouldn’t have presented it to her right now. That would have totally given the game away.
‘No,’ he said, and then his smile became just a little wolfish. ‘But I can give you my number, if you like?’
She flushed a little as he said that. ‘Okay.’
He kept smiling at her, and eased the cocktail napkin she’d been holding in one hand from her fingers. ‘Pen?’ he said.
She nodded and delved into the green handbag again and came up with an elegant brushed-metal ballpoint, not the half-chewed plastic thing he’d have had if he’d been even half that organised. ‘Here,’ she said, handing it to him.
He scrawled his number down on the napkin and handed it back to her. Before tucking it away in her bag, she retrieved the pen and pressed the end. He watched her write ‘Nick’ next to the number. On a reflex, he almost corrected her, telling her to lose the ‘k’ and why. The words formed in his head, but he didn’t let them out of his mouth. Instead, he opted for humour. ‘Do you get so many men’s numbers on these things that you need to label them?’
Claire carefully folded the flimsy square then put both it and the pen into her handbag and clipped it closed. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, her face serious, but her eyes teasing. ‘Hundreds.’
He couldn’t help it. He grinned at her. ‘Well, just as long as you don’t lose mine.’
She shook her head, feigned horror.
He leaned in, cupped her elbow in his hand, as he got close enough to smell her floral perfume. Lily of the Valley, he realised. Instead of air-kissing, as he knew everyone did to death at these parties, he pressed his lips briefly and softly to her cheek, just in front of her ear. She went very still and, when he drew back, her eyes were huge.
‘I have to go now,’ he said, ‘but I have a feeling we’re going to bump into each other again very soon, Claire Bixby.’
And with that he turned and walked away, through the crowds to the bar and then beyond to the lifts. He needed to retreat and regroup. If he stayed he’d want to keep talking to her, but Doug would return soon and make keeping his secret difficult. Better to leave now and work out how to best show Claire Bixby how very wrong she was about him.
When he got home, he sat in his living room, a beer open in his hand, and stared at the ceiling, smiling. Later, when he was watching a Bruce Willis film on one of the movie channels, he heard the front door go. He muted the TV and listened to her walking up the stairs, now able to picture those shapely calves and killer heels below the modest dress.
He let out a low and silent laugh. Suddenly, being stuck in London for the next two months didn’t seem like such a bad thing after all.
*
As Claire walked up her garden path, keys in hand, her phone rang. She turned to wave at Doug as he pulled away. She’d been in such a good mood she’d allowed him to drive her home. He’d been a perfect gentleman. He’d opened the door for her and hadn’t tried to wangle his way inside or even kiss her.
She fumbled with her keys in one hand while she pressed her phone against her ear with the other. ‘Hello?’
Peggy’s voice was low and husky. ‘So … How did it go?’
‘Great,’ Claire said, smiling at the memory of the evening as she tried to jiggle her key in the rather old and uncooperative lock. ‘It was a fantastic party and I made loads of useful contacts, even got to speak to the top man himself.’
‘Yeah, work schmerk,’ Peggy said airily. ‘Tell me more about the men! I know you said you don’t have the hots for Doug, but did he manage to change your mind? And, if not, can I have him? I quite fancy having a sugar daddy.’
Claire chuckled as she finally managed to twist the key the right way and her front door swung open. ‘He can hardly be considered a sugar daddy when he’s only a couple of years older than we are!’
‘Details, details …’
Claire did a one-handed manoeuvre to switch her front door key with her flat key and headed up the stairs. ‘Yes, Peggy, you can have him. If there’s anyone who’ll be a match for his mother, I think it just might be you.’
‘Marvellous,’ Peggy said, with the air of a woman envisioning a future of pampering and luxury. ‘But enough about my love life – it’s yours I’m interested in! Was that Jayce Ryder as dreamy as his photos?’
Claire entered her flat and kicked her heels off just inside the door. ‘Pretty much.’
‘Ooh, do tell more! He’s so your type!’
Claire frowned slightly as she padded down her hallway and headed for her bedroom. ‘I suppose he is …’ She’d always liked the smooth, well-dressed sort. ‘But there wasn’t anything there.’
Hmm. How surprising. She hadn’t even thought about that at the time.
‘Rats!’ Peggy said emphatically. ‘So the evening was a total bust then?’
Claire sat down on the bed, smiling. ‘I wouldn’t say that, but it’s late, and it’s Thursday night cocktails tomorrow. I’ll tell you and Candy all about it then, I promise.’
Peggy grunted. ‘I may have died from the suspense by then.’
Claire stifled a smile. ‘See you tomorrow evening, Peg. I expect you’ll still be very much alive.’
Peggy muttered a reluctant reply then let Claire hang up.
When she was ready for bed, she jumped under her sheet – it was too hot for a duvet – pulled it over herself then turned the light off. She watched the shadows from the street light outside flicker gently on her ceiling and, as she fell asleep, she wondered where in this vast and sprawling city the elusive Nick might be and what he was doing right now.