Holiday With The Best Man

‘My company makes eco-prefab buildings—either extensions or even the whole house. They’re all made off site, and they can be put up in a matter of days.’

‘You mean, like the ones you see on TV documentaries about people building their own houses or restoring old industrial buildings and turning them into homes?’ she asked.

‘They’ve been featured on that sort of programme, yes,’ he said.

‘That’s seriously impressive.’

He inclined his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘I enjoy it. Let me show you to the guest room.’

Like the rest of the rooms she’d seen so far, the bedroom was very modern, simply furnished and with little on the walls. But, with one wall being pure glass, she supposed you wouldn’t need anything else to look at: not when you had a whole panorama of London life to look at. Water and people and lights and the sky.

There was a king-sized bed with the headboard set in the middle of the back wall, a soft duvet and fluffy pillows. The bed linen was all white—very high maintenance, she thought. The en-suite bathroom was gorgeous, and was about six times the size of the bathroom in Bella’s flat; Grace still wasn’t quite used to thinking of Bella’s old place as her own flat.

She took the bare minimum from her case—it seemed pointless to unpack everything just for one night, when tomorrow she’d be moving to a hotel or whatever alternative accommodation the insurance company offered—and hung her office clothes for the next day in the wardrobe so they wouldn’t be creased overnight. Just as she was about to go back downstairs in search of Roland, her phone rang; thankfully, it was the landlord, who’d spoken to the insurance company and could fill her in on what was happening next.

* * *

Roland was sitting at the kitchen table, checking his emails on his phone, when Grace walked into the kitchen, looking slightly shy.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked.

‘No, thanks. I’m fine,’ she said. ‘The landlord just called me. He’s talked to the insurance company and they’re getting a loss assessor out to see the flat—and me—tomorrow morning at eleven.’

She sounded a little unsure, he thought. ‘Is getting the time off work going to be a problem for you?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m temping at the moment—but if I explain the situation and make the hours up, I’m sure they’ll be fine about it.’

He was surprised. ‘Temping? So you’re what, a PA?’

‘An accountant,’ she corrected.

Which made it even more surprising that she didn’t have a permanent job. ‘How come you’re temping?’

‘It’s a long and boring story. It’s also why I’ve moved into Bella’s flat.’ She flapped a hand dismissively. ‘But it’s not because I’m a criminal or anything, so you don’t need to worry about that. I just made some decisions that made life a bit up in the air for me.’

He wondered what those decisions had been. But she was being cagey about it, so he decided not to push it. It was none of his business, in any case. ‘You can keep your stuff here as long as you need to, so that isn’t a problem.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘You must be hungry. I certainly am, so I was thinking of ordering us a takeaway.’

‘Which I’ll pay for,’ she said immediately.

‘Hardly. You’re my guest.’

‘You weren’t expecting me,’ she pointed out. ‘And I’d feel a lot happier if you let me pay. It’s the least I can do, considering how much you’ve done for me this evening.’

He could see that she wasn’t going to budge on the issue. In her shoes, he’d feel the same way, so he decided to give in gracefully. ‘OK. Thank you.’

‘And I’m doing the washing up,’ she added.

‘There’s no need. I have a housekeeping service.’

She scoffed. ‘I’m still not leaving a pile of dirty dishes next to the sink.’

A princess would’ve taken a housekeeper for granted. Grace didn’t, and she clearly wasn’t playing a part. How on earth had he got her so wrong? ‘We’ll share the washing up,’ he said, feeling guilty about the way he’d misjudged her. ‘What do you like? Chinese? Pizza?’

‘Anything,’ she said.

So she wasn’t fussy about food, either.

And, given the way she was dressed...it was almost as if she was trying to blend in to her surroundings. Minimum fuss, minimum attention.

Why would someone want to hide like that?

Not that it was any of his business. He ordered a selection of dishes from his local Chinese takeaway. ‘It’ll be here in twenty minutes,’ he said when he put the phone down.

It felt very odd to be domesticated, Roland thought as he laid two places at the kitchen table. For nearly two years he’d eaten most of his evening meals alone, except if he’d been on business or when Hugh, Tarquin or his sister Philly had insisted on him joining them. Being here alone with Grace was strange. But he just about managed to make small talk with her until the food arrived.

His hand brushed against hers a couple of times when they heaped their plates from the takeaway cartons, and that weird prickle of awareness he’d felt at the wedding made itself known again.

Did she feel it, too? he wondered. Because she wasn’t meeting his eyes, and had bowed her head slightly so her hair covered her face. Did he fluster her, the way she flustered him?

And, if so, what were they going to do about it?

Not that he was really in a position to do anything about it. He’d told Hugh and Tarquin that he was ready to date again, but he knew he wasn’t. How could he trust himself not to let a new partner down, given the way he’d let his wife down? Until he could start to forgive himself, he couldn’t move on.

‘Don’t feel you have to entertain me,’ she said when they’d finished eating and had sorted out the washing up. ‘I’ve already taken up more than enough of your time this evening, and I don’t want to be a demanding house guest. If you don’t mind, I’m going to sort out Bella’s shoeboxes for her so all her papers are in some sort of order.’

So Grace was the sort who liked organisation and structure. That made it even stranger that she’d call off her wedding only three weeks before the big day. There was a lot more to that story than met the eye, Roland was sure; but he didn’t want to intrude on her privacy by asking.

‘I’ll be in my office next door if you need me. Feel free to make yourself a drink whenever you like. There are tea, coffee and hot chocolate capsules in the cupboard above the coffee machine.’ He gestured to the machine sitting on the work surface.

‘Thanks.’ For the first time, she gave him a teasing smile. ‘Now I’ve seen your house, I’m not surprised you have a machine like that.’

‘Are you accusing me of being a gadget fiend?’ he asked.

‘Are you one?’ she fenced back.

He grinned. ‘Just a tiny bit—what about you?’ The question was out before he could stop it, and he was shocked at himself. Was he actually flirting with her? He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d flirted with anyone.

‘I use an old-fashioned cafetière and a teapot,’ she said. ‘Though I might admit to having a milk-frother, because I like cappuccinos.’

Tension suddenly crackled between them. And Roland was even more shocked to find himself wondering what would happen if he closed the gap between them and brushed his mouth very lightly over Grace’s.

What on earth was he doing? Apart from the fact that his head was still in an emotional mess, Grace was the last person he should think about kissing. He’d just rescued her from a burst pipe situation. She was as vulnerable as Lyn had been. He needed to back off. Now. ‘See you later,’ he said, affecting a cool he most definitely didn’t feel, and sauntered into his office.

Though even at the safety of his desk he found it hard to concentrate on his work. Instead of opening the file for his current project, he found himself thinking of a quiet, dark-haired woman with the most amazing cornflower-blue eyes—and he was cross with himself because he didn’t want to think about her in that way. Right now he couldn’t offer a relationship to anyone. Who knew when he’d be ready to date again—if ever.

* * *

Grace sorted through the contents of Bella’s shoeboxes at Roland’s kitchen table, putting everything in neat piles so she could file them away properly in a binder. She tried to focus on what she was doing, but the mundane task wasn’t occupying anywhere near enough of her head for her liking. It left way too much space for her to think about the man who’d unexpectedly come to her rescue.