A New Year Marriage Proposal

Yet at the same time it was an irresistible challenge: to show Quinn that there was more to Christmas than just blatant commercialism and greed. And maybe if she could heal whatever hurt was in his heart, it would teach her how to heal the ache in her own heart, too.

‘What if I can prove to you that the Christmas spirit is real—that there really is magic out there?’ she asked.

‘The magic of Christmas?’ he scoffed. He didn’t believe in it.

But what she was suggesting...it meant spending time together. Getting to know each other. Part of him knew that this was just an excuse for him to spend time with her—something he ought to resist, because he was definitely attracted to her, and with his track record he knew it would end in tears. But then again, if he got to know her better, it would help their business arrangement—he might even be able to improve the Santa project. He looked her straight in the eye. ‘What if you can’t?’

She lifted her chin. ‘Then I’ll pay you double for the virtual Santa system.’

‘A wager?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘OK. Let’s make it double or quits. If you can prove it, then I’ll build your system free and help you sort out things on the day.’

‘Double or quits,’ she agreed, and held out her hand.

It was the second time they’d shaken hands on a deal. And this time the tingle in his skin was stronger. Scarily so.

But it was just adrenalin, he told himself. The excitement of the challenge. Nothing to do with her at all...

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_e628f857-726f-5df3-9ae0-4cb16a2d2c14)

This evening. 7 p.m. Meet me at my place.

QUINN READ THE text and frowned. They’d already agreed on a time next week for the training session on his collaborative software. Why did Carissa want to meet him tonight?

Why? he texted back.

Magic of Christmas, proof #1, was the response.

Which told him virtually nothing.

What did Carissa think would prove the magic of Christmas to him?

As far as he was concerned, it simply didn’t exist. Christmas was the time when families were forced to spend time together, not really wanting to be there but feeling that they had to do it because it was Christmas and it was expected of them. Resentment, tension and bitterness. Add too much sugary food and a liberal dash of alcohol, and it was no wonder that the emergency departments of most hospitals were full of people who’d ended up coming to blows over the holiday season.

Through his experience with Tabitha, Quinn had learned the hard way to check the dress code before going anywhere so he didn’t feel out of place. Would Carissa’s idea of Christmas magic involve some kind of ball, maybe?

Do I wear black tie? he texted.

No. Wear something warm because there’s meant to be a frost tonight.

So he still knew next to nothing. Great.

It wasn’t even as if Carissa was a proper client—one he needed to be nice to for the sake of making a project run smoothly. He knew full well he wasn’t going to charge her for his time in setting up the virtual Santa or training her team of volunteers. Not when she was doing something so kind. Charity...but not the cold, grudging kind of charity he’d experienced growing up.

She’d actually thought about this and was trying to do something practical to help. Something that would put a bit of happiness into a difficult day. And it wasn’t as if he was going to be spending hours developing something new for her, because he’d already worked on bits of similar systems in the past. It wouldn’t take much time at all. Charging her for the work he was doing would feel wrong.

Wear something warm.Frost. Obviously they were going to be doing something outside, he thought. But he had absolutely no idea what.

It turned out to be something Quinn really loathed.

‘We’re seeing the Christmas lights being switched on?’ he guessed, as they got off the tube at Oxford Street and joined the crowd of people thronging up the stairs. ‘Oh, now you’re kidding me.’

‘Bah, humbug.’ She nudged him. ‘This is great. London by night, all lit up and magical. It’s Christmassy. Enjoy it.’

‘More like crowds of people pushing each other on the pavements, cars blasting their horns at people to make them get out of the way, and a D-list celeb waiting for people to applaud as they do the terribly difficult job of pressing a switch,’ he countered. ‘And then all the shops waiting for people to cram into them and queue up for stuff they don’t really want but feel forced to buy because it’s Christmas and people are expecting presents. Ker-ching.’

She ignored his comments. ‘Look at the trees. All those lights shaped like snowflakes. It’s like a real winter wonderland. It’s beautiful, Quinn.’

She’d really bought into all the hype, hadn’t she? He rolled his eyes. ‘Think of all that electricity being wasted. Scarce resources you can’t replace.’

She scoffed. ‘Don’t try to pull the environmentalist card. There’s nothing green about someone who lives on takeaway food that comes in cartons you can’t even recycle.’

‘I guess,’ he said.

‘I admit you have a point about the crowds. That bit’s not much fun. But the lights themselves—surely you can’t hate them?’ she asked.

‘What’s the big deal about lights?’ he asked.

‘They change the atmosphere.’

He didn’t see it. At all. Lights were just lights, weren’t they? A source of illumination. Nothing special. Nothing magical.

Everyone around him oohed and ahhed as the Christmas lights stretching above the streets were switched on—including Carissa—but it did nothing to change Quinn’s mind about the misery of Christmas. A bit of sparkle and glitter was just surface dressing. And it didn’t make up for all the tension and short tempers.

As if she’d guessed how fed up he was, she said, ‘Let’s get away from the crowds.’

They went from Oxford Street down through Regent Street. There were cascades of fairy lights on the outsides of the shops—some gold, some lilac, some silver, some brilliant white—and Carissa clearly loved every bit of the displays. Quinn just wasn’t convinced. All he saw was wasted energy and a way of attracting people to spend as much of their disposable income as possible.

Carnaby Street had kooky inflatable decorations, and its famous arches were covered in fairy lights. Piccadilly Circus was as brightly lit as it always was, and the trees in Leicester Square were filled with starbursts that had Carissa cooing in pleasure. And everywhere was heaving with people.

Why on earth was he here? Quinn asked himself. He could be at home, playing a decent arcade game on his console in comfort, drinking coffee and eating pizza straight from the box. Or doing what he really loved, developing a new gadget from concept to prototype. Playing with ideas. Instead, he was trudging through the crowded streets of London with a woman he barely knew, all because she’d set him a wager. A wager that really wasn’t a wager, because he had no intention of claiming his winnings in any case. So why didn’t he just call this whole thing off?

But then they reached Covent Garden and he saw the delight in Carissa’s face.

And he knew exactly why he was here.

Even though wild horses wouldn’t make him admit it out loud.

There were fairy lights everywhere, a massive Christmas tree, and a topiary reindeer that was covered in tiny lights. Carissa’s expression was as dreamy and glowing as a small child’s seeing the magical lights for the very first time.

Quinn was here because of the magic.

Because of her.

His head really needed examining, he thought wryly. He didn’t need to get involved with anyone. He didn’t want to get involved with anyone. And yet here he was, doing something he wouldn’t have chosen to do and wasn’t enjoying—solely because she’d asked him to be here.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said softly. ‘Look at this, Quinn. Fairy lights everywhere, the street performers and the market stalls and the street musicians. I love this place. But I love it even more at this time of year. It’s really magical. Like a real Christmas grotto, life-sized.’

For a second, Quinn almost—almost—felt the magic.