Snowflakes on Silver Cove: A festive, feel-good Christmas romance (White Cliff Bay Book 2) (6 page)

‘And what about you? You write love stories, you’re trying to give me advice, but you’ve never been in love yourself. Don’t you think that the thing that’s missing, not only from your story but your life, is your own experience of true love in all its spectacular, wonderful glory?’

‘I don’t need it.’

‘Everybody needs to be loved, everyone needs someone.’

Libby shook her head vehemently. ‘I don’t.’

‘How can an author of beautiful love stories be so anti love herself? What happened to you to make you so fearful of letting yourself fall in love?’

‘I’m not scared of it, I just don’t want it. Falling in love means relying on someone else and I don’t want that. Your hopes and dreams for the future tied up in their hands. There can be nothing worse than watching your dreams fade away. To see them slowly crushed and belittled must be destroying. Have you ever seen someone die inside, every bit of joy and happiness just fading to nothing, so all they are left with is this shell. It’s heartbreaking. That’s what Josie did to you, she put you down, battered your confidence, but at least you were brave enough to get out before you were broken completely.’

‘There was nothing left in our marriage any more. I don’t think it was brave to walk away from that. She hated me and had no respect for me, something which was proved when I asked her for a divorce and she threw the fact that she had been sleeping with Chase Kent for the last two years in my face. One last-ditch attempt to destroy me once and for all.’

‘Christ, who does that to someone they love? Even if you’ve fallen out of love with them, how could you hurt someone who loves you with everything they have? That’s not the kind of love I ever want to be a part of.’

He frowned. ‘If you find the right person, then you build your dreams around them, your dreams become theirs and you build new dreams together. Being with Josie destroyed me and, yes, it’s made me fearful of dating again in case I’m hurt like that again, but I would never just give up on love. It’s one of the most glorious experiences you can ever have – imagine the highs you got from that parachute jump you did in Thailand and double that, no times it by a hundred. I had that with Josie in the beginning and I want that again. You’ve said before that you want to look back on your life with no regrets. I think the thing you will miss the most, the one thing that you will regret, is never having that heart-stopping, passionate, crazy rollercoaster ride of falling head over heels in love. In fact, while you are helping me back into the dating saddle and teaching me all about first-date etiquette, I’m going to use this time to show you what you’ve been missing by avoiding relationships all this time.’

Libby stared at him and a smile slowly emerged on her face. ‘OK.’

He sensed the tension from the conversation had gone. She’d had a bad experience of love and it broke his heart to see her closed off from love like that, but he’d had a bad experience too and he was determined to show her how great it could be. It wouldn’t change things between them, he knew that, but maybe one day in the future she would be open to being in a relationship again. He couldn’t bear the thought that she would always be drifting through life alone.

‘OK?’

‘Yes. OK. I always like to try new things, new foods and experiences. I can try being in a relationship too.’

‘So our big date is tonight.’ George waggled his eyebrows mischievously, hoping to bring the smile back on her face. ‘What can I do to guarantee our date ends in hot, passionate sex?’

Libby laughed.

‘I don’t want to go overboard and scare you off on the first date but I don’t want to be blasé too and not put in enough effort to result in a second date.’

‘You’re pretty much guaranteed a second date from me and a third. If we’re going to do this we have to do this right. For my story, for me to be fully immersed in this new experience, nothing is too much. I want every romantic gesture that you can think of. My fans love the big epic forever-style romances, so anything that you can think of that might be considered romantic is fine with me. I need as much inspiration as I can get. Christmassy too if you can manage it. I’ve never really had any spectacular Christmases, I’ve spent most of my Christmases alone. So anything that has that Christmas theme to it will be a great addition to the experience. If you can arrange a reindeer sleigh ride through the snow, I’ll be dropping to one knee and asking you to marry me. But I’ll tell you if you do anything that might be deemed over the top for Giselle. The six-foot engagement ring made from ice or a barbershop quartet declaring their love might be a bit much for a first date with Giselle.’

‘But for you?’

‘Oh God yes, I love all that stuff. Just because I don’t want a relationship for myself doesn’t mean I can’t swoon with that “aww” factor when I see it done for other people.’

‘Duly noted.’

Libby smiled. ‘Just do whatever feels natural to you – remember I want to help you as well as you helping me, so I need to assess the real George, the one that Giselle will see.’

He nodded, concentrating his attention on a drop of juice on the side of the glass. He honestly didn’t think the real George was something anyone would be interested in.

‘And we have the upcoming Christmas Eve ball, maybe we treat it like a date. There can’t be anything more romantic than a proper ball, being swept around the room in the arms of the man you love.’ Libby looked wistful for a moment and quickly tapped out a few lines on her laptop.

‘Does that mean I have to dance?’

‘Yes, sorry. One of my criteria for my perfect guy is his ability or, more importantly, his willingness to dance with me. All the great heroes do it. Just one night, George, I’m sure you can manage that.’

‘I’ll try. So an ice carving of a diamond ring, a barbershop quartet, romance, flowers, fireworks, champagne, candles, fudge, dancing, log fires and a sleigh ride through the snow?’

‘Yes, I don’t want much.’

‘And if I do all that we’ll be married by New Year’s Eve?’

‘Yes.’ Libby smiled at him. And for a moment, a tiny brief moment, he thought he saw a flash of sincerity in her eyes.

He cleared his throat and looked away and she looked down too, concentrating on typing a few more words on her keyboard.

‘Well, I might have a kip for a bit, before we head out for our hot date,’ George said. ‘Keep up my energy for the night of passionate dirty sex that we’re going to have once you are swept off your feet.’

‘Shall I go?’ she asked.

‘No, stay.’ He leaned back and closed his eyes. ‘I can then tell everyone I slept with Libby this morning.’

L
ibby smiled
as she watched George fall asleep, his breathing becoming heavy very quickly. They had become so relaxed in each other’s company. He looked so peaceful, so at ease.

She liked that George wanted to teach her about love, it was sweet of him to be concerned for her even though she had convinced herself a long time ago that she didn’t need a man to make her happy. If nothing else, all his attempts would be great book fodder.

She glanced round the room. Were there more decorations than there had been the day before?

Above the old Victorian-style fireplace were two huge stockings, one labelled George, one labelled Libby. Her heart leapt when she saw them. He’d said he was going to get her a stocking as everyone should have one at Christmas and he’d said he’d hang it over his fireplace because she was going to spend Christmas with him. It was such a sweet gesture and her heart filled a little bit because of it.

She returned her attention to the computer screen and frowned. She had just started to write the scene where Eliza and Charles got together for the first time but at the moment her characters had no chemistry at all, standing opposite each other seemingly waiting for their cue.

George mumbled something in his sleep and she watched him. She was tired herself. She hadn’t slept well the night before and when she woke this morning her feet were dirty, a sure sign she had been sleepwalking again. She never felt completely rested when her body had been up and about while she slept.

She closed her eyes so she could imagine the scene between Charles and Eliza. What would Eve Loveheart do in this scene? But there was nothing there, no inspiration. Everything she had written before seemed fake and clichéd all of a sudden. She wanted to show the reality. Maybe she should think about what
she
wanted, not this fake persona. How would Libby react to being with someone like George? She thought about how they would look at each other, how he would touch her, how it would be making love, not just hot, hard sex.

And as she pictured it, drew the images in her mind, she felt herself drifting off.

G
eorge woke
and immediately looked over to see if Libby was still with him. To his surprise, she was curled up on his sofa fast asleep, her face pressed against her laptop.

He got up and carefully removed the laptop from under her, so she would be more comfortable. As he set it down on the table, the screensaver mode, which had turned the screen off when Libby had been inactive, suddenly sensed movement and switched itself back on. There, in black and white, was her latest story.

He couldn’t take his eyes off it. She didn’t want him to read her work, which had just made him more and more curious about it.

Eliza knocked on Charles’ door, trembling against the cold.

No, he wouldn’t read it, that would be a huge invasion of privacy, Libby would be so angry at him.

When Charles answered the door, she nearly wept with relief. There was a log fire burning behind him, filling the room with warmth, and Charles was standing before her, dressed only in his trousers and boots.

Was this…about to turn into a sex scene?

‘Eliza, what are you doing out there in this weather? Come in – are you OK?’

‘I got lost, and then the storm started…’ Eliza shivered.

‘Sit yourself down by the fire; get out of those wet clothes.’

Oh my God!

‘I’ll get something you can change into,’ Charles said.

‘Charles…stay…with me,’ Eliza said, looking away with embarrassment.

He crossed the room quickly, taking her in his arms…

‘George,’ Libby mumbled, and he nearly threw the laptop across the room in shock. But she was still asleep. Her fist clenched tightly over the blanket on the sofa, stretching out her legs as she sighed his name again.

His eyes bulged. She had gone to sleep writing this sex scene and now she was dreaming about him. Was she dreaming about…having sex with him?

He laughed quietly, shaking his head to clear it of the delusions. Last night she had been dreaming about selling her car to Clint Eastwood, she was probably dreaming about him and Clint in the car together. He closed the laptop down and went to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea.

S
eb looked
at Amy in horror as she came through the door and round his side of the bar. Her arms were covered in purple bruises and large deep scratches. She looked like she had been beaten up. Who would do this to her?

She hung her jacket up in the small cupboard, filled Jack’s water bowl and then moved to serve one of the customers, seemingly unfazed by the damage inflicted on her.

A surge of protectiveness rose up in him. He wanted to hug her and hold her and it drove him mad that he had these feelings for her. Swallowing a huge lump in his throat, he took her arm and indicated that he wanted to talk to her out the back.

She followed him into his office and he closed the door.

‘Amy… what happened?’

‘Don’t you dare do this, Seb, don’t you dare.’ Her voice shook with anger as she spoke.

He looked at her with confusion. ‘What? I meant your arms, what happened to you?’

She looked down at her arms and growled. ‘Oh, I hate my boss.’

He felt his hands ball into fists in his pockets. ‘Your boss did this?’

She nodded. ‘Blithering idiot, oh and Philippe, I hate him too.’

‘Philippe? Judith’s cat?’

‘Yes. I take it you spoke to her and that’s why you’ve brought me in here?’

He recalled the phone call from Judith earlier that day; he had completely forgotten it when he saw Amy so badly beaten.

‘I had a hysterical phone call from Judith, but she was talking so fast and there was so much yowling and meowing in the background I just held the phone away from my ear and said “yes” and “no” and “I agree” until she ran out of steam and rang off.’

‘I swear if you sack me, I’ll sue you, I’ll hire a big fat lawyer and I’ll sue your ass. I’ve done nothing wrong you know that, I’ll—’

‘Amy, for God’s sake, shut up for a second, I’m about to blow a gasket here. What the hell did Marcus do to you? Did he beat you up?’ Seb swallowed at the thought of something worse. ‘Did he … hurt you?’

Seemingly wrong-footed, she stepped back. ‘What? Marcus? Are you insane? He’s a complete numpty but he’s not capable of something like that. What on earth made you think that?’

He stepped towards her, laying his finger gently on one of the bruises. Desire crashed through him as he touched her skin.

She looked down at his finger on her arm. ‘Oh Seb, this is hair dye, purple hair dye. Marcus wanted me to dye my hair today as I was dressed like a blackberry to promote one of his new ice cream flavours. Philippe got stuck up a tree in my garden whilst I was dyeing it and I got him out, but I managed to get purple dye all over him and me in the process. Which is why Judith has decided she hates me, well she hated me before… I think now she’d quite like to kill me.’

‘All of this over Philippe.’

‘Philippe hates me too.’

‘He got you good.’ Seb stroked one of the cuts, gently, relieved that he had got it so wrong.

‘I was only trying to help him, next time I’ll just leave him to die up there, or let Judith climb the tree herself and get him down. Now that would be very entertaining.’

He laughed.

‘So does this mean you’re not going to sack me?’ she asked.