Snowflakes on Silver Cove: A festive, feel-good Christmas romance (White Cliff Bay Book 2) (7 page)

He shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

She smiled, shaking her head presumably at the ‘not yet’ comment. Suddenly she stepped closer to him, cupping his face in her hand. ‘Thank you.’

He really wasn’t comfortable with her hand on his face – it did things in his body that he didn’t like, mainly the blood roaring in his ears, his heart thundering against his chest. There was a line between employee/employer relations and she’d just crashed across it. He forced himself to take a step away from her when he really wanted to take her face in his hands too.

‘For what?’

‘For finally showing that you care for me.’

He did care for; her that was the problem, he cared too much.

‘I’m just looking out for the welfare of my staff; I care for all my friends. You’re no different.’

But her wistful smile unnerved him. She knew he liked her.

He walked to the door. ‘Look, stop slacking off in here and get out there and serve my customers.’

‘Yes boss.’ She smiled as she scurried past him.

A
t seven o’clock sharp
, George lifted his hand and knocked on Libby’s door and then nervously pulled down the sleeves of his suit jacket and waited, his heart doing little rolling thumps.

When she opened the door, he saw her smile at his suit just before he noticed what she was wearing. She looked stunning in a green satin sequinned dress, her dark hair piled on top of her head, with sparkly grips.

‘You look lovely, Lib,’ he said, softly.

‘Thanks, you look very smart too but…’ She suddenly stepped forward and undid his tie, sliding it off his neck. He felt her fingers working open the top button of his shirt. He shifted nervously at the intimacy, and couldn’t meet her eyes as she surveyed him. He watched her step back to admire her work.

‘Much better,’ she said. ‘The tie just makes it look too formal.’

‘Oh, and the satin dress is casual, is it?’

‘No,’ she said with a laugh, ‘but as a girl I can get away with looking formal; men tend to look like they are going for a job interview if they go with a tie and jacket.’

He tutted as he watched her dump his tie unceremoniously over the back of her sofa.

But when she took his arm and he escorted her down the steps to his car, he found he was smiling broadly.

He was feeling nervous on the drive to the restaurant and he couldn’t understand it. They had been out to dinner loads of times over the last few months and he had never felt nervous before. But this was a date, albeit a fake one. And though he was only practising his skills, he really wanted to leave her with a good impression.

When they arrived at the restaurant, he realised he needn’t have bothered to ring ahead to secure the most romantic table to kick-start his ‘date’. They were the only customers; obviously the curry-deprived residents of White Cliff Bay were building up to trying the new place. They were seated in the window overlooking the sea and he was glad she had suggested the place – situated on the peak of a cliff, The Cherry Tree had stunning views over the bay and of the moon sending silvery ribbons over the sea. It was a night designed for romance, for declarations of love and first kisses under the moonlight. In a film, this would be the moment that Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan realised they were perfect for each other. And he was sitting opposite his best friend. He wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. What if, caught up in the moment, he suddenly found himself down on one knee, asking her to marry him?

He could see she was impressed. ‘You’re off to a great start,’ she said, ‘this table, that view, the Christmas lights and the candles on the table, it’s very romantic. With the right setting, even the most unlikely suitor can look appealing. A little bit earlier would have been even better. A sunset is one of the most romantic things in the world, but the moon is a very close second and sitting here looking at it over the sea with you, well, if this was a real first date I’d already be mentally replacing my surname with yours to see if it fits.’

He laughed. ‘I thought it might be a bit clichéd, the moon, the sea…’

‘There are some things which never go out of date.’

‘It’s a bit… quiet in here.’ He looked around only to find all the waiting staff were watching them keenly.

‘I hope that’s not a reflection on the food.’

A smartly dressed waiter appeared between them with two menus.

Libby took hers and started scanning through it. ‘Ooh, what shall I have?’

He couldn’t help smiling. He loved that about her. When he used to go to Indian restaurants with his ex-wife, Josie, she always, always had chicken tikka masala. She wouldn’t even bother looking at the menu – she didn’t want to risk having something she didn’t like. Whereas Libby would choose something different every time, sometimes something a bit obscure. Last time they had gone to their nearest Indian in Port Cardinal, nearly half an hour away from White Cliff Bay, she’d had ostrich curry.

‘Oooh, can’t choose, it’s too hard,’ she said finally, her eyes shining with excitement. She put her menu down, closed her eyes and stabbed her finger randomly at it. ‘Ha, salmon and plum jalfrezi,’ she announced when she opened her eyes, ‘might be nice. What are you having, George?’

He quickly looked down at his menu. ‘Erm, I’ll have the beef handi, do you want to share a rice with me?’

‘Yes, and a naan?’

Once the waiter had taken their order they both looked out at the view for a while then Libby turned back to him.

‘OK, George, now you have to woo me.’

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, hoping that would be enough wooing for now. ‘Shouldn’t we be wooing each other?’

‘Well yes, it should work both ways, but I’m your guinea pig remember.’

‘So you won’t try to woo me at all?’ he scowled.

‘OK, OK, I’ll do my top three – the things my characters do to make their men fall in love with them.’

‘What’s your top three?’

‘I’m not telling you, the wooing should be a surprise.’

He decided to play for time, it all seemed a bit complicated to him. ‘Don’t you think woo is a weird word?’

‘Mmm, how about entice then?’ She fixed him with a sultry smile.

He felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he cast around for a suitable anecdote to put himself at ease.

‘Compliments are a good start, women love compliments about themselves,’ Libby prompted, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

He laughed, brought her hand up to his mouth and put on his most seductive voice. ‘My darling Libby, you have the most beautiful eyes in the world. Twenty shades of green. Olive, jade, moss, shamrock…’

She swallowed as she stared at him. He ran his mouth lightly over her knuckles, not taking his eyes off her.

‘…With flecks of emerald, apple and sprout.’

She blinked once then burst out laughing. ‘Sprout?’

‘It’s a colour.’

She laughed again. ‘Oh well, when you say such endearing things like that, let’s forget the meal and go straight back to your place.’

He smiled.

‘How about you ask me some questions instead?’ she suggested.

‘How can I ask you questions about yourself when I already know everything there is to know about you?’

‘Just pretend you don’t, that this is the first time we’ve properly met. Pretend I’m Giselle.’ She sipped her Coke.

‘OK, er, Giselle, what is it you do?’

‘I’m an astronaut.’

He laughed. ‘What?’

‘What, just because I’m a blonde with big blue eyes, did you think I’d say hairdresser or beautician? Don’t judge a book by its cover, I’m actually really intelligent.’

‘I’m sure you are. What’s the capital of Chile?’

‘Yeah, don’t do that, don’t try to trip your date up – and it’s Santiago.’

He gasped. ‘How did you know?’

‘George, I was at the pub quiz with you last month when that question came up. We’re so alike, we both store away useless information for regurgitation later on.’

He smiled. ‘OK, so… an astronaut? That’s interesting, have you been anywhere cool?’

‘This is good, asking lots of questions,’ she whispered in an aside, leaning in conspiratorially across the table, ‘shows you’re interested, and there’s nothing women like more than talking about themselves.’ She straightened up and more loudly said, ‘Yes, just last week I went to Mars for the weekend.’

‘Right,’ he nodded, seriously.

‘Yes, I’ve got three Martians as friends on Facebook now.’

He laughed. ‘Libby Joseph, how can I practise on you when you’re not taking this seriously?’

‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. So, George, what is it you do?’

He straightened in his chair, finding a smile spreading across his face as it always did when he spoke about his job. ‘I write radio adverts, scripts. The companies come to me with a rough guide to what they want their advert to say and I write a script for them. I love it; allows me to be really creative…’ He watched her posture change as he spoke; she leaned forward in her chair, staring deep into his eyes and she smiled hugely as he talked. She knew how much he loved his job but she seemed really interested, like she was hanging off his every word. He wanted to carry on talking, wanted to talk forever if it meant that she would continue to look at him like that, but he trailed off, thrown by the intensity of her gaze.

‘Lib, you OK?’ he swallowed.

‘I’m being interested, that’s one of my top tips: leaning forward, eye contact, smiling. It’s the body language that shows you how keen I am on you.’

‘Oh.’ He was momentarily disappointed that it was just for show. ‘Well, it worked, I felt like I was the most important person in your world right then.’

‘That’s because you are, plus I genuinely do love listening to you talk about your work, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch for me to look like that.’

Just then a man appeared between them; he must have been the head waiter or manager judging by the different coloured shirt he was wearing.

‘We are very pleased you’ve come to us tonight. I am Kamal, the manager. You are a beautiful couple, very much in love, you’ve even dressed to match,’ Kamal gestured.

He and Libby looked down at themselves and then at each other.

She laughed. ‘We’re both wearing the same shade of green, I didn’t even realise.’

‘Neither did I,’ he said, aware that he had bought the shirt a few months before, because the colour reminded him of her eyes.

‘How long have you two been together?’ Kamal went on.

‘Six months,’ Libby said at exactly the same time as George offered, ‘It’s our first date.’

Kamal looked confused.

‘We’ve been best friends for six months, this is our first date as a couple,’ she tried to explain.

‘Oh, that’s beautiful,’ Kamal said, looking a little watery around the eyes. ‘A relationship built on such strong friendship, those are the ones that last. I can see how much you mean to each other, how much love is between you. Would you like some music for this special occasion?’

‘Ooh yes, that’ll be lovely.’

George saw her expectant expression change as Kamal waved theatrically and one of the waiters suddenly appeared at his side with a violin.

‘Oh, you meant live music?’ she said.

‘Yes, Mani is very talented.’

As soon as Mani put his bow to the violin it was evident that Mani either wasn’t that talented or the violin badly needed tuning. George winced a bit as Mani squeaked his way through the opening bars of what sounded like ‘Jerusalem’ and eyed Libby to see what her reaction was. She was looking at Mani as if he was playing a masterpiece, like she was enthralled by the music. Either she was completely tone deaf, or she was a really good actress. He tried to catch her eye but she seemed to be deliberately not looking at him. Then he saw the tiniest twitch of her mouth and he realised she was doing her absolute best not to laugh. He had to keep a really tight rein on himself, knowing that if he smiled he’d soon be laughing. ‘Jerusalem’ had been one of his favourite hymns at school, but he had never realised how long the song was before, unless Mani, encouraged by Libby’s reaction, had repeated it several times. After what seemed like an eternity, by which time tears were forming in Libby’s eyes with the suppressed laughter, Mani finished with a final tuneless flourish to his bow.

She clapped enthusiastically, wiping the tears away. ‘That was beautiful, Mani. Do you play anything else – maybe something a bit more modern or Christmassy perhaps?’

George stared at her, incredulous. Why was she asking for more? His ears were still ringing from the last piece of music, if in fact you could call it that.

Mani nodded and launched into what could only be ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams. Kamal pulled on Libby’s chair, gesturing for her to stand up, which she did, looking bemused, until Kamal turfed George out of his seat too and he realised with some dismay, as Kamal pushed them both together, that he wanted them to dance.

‘I don’t think…’ he protested, knowing he was blushing furiously.

‘That’s a lovely idea, thank you,’ Libby said.

George caught her little grin and then she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he found he’d put his around her waist. In an attempt to dance, he started swaying from side to side. He heard her snort into his shoulder.

‘You’ll pay for this, Miss Joseph,’ he muttered into her ear, ‘you know how much I hate dancing.’

‘Oh, come on,’ she said, as Mani attempted to hit the high notes of the chorus, ‘admit that there’s a tiny part of you that’s having fun right now.’

‘I can’t dance,’ he said with some feeling.

‘Rubbish. You’re not doing as bad as you think. Just relax, just imagine you’re dancing with a beautiful woman. Imagine you’re dancing with Giselle.’

He smiled. He wouldn’t imagine he was with Giselle, he would just enjoy the fact that his lovely Libby was in his arms. He moved his arms round her back, hugging her tightly to him.

‘You see,’ she said as Mani’s strangling a cat impression reached a crescendo, ‘a little bit of imagination and you’ve loosened right up.’

‘I don’t need imagination, Lib,’ he said, ‘I’ve got my best friend in my arms, that’s all I need.’

She smiled up at him, looking right into his eyes. ‘Well, just to give you a heads-up, if this was really Giselle in your arms right now, this would be the perfect time for your first kiss.’

‘Well, Lib, you are my guinea pig.’ He bent forward until his lips were moving to enclose hers. Which was when Mani moved seamlessly, or rather unseamlessly, from ‘Angels’ into ‘Agadoo’ by Black Lace. Libby’s laugh broke the moment and he jerked his head back up.

‘I really can’t dance to this,’ he said.

‘Oh, sure you can, the dance moves are in the lyrics: “Jump to the right, jump to the left, jump up in the air and touch your knees,”’ she sang.

‘I don’t think those are the lyrics.’

‘Close enough. But you’re right, it’s definitely not one of the most romantic songs though, shall we sit back down?’

He should have felt relieved that his dancing torment was over, but he was too busy fighting off the disappointment that his beautiful best friend was no longer wrapped in his arms. He gave Mani a scowl as they returned to their seats; after all, it was his fault he’d missed out on his chance to kiss her.