“I promised Anne Darcy I’d wash and dry these dishes myself,” I say.
Charlie nods. “Is there something else Jane and I could help with?” he asks.
Nearly all my work is done. But I don’t have a heart of stone. I see what Charlie is up to, angling for more time with Jane, and judging from Jane’s expression, she’s in full agreement. I point to several trays of leftover food. Could you put those in the fridge in the garage?
“Sure thing!”
Without giving me a second look, Jane picks up a tray and follows after him. I wash and dry the platters, smiling to myself about Jane and Charlie. I’ve never seen two people so instantly attracted. I carry a stack of trays to the butler pantry, where I take a minute or so to marvel at the impressive organization and all the priceless platters and vases. This room is a small temple for tableware. The shelves are floor-to-ceiling, and there’s a rolling ladder to help reach the tip-top shelves. I’m midway up the ladder, eyeing the extensive collection of Royal Copenhagen when I hear footsteps in the kitchen. And then two male voices. I go still. Charlie’s talking to someone outside the pantry door.
“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He gushes. It makes me happy to hear Jane praised. “I can’t believe my luck. We’re going for drinks after this.”
A low male voice replies. “She smiles too much.”
“Can a person smile too much?” Bingham asks. “Her friend, the one you should have kissed under the mistletoe, she’s cute too. Ask her out.”
“She’s tolerable,” answers Liam.
“She’s a sight more than tolerable,” insists Bingham.
“Perhaps,” answers an annoyed Darcy. “But not enough to tempt me.”
“She’s obviously a gold-digger,” chimes in a female voice, which I recognize as Caroline. “Mark my words, she was standing under that mistletoe on purpose.”
“I highly doubt that.” Liam sounds irritated. “She’s extremely professional.”
“If you aren’t going to ask Jane’s friend,” continues Charlie. “Caroline should come with us.”
“I’m game,” she answers.
“I have to pass,” answers Darcy. And for some reason, this pleases me even though he just called me tolerable. The three talk for a minute more before I hear the blessed sound of retreating footsteps. Finally! I can escape this pantry. I slowly count to 50 and then climb down the ladder. I slide open the pocket door.
“Oi!” I scream. I am face-to-face with Liam Darcy.
“Lettie,” he says with a smirk. “What are you doing here?”
“Returning platters,” I answer a bit defensively.
“How long were you lurking in the pantry?” He stands in front of me, his arms folded like a very amused bouncer.
My courage rises. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Hiding in the pantry was the polite option. I didn’t want to embarrass anyone. But if he wants to be embarrassed, so be it.
“Long enough. I heard what you said.”
His cockiness deflates ever so slightly. “Did you? I don’t recall saying anything to be ashamed of.”
“Hmm... let me remind you. You said I was tolerable but not good-looking enough to temptyou.” Having his own words thrown back at him silences Liam. I carry on. “For the record, I had no idea the mistletoe was above me. And you’re the last man I would ever kiss!”
“Is that so?” He takes a step closer, his eyes glittering with something. “What if it were me versus Clarence Carter.” Clarence is the almond factory foreman who played Santa for the party.
“I’ve always had a thing for Saint Nick,” I reply cooly.
“Sure you do.” He takes one step closer, and I don’t back up. I will not be intimidated by Liam Darcy no matter how tall or handsome or how many millions he has in the bank. His stormy eyes rove my face. “What color are your eyes?” he asks out of nowhere.
“Hazel,” I half-whisper.
“They look green and then blue,” he says, sounding a little lost.
“They do that. They appear a different color depending on what I’m wearing and the lighting and my mood.” I’m full-on babbling here, but I’m not sure what to do with Liam looking into my eyes like this. “What color are they now?” I ask, my voice fading to a whisper. Something about his stare takes my breath away.
