Page 38 of The Secret Holiday Kiss

The next window was for grownups, the palette red and green and gold, the materials opulent, shimmering silk jumpsuits and colourful handkerchief sets, gold-rimmed crockery and perfume bottles displayed on midnight blue stands. She reached the end of the building, and saw a stationer’s on the opposite side of the alley. It was Sophie’s area of expertise, but Daisy wanted to help, to pick up any useful supplies she could.

She glanced to her right, down the long, pedestrianized alley, and came to a halt, a woman tutting as she was forced to skirt around her. Avery was striding up the alley. Even from behind, Daisy knew instinctively that it was him: sky blue hoody, jeans and chunky brown boots. He was walking away from her and she felt a stab of frustration, wanting confirmation, but then he turned his head, glancing up at one of the shops, and her instinct was proved right. It was him.

He stopped in front of a door, put his hands on his hips and dropped his head. It looked like he was expelling a long breath. She couldn’t see his face properly, but she could see that he was tense. This was not ‘can do’ Avery. This was apprehensive Avery. She hovered, wondering what to do, whether to go and say hello, but then he pushed open the door and disappeared inside.

Daisy glanced at her watch. It was time to meet Lars, and she hated being late. But this was an emergency. She hurried to the place she’d seen Avery disappear. ‘Shit,’ she said to nobody in particular, because the door was black veneer, without a number or name plate or anything to identify what lay behind it. It was between a fancy homeware store and a charity shop, but didn’t seem to belong to either of them. The black door looked ominous, somehow, but Daisy was out of time and options.

Frustrated, she hurried back up the hill, to the lanes and a waiting Lars.

‘You seem awfully distracted,’ her client said forty-five minutes later, when she’d asked him who he wanted to use as carpenter after they’d already narrowed it down to a shortlist of three. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m great,’ Daisy said, because she couldn’t show him any weakness. Being back in Mistingham had already knocked down a lot of her defences, and she had admitted things to people she ordinarily wouldn’t have told her favourite colour to. She couldn’t start doing it with clients as well. ‘Where are we up to?’

‘We’re done,’ Lars said with a laugh. ‘We have our shortlist. Is it time to make some phone calls?’ He was in a mint green shirt and navy trousers, the outfit effortlessly stylish, and she decided he wasn’t like a big dog, but a big, prowling cat.

‘Sure.’ She picked up her takeaway cup, but it was empty. ‘Shall I get us some more drinks?’

‘Let me,’ Lars said smoothly. ‘Then you can tell me what’s really going on.’ He gave her his seductive smile and strode out of the café.

‘Shitting shit,’ she said to the empty space.

She was in her happy place: working with an enthusiastic client to create something beautiful. She needed to stop replaying the scene with Avery, the black door and the way he’d tensed up. She scanned the list she’d created on her iPad, tapped in the phone number of the first painter and decorator, and hit ‘call’.

Lars was back five minutes later. The sweet smell that wafted from the cup he placed in front of her told her that he had bought her something spicy and festive: a pumpkin spiced latte or cinnamon cappuccino. She smiled as she finished the call she was on.

‘Thanks for this.’

‘All OK?’ He sat down and angled his body towards hers, chair legs scraping across the floor.

‘Yes! Hubbards can’t fit us in until spring, so they’re off the list, but Rick at Palmers can start before the new year, and his estimate is fair.’ She showed him her tablet, where she had ticked things off.

Lars didn’t look at it. ‘I meant with you. You are so different to our first meeting.’

‘I am?’ She laughed. ‘Honestly, I’m fine.’

‘Daisy.’ He rested his elbows on the table. ‘I am very good at reading people. I think there’s something worrying you.’

‘Lars.’ She sat up straighter, her pulse picking up. She was glad she’d worn her black blouse and grey, wide-legged trousers. It was an outfit that made her feel in control, feminine but not too feminine. ‘I’m not worried about your project. We’re in a really good position.’

‘Yes? That’s a relief. But what about you? Is it being in Norfolk again? All those memories?’

His gaze was so focused, brows lowered in a frown, and she softened. ‘It has brought up some complicated emotions. But I don’t want you to be concerned—’

‘I’m not,’ he cut in. ‘Not for me, for this. Are you OK?’

‘I am.’ She smiled. ‘Thank you. It’s kind of you to notice.’

His dark eyes sparkled. ‘Of course. You know, the run up to Christmas should be fun. We don’t want to work too hard, pile on too much stress.’

‘No?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘What are you suggesting?’

‘How about, next time you come to Norwich, we start later and I take you to dinner afterwards? That way, we can combine business and pleasure.’

Daisy bit her bottom lip. This attractive, successful, highly competent man who she had had a crush on eons ago, was flirting with her. But her mind kept returning to Avery. ‘Do you really think that’s a good idea?’ she asked lightly.

‘I think it is a very good idea.’

She laughed. ‘I don’t know …’