Santa Baby (20 page)

‘I’d like to hear you say that if my boyfriend was here, you pair of total twats!’ Kara was getting carried away, forgetting that the reassuringly strongly built Harley was not in fact here.

Tiffany was just wondering how they would be able to make a rapid exit when a thick-set doorman came over. ‘Are these gentlemen bothering you?’

The doorman had clocked Tiffany when she had arrived. Perhaps there were some advantages to being known.

‘A bit,’ she replied. ‘But we’re going, thanks.’ And she grabbed her jacket and bag, and made Kara do the same.

‘But there’s half a bottle left,’ her friend declared.

‘You can have a glass at my place,’ Tiffany whispered, anxious to get the hell out of there. The two lads were giving her and Kara the evil eye.

Outside the doorman saw them safely into a taxi, but
Tiffany
didn’t feel relaxed until they had driven off and she was certain the two lads weren’t following.

‘Are you going to come in?’ she asked her friend as the taxi pulled up outside the Hyde Park apartment block.

Kara stifled a yawn. ‘D’you mind if I don’t? I’m knackered, and I think I drank too much.’

‘Not at all, babe, I’ll call you tomorrow.’ Tiffany quickly hugged her friend and handed the cabbie a £20 note, in spite of Kara’s protests that she would pay.

Tiffany had the shock of her life when she opened the door to the block of flats and discovered Sean sitting on the stairs.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Your alarm was set off earlier tonight. I got an alert and came by to check everything was OK.’

Tiffany felt a flash of panic, as she thought back to her previous flat being burgled.

‘And everything
is
OK,’ Sean reassured her. ‘I’ve checked round the flat. It was a false alarm.’ He smiled. ‘Do you never check your phone? I left you a couple of messages.’

‘Sorry, I was out having a drink with Kara. The bar was really noisy.’

Sean stood up. ‘I’ll go then. I just wanted to let you know what had gone on.’

Tiffany bit her lip. ‘Would you mind coming up to the flat and checking round the rooms once more? I know that sounds silly but I’d feel better if you did.’

As soon as she’d made her request she regretted it. Maybe Sean would think that she was planning on trying to make a move. ‘I mean, I don’t want you to stay or anything,’ she added hastily.

‘Of course,’ he replied, and quickly walked up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Tiffany stayed close to him as he went from room to room, but everything seemed to be in its usual place. Nothing had been disturbed and it didn’t look as if anyone had been in the flat.

‘OK?’ Sean asked at the front door.

‘Thanks for doing that.’

‘I can stay longer if you want, have a cup of tea?’

She was tempted. Maybe if they spent some time on their own together she could break through his reserve, but finally she shook her head. ‘Nope, I’m going to crash.’ She checked her watch. ‘I’ve got to be up in six hours.’

He grinned. ‘Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tiffany. Any worries, anything at all, then call me.’ He reached into his pocket and took out a card. ‘And here are the numbers of the other security guys, just in case you can’t get hold of me for whatever reason.’

‘Thanks,’ Tiffany repeated, and with that Sean was gone. Maybe the card with the other numbers was a hint that he didn’t want her to contact him. Oh, God knows!

Sean was simply doing his job, she told herself when she got into bed. He was on duty so he had received the alarm signal. It might just as easily have been one of his colleagues. Tiffany only represented work to him. But how she wished that wasn’t so! Especially at 3 a.m. when she still couldn’t sleep and wanted nothing more than to feel the reassurance of his strong arms around her.

ANGEL’S THIRTIETH WAS
being held in a huge marquee in the grounds of her house. Tiffany arrived late-afternoon to find a whirlwind of activity in progress. Caterers were busy setting up in the kitchen, florists were arranging elegant bouquets at every table: chandeliers and spotlights were being rigged in the marquee, and fairy lights were being hung on the trees outside. The dominant colour was pink, even down to the marquee itself with its carpet and chandeliers. Kara would have absolutely loved it, Tiffany thought, as she had a sneaky peek into the marquee.

‘Stylish enough for you?’ It was Sean. She hadn’t even noticed him approach. Walking stealthily was no doubt another of his special-agent skills.

‘It’s a pink paradise. I’m surprised Angel isn’t making all you security guys dress up in pink suits.’ Tiffany tried to keep her tone light, but being around Sean always unsettled her, made her realise that she still wasn’t over him.

‘Black, always black.’

‘Lucky for you. Pink really isn’t your colour.’

Sean gave the smallest of smiles. He took off his sunglasses and Tiffany was struck by the exhaustion etched into his face. There were dark circles under his eyes
and
it looked as if he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in ages. She was torn between feeling sympathetic because his work was no doubt full on when there was such a big event, and thinking he had chosen his work over everything else and would have to live with the consequences.

‘Well, I must go and get ready and drink champagne … you know how it is. Have fun yourself, Agent Murphy,’ she said brightly, and instantly regretted sounding so flippant. She was almost tempted to turn back and make up for the remark. But she didn’t.

Upstairs in the house the bedrooms had been turned over to guests preparing for the party. Wafts of different perfumes floated through the air, mixed with the smells of hairspray and nail varnish. Conversations competed against the sound of hairdryers. Getting ready for such an A-list event, Tiffany reflected, was a full-on operation. She was all set to go to her guest room when Angel called out from her bedroom, ‘Hey, Tiff, come and get ready in here.’

Tiffany walked in to the vast master suite, where everything was white – white walls, white furniture, white bed linen. The only colour came from a stunning canvas aerial photograph of the vivid green and turquoise Indian Ocean, dotted with emerald green islands edged with white sand beaches. Clearly Cal had put his foot down and vetoed pink in here. Angel was sitting in front of her pretty Venetian glass dressing-table mirror, dressed in a white robe, while Jez worked on her hair.

‘God, updos are so hard! I’ve been at it for hours!’ he moaned through a mouthful of hairpins.

‘Worth it, though,’ Tiffany replied, perching on the end of the bed. ‘It will look stunning with the dress. Real old-school glamour.’

‘Yes, and now
please
can I have a glass of champagne? I’m gasping,’ Jez declared, as he inserted the final hairpin. ‘And
please
don’t tell me you want yours put up as well? I love you, Tiff, but I don’t think I can go on. Angel is so high-maintenance! The woman’s drained me.’

‘Told you he was a drama queen,’ she said, smiling.

‘I can do it myself, Jez, thanks. And champagne is coming up.’

Tiffany poured out three glasses and handed theirs to Jez and Angel.

‘Happy birthday, Angel,’ she said, clinking glasses. And then she got out the present she had bought for her sister and shyly handed it over. It was a belated present as Angel’s actual birthday was in May. Tiffany had spent ages wondering what to get her and then she had found it: a diamante angel’s wings necklace from Butler & Wilson. OK, it wasn’t made of real diamonds, but it was very pretty.

Angel opened the box and exclaimed in genuine delight, ‘I love it! Thank you, Tiff. Oh, and I have something for you too.’

She held up a shoe box. Not just any old shoe box, but the Holy Grail of shoe boxes – a Louboutin shoe box.

‘I was in the store the other day and saw these. I thought you might like them.’

Might like them! What was not to like about the iconic shoes?

Tiffany looked at her. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

Tiffany felt like all her birthdays and Christmases had come at once as she opened the box and discovered the beautiful shoes nestling in red tissue paper. A pair of amethyst patent pumps, with a five-and-a-half-inch heel and the iconic scarlet soles.

‘We thought the amethyst was edgier than the black,’
Jez
put in. ‘Now come on, Cinders, put them on. We’ve got a ball to go to!’

Tiffany did as she was told. The shoes were so gorgeous that frankly she would have been perfectly happy to look at herself wearing them in the mirror all night. Well, maybe not all night, just a couple of hours … Even though the heels were so high, the platform made them slightly easier to walk in. They were the most expensive things she had ever worn, apart from the dress. But even as she admired herself in them, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt when she thought of her family – the shoes probably cost the same as her dad’s monthly mortgage payment, and last time she had seen her parents, Marie was commenting on how expensive Lily-Rose’s school shoes were – and she was talking about
Clarks
…

‘Your feet were made for them!’ Jez exclaimed, and Tiffany tried to shake off the feelings of guilt.

‘Thanks, Angel, that’s so generous of you.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ Angel told her.

The three of them gossiped and giggled for the next hour as they all got ready. Tiffany gave Jez a manicure, which perked him up, and he painted her nails a vampy red to go with the midnight blue dress. It felt so relaxed in Angel’s bedroom that Tiffany almost forgot about the big party ahead of her. She left the bedroom rather reluctantly, worrying about mixing with so many people she didn’t know.

‘Hey, don’t look so nervous,’ Angel told her, sensing her unease, ‘Jez has got strict instructions to look after you. And I have put you next to the most gorgeous man for dinner.’

‘Ooh, yes!’ Jez put in. ‘Raul Garcia, the Brazilian Formula One racing driver. He puts the
phoar
into Formula One, I can tell you!’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Tiffany was sure they were taking the piss. Raul indeed, the gorgeous racing driver she had never heard of – not that she followed Formula One. But it didn’t sound plausible. She was probably sitting next to some fat old bloke with halitosis no one else wanted to sit next to.

The three of them walked arm-in-arm into the kitchen and found Sean and Cal chatting together at the kitchen table. But they broke off when the trio entered the room.

‘You all look amazing,’ Cal said, standing up. ‘Will I do?’ He was devastatingly handsome in a black tuxedo.

‘Perfect,’ Angel said, putting her arms round her husband. ‘And what do you think of my dress? Tiffany chose it for me.’

‘I love it.’ Cal dropped a kiss on her neck. The couple seemed to be more in love than ever, and while of course being happy for them, Tiffany felt a pang of longing as she wondered if she would ever have that kind of relationship with anyone.

‘And doesn’t Tiffany look beautiful?’ Angel addressed the two men.

‘Stunning,’ Cal replied. Tiffany almost held her breath, wondering if Sean would speak.

‘Yes, she does,’ he said quietly, and for a second their eyes met before he turned away. All the time she had been getting ready, she had been thinking of Sean, had wanted him to be impressed. He had probably just said it to be polite. All part of his job, make the boss’s sister feel good …

Angel then became caught up with greeting her guests. Jez linked arms with Tiffany and they strolled through the grounds and into the marquee together. There they found Rufus, Jez’s husband, talking to Gemma. Tiffany was a little wary of Gemma, who in
contrast
to Angel’s other friends and family had been quite cool with her. Tiffany had felt that perhaps Gemma didn’t trust her. But tonight she seemed more relaxed, maybe it was the champagne she was drinking, and the two women quickly fell into conversation about their favourite designers. Gemma was full of praise for Tiffany’s work on the show.

From time to time Tiffany scanned the marquee. In spite of everything, she couldn’t help hoping for another glimpse of Sean. She didn’t see him but caught the eye of an extremely handsome man who smiled broadly at her. For a moment Tiffany was uncertain if the smile was intended for her and checked over her shoulder, but there was no one else there. The smile had indeed been meant for her. She smiled back shyly.

And then it was time to take their places at the elegant dinner tables. Tiffany clutched Jez’s arm as they checked the seating plan.

‘You will rescue me if the person next to me is really boring, won’t you?’ she whispered, but not quietly enough. She had been overheard by the handsome man whose eye she had caught earlier.

‘I promise you, he will do his very best not to be boring.’ He had a slight accent, and Tiffany thought he was most probably Spanish.

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because the man is me.’

Wow! Wow! Wow! He certainly wasn’t the fat, balding relative she had been anticipating. He was quite possibly the best-looking man Tiffany had ever spoken to.

‘You should believe me in future,’ Jez commented. ‘Tiffany, this is Raul Garcia. Raul, this is Tiffany Taylor, Angel’s sister.’

Raul took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Of course, I thought as much. You’re the only woman in the room able to compete with Angel.’

Half of Tiffany wanted to giggle because he was so over the top, but the other half was mesmerised by his good looks. She didn’t think she had ever seen a man with such a handsome face. He resembled the stunning male model David Gandy, with his sculpted cheekbones, sensual mouth and olive skin.

She stifled the smile. ‘That’s nice of you to say but not true.’

‘It certainly is true, but we have all night to argue. Shall we go to our table?’

He held out his arm for Tiffany to take. Jez winked at her and mouthed, ‘Go, girl!’

Once they reached the table, Raul pulled out the chair for her like a perfect gentleman. The first few minutes were taken up with introductions to the other guests on the table – Jez and Rufus were opposite, and there were also two couples in their thirties. Tiffany recognised both the men as being former footballers. Candy, a pretty blonde in her twenties, was sitting next to Tiffany, and her husband, Liam Miller, who played for Liverpool, was beside Raul. Candy was heavily pregnant and very chatty.