Page 8 of The Christmas Holiday
Chapter Three
The taxi made its way through the rain-soaked streets of London. The bright afternoon had gradually morphed into a grey one and ended as a decidedly damp, cold evening. The cab pulled up with a few minutes to spare. I quickly handed over my fare as the restaurant doorman held an umbrella over me for the two steps across the pavement to the glass-and-wood-panelled doors. I thankedhim as he opened the door and I stepped inside, taking a deep breath as I did so.
I can do this. I can totally wow the crap out of—
‘Excuse me.’ An American accent accompanied the request as a man made to pass by without bumping me.
‘Oh, sorry.’ I stepped a little more out of the way, glancing up with a smile as I did so to find myself looking directly into the piercing blue eyes ofBradley Cooper.
‘No problem.’ He gave me the amazing smile that helped keep his bank balance ridiculously in the black and I bit the inside of my cheeks in an effort to stop the biggest, most idiotic smile I owned bouncing onto my face. He headed off towards a table, and I concentrated on getting my heart rate back down, congratulating myself on the fact I hadn’t flung my arms around his neck,and squealed ‘Oh my God! Bradley Cooper! I love you!’ Points to me, I believe.
‘Madam?’ The maître d’ asked. I realised from the look on his face he was repeating himself.
‘Oh! I’m so sorry. I… I’m here to meet someone.’
‘Do you have the name of the party?’
‘Yes. It’s…’ Oh God. Was it in Sandeep’s name. Or Olivia’s? Or maybe even Hunter’s? Jeremy hated it when the paps botheredhis daughter so I knew that sometimes they used different names. The man looked at me, a studied patience showing on his face.
I smiled and relaxed my shoulders, projecting a confident air. ‘It’s in the name of Singh.’
He looked down at his list.
‘Or maybe Spencer,’ I added, in case it was under Olivia’s.
His gaze flicked up at me momentarily before returning to his records.
‘Or Scott. Or perhaps…Walker?’
He’d stopped looking for names now and was just focused on me. ‘Madam. I’m afraid if you don’t have an actual booking—’
‘I do!’ I felt my face flush with indignation. ‘I’m just not the one who made it so I’m not entirely sure whose name it was booked under.’
‘I see.’ He didn’t look like he saw at all.
‘If you could—’
‘She’s with me.’ Hunter suddenlyappeared at my side, looking at ease and pretty much edible in a beautifully cut, deep-slate-grey suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and contrasted with his eyes perfectly.
‘Mr Scott. I do apologise. We seem to be having a little communication issue,’ the maître d’ explained.
Hunter gave him an easy smile and I clamped my jaw shut before I showed both of them just how bloody communicativeI could be.
I concentrated on trying to be calm again, smoothed a hand over my hair and straightened my dress. My coat had been whisked away but I still held my bag. Hunter glanced at me, his eyes flicking briefly to where I was gripping my bag like it contained the Koh-i-Noor diamond.
‘I don’t think you’re going to get mugged in here, Mia.’
I gave him a tight smile and loosened mygrip as he indicated the way with a tilt of his head.
‘Wasn’t sure if you were turning up,’ he said languidly as we walked towards the table.
I spun round so fast that he bumped into me, knocking me off balance. His hands shot out and steadied me before immediately dropping back loose at his sides.
‘I was here on time. I was only delayed by that stuck-up waiter not being helpful andinsinuating that I was trying to wangle my way in here.’
‘They have to be careful who they let in. Peter was just doing his job.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Just because you’re on first-name terms with him doesn’t excuse him for looking down on me.’
