Falling for Mr. December by Kate Hardy Read Free Book Online Page B

charity that makes wigs for kids who’ve lost their hair after chemotherapy. My sister Jenny and I have our hair cut together every two years. We normally get people to sponsor us as well, and the money goes to the ward so they can buy things for the kids. You know, things to keep them occupied and cheer them up, because being stuck in hospital isn’t much fun—especially when you’re a kid.’ The hair cut before last had been on the actual day of Sammy’s test results. She and Jenny had celebrated the news with a hair cut and a bottle of champagne.
    â€˜That’s a really nice thing to do. I take it your sister’s your connection to the ward?’
    â€˜Uh-huh,’ Sammy said. It wasn’t a total fib. Her sister was one of the connections. Just Sammy herself happened to be the main one. Not that Nick needed to know that.
    â€˜So that’s why you’re taking the photographs.’
    She nodded. ‘I take photographs for the ward every Christmas—so the families do at least get to have some Christmas pics together with their children, and with Santa for the younger ones. That’s why Ayesha knew I was up to the job and would waive my fee, because I always do where the ward’s concerned.’
    â€˜I assumed you were a photographic student who wanted to do it for his portfolio, and you’d been interviewed with half a dozen others.’
    â€˜No,’ she said. ‘Though you have a point about the portfolio. Maybe I should’ve given someone else the chance to work with me.’
    â€˜But then your styles would’ve been different,’ he said.
    â€˜I guess. But I ought to think about that in future.’
    * * *
    When they’d finished their meal, Sammy refused the offer of more coffee. ‘I’d better let you get on.’
    Which Nick guessed was a polite way of saying that she needed to get on. And now, he thought, this was where she left and they’d say a polite goodbye, and they’d never see each other again.
    Except his head and his mouth were clearly working to different scripts, because he found himself asking, ‘When’s your next day off?’
    â€˜I’m actually on holiday at the moment,’ she said. ‘I’m doing the last four shoots for the calendar tomorrow and the day after, but other than that my time’s my own.’
    â€˜You’re using your holiday to shoot the calendar?’ And yet she’d said she was a freelance who never turned work down. Her time off must be precious.
    She shrugged. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
    But she wouldn’t meet his eye. And she’d said that her sister was her connection to the ward. So maybe she’d made the same kind of silent bargain with Fate that he had, Nick thought—do the job and it’d keep her loved one safely in remission.
    â€˜So, thanks for dinner. And for being patient at the shoot,’ she said. ‘I know it can be a bit wearing, being told exactly how to stand and moving your head or your shoulders just a fraction.’
    â€˜You were very professional and made it easy,’ he said, meaning it.
    This was his cue to say goodbye. But his mouth had gone into reckless mode. ‘Would you spend the day with me on Sunday?’ he asked. ‘Maybe we could have lunch, and you could show me some of the places you really like in London.’
    â€˜Urban hiking, one of my American friends calls it.’ She smiled. ‘I’d like that. OK. But there’s a string attached.’
    He frowned. ‘What?’
    â€˜You bought dinner tonight, so I’m buying lunch on Sunday. No arguments.’
    He wasn’t surprised; Sammy had already struck him as someone who was seriously independent. He wasn’t going to argue for now, but he’d find a way to get round her reservations on Sunday. ‘OK. What time?’
    â€˜Half past nine?’ she suggested.
    â€˜OK. It’s a