Falling for Mr. December Read Online Free PDF Page B

normally do. Work, being there for Mandy and the boys, and more work. A perfectly balanced life.
    * * *
    Sammy was glad that she’d taken Nick’s address and put the postcode into her satellite navigation system before they left the court’s car park, because as she’d half expected she ended up losing him at a junction. Following the satnav’s directions, she ended up driving through one of the prettiest tree-lined streets in Bloomsbury, where the five-storey town houses all had wrought iron railings, tall white-framed sash windows that would let huge amounts of light flood into the rooms, and window boxes full of bright, well-manicured geraniums. She could see Nick’s car towards the end of the street, and thankfully there was a parking space on the road behind it. Nick himself was waiting for her by his car.
    When she climbed out of her car, Nick handed her a parking permit to place inside her windscreen. ‘I’m sorry I lost you at that junction,’ he said. ‘I did slow down, but I couldn’t see you behind me.’
    â€˜No worries,’ Sammy said with a smile. ‘That’s precisely why I took your address.’
    â€˜Come in,’ he said.
    â€˜And you don’t mind if I bring all my stuff in?’
    â€˜That’s fine.’ He was still laden with his own cases, but even so he picked up the heaviest of her boxes and took it to the door of the Georgian house on the corner.
    It was exactly the kind of building that made Sammy itch to get her camera out. The front door was painted black, with white columns and narrow bands of stucco either side to turn the entrance from a rectangle to a perfect square. Above the entrance was a filigree fanlight, the pattern within the arched window reminding her of a spider’s web. The door knocker, handle and letterbox were all shiny brass, the front doorstep was scrubbed clean, and on either side of the step there was a bay tree in a black wooden planter, its stem perfectly straight and its leaves clipped into a neat ball.
    Everything was discreet, tidy—and clearly wealthy without being ostentatious about it. It was a house that had been looked after properly.
    Clearly her interest showed on her face, because Nick smiled. ‘You like the architecture?’
    â€˜It’s gorgeous,’ she said. ‘I have to admit, architectural detail is one of my biggest weaknesses. Especially windows like that one.’ She indicated the fanlight above the front door.
    â€˜Come on up and I’ll give you the guided tour.’ And then he looked slightly shocked, as if he hadn’t meant to say that.
    Tough. He’d said it now, and Sammy wasn’t going to pass up the chance to look round such a gorgeous building.
    â€˜My flat’s the ground floor and first storey,’ he said.
    â€˜Not the whole house?’
    He smiled. ‘I live on my own, so I don’t really need a whole town house. The flat gives me enough room for work, guests and entertaining.’
    Though even a flat in a building like this—and in an area like this—would cost an eye-watering amount, Sammy thought. Especially a duplex flat. It would be way out of her own price range.
    â€˜Let’s base ourselves in the kitchen,’ Nick said. ‘We can order some food, and then I’ll show you round.’
    â€˜Sounds good to me.’
    Nick’s kitchen was small, but perfectly equipped. It had clearly been fitted out by a designer and it was the kind of shabby chic that didn’t come cheap, with distressed cream-painted doors and drawer fronts, light wood worktops and pale terracotta splash-backs and floor tiles. There was a terracotta pot of herbs on one of the windowsills, and an expensive Italian coffee-maker and matching kettle, both in cream enamel; apart from that, everything was tucked neatly away.
    Either Nicholas Kennedy was a total neat freak, or he didn’t actually use this room much