Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection. Rebecca Winters

gave a non-committal shrug that made his leathers creak. ‘You know how it is.’

      She tilted her head and pulled a sympathetic face, oozing empathy and understanding.

      Yeah, right, I thought, doubting very much that she had a clue what it was ‘like’, at all.

      ‘Well, if you ever need anything, you know where I am.’

      Mentally, I raised my eyebrows so high they barely connected with my face. Physically I kept my face impassive. I saw the man glance at me, briefly, before he replied. I studied my feet for a moment as I considered the possibility that my ‘impassive’ face may need some work.

      ‘I do, thanks.’

      She gave him another full-wattage smile before moving gracefully up the steps and in through the large black painted front door.

      The man turned his attention back to me and tilted his head in question, apparently still awaiting a reply to his enquiry.

      ‘My name is Kate Stone.’ The name didn’t seem to spark any recognition. ‘You had an appointment with me for six o’clock this evening.’

      He lifted his arm and wiggled his wrist a little until a watch face peeked out enough from his sleeve to see the time.

      ‘It’s gone seven.’

      ‘Yes. It is.’

      ‘So why are you still here?’

      This is exactly why I hate doing favours for friends. My business was in demand and had a waiting list. Without trying to sound smug, I didn’t need this. Ordinarily there was no way I would have waited so long for a client to show. Add that to the fact that there was no explanation or even attempt at apology for his lateness, and my patience was being severely tested. But Janey had begged me to come and help her brother, even paying for the initial consultation herself. I’d rearranged other clients and missed my yoga class tonight because, according to him, six o’clock was the only time he could possibly make it this week. Or not apparently.

      ‘I suppose you’d better come in before you freeze to death.’

      ‘Thanks. I’d hate to inconvenience you by croaking on your doorstep,’ I mumbled.

      ‘Sorry?’ He spun round, the bottom of his boot grating on the step.

      Whoops.

      I shook my head innocently, grateful for the muffling properties of the crash helmet he still wore.

      Mr O’Farrell made his way around the junk that consumed his porch, opened the door and strode in, leaving it to me to see myself in and close the door behind me. As I did, he pulled off the crash helmet and sat it on a cluttered phone table that stood in the hallway. He was, of course, ridiculously good-looking once the protective head gear was removed. Perhaps that went some way to explaining the high opinion he clearly had of himself. Mind you, his hair, black as coal, definitely needed a good cut, and the stubble on his face was way beyond ‘designer’ but not a beard either. Maybe he felt he didn’t need to bother with attention to personal grooming when women like his neighbour were already throwing suggestive invitations his way. Well, Yummy Mummy next door might find ‘mean and moody’ attractive, but to me, Michael O’Farrell, was merely abrasive and rude, no matter how tall, dark and gorgeous the wrapping was.

      Sitting heavily on a bench seat in the hall, my new client yanked off his boots. My gaze, however, was roaming around the areas of the house that I could see from the hallway. This was most definitely not going to be a five-minute job. Unfortunately. Because if first impressions were anything to go by, I was keen to spend the least amount of time possible with my new client.

      ‘You didn’t answer me earlier.’ The soft Irish accent did nothing to hide the abruptness of his manner.

      I frowned.

      ‘Why you’re actually here? I left Janey a message to tell you that I was running late and wouldn’t be able to make it. I assumed she’d pass it on to you.’

      ‘When did you call her?’

      ‘About an hour ago.’

      ‘She would already have been in yoga class by then. It has a strict policy of requiring all mobiles to be switched off.’

      This time it was his turn to frown.

      ‘I thought she said something about knowing you from that class. Don’t you two go to yoga together.’

      ‘Yes, we do. Ordinarily.’

      I saw the penny drop.

      ‘Right.’ He stood.

      Great. No apology for making me miss my class either. If this all proceeded, I was seriously tempted to shift him to my assistant. I’d dealt with enough ‘challenging’ clients in my time, and it would be good practice for her to take O’Farrell on. Mind you, Bernice was adorably cute and an absolute sweetie so in all probability would have him eating out of her hand within ten minutes. And that was fine too. Just so long as I didn’t have to deal with him.

      He unzipped the top of his leathers and began wrestling the upper half off his shoulders.

      ‘Just so you know, Miss Stone. None of this was my idea. I have absolutely no wish for you to come into my home and start poking about, faffing and cleaning up. I’m more than happy with things just the way they are.’

      Sorry Janey, but enough’s enough. I wasn’t prepared to waste my or my assistant’s time with someone who clearly wasn’t going to even try.

      ‘Mr O’Farrell. I do not specialise in “faffing” or “poking about”. Neither am I a cleaner. But I suspect you’re already aware of all that. Clearly you have no interest in my services and, as such, I think it’s probably best if we discontinue now in order to prevent either of us wasting any more time. If you could call your sister and explain the situation that would be most helpful. Goodnight.’

      I turned and took the few steps back to the door, my hand upon the catch.

      ‘Wait,’ he called as a phone began to ring, its tone muffled. Digging into the rucksack he’d been wearing on the bike, he yanked a mobile out and looked at the screen.

       ‘Shit.’ Michael took a deep breath and answered. ‘Hi Janey.’ His eyes focused on his socked feet as he listened, his gaze raising only briefly to glance over at me. ‘Yes, she’s still here…No, I…Of course I do…Fine, hang on a minute.’ He looked back at me and held out the phone. ‘My sister would like to talk to you.’

      I hesitated. What was the most polite way of telling my best friend that her brother was a rude and arrogant dick who has no appreciation or respect for what I do, and no inclination to be helped anyway?

      I took the phone. ‘Hi Janey. How – ’

      ‘I am sooooo sorry!’ Janey interrupted. ‘I just got the message on my phone that he was going to be late. I can’t believe it! He promised me and I know you went out of your way to be there tonight. I love him and everything, of course, but Jesus, he really can come across as an arrogant shit sometimes. I know he’s just trying to get out of doing it all.’

      ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry. We’ve consensually decided that perhaps this isn’t the right thing for – ’

      ‘No! No, no no! You have to stay! Please!’

      ‘Janey. It really only works if the person involved wants it to. Otherwise everything will go back to how it was within weeks, which is just a waste of time for everyone involved. Not to mention a waste of money.’

      ‘Wait. Don’t leave yet. OK? Promise?’

      I paused.

      ‘Please, Kate. It’s really important. He needs this.’ Her voice was softer now.

      ‘OK. Fine. As it’s you.’

      ‘Thank you, thank you,