That Special Something: A heartwarming, small town romance to fall in love with

Seventeen

The hotel bar was heaving with customers and Hope had no idea what Tom looked like, other than he was blond. And not as good looking as the actor Tom Hardy, according to Tom’s own words.

But she did know what Della looked like. She might not be able to recall their entire conversation from Christmas Eve, but Della had certainly made an impression. Her hair was as white as the fake snow on the trees inside and she wore it in a pixie cut. She had the brightest smile Hope had ever seen, especially on such an elfin-like face, and eyes that would outshine emeralds. She was tall and slim and very tactile.

Would Tom look the same?

It took less than a minute for Hope to spot him and he must have spotted her before she had seen him, because he was staring directly at her, his mouth slightly open, his eyes aglow and seemingly as green and as beautiful as his sister’s, his blond hair splashed with gold, gleaming under the lights above his head, his tanned face far more handsome than she could have hoped, and a smile on his generous mouth that sent electricity coursing through her. But when his gaze swept over her body taking her in from head to toe, she thought she must’ve burst into flames. And when she did the same to him, the heat grew more intense.

Had he experienced something similar and as had looked at her? The way his body seemed to tense suggested he had and as they walked towards one another it was as if the room parted like the Red Sea.

It didn’t of course. Hope had to squeeze her way through the throng of people and Tom had to do the same, but when they were finally face to face and they smiled at one another the cacophony around them faded into a distant, quiet hum and the only voice she heard was his.

‘Hello, Hope,’ he said huskily as his eyes met hers.

‘Hello, Tom,’ she replied, in her sexist voice.

‘You’re even more beautiful than I thought you would be,’ he added his voice thick in his throat as his eyes briefly took in her entire body once again, which sent new tingles and sensations to places she had forgotten existed.

She had checked in her coat (and her overnight bag having come prepared but not wanting Tom to know that) at the cloakroom in the hotel lobby and had removed the bolero top that went with the dress she was wearing, and slung it casually over one arm. She wanted to make the best impression and the tight-fitting bodice and slightly plunging neckline of the cashmere dress showed her cleavage to its best advantage with the jacket removed. But the soft fabric offered scant protection against the reaction of her body to Tom’s close proximity, his seductive looks and his sexy voice. Perhaps the black lace, underwired bra was not her best choice? It left little to the imagination.

‘Ditto,’ she replied, making it obvious that she also appreciated what she saw.

His stunning smile grew wider and brighter, if that was possible.

‘How did you know it was me?’ he asked.

‘I just knew,’ she said. ‘How did you know it was me?’

Again his all encompassing scan sent her body into overdrive.

‘Ditto,’ he said. ‘Although I must confess that Della gave me a brief description. Long chestnut hair, hourglass figure, beautiful. Not much to go on. And she did you an injustice. Lustrous, chestnut hair, the perfect figure, breathtaking beauty, eyes that shine like sapphires and emeralds rolled into one, and lips that were made for kissing is how I would’ve described you. Briefly. I can go into more detail if you like.’

‘Maybe later,’ she said quivering at the thought of kissing Tom Hardy.

‘Later,’ he nodded, staring into her eyes. And then, with a slight shake of his head he smiled. ‘Where are my manners? What would you like to drink?’

‘A glass of white wine, please.’

He held out his arm to let her go before him and then somehow made space so they could walk to the bar side by side.

‘Do you like champagne? This is a special occasion.’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’

He laughed as he caught the bartender’s attention. ‘Della doesn’t. Neither does Alice. They are so well suited it’s as if they’re twins. Although that would be weird so forget I said that.’

‘Oh, where is Della by the way?’ Hope scanned the crowd.

‘Didn’t I say?’ He furrowed his brows and then gave his name and room number to the bartender. ‘No, I didn’t. I was so…’ he coughed. ‘Unfortunately Della won’t be joining us. She sends her sincere apologies but Alice isn’t well today and although it isn’t anything to worry about, just a twenty-four hour tummy bug, they believe, Della felt she couldn’t leave her.’

‘I’m so sorry. You should’ve called and we could’ve rearranged.’

‘I didn’t know until about an hour ago. Della left it late to see if she might be able to get away, but she wants to ensure Alice is better for the big event on Wednesday, so thought it best if she stayed. I know I could’ve called then but … being entirely selfish, I didn’t want to. I wanted to meet you, Hope. In fact, I couldn’t wait.’

The bartender reappeared with a silver ice bucket containing a bottle of Louis Roederer champagne, a brand that Hope knew was not the most expensive on the planet but certainly didn’t come cheap. It was a popular choice and had ranked top of the list when Eversley Events had carried out a short survey amongst their most discerning clients.

Was Tom trying to impress her? Or did he simply like the brand? And, as he hadn’t told the bartender what he wanted, had he already ordered this and had it put aside for tonight? But the bartender place three champagne saucers on the bar and Tom slid one back with a smile and his thanks.

‘I ordered this before Della called,’ he said, hence the three glasses. We prefer saucers to flutes but if you want a flute I can get one.’ Hope shook her head. ‘I hope you like it. I only drink champagne on special occasions but this is my favourite. Or we can ask for another brand if you prefer.’

All her questions having been answered Hope said, ‘No. This one is perfect.’

‘Shall we find a table?’

‘I’m not sure there’s one free.’

‘It’s certainly busy in here for a Monday night.’

‘Perhaps it’s early Valentine’s celebrations,’ said Hope.

‘Perhaps.’ He eyed her nervously. ‘Please don’t think I’d pre-planned this, because I haven’t … but…’ he licked his lips hesitantly, ran a hand through his hair, and glanced towards the restaurant. ‘Erm … I … I’ve booked a table for dinner but not until eight and … erm.’

‘Are you trying to suggest we take this to your room, Tom?’ She stepped closer so that her body was touching his, and met his slightly startled yet excited look as his gaze shot back to her. ‘Because if you are, I think it’s a good idea.’

She saw him swallow hard and he nodded as if he couldn’t speak.

‘Shall I have this sent to your room, sir?’ the bartender asked as he reappeared from nowhere as if he had read their minds.

Tom nodded again, cleared his throat, and said, ‘Yes please.’

A moment later he took Hope’s hand in his and together they walked purposefully towards the lift.