Falling for Mr. December by Kate Hardy Page A

knew him a little better and could work out what his reaction would be, she’d keep quiet about the fact that she’d had bone cancer and was in remission.
    * * *
    Nick’s heart skipped a beat as he saw Sammy at the Tube station. Again, she was dressed completely in black, though this time her T-shirt was more of a vest top, in a nod to the warm September weather, and she wore a silver necklace decorated with deep green beads that matched the studs in her ears.
    And she looked stunning.
    Not that she seemed to realise she was turning heads. That was something else he liked about Sammy Thompson. She was just herself, comfortable in her own skin. And that in itself made her easy to be with.
    He greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. ‘So you’re being the Mysterious Woman in Black again?’ he teased.
    She smiled at him. ‘I never thought about it before but, yes, I probably do wear too much black. Sorry. I guess it’s a hangover from art college.’
    â€˜Don’t apologise. Actually, it suits you,’ he said. ‘And I like your jewellery.’
    â€˜The green stuff? It’s malachite,’ she said. ‘One of my art school friends became a jeweller when she graduated. I love Amy’s work—all the strong lines and the colours. She uses very different semi-precious stones, too.’
    â€˜My sister likes that kind of thing, and she’s got a birthday coming up. Perhaps you can give me your friend’s details and maybe she can design something for me,’ he said.
    â€˜Sure I can. Remind me when we stop for coffee—and I haven’t forgotten that you promised me good coffee.’
    â€˜I did indeed.’ He smiled at her. ‘Shall we?’
    Together they walked out of the Tube station, then headed down the Embankment with the Thames on their right.
    â€˜So where are we going?’ she asked as he turned left and took her into a maze of narrow passageways.
    â€˜This is Inner Temple—one of the Inns of Court,’ he explained.
    â€˜Where you work?’
    He was pleased that she’d realised that. ‘Yes. We’re not going to my actual office, but I thought you’d like to see some of the area around it.’ He led her into a courtyard. All the way round, there were dark brick buildings with tall sash windows and stone doorways. At each end of the courtyard was a white stone arched entranceway, and in the middle were trees, slatted benches and stone troughs containing bright pink geraniums.
    â€˜This is absolutely gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Is it OK to take photographs here, or do I have to ask permission from someone?’
    â€˜It’s fine as long as they’re not for commercial use—then you’d need to talk to the media relations team first,’ he said.
    â€˜Do you mind...?’
    â€˜Be my guest,’ he said with a smile. He watched her as she looked around the courtyard and bent down to take various shots, moving position to change the angle of whatever had caught her eye. It had never occurred to him to do that; whenever he’d taken a photograph, he’d just framed a snap in the viewfinder.
    Which was probably why his photographs were snaps and hers were a true art form.
    â€˜This was a really good choice, Nick,’ she said. ‘I like this place. A lot.’
    And he thought that she might like what he was about to show her even more. ‘Come this way,’ he said, and led her through the archway. In the next courtyard was a church built of honey-coloured stone; part of it was completely round, with a smaller round tower perched on top.
    â€˜This is the original Crusader church in London—one of the four remaining round churches in England,’ he said softly. ‘And the reason I brought you here now is so you can explore it as much as you like before the Sunday service starts.’
    â€˜I had no idea this was even here,’ she said, looking entranced.