He growled back, and Josh giggled and squirmed down and ran back to her. ‘Biscuit, Mummy! Bastian want biscuit too.’
‘Ah. Sebastian’s actually cooking croissants and pain au chocolat,’ he confessed, his eyes flicking to hers in apology.
She smiled. ‘It’s Christmas. And they smell amazing.’
‘They are. And they’ll be burnt if I don’t take them out. Coffee or tea?’
‘Both. Tea first. I’ll make it. What do you want?’
‘Same. Tea, then coffee. I’ll put a jug on for later.’
How domesticated, she thought, getting out the mugs and making the tea while he rescued the pastries and found plates and butter and jam, and she poured the tea and he sat Josh down and pulled up his pyjama sleeves so he didn’t get plastered in butter.
We’re like an old married couple, she thought, just getting breakfast together on Christmas morning, and in a minute we’ll go through to the sitting room and open Josh’s presents and play with him, and the goose will cook and...
She cut herself off.
This was a one-off. They weren’t married. They were never getting married. And she needed to stop dreaming.
* * *
The train set was a hit.
They moved a table out of the way, and Sebastian got down on the floor with Josh and helped him set up the track, and she sat with her feet tucked up under her bottom, still in her pyjamas, cradling a cup of coffee and watching them.
Josh had opened his stocking, with the little cars and a packet of chocolate buttons and a satsuma she’d taken from the fruit bowl, and Sebastian had lit the fire and thrown the peel on it and it smelled Christmassy and wonderful.
So wonderful.
Her eyes filled. What had happened to him to make him change so much, to become so driven, so remote, so focused on something she couldn’t understand that their love had withered and died?
He wasn’t like that now. Or not today, at least. He’d been pretty crabby out in the lane in the snow, but since then he’d made a real effort.
Or maybe it was just because of Josh, to make him happy. That seemed really important to him, but was there more to it than that?
He’d written ‘love from Sebastian’ on the gift tag.
Just a figure of speech, the thing everyone always writes? Or because he meant it?
She had no idea, she just knew, watching him, listening to the two of them talking, that he’d really taken her little boy to his heart, and she found it unbearably touching.
‘Right. Time to put the goose in,’ he said, and she yanked herself out of her thoughts and put the cup down.
‘I’ll do it.’
‘No. It’s heavy. I’ll put it in. You can do the tricky stuff later.’
He went out, taking their mugs, and came back a few minutes later with a refill and a handful of satsumas.
‘Is that an attempt to compensate for the croissants?’ she said drily, and he chuckled and lobbed one over to her, dropping down onto the other sofa and turning so he could watch Josh over the back.
‘He chatters away, doesn’t he?’
‘Oh, yes. He didn’t talk very early, but boys don’t, I don’t think. And they stop talking again in their teens, of course, and just start grunting.’
He frowned again, looking thoughtful for a moment. ‘I’m sure I didn’t grunt. Nor did my brothers, as far as I’m aware.’
‘My brother did. He was monosyllabic for years. It made a refreshing change from all the arguments.’
‘How is he? We lost touch when—well, then.’
She ignored his hesitation. ‘Fine. He’s working in Norwich. He’s a surveyor. He’s stopped grunting now and he’s quite civilised. He’s married with two children and a dog.’
He looked away. ‘Lucky Jack.’
‘He is. He’s very happy.’
‘I’m glad. Give him my regards.’
‘I will. How are your brothers?’
‘Better now they’ve grown up. They both work for me. Andy’s an accountant, and Matt’s a sales director.’
‘Don’t they mind answering to you?’
He laughed softly. ‘It makes for interesting board meetings sometimes,’ he confessed, and she laughed too.
‘I’m sure. Talking of families, I ought to ring my parents. They’ll want to say Happy Christmas to Josh.’
‘How about doing it from my computer with the webcam, so they can see you?’
‘Can we? That would be brilliant!’
‘Well, since they know you’re here, you might as well. Do it in my study.’
She looked down at herself, suddenly aware of what she was wearing. ‘I might get dressed first. Just so they don’t think we’re hanging out all day in PJs.’
And then she looked up, and his eyes were on her, filled with a dark emotion she didn’t want to try to understand, and she took Josh upstairs, protesting all the way, and washed and dressed him.
She needed a shower, really, and her hair washed, but she didn’t like to let Josh run riot and she could hear water running in Sebastian’s room, so she told him to stay there and look at a book, shot into the bathroom and showered and came out to find the door open and no sign of him.
‘Josh? Josh, where are you?’
She ran out onto the landing, clutching the towel together, and slammed straight into Sebastian’s chest. His bare, wet chest. His hands came up and steadied her, and she stared, mesmerised, as a dribble of water ran down through the light scatter of hair across his pecs and disappeared into the towel at his hips.
‘If you’re looking for Josh, he’s in my room.’
His voice, low and gravelly, cut through her thoughts and she sucked in a breath. What was she doing?
He let go of her shoulders and stepped back, and she hitched her towel up and blushed. ‘He is?’
‘Yes. Don’t worry. He came to find me. You take your time, we’re fine.’
‘Are you sure? Because I really need to—’ She waved a hand vaguely at her towel, and his eyes tracked over it and he smiled slightly.
‘Yes. You do.’
She glanced down, and saw it was gaping. Dear God, could it get any worse?
Blushing furiously and clutching it together, she went back into her room and closed the door, leant back against it and shut her eyes, humiliation washing over her. How could she have gone out there with her towel flapping open and revealing—well, everything, pretty much!
Not that he’d been exactly covered. Had he always looked that good naked?
Yes. Always. He was more solid now, but he’d always looked good. Tall, broad, muscular, without an ounce of spare flesh on him.
And she really, really didn’t need to be thinking about that now! She pushed away from the door, dried herself quickly and wrestled her still-damp body into jeans and a jumper.
Her hair needed careful combing and drying, but it wasn’t going to get it.
Or was it? There was a knock on the door and it opened a crack.
‘There’s a hairdryer in the top