Snowed In For Christmas: Snowed in with the Billionaire / Stranded with the Tycoon / Proposal at the Lazy S Ranch. Caroline Anderson

      Uncontroversial ones, with no bones of contention, no trigger points, no sore spots, as if by mutual agreement. They talked about his mother’s heart attack, her father’s retirement plans, his plans for the restoration of the walled garden, and gradually the fire died away to ash and it grew chilly in the room.

      ‘I ought to go up and make sure Josh is all right,’ she said, although the baby monitor was there on the table and hadn’t done more than blink a couple of times, just enough so they knew it was working.

      But he didn’t argue, because they were running out of safe topics and it was better to quit while they were winning and before he did something stupid like kiss her.

      He got to his feet, gathered up their glasses and put them on the tray with the plates, made sure the fire guard was secure and carried the tray through to the kitchen.

      She was getting herself a glass of water, and he put the tray down beside the sink and turned towards her.

      ‘Got everything you need?’

      No, she thought. She needed him, but he wasn’t good for her, and she certainly hadn’t been good for him. Not in the long term. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, and then hesitated.

      His eyes were unreadable, but the air was thick with tension. It would have been so natural, so easy to lean in and kiss him goodnight.

      So dangerous.

      So tempting...

      She paused in the doorway and looked back, and he was watching her, his face shuttered.

      ‘Thank you for today,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s been really lovely. Really lovely. Josh has had a brilliant time, and so’ve I.’

      ‘Even the kiss?’

      She laughed softly. ‘There was never any doubt about your kisses, Sebastian. None at all.’

      ‘Wrong place, wrong time?’ he suggested, and she shook her head.

      ‘Wrong time.’

      ‘And the place?’

      ‘You can never go back,’ she said simply, and with a sad smile, she closed the door and left him standing there in what should have been their kitchen, gazing after the woman he still loved but knew he’d lost forever.

      ‘Damn,’ he said softly.

      It was a fine time to discover that he still wanted her, that he still loved her, that he should have done more to stop her leaving. But his head had been in the wrong place then, and hers was now.

      You should have told her.

      He should. But he hadn’t, and now wasn’t the time.

      It was too late. She’d moved on, and so had he.

      Hadn’t he?

      He poured himself another glass of wine and left the kitchen, retreating into his study and the thing that kept him sane. Work. Always work. The one constant in his life.

      He turned his phone on, and it beeped at him furiously as the emails and messages came pouring in. Even on Christmas Day. He was obviously not the only workaholic, he thought drily, and then he opened them.

      Greetings. Christmas greetings from family, friends, work colleagues.

      And he’d meant to contact all of them, and so far had only rung his immediate family.

      He’d do it now. He had nothing better to do, either, and it beat lying in bed next to Georgie’s room and listening to the sounds of her getting ready for bed. Although even in his study he could hear her, because she was immediately overhead.

      He listened to the sound of water running, the creak of the boards as she crossed the room to the bed. A different creak as she climbed into it and lay down.

      He tried to tune it out, but it was impossible, so he put the radio on quietly. Carols from King’s College, Cambridge, flooded the room and drowned out the sound of her movements.

      Pity they couldn’t drown out his thoughts...

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      ‘MUMMY! MUMMY, WAKE UP!'

      She prised her eyes open. Light was leaking round the edges of the curtains, and it looked—astonishingly—like sunlight. She propped herself up on one elbow and scraped her hair back out of her eyes.

      ‘Hello, Mummy!’

      He was beaming at her, and she felt her heart melt. ‘Hello, darling. Are you all right? Did you sleep well?’

      He nodded vigorously. He was standing in the cot, bobbing up and down with unchannelled energy, and he looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

      ‘Want Bastian,’ he said. ‘Play in snow.’

      The cot rocked wildly, and she sat up and grabbed the edge to steady it. ‘Let’s get up first, shall we? Nappy, drink, clothes on? Then we’ll see.’

      He nodded and held up his arms, and she lifted him out. He was warm and he smelled of sleepy baby, and she breathed him in and snuggled him close for a moment, but he wasn’t having any of it. There was snow outside with his name on it, and he wanted out.