‘Leave it with me,’ she told him. ‘I’ll call you.’
How ironic was it that she was practising the run to the big hospital in Edinburgh, having only made her arrangements with Jack hours before?
Fate seemed to be stepping in again. It had been so easy to arrange care for the children. A very excited Poppy had gone home with Jeannie for the night and Oliver was having his first-ever sleepover at his friend Ben’s house.
It made it easy to ask Adam what she needed to ask, after the initial conversation and reassurance that Jock was getting the best treatment possible had faded into silence.
Thank goodness Adam was driving. Emma had used up every ounce of energy she had and she knew she would fall asleep very soon. Maybe it was sheer exhaustion that stopped her feeling hesitant in making her request.
‘Would it be all right if I had a day off next week? I’ve … got a kind of appointment in Edinburgh that I need to go to.’
‘Of course you can have a day off. You haven’t had one since you came. I keep telling you I can cope at the weekends.’
‘The thing is … it’s a weekday, not the weekend, and I’d need to stay the night. The … ah … appointment’s late so I’d need to wait until the next day to get the train back. It would be fine for the children to stay with their friends again. I … um … checked.’
The sideways look she received was disconcerting. It reminded her of that first time she’d met Adam, when he’d looked at her as if she was the last person he’d want to be looking after his children. The atmosphere in the car suddenly felt like it had on that first day, too, when he’d driven her home and she’d been imagining his wife buried somewhere under the driveway.
It did sound dodgy, didn’t it? A late-night appointment? And it was on a day that would make child care a challenge for him and she’d taken a huge liberty in tentatively making arrangements herself. But she couldn’t tell him the truth or he might realise he had made a mistake in trusting her with his children. That she was sick and … and unreliable.
‘It’s a … job interview …’ she heard herself saying. Unconvincingly? She tried again. ‘Music’s my first love. That’s why I don’t take on full-time or permanent jobs. I’m seeing someone about the possibility of a future gig.’
That wasn’t so far from the truth, was it? It was just about her whole future and not just a gig.
The silence kept growing. Becoming more and more loaded with every passing second, but Adam was being assaulted by unpleasant emotions.
Had he really thought Emma was incapable of lying? It was obvious she was not telling the truth right now. He could hear echoes of Tania.
There’s a sale on … It’s my favourite designer, darling … It’s only for a day … maybe two …
But it wasn’t fair not to trust Emma because of the skill with which Tania had manipulated him.
He wanted to trust her. So much.
And it wasn’t her fault that it was so hard.
Finally—too late—he managed a grunt in response. But he couldn’t meet her eyes. He had to keep staring at the road ahead of them.
‘Do what you need to,’ he growled. ‘I’ll cope.’
Emma woke up as the car jolted over the tree roots on the driveway and, almost instantly, found herself shivering.
It wasn’t just the physical cold, although there was enough snow now for her feet to crunch through it as she followed Adam up the steps to the front door.
This was an emotional chill, too.
Adam McAllister had gone back into his shell, hadn’t he? Back to being the man who never really smiled and who couldn’t bear the celebration of something as joyous as Christmas.
And all because she’d asked for a day off?
No. Emma knew there was more to it than that. Maybe it was the way Adam was avoiding both eye contact and any conversation as they went into the house. Or it could have been the way Bob shot her an almost accusing look before going quietly to his master’s side. Most likely, it was catching sight of the mistletoe wreath that Emma had hung in the corner near the coat stand that made it crystal clear.
This was about the kiss.
About her.
The desire wasn’t one-sided, was it? But Adam didn’t know what to do about it because he was still caught in his grief and she’d just made it clear that she couldn’t wait to move on—to another gig.
For once Adam wasn’t rushing into the kitchen where he’d drop his coat over the back of the nearest chair or on the arm of the sofa. He was taking it off slowly and deliberately and clearly intended hanging it on the rack.
Slowly enough for Emma to have another blinding moment of clarity.
She’d thought she had nothing to offer Adam but she had been wrong.
Catherine would applaud the fact that she’d pushed him into allowing Christmas into his house for the sake of the children but … what if she could give him—give all of them—more than that?
This man deserved to be loved again.
The children desperately needed a mother, not just a series of nannies.
How perfect would it be if it could be her?
But, if it couldn’t, she could still help. She could help him take that first step. They had the house to themselves. Nobody but she and Adam need know.
Maybe the real gift she could give Adam was the permission to be really happy again? To show him what it could be like.
She could offer Adam hope. A belief that it was possible. He was an outstanding doctor and father but she could help him get over that huge barrier he’d put around himself as a man.
‘Adam?’ Slipping out of her own coat, Emma stood beside him at the coat rack. ‘I’m sorry … I don’t have to go to that appointment in Edinburgh. It’s not that I don’t want to be here with you and children. It’s just that—’
‘It doesn’t matter. I told you that.’
‘But it does,’ Emma said softly. ‘I don’t want to make things difficult. I know I’m not here for very long but I want this to be a special time—one that will make special memories—for all of us …’
Herself included. The whisper in the back of her mind reminded her that this could turn out to be her last Christmas. She had nothing to lose. Adam had everything to gain.
Oh, help … he was standing so very still. His eyes were closed.
When his eyes slowly opened, he wasn’t looking down at Emma. He was looking up—at the mistletoe wreath. And then he reached up and picked a whole bunch of those little, waxy white berries.
Finally, he made eye contact and the smouldering depths in those dark eyes stole Emma’s breath.
And her heart.
He might be fighting it but he wanted her.
Needed her.
Emma had to close her eyes because her own wanting and needing was overwhelming and this had to be Adam’s decision. His choice.
She heard his deep groan. And then she felt him move. One arm went around her waist and the other caught the back of her legs. She was scooped up as if she weighed almost nothing and she held on tightly and buried her face against his neck, allowing herself to sink into total trust as Adam carried