Tall, Dark & Rich. Кэрол Мортимер

sighed. ‘It’s never seemed worth the bother when I only have myself to think about.’

      Mac looked at him assessingly. ‘I’m taking a bet that you usually go away for Christmas. Somewhere hot,’ she qualified. ‘Golden sandy beaches where you can sunbathe, and there are waiters to bring you tall drinks with exotic fruit and umbrellas in them. Somewhere you can forget it even is Christmas,’ she teased.

      ‘You would win your bet,’ Jonas acknowledged with a smile.

      She shook her head. ‘I can’t imagine ever going away for Christmas.’

      Neither could Jonas when he could clearly see the distaste on Mac’s face. ‘What do you and your family do over Christmas?’ he asked.

      Those beautiful smoky grey eyes glowed. ‘Nowadays we all converge on my parents’ house in a little village called Tulnerton in Devon. My mother’s parents, several aged aunts. All the presents are placed under the tree, and Christmas Eve we all have a family meal and then attend Midnight Mass at the local church together. When we get back Mum and I usually put the turkey in the oven so that it cooks slowly overnight and the house is full of the smells of it cooking in the morning when we sit down to open our presents. When I was younger, that sometimes happened as early as five o’clock in the morning,’ she recalled wistfully. ‘Nowadays it’s usually about nine o’clock, after we’ve checked on the turkey and everyone has a cup of tea.’

      Jonas’s mouth twisted. ‘The perfect Christmas indeed.’

      Mac eyed him ruefully. ‘To me it is, yes.’

      Jonas reached out and placed his hand over hers as it rested on the tabletop. ‘I wasn’t mocking you, Mac,’ he said gruffly.

      ‘No?’

      Strangely enough, no…It was all too easy for Jonas to envisage the Christmas Mac described so warmly. The sort of Christmas that many families strived for and never actually experienced. The sort of Christmas Jonas had never had. And never would have.

      ‘There are no arguments?’ he prompted.

      Her eyes glowed with laughter. ‘Usually only over who’s going to pull the wishbone after we’ve eaten our Christmas lunch!’

      His fingers curled about hers. ‘It sounds wonderful.’

      Mac was very aware of the air of intimacy that now surrounded the two of them. But it was a different type of intimacy from a physical one. This intimacy was warm and enveloping. Dangerous…

      She removed her hand purposefully from beneath Jonas’s to pick up her fork. ‘I’m sure there must have been arguments; you can’t put eight or ten disparate people in a house together for four or five days without there being the odd disagreement. I’ve obviously just chosen to forget them.’ She grimaced.

      Jonas looked across at her with enigmatic blue eyes. ‘You don’t have to make excuses for your own happy childhood, Mac.’

      ‘I wasn’t—’

      ‘Weren’t you?’ he rasped.

      Yes, she supposed she had been. Because Jonas’s childhood had borne absolutely no resemblance to her own. Because, although he wouldn’t thank her for it in the slightest, her heart ached for him. ‘If you haven’t made other plans yet, perhaps you would like to—’ Mac broke off abruptly, her cheeks warming as she realised how utterly ridiculous she was being.

      Jonas eyed her warily. ‘Please tell me you weren’t about to invite me to spend Christmas with you and your family in Devon.’

      That was exactly what Mac had been about to do! Impulsively. Stupidly! Of course Jonas didn’t want to spend Christmas with her, let alone the rest of her family; with half a dozen strangers there, as well as Mac herself, he would necessarily have to be polite to everyone for the duration of his stay.

      Her cheeks were now positively burning with embarrassment. ‘I think I feel that indigestion coming on!’

      Jonas studied Mac through narrowed lids, knowing by her evasiveness that she had been about to invite him to spend Christmas with her and her family. Why? Because she actually wanted to spend Christmas with him? Or because she felt sorry for him and just couldn’t bear the thought of anyone—even him—spending Christmas alone?

      His mouth thinned. ‘I don’t recall ever saying that I’m alone when I spend my Christmases sunbathing on those golden sandy beaches.’

      ‘No, you didn’t, did you?’ The colour had left Mac’s cheeks as quickly as it had warmed them, her eyes a huge and haunted grey as she gave a moue of self-disgust. ‘How naïve of me.’

      Jonas knew that he had deliberately hit out at her because pity was the last thing he wanted from her. From anyone. Damn it, he was successful and rich and could afford to do anything he wanted to do. He had never met refusal from any woman he’d shown an interest in taking to his bed. All the things he had decided he wanted out of life years ago when he left university so determined to succeed he had achieved.

      Then why did just being with Mac like this, talking with her, make him just as aware of all the things he didn’t have in his life?

      Things like having someone to come home to every night. The same someone. To share things with. To laugh with. To make love with.

      ‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,’ Jonas drawled. ‘In fact, why don’t you consider giving the traditional family Christmas a miss this year and come away with me instead?’ he asked as he looked at her over the top of his wine glass before lifting it and taking a deep swallow of the ruby-red liquid.

      Mac stared at Jonas, absolutely incredulous that he appeared to be asking her to go away with him for Christmas.