A Heavenly Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер

didn’t even glance at the contented baby. ‘All babies are beautiful, Mr Sherbourne,’ she told him hardily.

      ‘I thought I asked you to call me Ethan,’ he reminded her softly. ‘And you are…?’

      ‘Olivia,’ she provided stiffly, knowing it would be completely churlish to refuse to give him her first name—as well as non-productive; he only had to ask Mr Pulman for it if he really wanted to know.

      ‘Olivia Hardy,’ Ethan repeated mockingly as he sat up to look at her with laughing brown eyes. ‘It sounds like one half of a comedy duo!’

      Angry colour darkened her cheeks. ‘In the circumstances, what does that make you?’ she returned scathingly. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she added abruptly, before he could come out with some clever reply, ‘I have some case notes I need to go over this evening.’ She moved towards the door, anxious to escape now.

      ‘Of course,’ he agreed, standing up. ‘You’re a lawyer, aren’t you? Exactly what sort of lawyer?’ He followed her over to the door, standing in the doorway as she stood waiting for the lift to arrive.

      ‘A good one,’ Olivia came back derisively, glancing back at him in surprise as she heard him chuckle.

      ‘I’ll just bet you are too,’ he replied appreciatively. ‘Olivia—’ He broke off as the sound of the baby whimpering could be heard behind him.

      Olivia’s mouth thinned humourlessly. ‘I believe that is your cue to feed her,’ she told him as she stepped inside the lift. ‘Good luck!’

      Ethan grimaced. ‘I think Andrea is going to need that more than I am!’

      He was probably right, Olivia decided as the lift began its descent. Sorry as she felt for Shelley in her obvious desperation, she couldn’t help thinking that the other woman should have chosen someone with more competence at the task than Ethan Sherbourne obviously had. Even though, as Andrea’s father, a more appropriate minder couldn’t be found!

      As she let herself into her own silent apartment she could still hear the baby’s cries, whether real or imagined, so she moved to switch on the television and drown out the noise—instantly turning the volume down as she realised she was probably the one responsible for disturbing the neighbours now! Besides, no matter how loud the television, it didn’t stop Olivia from worrying about the baby.

      Would Ethan Sherbourne know how to feed Andrea properly? Did he know how to make up the formula? To use sterilised water and not some straight from the tap? To tell if the milk was the right temperature for Andrea to drink? That he had to wind the baby after every ounce or so to prevent her getting tummy ache?

      Olivia switched off the television impatiently, striding through to her bathroom to turn on the shower before going into the adjoining bedroom to undress. A shower might help to relax her. Anything to take her mind off what might be going wrong in the apartment above her.

      Except that it didn’t.

      She stood under the punishing jet of the power shower for over ten minutes, desperately trying to channel her thoughts into the case she was working on at the moment. And failing miserably. How could she possibly think of work after the disturbing sequence of events earlier this evening?

      Finally she came back through to her bedroom, wearing a peach-coloured silk robe, and looked around her appreciatively at the lovely things she had bought to surround and calm her. It was all the best that money could buy: a Mediterranean-style kitchen, antique furniture in every room, brocade drapes at the windows, luxuriously sumptuous carpets on the floors, several original paintings hanging on the cream-coloured walls.

      And yet as Olivia looked around her she knew that it wasn’t enough. That it never had been…

      She sat down on the side of the bed, knowing exactly what she was going to do now and powerless to stop herself.

      The photograph lay in the bottom drawer of her bedside cabinet—the only thing in that particular drawer. Her hand shook slightly as she picked it up, the tears streaming hotly down her cheeks even before she looked down at the picture.

      Oh, God, Olivia pleaded emotionally, please, please help me to get through this!