services and asked if there was anyone who could help him wrap the presents for the children. He brandished his cast pathetically and, between that and the black eye, he charmed them into it shamelessly.
There was nothing outrageous in his choices. There was nothing outrageous in the shop anyway but, even if there had been, he would have avoided it. It wasn’t necessary, and he didn’t believe in spoiling children, but there was a colouring book with glue and glitter that Kitty had fingered longingly and been made to put back, and he’d noticed Edward looking at an intricate construction toy of the sort he’d loved as a boy, and there was a nice chunky plastic shape sorter which he thought Thomas might like.
And then there was Amelia.
She didn’t have any gloves, he’d noticed, and he’d commented on it on the way there when she was rubbing her hands and blowing on them holding the steering wheel.
‘Sure, it’s freezing, but I can’t do things with gloves on,’ she’d explained.
But he’d noticed some fingerless mitts, with little flaps that buttoned back out of the way and could be let down to tuck her fingers into to turn them into mittens. And they were in wonderful, ludicrously pink stripes with a matching scarf that would snuggle round her neck and keep her warm while she walked the dog.
He even bought a little coat for Rufus, because he’d noticed him shivering out on their walk first thing.
And then he had to make himself stop, because they weren’t his family and he didn’t want to make them—or, more specifically, Amelia—feel embarrassed. But he chucked in a jigsaw to put on the low coffee table in the drawing room and work on together, just because it was the sort of thing he’d loved in his childhood, and also a family game they could play together.
And then he really did stop, and they were all wrapped and paid for, together with the decorations, and someone even helped him load them into the car and wished him a merry Christmas, and he found himself saying it back with a smile.
Really?
He went into the canteen and found them sitting in a litter of sandwich wrappers and empty cups. ‘All set?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. We were just coming to find you. Thank you so much—’
‘Don’t mention it. Right, we’d better get on, because we need to take this lot home and then get a tree before it’s too late, and at some point today I need to go to the hospital and have a proper cast put on my arm.’
‘Wow! Look at the tree. It’s enormous!’
It wasn’t, not really, but it was quite big enough—and it had been a bit of a struggle to get it in place with one arm out of action in its new cast, but just the look on the children’s faces made it all worth it—and, if he wasn’t mistaken, there was the sheen of tears in Amelia’s eyes.
They’d put it in pride of place in the bay window in the drawing room, and lit the fire—a great roaring log fire in the open hearth, with crackling flames and the sweet smell of apple-wood smoke—and, between the wood smoke and the heady scent of the tree, the air just smelled of Christmas. All they had to do now was decorate the tree, and for Jake it was a step too far.
‘I’m going to sit this out,’ he said, heading for the door, but Kitty shook her head and grabbed his good hand and tugged him back, shocking him into immobility.
‘You can’t, Jake! You have to help us—we’re all too small to reach the top, and you have to put the lights on and the fairy and all the tinsel and everything!’
Why was it, he wondered, that children—especially earnest little girls—always talked in italics and exclamation marks? And her eyes were pleading with him, and there was no way he could walk away from her. From any of them.
‘OK. I’ll just go and put the kettle on—’
‘No! Lights first, because otherwise we can’t do anything until you get back, and you’ll be ages!’
Italics again. He smiled at her. ‘Well, in that case, I’ll put the lights on first, but just the lights, and then we’ll have a quick cup of tea and we’ll finish it off. OK?’
She eyed him a little suspiciously, as if she didn’t trust his notion of quick and wasn’t quite sure about the emphasis on the words, because there was something mildly teasing in them and he could see she was working it out, working out if he was only teasing or if he was being mean.
And he couldn’t be mean to her, he discovered. Not in the least. In fact, all he wanted to do was gather her up into his arms and tell her it would all be all right, but of course it wasn’t his place to do that and he couldn’t make it right for her, couldn’t make her father step up to the plate and behave like a decent human being.
If he was the man he was thinking of, Jake knew David Jones, had met him in the past, and he hadn’t liked him at all. Oh, he’d been charming enough, but he’d talked rubbish, been full of bull and wild ideas with no foundation, and at one point a year or two ago he’d approached him at a conference asking for his investment in some madcap scheme. He’d declined, and he’d heard later, not unexpectedly, that he’d gone down the pan. And it didn’t surprise him in the least, if it was the same David Jones, that he’d walked out on his family.
So he couldn’t make it right for David’s little daughter. But he could help her with the tree, and he could make sure they were warm and safely housed until their situation improved. And it was all he needed to do, all his conscience required.
It was only his heart that he was having trouble with, and he shut the door on it firmly and concentrated on getting the lights on the tree without either knocking it over or hurting any more of the innumerable aches and pains that were emerging with every hour that passed.
‘Are you OK doing that?’
He turned his head and smiled down at Amelia ruefully. ‘I’ll live. I’m nearly done.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on. You look as if you could do with some more painkillers.’
‘I’ll be fine. It’s just stretching that hurts—’
‘And bending over, and standing, and—’
‘Just put the kettle on,’ he said softly, and she opened her mouth again, closed it and went out.
He watched her walk down the hall, watched the gentle sway of her hips, the fluid grace of her movements, the lightness in her step that hadn’t been there yesterday, and he felt a sharp stab of what could only be lust. She was a beautiful, sensuous woman, intelligent and brave, and he realised he wanted to gather her up in his arms, too, and to hell with the complications.
But he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t, so with a quiet sigh he turned back to the tree and finished draping the string of lights around the bottom, then turned them on and stood back.
‘How’s that?’
‘Really pretty!’ Kitty whispered, awed.
‘It’s a bit crooked,’ he said, wondering if there was any way he could struggle in under the tree and right it, but Edward—typically—rushed in with reassurance.
