Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection. Rebecca Winters

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come out like I meant it to.’

      ‘No.’ I swallowed, feeling a stab of disappointment I couldn’t explain, and tried to smile. ‘I don’t imagine it did.’

      ‘Just as well, eh? You looked pretty horrified!’

       I did?

      ‘I really didn’t mean to.’

       Surprised? Yes. Horrified? Hello? Have you looked in a mirror lately?

      Michael gave my fingers a gentle squeeze before letting go of my hand. ‘It’s OK. I could never accuse you of not being honest with me. I’m just going to pop the dog next door to my neighbours in case we’re out longer than expected. I’ll be back in two minutes.’ He hesitated. ‘Assuming you’re still up for it?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Good.’ He smiled, but his enthusiasm was more tempered than it had been earlier. He jogged down the stairs, the dog at his heels and grabbed Pilot’s ‘go bag’. This made it easier for him to take the dog round to Janey’s or next door or wherever quickly and only required him having to collect a couple of things.

      ‘Find your Ted, boy.’

      Pilot skidded on the wood for a second as he looked around for his teddy. Catching sight of it halfway down the stairs, he thundered up, clamped his jaws around it and then charged back down to Michael, his tail wagging at the prospect of whatever exciting thing was happening next. Michael grabbed his keys, ushered the dog out of the door and pulled it closed behind him. In the silence of the house, I sat down heavily on the stair and tried to untangle my thoughts.

      I was well aware that my attitude to this job was different now. As Bernice had noticed, I was far less hesitant now. In fact, it was probably fair to say I eagerly anticipated my visits.

      I’d been happily telling myself that it was because, as we got further through the progress, the house was being freed from all the clutter and could be seen properly: The high ceilings, large windows, beautiful cornicing were all there for me to see and fall in love with. But, what if the house wasn’t the only thing I’d fallen for…I stood up so suddenly I had to grab the banister as the force of the action gave me a head rush.

       No! That was absolutely ridiculous.

      There was no way I could have possibly…Except I’d got the same feeling when I’d woken at Janey’s and seen Michael sitting there. Which was in a different house entirely. Which meant…what? I plopped down onto the stair again, my mind spinning. The key turned and Michael came through the front door, minus Pilot. He glanced up, stopping when he saw me sat there. In a few strides, he was up the stairs and crouched in front of me.

      ‘Are you all right? I knew you were doing too much so soon after that bug knocking you out.’ He put a hand on my forehead.

      I pulled his hand down. ‘I’m fine. And can you not sit like that. It’s making me nervous. I’ve got visions of you bumping backwards down the stairs!’

      He swung his body round and parked himself next to me on the stair.

      ‘So, what’s up?’

      ‘Nothing. I was just thinking.’

      ‘About what?’

      I glanced round, met his eyes for a moment and then turned back. ‘About…what you’ll need, you know, for finishing off the rooms and stuff.’

      He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. ‘You finished thinking about that now then?’

      ‘Yes,’ I said, looking back at him. ‘I’ve got everything straight in my head now.’

      He didn’t reply for a moment, just watched me, his eyes seeming to search mine for something.

      ‘That’s good then,’ he said, eventually, giving a brief smile. ‘Better go hit those shops then, eh?’

      ‘Is breakfast still on?’

      ‘Breakfast is always on.’

      We didn’t talk much on the walk to the Tube. Partly because there was still some remnant of weird atmosphere lingering since the whole ‘romantic gesture/not a romantic gesture/horrified look’ thing this morning. I also got the feeling that Michael knew I hadn’t been thinking solely about the house when he’d found me on the stairs. The other thing that prevented us from talking was that we were both wrapped up like little Eskimos – well, one of us a lot more little than the other – with scarves tucked up under our noses as the wind blew glasslike shards of hail at any bit of exposed skin it could find. Combined with the fact that the temperature was now falling below freezing, judging by the snowflakes that were now drifting down intermittently, and the pavement had become an assault course of frozen puddles and patches of black ice. Right now, the priority for both of us was just keeping upright and in one piece.

      We entered the station and flashed our Oyster cards on the reader before heading down into the depths to catch a train into the centre. The crowds squashed and yanked us apart. I’d spent over four years in London now, honing my skills in this area, but unless you were built like a functional brick outbuilding, like my companion, there were still times when it was hard not to get scooped up and hustled along a few feet in the wrong direction. When this happened for the second time, Michael reached over and grabbed my hand, pulling me back in the right direction. I expected him to let go, but he didn’t.

      ‘If you get swept off again, it’s possible it’ll put a serious delay in me getting food. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll keep hold of you for a while.’

      I didn’t mind at all.

      ‘I knew this was all about the food.’

      He grinned, the sound of the train entering the station and the swell of people limiting the ability for further conversation. Tumbling out at Bond Street, Michael’s hand still firmly wrapped around my own, I stopped to the side of the pavement, momentarily watching the snow as it floated gently down. A shove in the back brought me out of my reverie and I saw the look in Michael’s eyes at the guy who’d done it. I tugged on his hand.

      He looked down. ‘Please tell me I was never that much of a dick,’ he asked.

      ‘I’ve no idea. I never saw you in this particular scenario.’

      He gave me a patient look. ‘You know that doesn’t reassure me a whole lot.’

      ‘OK. How about this? I’m sure you weren’t. Is that better?’

      ‘Funnily enough, not terribly convincing.’

      ‘Oh well. I can’t help you then.’

      Michael slanted an amused look my way as we arrived at Selfridges. He held the door, and we headed up to the Aubaine Bistro.

      ***

      ‘That was utterly delicious,’ I said, putting my cutlery to the side of my plate. Michael had already finished. Big surprise.

      ‘I can’t believe you’ve never been here.’

      ‘Just never got around

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