SNOWED IN WITH THE BILLIONAIRE (4 page)

‘Here, let’s sit down,’ he said, and sat on the floor, handed Josh his plastic feeder cup, and they tucked into the biscuits while he tried not to eavesdrop on Georgie’s conversation.

* * *

She glanced over her shoulder, and saw Josh was on the floor with Sebastian. They seemed to be demolishing the entire plateful of biscuits, and she hid a smile.

He’d never eat all his supper, but frankly she didn’t care. The fact that Josh wasn’t still clinging to her leg was a minor miracle, and she let them get on with it while she soothed her mother.

‘Mum, we’re fine. The person who lives here is taking very good care of us, and he’s been very kind and got my car off the road, so we’re warm and safe and it’s all good.’

‘Are you sure? Because you can’t be too careful.’

‘Absolutely. It’s just for tonight, and it’ll be clear by tomorrow. They’ve got a Range Rover so he’s going to give us a lift,’ she said optimistically, crossing her fingers.

‘Oh, well, that’s all right, then,’ her mother said with relief in her voice. ‘I’m glad you’re both safe, we were worried sick when you didn’t ring, so do keep in touch. We’ll see you tomorrow, and you stay safe. And give my love to Josh.’

‘Will do. Bye, Mum.’

She cut the connection and put the phone back on the charger, then turned and met his eyes. A brow flickered eloquently.

‘They?’ he murmured.

‘Figure of speech.’ And less of a red flag to her mother than ‘he’...

He humphed slightly. ‘You didn’t tell her where you are.’

She blinked. ‘Why would I?’

The brow flickered again. ‘Lying by omission?’

She shrugged off her coat and draped it over a chair next to his at the huge table. ‘It’s not a lie, it’s just an unnecessary fact that changes nothing material. And what she doesn’t know...’

He didn’t answer, just held her eyes for an endless moment before turning away. The kettle had boiled and he was making tea now while Josh cleaned up the last few crumbs on the plate, and she picked it up before he could break it.

‘Here—your tea.’ Sebastian put her cup down in the middle of the table out of Josh’s reach and picked up his coat.

‘Give me your keys. I’ll put your car away in the coach-house. Is there anything else you need out of it?’

‘Oh. There’s a bag of Christmas presents. There are some things in there that don’t really need to freeze. It’s in the boot.’

‘OK.’ She passed him the keys and he went out, and she let the breath ease out of her lungs.

Just one night
, she told herself.
You can do this. And at least you know he’s not an axe murderer, so it could have been worse.

‘Mummy, finished.’

Josh handed her his cup and she found him a book in the changing bag and sat him on her lap. She was reading to him when Sebastian came back in a few minutes later, stamping snow off his boots and brushing it off his head and shoulders.

She put her tea down and stared at him in dismay. ‘No sign of it stopping, then?’

He shook his head and held out her keys, and she reached out to take them, her fingers closing round his for a moment. They were freezing cold, wet with the snow, and she shivered slightly with the thought of what might have been. If he hadn’t been here...

‘Sebastian—thank you. For everything.’

His eyes searched hers, then flicked away. ‘You’re welcome.’ He shrugged off his coat and hung it up again. ‘I’ll go and make sure your room’s ready.’

‘You don’t need to do that just for one night! I can sleep on a sofa—’

He stared at her as if she’d sprouted another head. ‘It’s a ten-bedroomed house! Why on earth would you want to do that?’

‘I just don’t want you to go to any more trouble.’

‘It’s no trouble, the rooms are already made up. Where do you want these?’

‘Ah.’ She eyed the presents. ‘Can you find somewhere for them that’s not my room? Just to be on the safe side.’

‘Sure. If you need the cloakroom it’s at the end of the hall.’

He picked up all her bags and went out, and she let out her breath on another sigh. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding it again, and the slackening of tension when he left the room was a huge relief.

She felt a tug on her sweater. ‘Mummy, more biscuit.’

‘No, Josh. You can’t have any more. You won’t eat your supper.’

‘Supper at G’annie’s house?’ he said hopefully, and she shook her head, watching his face fall.

‘No, darling, we’re staying here. Grannie sends you her love and a great big kiss and she’ll see you tomorrow, if it’s stopped snowing.’ Which it had better have done soon. She scooped him up and kissed him.

‘I tell you what, why don’t we play hide and seek?’ she suggested, trying to inject some excitement into her voice, and he giggled and squirmed down. As she counted to ten he disappeared under the table, his little rump sticking out between the chair legs.

‘I hiding! Mummy find me!’

‘Oh! Where’s he gone? Josh? Jo-osh, where are you?’ she called softly, in a sing-song voice, and pretended to look. She opened the door Sebastian had got the biscuits from, and found a pantry cupboard laden with goodies. Heavens, he was right, they were ready for a siege! The shelves were groaning with expensive food from exclusive London shops like Fortnum’s and Harrods, and the contents of the pantry were probably equal to her annual food budget.

She shut the door quickly and went back to her ‘search’ for the giggling child. ‘Jo-osh! Where are you?’

She opened another cupboard, and found an enormous built-in fridge, then behind the next door a huge crockery cupboard. It was an exquisitely made hand-built painted kitchen, every piece custom made of solid wood and beautifully constructed, finished in a muted grey eggshell that went perfectly with the cream walls and the black slate floor. And rather than granite, the worktops were made of oiled wood—more traditional, softer than granite, warmer somehow.

The whole effect was classy and elegant at the same time as being homely and welcoming, and it was also well designed, an efficient working triangle. He’d done it properly—or someone had—

‘Mummy! I here!’

‘Josh? Goodness, I’m sure I can hear you, but I can’t see you anywhere!’

‘I under the table!’

‘Under the table?’

She knelt down and peered through the legs of the chairs, bottom in the air, and of course that was how Sebastian found her when he came in a second later.

‘Georgie?’

She closed her eyes briefly.
Marvellous
. She lifted her head and swiped her hair back out of her eyes as she sat back on her heels, her dignity in tatters. She could feel her cheeks flaming, and she swallowed hard. ‘Hi,’ she said, trying to smile. ‘We’re playing hide and seek.’

He gave a soft, rueful laugh. ‘Nothing much changes, does it?’ he murmured, and she felt heat sweep over her body.

They’d played hide and seek in the house often after that first time, and every time he’d found her, he’d kissed her.

She remembered it vividly, so vividly, and she could feel her cheeks burning up.

‘Apparently not,’ she said, and got hastily to her feet, brushing the non-existent dust from her jeans, ridiculously flustered. ‘Um—I could probably do with changing his nappy. Where did you put our bags?’

‘In your room. It’s the one at the end of the landing on the right—do you want me to show you?’

‘That might be an idea.’

Not because she needed showing, but because she didn’t want to be tempted to stray into his room. He would have the master suite in the middle at the front, overlooking the carriage sweep, and the stairs came up right beside it.

Too tempting.

She called Josh, took his hand in hers and followed Sebastian up the elegant Georgian staircase and resolutely past the slightly open door of the bedroom where she’d given him her body—and her heart...

* * *

Why on earth had he brought up the past when she’d mentioned hide and seek?

Idiot, he chided himself. He’d already had to leave the kitchen on the pretext of putting the cars away when she’d taken her coat off and he’d seen the lush, feminine curves that motherhood had given her.

She’d always had curves, but they were rounder now, softer somehow, utterly unlike the scrawny beanpoles he normally came into contact with, and he ached to touch her, to mould the soft fullness, to cradle the smooth swell of her bottom in his hand and ease her closer.

Much closer.

So much closer that he’d had to get out of the kitchen and give himself a moment.

Now he realised it was going to take a miracle, not a moment, because when he’d run out of things to do he’d walked back in to the sight of that rounded bottom sticking up into the air as she played under the table with the baby, and then she’d straightened, her cheeks still pink from bending over, and he’d seen straight down the V neck of her sweater to the enticing valley between those soft, rounded breasts and lust had hit him like a sledgehammer.

‘Here,’ he said, pushing open the door of her room. ‘It’s got its own bathroom, but I haven’t put up the travel cot, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t know where to start—is that OK? Can you manage?’

‘Oh. Yes. That’s fine. Um—I don’t suppose you’ve got a small blanket—a fleecy one or something? And a sheet? I don’t have any bedding with me because my mother keeps some at hers.’

‘I’m sure I can find something. I’ll see you in the kitchen when you’re done,’ he said, and left them to it.

She looked around at the lovely room, beautifully furnished with antiques, and wondered who’d sourced everything. Him? It seemed unlikely. He’d probably paid an interior designer an obscene amount of money to do it, but that was fine, he had it.

He’d been outrageously successful, by all accounts, made a killing on the stock market in the early days and re-invested the money in other businesses. He had a reputation for being fair but firm, and companies that he’d taken over had been turned around and sold for vast amounts, or retained in his portfolio to earn him a nice little income.

Not that she’d been keeping tabs on him...

She sighed. ‘Come here, Josh. Let’s do your nappy.’

But Josh was exploring, investigating the utterly decadent bathroom with its free-standing white-enamelled bateau bath, the vintage loo with ornate high level cistern and gleaming brass downpipe, the vintage china basin set on an old marble-topped washstand painted the same soft grey as the kitchen and the outside of the bath. There was a rack piled high with sumptuous, fluffy white towels, and expensive toiletries stood on the side of the washstand.

Gorgeous. Utterly, utterly gorgeous. She eyed the bath longingly. Maybe later.

‘Come on, tinker. Let’s change you.’

But he ran off, giggling, and she had to chase him and catch him and pin him down, squirming like an eel and brimming with mischief. No wonder she didn’t need the gym! Even if she had time, which she didn’t. She hitched his trousers back up victoriously, mission accomplished, and grinned at him.

‘Right, let’s go back downstairs and have that tea, shall we?’

And see Sebastian again.

She bit her lip. He was being polite but distant, and she told herself it was what she wanted. Well, of course it was.

Except apparently her heart didn’t think so, and a tiny corner of it was disappointed that he hadn’t seemed pleased to see her. Well, what had she expected? She’d dumped him because he was too ambitious, too driven, too different from the boy she’d fallen in love with four years earlier, and he hadn’t even tried to understand how she’d felt.

She obviously hadn’t been that important to him then, and she certainly wouldn’t be now, toting another man’s child.

She rounded Josh up, took his hand and led him towards the stairs, but then he slipped out of her grasp and ran through a doorway.

The doorway to the master bedroom, she realised, and her heart sank.

‘Josh? Come out. That’s not our room.’

Silence.

Which left her no choice but to go in...

She pushed the door open and looked around, and the first thing she saw was the bed, huge, beautiful, piled high with snowy white linen and taking her breath away. To be fair, it would have been hard to miss even in such a large room, but it dominated the space, leaping out of her fantasies and taunting her with its perfection, and she felt her cheeks burn.

She dragged her eyes away from it and looked around.

There was no sign of Josh—but the cupboard was there in the corner, the cupboard where she’d hidden, where Sebastian had found her and kissed her the first time.

And there, in front of the fireplace, was where he’d spread the blanket covered in petals and—

‘Mummy, find me!’

She pressed a hand to her chest and sucked in a slow, steadying breath. What on earth was she
doing
? Why was she there? She shouldn’t be here, in this room, in this house, with this man!

With her memories running riot—

‘Mummy!’

She let out her breath, drew it in again and pinned a smile on her face, because he could always tell if she was smiling.

‘Ready or not, here I come,’ she sang, and heard the words echo down the years, ringing in the empty corridors as she’d hidden in the cupboard and held back her innocent, girlish laughter.

And then he’d kissed her and everything had changed...

CHAPTER THREE

T
HEY
WERE
TAKING AGES
.

Maybe she’d decided to unpack, or bath Josh, or perhaps she was lost.

He gave a soft snort. As if. She knew the house like the back of her hand. More likely she was exploring, giving herself a guided tour. She’d always considered the house to be her own private property. The concept of trespass never seemed to occur to her.

He went to look for her, taking the soft woollen throw he’d found for Josh’s bed, and saw his bedroom door standing wide open and voices coming from inside.

‘Josh, now! Come out from under there this minute or I’m going downstairs without you.’

Irritated, he walked in and was greeted yet again by that delectable bottom sticking up in the air. Was she doing it on purpose? He dragged his eyes off it. ‘Problems?’ he asked crisply.

She jerked upright, her hand on her heart, and gave a little gasp. ‘Oh—you startled me. I’m
so
sorry. The door was open and he ran in here and he’s hiding under the middle of the bed and I can’t reach him.’

She sounded exasperated and embarrassed, and he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

‘Two-pronged attack?’ he suggested with a slightly strained smile, and went round to the other side of the bed and lay down. ‘Hello, Josh. Time to come out, little man.’

Josh shook his head and wriggled towards the other side, and then shrieked and giggled as his mother’s hand closed over his arm and tugged gently.

‘Come on, or you won’t have supper.’

‘Want biscuits.’

Sebastian opened his mouth to offer them and caught the warning look she shot him under the bed, and winked. ‘No biscuits,’ he said firmly. ‘Not unless you come straight out and eat all your supper first.’

He was out in seconds, and Georgie scooped him up and plonked him firmly on her hip. She was smiling apologetically, her hair wildly tangled and out of control, those teeth catching her lip again, and he wanted her so much he could hardly breathe.

The air was full of tension, and he wondered if she was remembering that he’d kissed her here for the first time. They’d been playing hide and seek, and she’d hidden in the cupboard beside the chimney breast. He’d found her easily, just followed the sound of her muted laughter and hauled the door open to find her there, hand over her mouth to hold in the giggles, eyes so like Josh’s brimming with mischief and something else, something much, much older than either of them, as old as time, and he’d followed her into the cupboard, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

He thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

‘You kept the cupboard,’ she said, her eyes flicking to it briefly, and he knew she was remembering it. Remembering, too, when he’d spread a picnic blanket on the middle of the bedroom floor and scattered it with the petals of the wisteria that still grew outside the bedroom window and laid her gently down—

‘Yes. Well, it’s useful,’ he said gruffly, and dragged in some much-needed air. ‘I put the kettle on because your tea was cold. It’ll be boiling its head off.’

She seemed to draw herself back from the brink of something momentous, and her eyes flicked to his and away again, just as they had with the cupboard.

‘Yes. Yes, it will. Come on, Josh, let’s go and find you some supper.’ She spun on her heel and walked swiftly out, the sound of her footsteps barely audible on the soft, thick carpet, and he didn’t breathe until he heard her boot heels click hurriedly across the hall floor.

Then he let the air out in a rush and sat down heavily on the edge of the huge four-poster bed his interior designer had sourced for him without consultation and which haunted him every time he came in here. He sucked in another breath, but her scent was in the air and he closed his eyes, his hands fisting in the soft woollen throw, and struggled with a tidal wave of need and want and lust.

How was he going to survive this? The snow hadn’t let up at all, and the forecast was atrocious. With that vicious wind blowing the snow straight off the field and dumping it in the lane, there was no way they’d be out of here in days, Range Rover or not. Nothing but a snow plough could get past three foot drifts, and that’s what they’d been heading towards an hour ago.

Maybe the wind would drop overnight, he thought, but it was a vain hope. He could hear it now, rattling the windows in the front of the house, sweeping straight across from Siberia like a solid wall.

He swore under his breath, hauled in another lungful of air, straightened his shoulders and headed downstairs.

He’d keep out of her way. He could be polite but distant, give her the run of the kitchen and her bedroom and hide out in his study. Except he didn’t want to, he discovered as he reached the hall and followed the sound of voices to the kitchen as if he’d been drawn by a magnet.

She turned with a wary smile as he walked in, and set a mug down on the table.

‘I made you tea.’

‘Thanks. What about Josh? What will he eat?’

‘I don’t know what you’ve got.’

He laughed softly and rolled his eyes. ‘Everything. I gave my PA a guest list, a menu plan and a fairly loose brief. She used her initiative liberally.’

‘I don’t suppose she got any fish fingers?’

He felt himself recoil slightly. ‘I doubt it. There’s smoked salmon.’

She was suppressing a smile, and he could feel himself responding. ‘So—shall I just look?’ she suggested, and he nodded and gestured at the kitchen.

‘Help yourself. Clearly I would have no idea where to start.’

He dropped into a chair and watched her and the child as she foraged in the cupboards and came up triumphant.

‘Pasta and pesto with cherry tomatoes, Josh?’

Josh nodded and ran to a chair, trying to pull it out.

‘I have to cook it, darling. Five minutes. Why don’t you sit and read your book?’

But reading the book was boring, apparently, and he came over to Sebastian and leaned against his legs and looked up at him hopefully. ‘Hide and seek?’ he asked, and Sebastian stared at Georgie a trifle desperately because the very
last
thing he wanted to play was hide and seek, with his memories running riot—

‘Won’t he get lost?’

‘In here? Hardly.’

‘Just in here? There’s nowhere to hide.’

‘Oh, you’d be surprised,’ she said, her laugh like music to his ears. ‘Go and hide, Josh. Sebastian will count to ten and look for you.’ She met his eyes over the table, mischief dancing in them. ‘It’s simple. He “hides”,’ she explained with little air quotes, ‘and you look for him. I’m sure you can remember how it works.’

Oh, yes. He could remember how it all worked, particularly the finding part. She’d never made that difficult after the first time...

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them she’d looked away and was halving cherry tomatoes.

‘Well, go on, then. Count!’

So he counted to ten, deluged with memories that refused to stay in their box, and then he got to his feet, ignoring the giggling child under the table, and said softly, ‘Ready or not, here I come!’

Their eyes met, and he felt his heart bump against his ribs. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, the tension palpable. And then she dropped the knife with a clatter, bent to pick it up and turned away, and he found he could breathe again.

* * *

‘Has he settled?’

‘Finally. I’m sorry it took so long.’

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s a strange place. Will he be all right up there on his own?’

‘Yes, he’s gone out like a light now and I’ve got the baby monitor.’

He nodded. He was sprawled on a chair by the Aga, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, one arm resting on the dining table with a glass of wine held loosely in his fingers, watching the news.

He tilted his head towards the screen. ‘The country seems to be gridlocked,’ he said drily.

‘Well, that’s not a surprise. It always is if it snows.’

‘Yeah. Well, there’s over a foot already in the courtyard and the wind hasn’t let up at all which doesn’t bode well for the lane.’

‘Which means you’re stuck with us, then, doesn’t it?’ she said, her heart sinking, and swallowed. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I should have left earlier, paid more attention to the weather forecast.’ Gone the other way and stayed in the traffic jam, and she’d have been home by now instead of putting them both in this impossibly difficult situation.

He shook his head. ‘They got it wrong. The wind picked up, a high pressure area shifted, and that was it. Not even you could cause this much havoc.’

But a wry smile softened his words, and he slid the bottle towards her. ‘Try this. It’s quite interesting. I’ve found some duck breasts. I thought it might go rather nicely.’

She poured a little into the clean glass that was waiting, and sipped. ‘Mmm. Lovely. So—do you want me to cook for us?’

‘No, I’ll do it.’

She blinked. ‘You can cook?’

‘No,’ he said drily. ‘I have a resident housekeeper and if she’s got a day off I get something delivered from the restaurant over the road—of course I can cook! I’ve been looking after myself for years. And anyway, my mother taught me.’ He uncrossed his legs and stood up. ‘So—how does pan-fried duck breast with a red wine and redcurrant
jus
on root-vegetable mash with tenderstem broccoli and julienne carrots sound?’

‘Like a restaurant menu,’ she said, trying not to laugh at him, but she had to bite her lips and he balled up a tea towel and threw it at her, his lips twitching.

‘So is that yes or no?’

‘Oh, yes—please. But only if you can manage it,’ she added mischievously.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t push your luck or you’ll end up with beans on toast,’ he warned, and rolled up his sleeves and started emptying the fridge onto the worktop.

‘Can I help?’

‘Yes. You can lay the table. I’ll let you.’

‘Big of you.’

‘It is. Do it properly. The cutlery’s in this drawer.’

She threw the tea towel back, catching him squarely in the middle of his chest, and he grabbed it and chuckled, and for a second the years seemed to melt away.

And then he turned, picking up a knife, and the moment was gone.

* * *

It was no hardship to watch him while he cooked.

She studied every nuance of his body, tracking the changes brought about in nine years. He’d only been twenty-one then, nearly twenty-two. Now, he was thirty-one, and a man in his prime.

Not that he’d been anything other than a man then, there’d been no doubt about that, but now his shoulders under the soft cotton shirt seemed broader, more solidly muscled, and he seemed a little taller. The skilfully cut trousers hugged the same neat hips, though, and hinted at the taut muscles of his legs. She’d always loved his legs, and every time he shifted, her body tightened in response.

And while she watched, greedily drinking in every movement of the frame she’d once known so well, he peeled and chopped and sliced, mashed and seasoned, deglazed the frying pan with a sizzle of the lovely red, stirred in a hefty dollop of port and redcurrant sauce and then arranged it all with mathematical precision on perfectly warmed plates.

‘Voilà!’

He set the plates down on the places she’d laid, and she smiled. ‘Very pretty.’

‘We aim to please. Dig in.’

She dug, her mouth watering, and it was every bit as good as it looked and smelled.

‘Oh, wow,’ she mumbled, and he gave a wry huff of laughter.

‘See? No faith in me. You never have had.’

Georgie shook her head. ‘I’ve always had faith in you. I always knew you’d be a success, and you are.’

Even if she hadn’t been able to live with him any more.

He shrugged. There was success, and then there was happiness. That still eluded him, chased out by a restless, fretful search for his identity, his fundamental self, and it had cost him Georgia and everything that went with her. Everything she’d then had with another man—and he really didn’t want to think about that. He changed the subject. Sort of.

‘Josh seems a nice little kid. I didn’t know you’d had a child.’

She met his eyes, her fork suspended in mid-air. ‘Why would you unless you were keeping tabs on me?’

A smile touched his eyes. ‘Touché,’ he murmured softly, and the smile faded. ‘I was sorry to hear about your husband. That must have been tough for you.’

Tough? He didn’t know the half of it. ‘It was,’ she said quietly.

‘What happened?’

She put her fork down. ‘He had a heart attack. He was at work and I had a call to say he’d collapsed and died at his desk.’

He winced. ‘Ouch. Wasn’t he a bit young for that?’

‘Thirty-nine. And we’d just moved and extended the mortgage, so things are a bit tight.’

‘What about the life insurance? Surely that covered the mortgage?’

Her mouth twisted slightly. ‘He’d cancelled it three months before.’

That shocked him. ‘Cancelled it? Why would he cancel it?’

‘Cash flow, I presume. Property wasn’t selling, and because he’d cancelled the insurance of course they won’t pay out, so I’m having to work full-time to pay the mortgage. And it’s still not selling, so I can’t shift the house, and I’m stuck.’

He rammed a hand through his hair. ‘Oh, George. That’s tough. I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah, me, too, but there’s nothing I can do. I just have to get on with it.’

He frowned, slowly turning his wine glass round and round by the stem with his thumb and forefinger. ‘So what do you do with Josh while you’re at work?’

‘I have him with me. I work at home—mostly at night. He goes to nursery three mornings a week to give me a straight stretch of time, and it just about works.’

He topped up her glass and leaned back against the chair, his eyes searching her face. ‘So what do you do?’

She smiled. ‘I’m a virtual PA. My boss is very understanding, and we get by, but I won’t pretend it’s easy.’

‘No, I’m sure it’s not.’ For either of them. He thought of how he’d manage if he and Tash weren’t in the same office, and then realised that they weren’t for a lot of the time, but that was because he was the one out of the office, not her, and she was there in the thick of it and able to get him answers at the touch of a button.