SNOWED IN WITH THE BILLIONAIRE (9 page)

‘You got lucky,’ she told him. ‘Some of the gingerbread trees
were cracked so we can’t use them for decorations. And I found some packets of
stock cubes which would make perfect tree ornaments if I wrapped them up. Can
you spare them for a few days?’

‘Probably. You could take some out just in case we need them,
but no, that’s fine, go for it.’ And dropping into a chair, he picked up a
sandwich and bit into it. ‘Nice bread.’

She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Well, don’t look at me, I just
raided the kitchen. It was entirely your PA’s choice. I suggest you give her a
substantial bonus.’

‘I already did.’

She laughed and shook her head, then put the kettle on again to
make tea and sat down opposite him. ‘I’m sorry I let Josh give me the slip. It
must have been—awkward with your mother.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘You know what she’s like.’

‘I do. She loves you, though, even though you fight with her
all the time. You do know that?’

‘Of course I know that.’ He frowned and pushed back his chair.
‘Look, I’ve got work to do, so I might just take a pile of sandwiches and
disappear into my study. I’ll see you later.’

Oh, great, she’d driven him out. It wasn’t hard. All she had to
do was mention his mother and it was enough to send him running. She felt her
shoulders drop as he left the room, and let out a long, slow breath.

They’d agreed to spend Christmas together and ignore the past
for Josh’s sake, but the past just kept getting in the way, one way or the
other, and tainting the atmosphere, as if it was determined to have its say.

She looked out of the window, but the snow was still there, and
it was even snowing again lightly, just tiny bits of dust in the air. Was it
ever going to thaw so they could escape?

Not nearly soon enough. She cleared the table, gave it a wipe
and smiled at her son.

‘Are you going to help me ice the decorations for the tree?’
she asked, but he was more interested in eating them, so she gave him a pile of
little bits to keep him occupied and piped white ‘snow’ onto the trees and the
stars through the snipped-off corner of a sandwich bag, which seemed to work all
right until it split and splodged icing on the last one.

She saved it for Sebastian and took it in to him with a cup of
tea, knocking on the open door before she went in.

He didn’t seem to be working. He was sitting with his feet on
the corner of the desk, his fingers linked and lying loosely on his board-flat
abdomen, and he glanced at her and frowned.

‘Sorry. My mother just got to me.’

‘Don’t apologise. It was my fault for not keeping a closer eye
on Josh. Here. I messed up one of the biscuits. I thought you might like it, and
I’ve brought you a cup of tea.’

‘Thanks.’

He dropped his feet to the floor and sighed. ‘I wish this damn
snow would clear,’ he muttered, and she gave a short laugh.

‘I don’t think there’s any chance. I think it’s got it in for
us. It was snowing again a moment ago.’

‘I noticed.’ He looked around. ‘Where’s Josh?’

‘Eating broken biscuits.’

‘I thought they were mine?’

‘You walked out, Sebastian.’

‘Well, it makes a change for it to be me.’

She sucked in a breath, took a step back and turned on her heel
and walked away. She got all the way to the door before she stopped and turned
back.

‘I didn’t walk out,’ she reminded him. ‘You drove me out.
There’s a difference. And if you had the slightest chance, you’d do it again,
right now. But don’t worry. The moment the snow clears, I’ll be out of here, and
you’ll never have to see me again.’

‘Wait.’

His voice stopped her in the doorway, and she heard the creak
of his chair as he got up and crossed the room to her.

She could feel him behind her, just inches away, unmoving.
After a moment his hands cupped her shoulders, but he still didn’t move, didn’t
say anything, just stood there and held her, as if he didn’t quite know what to
say or do but wanted to do something.

She turned and looked up into his eyes, and they were troubled.
Hers probably were, too. Goodness knows there was enough to trouble them. She
let her breath out on a long, quiet sigh, and lifted her hand and touched his
cheek, making contact.

Even though he’d shaved that morning she could feel the
tantalising rasp of stubble against her palm, and under her fingers his jaw
clenched, the muscle twitching.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I know it wasn’t just you. I know I
wasn’t easy to live with. I’m not. But—we have to do Christmas for Josh, and I
really want to do it right, and I know I said we wouldn’t talk about it and I
just broke the rule. Can we start again?’

She dropped her hand. ‘Start what again?’

He was silent for long moments, then his mouth flickered into a
smile filled with remorse and tenderness and pain. ‘Christmas. Nothing else. I
know you don’t want more than that.’

Didn’t she? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure, but then it wasn’t
what he was offering, so she nodded and stepped back a little and tried to
smile.

‘OK. No more snide remarks, no more cheap shots, no more
bickering. And maybe a bit more respect for who we are and where we are
now?’

He nodded slowly. ‘Sounds good to me,’ he said gruffly, and he
smiled again, that same sad smile that brought a lump to her throat and made her
hurt inside.

How long they would have stood there she had no idea, but there
was a crash from the kitchen and she fled, her heart in her mouth.

She found Josh on the floor looking stunned, a biscuit in his
hand, the wire rack teetering on the edge of the worktop and a chair lying on
its side, and guilt flooded her yet again.

‘Is he all right?’

‘I think so.’ She gathered him up, and he clung to her like a
little monkey, arms and legs wrapping round her as he burrowed into her shoulder
and sobbed. ‘I think he’s probably just frightened himself.’

And her. And Sebastian, judging by the look on his face.

He reached out a hand and laid it gently on Josh’s back. ‘Are
you OK, little guy? You’re really in the wars today, aren’t you?’

‘I’ve told him so many times not to climb on chairs.’

‘He’s a boy. They climb. I was covered in bruises from falling
off or out of things until I was about seventeen. Then I started driving.’

She gave him a dry look. ‘Thanks. It’s really good to know
what’s in store.’

He smiled at her over her son’s head, and this time it was a
real smile. His soft chuckle filled the kitchen, warming her, and she sat down
on the righted chair and hugged Josh and examined him for bumps and bruises and
odd-shaped limbs.

Just a fright, she concluded, and a little egg on the side of
his head, but that could have been from standing up under the desk.

‘Tea?’ Sebastian offered, and she nodded.

‘Tea sounds like a good idea. Thank you.’

‘Universal panacea, isn’t it? When all else fails, make
tea.’

He put the kettle on and went back to his study to bring his
mug and the uneaten biscuit, pausing for a moment to take a few deep breaths and
slow his heart rate. He’d had no idea what they’d find, and the relief that Josh
seemed to be OK was enormous.

Crazily enormous. Hell, the little kid was getting right under
his skin—

He strode briskly back to the kitchen, stood his mug on the
side of the Aga so it didn’t cool any more and made her a fresh mug.

‘How is he?’

‘He’s fine, aren’t you, Josh? It’s probably time he had a nap.
I usually put him down after lunch for a little while. I might go up with him
and read for a bit while he sleeps.’

He frowned as he analysed an unfamiliar emotion.
Disappointment? Really? What was the matter with
him?

‘Good idea. I’ll get on with my work, and then we’ll decorate
the tree later.’

* * *

‘Mistletoe?’

He’d cut mistletoe, of all the things! Like that was
really
going to help—

‘I know, I know,’ he sighed shortly, ‘but it is Christmassy,
and everything else was out of reach or too tough, and I could cut it with
scissors, and I have no idea where the secateurs might be. I made sure it didn’t
have berries on, either, in case Josh should try and eat them, because they’re
poisonous. But there is one bit of holly—for the Christmas pudding.’

She tipped her head on one side and eyed him in disbelief,
trying not to laugh. ‘The Christmas pudding?’

‘Absolutely. You have to have a bit of holly on fire in the
middle of the Christmas pudding when it’s brought to the table. It’s the
law.’

She suppressed a splutter of laughter. ‘Is that the same law
that says that lights must be white? My, aren’t we traditional?’ she teased, but
he just folded his arms and quirked a brow.

‘Absolutely. Christmas is Christmas. It has to be done
properly. Have you got a problem with that?’

She smiled slowly. ‘Do you know what? You’ve got a good heart,
Sebastian Corder, for all you’re as prickly as a hedgehog. And no, I don’t have
a problem with that. Not at all.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Good. Right. So, what’s next?’ he
asked, avoiding her eyes and fluffing up his prickles.

Still smiling, she handed him the boxes of stock cubes and a
few other little things she’d found that could be wrapped, and they sat down at
the table, gave Josh a piece of paper and a pencil to do a drawing, and made
little parcels for the tree.

She’d snapped off some twigs from a shrub outside the sitting
room window, and once the other parcels were done they made them into little
bundles to dangle on the tree.

‘Finger,’ he demanded, and she put her finger on the knot and
he tugged the gold ribbon tight, and made a loop to hang it by.

‘You’re good at this. You might have found your vocation.’

‘I have a vocation.’

‘What, making money?’

He sighed and put the little bundle of sticks down on the
growing pile.

‘George—’

She raised her hands. ‘It’s OK, I’m sorry, cheap shot.’

‘Yes, it was. And I don’t just spend it all on myself. I employ
a lot of people, and I support various charities and organisations—and I really
don’t need to explain myself to you.’

She searched his eyes. ‘Maybe you do,’ she said softly. ‘Maybe
you always did, instead of just rushing off and doing.’

‘Yeah, well, there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since
then, and as you were kind enough to point out to me when I was asking about
David, it’s actually none of your business. Now, are we going to finish this
tree or not?’

He got to his feet, scooping the little parcels up in his big
hands and heading out of the door. She grabbed the fir cones, ribbon and
scissors and stood up. He was never going to change, never going to compromise.
The word wasn’t even in his vocabulary.

‘Josh, come on, we’re going to decorate the tree,’ she told her
son, and he wriggled down off the chair and followed her into the sitting
room.

CHAPTER SIX

‘I
T
LOOKS
GOOD
.’

She put the baby monitor on the coffee table, sat down at the other end of the sofa and studied the tree with satisfaction.

Not exactly elegant, with its slightly squiffy little parcels and random bunches of twigs and soggy fir cones—well, the top half wasn’t so bad, although there were a few odd bits up there just to link it in so it didn’t look like a game of Consequences—but it looked like a proper, family Christmas tree.

And that brought a huge lump to her throat.

Josh had had so much fun putting all their home-made bits and pieces on there, and Sebastian hadn’t turned a hair when he’d pulled too hard and the whole tree had wobbled. He’d just got a bit of string and tied it to a hook on the beam above so it couldn’t fall.

‘It does look good,’ she said softly. ‘It looks lovely. Thank you.’

Sebastian turned his head and frowned slightly at her. ‘Why are you thanking me? You’ve helped me decorate my tree.’

‘And we’ve done it for my son, which has meant not being able to use all your lovely decorations and smothering the bottom of it in all sorts of weird home-made bits and pieces, which I’m perfectly sure wasn’t your intention, so—yes, thank
you
.’

The frown deepened for a moment, then cleared as he shook his head and looked back at the tree.

‘Actually, I rather like all the home-made things,’ he said after a moment, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat.

‘Especially the gingerbread trees and stars,’ she said, trying to lighten the moment. ‘And don’t think I haven’t noticed that every time you “accidentally” bump into the tree another one breaks so you get to eat it. Between you and Josh there are hardly any left.’

He grinned. ‘I don’t know what you mean. And if we’re running out, it’s your fault. I told you to make plenty.’

She rolled her eyes and rested her head back against the sofa cushions with a lazy groan. ‘This is really comfortable,’ she mumbled.

‘It is. I love this room. I think it’s probably my favourite room in the whole house.’

Because they’d never made any plans for it? Maybe, she thought, considering it. Or had they? Hadn’t there been some mention of it being a playroom for all the hordes of children? But they hadn’t spent any
significant
time in it. Not like the bedroom. Maybe that made the difference.

Or maybe he just liked it.

She rolled her head towards him and changed the subject.

‘So, what’s the programme for tomorrow? Since you have such strong opinions on how it should be done...’

Another grin flashed across his face. ‘Cheeky.’ He hitched his leg up, resting his arm on the back of the sofa and propping his head on his hand so he was facing her, thoughtful now.

‘I think that probably depends on you and Josh. What are you going to do about presents for him? Are you going to wait until you’re with your parents?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. He was really excited about the tree and he knows there will be presents under it because they had them at nursery, so I think there probably should be something for him to find tomorrow, otherwise it might be a bit of an anti-climax.’

‘You don’t think it will anyway, with just us and a few presents instead of a big family affair? Wouldn’t you rather wait?’

‘Do you think I should?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s up to you, but it makes me feel a bit awkward because there isn’t one from me, and it’ll look as if I don’t care and I’d hate him to think that, but obviously I haven’t got anything to give him. Either of you.’

She stared at him, unbearably touched that he should feel so strongly about it—and so wrongly. She reached out a hand to him, grasping his and squeezing it.

‘Oh, Sebastian. You’re giving us Christmas! How much more could we possibly ask? You’ve opened your home to us, let us create absolute havoc in it, we’ve taken it over completely so you haven’t even been able to work, and—well, frankly, without you we might not even be alive for it, so I really don’t think you need to worry about some gaudy plastic toy wrapped up and stuck under the tree! In the grand scheme of things, what you’ve given him—given us—is immeasurable, and whatever else is going on between us, I’ll never forget that.’

Sebastian frowned again—he was doing that a lot—and turned away, his jaw working.

‘He’s just a kid, George,’ he said gruffly.

‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘And for some reason that really seems to get to you.’

He shrugged and eased his hand away, as if the contact made him uncomfortable. ‘I don’t like to think of kids being unhappy at Christmas. Or ever. Any time. And as I’ve said, I’ve got nothing else to do and nowhere else to be. So—presents, or not presents?’

She thought about it for a moment. Her parents had spoiled him on his birthday just four weeks ago, and he’d had so many presents he hadn’t really known what to play with first. And there was nothing here in the house, really, that he could play with safely.

And then she had an idea that would solve it all. ‘I think—presents? Or some of them, at least. I’ve got him a wooden train set, and it comes in two boxes. There’s the main set, and there are some little people and a bench and trees and things in another box. You could give him that, if you’re really worried about him having something from you under the tree.’

‘Don’t you mind?’

She laughed. ‘Why should I mind? He’s still getting the toy, and it would give him something constructive to play with while we’re stuck here. And I’ve got a little stocking for him from Father Christmas. That ought to go up tonight because he’s bound to get up early.’

‘Does he even know who Father Christmas is?’

She smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t know. We went to see him, but I’m not sure he was that impressed. He looked a bit worried, to be honest, but it might make him like the old guy a bit better if he brings him chocolate.’

They shared a smiled, and he nodded.

‘You could hang it from the beam over the fire.’

‘I could. We might need to let the fire go out first, though, so the chocolate buttons don’t melt.’

‘Ah. Yes, of course. Good plan. Well, if we let it die down now, it should be all right by the end of the evening. It can go at the side, out of the direct heat. And, yes, please, if I can put my name on the other box of train stuff, that would be good. But you must let me pay you for it.’

She just laughed at that, it was so outrageous. ‘You have to be kidding! The amount you’re spending on us already? I’ll have you know I eat a lot on Christmas Day.’

‘Good. Have you seen the size of the goose?’

‘We have goose?’ she said, her jaw dropping open in delight. ‘Oh, wow, I love goose! What stuffing?’

‘Prune and apple and Armagnac,’ he told her, and she sighed with contentment and slumped back onto the sofa cushions, grinning.

‘Oh, joy. Deep, deep joy. Bring it on...’

He laughed and stood up, slapping her leg lightly in passing. ‘That’s your job. I have no idea how to cook a goose, especially not in an Aga, so I was hoping you’d do it. Shall I get the presents?’

‘I’ll come. I only want a few. Where did you put them?’

‘In my room.’

Ah.

Was her face so transparent? Because he took one look at her and smiled and shook his head.

‘You’re perfectly safe, George. I’m not going to do anything crazy.’

No. And wishing she wouldn’t be quite so perfectly safe was crazy. Utterly crazy. Good job one of them was thinking clearly.

She nodded slowly and stood up. ‘OK. We’ll just get the train set boxes and the stocking and leave the rest for when I’m with my parents. Then I can just put the whole bag in the car when I leave.’

* * *

He didn’t want her to leave.

It dawned on him suddenly, with a dip in his stomach, as they went upstairs to the bedroom, walking up side by side as if they were going to bed.

And he needed to stop thinking about that right there before he embarrassed them both.

He pushed the door open and flicked on the light. ‘They’re in here,’ he said, and let her through the communicating door into his dressing room. It had been cut in half, the half with the window becoming the bathroom, this half now lined out with wardrobes fitted with racks and shelves and hanging space.

He’d dumped the bag of presents inside one of the practically empty cupboards, and he pulled it out and turned to find her looking around, studying the wardrobes minutely.

‘Useful. Really useful. What sensible storage. They’re great.’

‘They are. How anybody managed with that little cupboard in the bedroom I have no idea.’

‘Maybe they didn’t have as many clothes. Or maybe they just used it to play hide and seek?’ she said lightly.

She was bending over the presents as he held them, and he stared down at the top of her head and tried to work out what was going on in there. Why had she said that? Why chuck something so contentious into the mix?

Although it was him that had raised the subject of the cupboard in the first place...

He had to get out of there. Now.

‘Right, why don’t I leave you to sort out what you want to bring down, and I’ll go and get on. I’ve got a few loose ends to tie up before tomorrow. Just stick them back in the cupboard when you’re done.’

And he handed her the bag and left. Swiftly, before he gave in to the temptation to grab her by the shoulders, haul her up straight and kiss her senseless.

* * *

‘Here. This is the train set stuff. Did you want to wrap yours in different paper?’

She put the boxes down on the kitchen table and he studied them thoughtfully. ‘Does it matter if they’re the same?’

‘Not necessarily.’

He gave a slight smile. ‘I’ll do whatever, but I have to say my wrapping paper doesn’t really compete with little trains being driven by Santas.’

She smiled back. ‘Probably not. And he won’t think about the fact that they’re the same. He’ll just want to unwrap them. He knows what presents are now, having just had a birthday.’

‘When was his birthday?’

‘Three days after yours.’

His eyebrows crunched briefly together again in another little frown, and she wondered what she’d said this time. Was it because she remembered his birthday? Unlikely. She’d always remembered everyone’s birthdays. That was what she did. Remembered stuff. It was her forte, just as his was making money.

She gave up trying to work him out.

‘So, lunch tomorrow or whenever we’re having it. Are we going for lunchtime, or mid-afternoon, or evening, or what?’

He turned his hands palm up and shrugged. ‘Look, this is all for Josh. I don’t care what time we eat, so long as we eat. I’m sure we’ll manage whenever it is. Just do whatever you think will suit him best.’

‘Lunch, probably, if that’s OK? What veg do you have? And actually, where is the goose? It’s not in the fridge so I hope it’s not still frozen.’

‘It’s in the larder.’

‘Larder?’ The kitchen had been so derelict she hadn’t even realised it’d had a larder. Or maybe he’d created one?

He walked across to what she’d assumed was a broom cupboard or something, and opened the door. A light came on automatically, illuminating the small room, and she saw stone shelves laden with food. So much food.

‘Wow. And this was just for you and your family?’

He gave a wry smile. ‘I told you my PA had gone mad.’

Not that mad, she thought, studying the shelves. Yes, there was a lot of food, but much of it would keep and it was only the goose and the fresh vegetables that might struggle.

She shivered. ‘It’s chilly in here. Ideal storage. I didn’t even know it existed. Was it here?’

‘Yes. It had one slate shelf and I had the others put in, and it’s got a vent to the outside and faces north, which keeps it cool.’

‘Which is why it feels like a fridge.’

He smiled. ‘Indeed. Perfect for the days when fridges didn’t exist. So—there you are. Feel free to indulge us with anything you can find.’

‘Oh, I will.’

She ran her eye over it all again, mentally planning the menu, then shut the door behind them and sat back down at the table to write a list.

‘Do you really want Brussels sprouts?’

‘Definitely. Christmas isn’t Christmas without sprouts.’

‘And burnt holly.’

‘And burnt holly,’ he said with a grin.

She bit down on the smile and added sprouts to the list, then looked up as he set a glass of wine down on the table in front of her.

‘Here, Cookie. To get you into the festive spirit.’

‘Thank you. And talking of Cookie, are you about to cook, by any chance, or was that a hint for me?’

‘I’ve done it. There’s a pizza in the oven and some salad, and we could have fruit or icecream to follow. I thought I’d let you off the hook, seeing as you’ll be doing quite enough tomorrow.’

‘How noble of you.’ She sipped her wine and glanced at her list. ‘Is the goose stuffed already?’

‘So I was told. Ready to go straight in the oven. It says four hours.’

‘I thought you didn’t know how to cook it?’ she asked drily, and he smiled, his eyes dancing with mischief.

‘I didn’t want to do you out of the pleasure—and this way you get all the glory.’

‘What glory?’

‘The glory of basking in my adoration,’ he murmured, and she wasn’t sure but there seemed to be a mildly flirtatious tone in his voice.

She held his eyes for a startled moment, then gave a slightly strained little laugh and looked away. ‘Always assuming I don’t burn it.’

‘You won’t. I’ll make sure of that. Right, let’s label that present with a new tag, and you go and stick them under the tree and I’ll dish up.’

But what to write? His pen hovered for a moment over the tag he’d found. Did it matter? The child couldn’t read.

‘To Josh from Sebastian’
would do.

But he put
love
in there, just because it seemed right. Weirdly right.

‘OK, that’s done, we need to eat or the pizza will be ruined.’

He slid the box across the table to her, pushed back his chair and made himself busy. So busy he didn’t have time to think about what he’d written.