A Little Christmas Charm

by Kathryn Freeman

  ‘And with me?’ The confidence, so much a part of him, was stripped away. She found herself staring into blue eyes that brimmed with both hope and vulnerability.

  ‘I’m happier now than I’ve ever been,’ she admitted honestly.

  His eyes lit up and he bent to kiss her. ‘So am I,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t know how it must have felt for you growing up, but I do know what it feels like to be kicked in the teeth. Emotionally,’ he added with a small smile. ‘My teeth are still my own.’

  ‘And what fine teeth they are.’

  He grinned, giving her a flash of the perfect white teeth. ‘Thank you. What I was saying, before I got sidetracked by my dental perfection, is that for many years I felt like you do. I wasn’t prepared to risk putting myself out there, leaving myself open to being hurt again.’ He drew a hand down her hair, tucking it behind her ear. ‘But then I met you. And now I want to take that risk.’

  Her heart faltered, then began to thump wildly inside her chest. She wanted so much to be like him; boldly opening his heart, but how many times had she opened it to her mum? And how many times had she been left reeling? ‘I don’t know if I can. If I’m ready.’

  Owen’s heart fisted and he inhaled sharply. Would it always be like this? He felt like a horse whisperer, trying to calm a skittish mare, harshly treated by her previous owner. When he thought of what Gabby had put up with as a child, it made his blood boil.

  It also explained one hell of a lot, too. So he needed to be patient. ‘All I’m asking is you don’t push me away. Let’s see where this takes us.’

  She nodded, dropping her eyes to his chest, and he slid his hands down her arms before settling them around her waist. Feeling they could both do with a break from the heavy emotion of the last hour, he pressed his hips against hers. ‘And if it takes us up to your bedroom, I’ll rate this as the best evening in I’ve ever had.’

  The tension left her body and she let out a huff of laughter. ‘We can get to my bedroom, once you’ve helped me clear up.’ Desire buzzing through him, he strode purposefully to the dishwasher. ‘And once you’ve told me more about what it was like to be Owen Cooper growing up.’

  He spun round to face her. ‘If you’re putting hearing a potted history of my childhood before going to bed with me, I must be seriously losing my touch.’ Taking her hand he placed it on his chest, letting her feel his racing heart. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of, stuff the clearing up. We’ll do it in the morning.’

  She bit into her lip as her fingers undid a button and crept beneath his shirt. ‘Persuade me.’

  With a groan of satisfaction, of lust, of sheer delight, he scooped her into his arms. ‘I’ll do more than that, Gabriela Sanderson. I’ll sweep you off your feet.’

  Her breath tickled his neck as she giggled. ‘Mr Dreamboat. Deliverer of the most corny lines known to man.’

  ‘Hey, I can deliver on more than corny lines. Just you wait and see.’

  He’d definitely delivered, Owen thought smugly as he gazed down at Gabby. She looked flushed and content. Very, very content. Her big brown eyes blinked open.

  ‘I’ve got a man in my bed again.’

  He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Not just any man.’

  ‘No. A man who’s going to clean my kitchen tomorrow.’

  He looked at her in mock disgust. ‘Would you ask that of Chris Hemsworth?’

  ‘No. I’d get him to remove the bricks that have been dumped in the garden.’ She reached to squeeze his bicep. ‘Make use of his superior strength.’

  That taught him to bring a Hollywood hunk into bed with them. Feeling a teeny bit slighted, he rolled onto his back. Immediately she feathered his face with kisses. ‘I like the man I have in bed with me now.’

  ‘You do, huh?’

  ‘I do.’

  Mollified, he pulled her into his arms so her head rested on his chest.

  ‘Why do we always end up in my bed, and not yours?’

  ‘Good question.’ It had happened unconsciously. He liked to pick her up – it was another man thing – so obviously he dropped her back. And if he was lucky, wangled the night in her bed. ‘You’re welcome in my bed anytime, though. In fact …’ He rolled the idea around in his head, and decided to go with it. ‘How do you fancy coming over tomorrow? I’ve got a bit of sorting out to do before Dad comes out of hospital.’

  She rose up, resting on her elbow. ‘Are you inviting me over for dinner, for sex, or to help you clean?’

  ‘You forgot the romance.’

  ‘So there won’t be any cleaning?’

  ‘Ah, I didn’t say that, exactly.’

  She pursed her lips. ‘So how much cleaning is required, exactly? I need to work out if the dinner and the sex is worth the investment.’

  ‘You forgot the romance again.’

  She grinned. ‘You’re putting a lot of store on that.’

  God, he loved her sharp tongue. ‘Trust me, the sex alone is worth the investment. The dinner and romance will be a bonus.’ He paused, knowing a good salesman was an honest one. ‘I should probably point out that my house is … an ongoing project is a polite way to describe it. A dump would be another way.’

  Her laughter fanned across his chest. ‘Was that how you found it, or what it’s turned into now you’re living there?’

  ‘Hey, I’m not messy.’ He thought of the tidiness of her cupboard under the stairs, and the clutter of his. ‘Not that messy,’ he corrected. ‘I bought it that way. I’ve done up a few rooms, but it’s a long way from being finished.’

  ‘Please tell me one of the rooms you’ve done up is one your dad can stay in?’

  He tried not to squirm, but her eyes had him pinned. ‘Not exactly? I mean he could have the spare box room,’ decorated with Zoe in mind, ever hopeful. ‘Or my room, both of which are finished, but they’re on the first floor. And he needs to be downstairs.’

  ‘So this cleaning I’m doing tomorrow—’

  ‘Includes decorating,’ he interrupted. ‘But remember the dinner. And the sex.’

  ‘And the romance?’

  ‘Of course.’ Though now he thought about it, he wasn’t sure how he was going to manage that in a dump of a house, after they’d been painting all day.

  ‘That’s one heck of a romantic meal you’re going to cook me.’ He smirked, because her statement implied she knew the sex was going to be worth it. ‘How long will your dad stay with you?’

  ‘A couple of days. Just while he gets into the swing of moving around with a walker. After that I’ll arrange for help to come to his house. And then I put him on a plane so he can spend Christmas with Alice in France.’ He rolled them over so he was above her. ‘And we start packing, so we can spend Christmas together, in the Florida sunshine.’

  ‘Umm, hello. I’ll have started my packing the week before.’

  ‘Seriously?’ He peered into her deep brown eyes. ‘Bloody hell, you are. In which case you can help me with mine.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘So now I have to clean your house, decorate and help you pack.’

  He planted a kiss on her cheeks, her nose, and finally her mouth. ‘Ah, but think of the rewards.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Ten days before Christmas

  Gabby jolted as Owen swerved the Maserati around yet another pothole.

  ‘You need to get yourself a four-wheel drive,’ she said distractedly, her eyes fixed on the detached house looming ahead of them, half of it hidden by a huge weeping willow.

  He uttered an exclamation of disgust. ‘What am I, a farmer? No thank you. I’m getting the holes filled in next month.’ He navigated a final pothole before pulling up and turning off the engine. ‘Well, what do you think?’

  If she’d been a woman who spoke without thinking, she’d have said, ‘It’s big, old and looks like it needs a hell of a lot of work.’ The paint on the sash window frames was peeling, ivy had run amok over most of the brickwork. One of the windows on the upper floor was cracked. The fro
nt garden was wild, so God only knew what state the back was in.

  But she took a moment to look closer. The tiles on the roof looked new. The green front door had been freshly painted and boasted a shiny brass knocker and beautiful Christmas wreath. And it was pretty. She loved old houses; it was why she’d fallen for hers.

  ‘That bad, huh?’

  She turned to find him looking at her with a half-smile on his face. ‘I like it.’

  ‘You do?’ He stared back at the house. ‘Some days I like it, too. Others, when I discover a fresh patch of damp, or another busted pipe, I wonder why I didn’t buy one of the new developments down the road.’

  ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

  ‘You tell me. After we’ve turned what was the downstairs study into a room fit to house a grumpy pensioner with a dodgy hip.’

  Not so predictable after all, she thought as he led her inside. The flash car fitted the flash salesman, but that man would be living it up in a swanky new apartment. Not trying to renovate an old Victorian house. ‘Why did you buy it?’

  ‘Bloody good question.’ He dumped his keys on the wooden drawers in the hallway and carelessly threw their coats over the bannister. ‘I probably should say it was a clever investment, or that I was keen to work with my hands. Truth is, it was a spur of the moment thing.’

  ‘You bought a house on the spur of the moment?’

  He laughed at her obvious astonishment. ‘Sure, why not? Not every decision has to be meticulously worked through. Sometimes you can just drive past a house, like the look of it, and decide to buy it.’

  ‘We’re so different,’ she muttered, shaking her head.

  He pulled her into his arms. ‘And that’s exactly why we work. Remember your physics. Opposites attract.’

  ‘Then drive each other crazy.’

  Holding her gaze, he gave her a heart-melting smile. ‘Life is dull without a little crazy.’

  As his lips brushed hers in a gentle kiss, she felt a flutter inside her chest. Unnerved, she carefully manoeuvred out of his arms. Kissing to arouse, she understood, but this was different. It indicated affection, caring. Other heavy emotions that scared her, yet it seemed her heart responded to. ‘Show me this room you’ve tricked me into helping you with.’

  Frustration flickered across his face before he masked it with an exaggerated frown. ‘Tricked you? You walked into this with your eyes wide open. What some women will do for a night in my bed.’ Wrapping his hand around hers he led her though the hallway. ‘First the quick tour. Then we’ll set to work.’

  He started with the sitting room and she admired its wooden floorboards, original fireplace and rich wine coloured walls. No decorations, she noted, but Christmas cards were plonked haphazardly on most available surfaces. Next came the big bright kitchen that opened onto a casual sitting area with French windows overlooking the garden. ‘It’ll look better when you can see a lawn and flowers, instead of a jungle.’

  ‘It looks like it’s trying to be an orchard.’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve a feeling I’m going to be sick of apples and pears.’

  Quickly he showed her the downstairs toilet and walk-in shower room – smartly done in black and white tiles, before leading her past a closed door and up the stairs.

  ‘This is where you’ll be sleeping tonight.’

  He pushed open the original wooden door, revealing the master bedroom. Grey was the theme; light grey walls, darker grey curtains, white and grey duvet that, typically, was in a crumpled heap, as if he’d jumped out of bed in a hurry. The bed itself was huge, with a wooden headboard and next to it, matching dark wood cabinets. Opposite was a fireplace with a white surround and dark slate inset.

  By the window was an armchair that looked like it could be comfortable, though it was hard to say because much of it was hidden under a pile of randomly thrown clothes.

  ‘Don’t you have a wardrobe?’

  ‘Of course.’ He pointed to the other side of the room. ‘I had these fitted.’ He must have seen the way she was looking at the chair because he let out a quiet curse. ‘Very funny. I haven’t got round to putting those away yet. It’s my Sunday job.’

  ‘If we’re going to make it through this holiday without me killing you, you’re going to have to learn to put your clothes away every day. Not once a week.’

  ‘Noted.’ He leant against the door frame, one long jean-clad leg crossed over the other, a sexy smile on his face. ‘Though you could learn to relax a little.’

  ‘I’m tidy. It doesn’t mean I’m not relaxed.’ Before she could start to obsess again about how different they were, and how potentially disastrous this holiday was going to be, Owen straightened and tugged his jumper over his head, followed by his T-shirt. Immediately her eyes zeroed in on the rippling muscles of his chest. She’d seen him naked a lot since they’d started dating, but it wasn’t getting tired yet.

  ‘If you can drag your eyes away from my chest, you might want to do the same.’

  She watched, spellbound, as he unbuckled his belt and pulled down the zip on his jeans. ‘Strip?’

  His laugh was as dirty as her thoughts. ‘I like the way you’re thinking.’ He stepped out of his jeans, and she had a delicious view of tight cotton boxers and finely honed muscles before he turned and walked towards his wardrobe. ‘But if we’re going to get this damn room finished for tomorrow, we need to get cracking.’

  The muscles of his back slid sensuously over each other as he shifted through clothes in his wardrobe. Then he turned and threw a paint-spattered shirt at her. ‘Here. You might want to put this on.’ He waggled his eyebrows up and down. ‘I recommend stripping off first. For the sake of your clothes, you understand.’

  Owen grinned as he watched Gabby shake herself. God, the things it did to him to know he could put that heat in her eyes. He had half a mind to say sod the decorating. But then his dad would have to sleep in his bed, which wasn’t going to happen. And not just because he doubted the man could make it up the stairs.

  As he grabbed another old shirt, and a pair of tatty jeans, he turned to find Gabby standing there in a sexy yellow bra and pants.

  ‘Christ, Dad’s not even here yet and already he’s getting in the way,’ he mumbled to himself.

  She slipped on the paint-ruined shirt. ‘Do you have another pair of jeans I can put on? Sweats?’

  He eyed up her long slim legs, looking downright incredible beneath his shirt. ‘Afraid not,’ he said cheerfully.

  He struggled not to laugh as she put her hand on her hips and glared at him. ‘You’re kidding me.’

  ‘You’re lucky I found you the shirt.’ The thought of her decorating dressed only in her underwear sent arousal humming through him. ‘Besides, a man has to have some incentive when he’s working.’

  She arched a perfect dark brow. ‘And what about my incentive?’

  ‘Just say the word. I’ll strip for you any time you like.’

  She muttered all the way back downstairs, until he opened the door to the room he’d omitted showing her earlier – the one he’d earmarked to house his dad. ‘Here we go.’

  Her sharp eyes scanned the room. Flaking wallpaper on the walls. A fireplace that needed at the very least a good clean. Shelves either side of the chimney breast that were lined with dusty old books the previous occupants hadn’t bothered to take away. A carpet that looked like someone had thrown up all over it. ‘When did you say your dad was coming out of hospital?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  She started muttering again under her breath. Words like conned, smooth-talking bastard, and finally, no sex is worth this.

  ‘I’ll strip. The wallpaper,’ he added with a smirk. ‘You sand. We’ll both paint.’

  Feeling pleased with himself, he went in search of the wallpaper stripping machine he’d hired when he’d thought he was going to have a shitty day, decorating by himself. Instead he was spending it with a sexy, half-naked, smart-mouthed firecracker.

  No wonder they called him t
he man with the silver tongue.

  ‘The least you can do is entertain me while I’m doing this.’ Gabby put down the paintbrush she’d been using to good effect on the skirting boards and looked over at him. ‘You were going to tell me about your childhood.’

  He wondered whether he should tell her she had paint on her nose. Then decided he’d enjoy the sight a little longer. ‘My life is an open book. What do you want to know?’

  ‘Tell me about your mum, your sister. What your dad was like before he turned into the grumpy man you keep mentioning.’

  Owen winced, feeling disloyal. His dad was a good bloke. He didn’t want to taint Gabby’s view of him before she met him.

  And he wanted her to meet him.

  The thought made him pause. The only other woman he’d introduced to his parents had been Stella. Gabby was becoming important. Perhaps too important, because he had a horrid feeling that this time the shoe was on the other foot. Stella had been ready for children and marriage. He’d not. Now? Marriage and children might be a way off, but commitment? It was frightening to realise how appealing the idea sounded, now that he’d met Gabby. Yet she’d made it quite clear she wasn’t ready for anything serious.

  ‘To get the paint on the wall, you do have to actually move your arms a bit.’ Gabby’s amused voice broke him out of his trance. ‘And for a man who usually can’t stop talking, you’re taking a long time to answer my question.’

  Pushing thoughts of his potentially squished heart to one side, Owen dipped his roller into the paint. ‘I’ll ignore the barbed comment, but only because you look so cute covered in French Grey.’ At least that’s what the tin called the off-white paint she was using on the woodwork. As she rubbed at her face, presumably to remove the paint but actually only smudging what was already there, he grinned to himself. ‘My family, okay, you asked for it. Alice is older than me by three years. She thinks she’s smarter, too, but it’s never been confirmed. She’s married to a French guy, hence her move over there. She has one kid, and another on the way.’

  ‘Do you get on?’

  ‘Better now she’s moved to another country.’ The glib reply came out by habit, but then he realised Gabby didn’t have siblings. ‘Truthfully, we’re pretty close. She tends to boss me around, which I resent, obviously, but now I get my own back by buying my nephew annoying toys. We don’t see each other as much since she’s moved, and the timing of it all sucked, but she’s still my big sister and I love her.’