Mistletoe Wishes: The Billionaire's Christmas GiftOne Christmas Night in VeniceSnowbound With the Millionaire

by Carole Mortimer

  Chance shrugged. ‘Actually, I was pretty much the same in those days—which is why girls got so cross when I wouldn’t come out to play. But even then the muscles were the result of hard labour, not a subscription to some gym.’

  ‘What labour?’

  ‘In vacations I took any live-in jobs on farms I could find—corn-stooking, fruit picking. It was an arrangement which suited Elaine perfectly, my father not so much.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ she said with sincerity, and smiled wryly. ‘I can’t see Toby doing the same.’

  ‘He didn’t have to. Elaine inherited family money when he was in his teens, which pays for his flat and his sexy car, and so on.’

  ‘But he still envies you. Which is only to be expected,’ she added.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Toby’s your half-brother, which says it all. He’ll never be half the man you are, Chance. I went out with him for a while solely because I was feeling a bit blue after Mother and Paul left for Portugal. Heaven knows why I agreed to turn up at his party.’ She shrugged. ‘But I’m glad I did—even though it turned my life upside down.’

  He tipped her face up to his. ‘How, Georgie?

  She moved away a little, purposely distancing herself from him. ‘It’s my turn to make a confession, Chance.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Is it something I don’t want to hear?’

  ‘I don’t know. I confess—you judge.’ Georgia braced herself. ‘The reasons I gave you for wanting to come here for Christmas were all true. Missing my mother was top of the list, and, though I could have collected the box any time before January the first, I decided to fetch it at Christmas and stay at the cottage on my own, instead of putting on a brave front at Amy’s home. And while I was here I thought I might do a little exploring.’

  Chance turned towards her, his eyes suddenly intent. ‘Where?’

  Georgia looked away into the fire. ‘My parents told me you owned a house somewhere near the cottage they’d rented, so I thought I’d do some walking over Christmas and see where you lived.’

  ‘And accidentally bump into me?’ he said softly.

  She stiffened. ‘Definitely not. I thought you were skiing down some Alp, remember?’

  ‘Toby must have told you I wasn’t doing that this year,’ he said flatly.

  Georgia coloured. ‘I haven’t seen him lately for him to tell me anything. But believe me, Chance Warner, after what happened the first time we met I had no intention of getting involved with you and your family again. Don’t flatter yourself that I isolated myself down here for Christmas just in the hope of seeing you again.’

  His eyes suddenly darkened. ‘Is that the truth? Or was Toby right all along? You decided I was a better prospect than a trainee solicitor.’

  Georgia stared at him in outrage. ‘I don’t care about your boring money!’

  He gave her a wry smile then which set her teeth on edge. ‘Methinks the lady does protest too much.’

  She gave up, so full of pain and rage and humiliation she was trembling from head to foot as she jumped to her feet. ‘Believe what you like. Thank you again for the rescue. Please look on last night’s episode as payment for services rendered—’ She stopped as her phone rang.

  CHAPTER SIX

  GEORGIA took in a deep breath and pressed the button on her phone. ‘I’m fine, Mother,’ she lied as Chance strode from the room. She reassured Rose Cooper about snow hazards, chatted for a while, then, desperate for once to end the call, said goodbye.

  She sat down, staring angrily into space as she pulled herself together. At last she got up to replenish the fire and then toasted herself in front of it for a moment or two. When the ice round her heart had melted a little Georgia closed the door very quietly behind her and went upstairs to the guest room with her book, praying that by morning the electricity would be back, or that the promised rain would have arrived and she could go home. The flat in Pennington wasn’t home, exactly, but it would be a whole lot better than staying here under the same roof as Chance Warner.

  She dashed tears away angrily as she locked the guest room door. Her first real love affair had been so cruelly short it was a one-night stand. Another first in her life.

  Georgia spent a minute or two in the bathroom while she had light, then got into bed fully dressed, and pulled the covers up to her chin. She kept perfectly still, willing her circulation to do its job while her brain went round in circles. Her stupid, unnecessary confession had been another of her big fat mistakes. It was true that she’d hoped to see his famous house during her stay at the cottage. But that had been the extent of her plan. In her wildest dreams she had never imagined him turning up on her doorstep or, wilder still, bringing her here to his house to stay with him, let alone share his bed. Her pulse quickened at the mere thought of the night before, which had been another colossal mistake. But now she had to get through this night. Then tomorrow, even if she had to wade through knee-high snowdrifts, she would go back to the cottage. She could manage there without electricity. There was a log fire big enough to take a small pan of water, she’d left her own supply of food behind there, and her radio had batteries. And the moment the thaw set in sufficiently to move the car she would get back where she belonged…

  She shot upright. She could hear an engine of some kind, and raised voices outside. She ran to the window but couldn’t see anything. She put her shoes on, slung a scarf round her neck, and unlocked the door to steal downstairs. She went straight to the boot room, where Ruby leapt down from her perch, barking in welcome.

  Georgia saw that the stable was shut, but she could still hear machinery of some kind. ‘Bed, Ruby!’ she said firmly, and shut the little dog in the kitchen. Georgia pulled on boots and sheepskin and went outside to investigate.

  In the distance she saw the headlights of a tractor hard at work on the main drive, and Chance shovelling behind it. Georgia fled back into the house and removed the boots and coat, then returned Ruby to her lookout in the boot room.

  Gambling that Chance would be fully occupied out there while she was in the kitchen, Georgia heated water, her eyes brightening as she saw a box full of household candles on the island. She rapidly made a ham sandwich and a big mug of tea, then slid a couple of candles into her jeans pockets and helped herself to some of Chance’s matches.

  The fading light was enough to let her reach her room safely. She put her sandwich and tea on the bedside table, and stuck a candle in the pottery holder on it. She struck a match on the sole of her shoe to light it, and felt a lot better. She locked the door again, then got into bed to maintain the warmth from her illicit trip downstairs. She drank some of her tea while it was hot, then ate her sandwich as slowly as she could, brightening at the thought that now the drive was clear Chance might drive her back to Pennington tomorrow. She glowered. Of course he would. He was probably rejoicing right now at the thought of getting rid of her. She finished her tea and picked up her book, grateful that it was seven hundred pages long—enough to see her through the night. It wasn’t fun reading by the light of a solitary candle, but it was a lot better than lying in bed in the dark, raging over what a fool she’d been to let Chance make love to her.

  Georgia banked up the pillows, put her glasses on, and settled down with her book. She was unsurprised when Chance knocked on the door before she’d read even a chapter.

  ‘Georgia? Why the hell are you up here instead of down by the fire? I couldn’t find any more batteries, so try not to use the torch too much.’

  She turned over a page in silence.

  ‘Georgia! Answer me. Are you all right?’

  Just peachy! She smiled smugly as the doorknob turned.

  ‘You’ve locked the door,’ he said, incensed. ‘Open it. Now!’

  He had to be joking!

  ‘Be reasonable; we need to talk, Georgie.’

  She sniffed. Two mistakes there, Mr Warner.

  ‘I came to tell you something,’ he continued.

  Throug
h gritted teeth by the sound of it.

  ‘You can’t stay there all night, you’ll freeze. And you must be hungry. Come on, Georgia. Open the door.’

  She turned another page, proud of her concentration on the story under the circumstances. But Lady Julitta, bravely defending her castle from attack while her lord was on crusade, was the perfect role model.

  ‘For God’s sake, open this door!’ yelled Chance. ‘Stop this. You’re behaving like a child, Georgia.’

  She rolled her eyes. His negotiation skills needed work! She read on in peace for a while, then stiffened as she heard some ominous clicks. To her dismay the knob turned, and Chance Warner stood in the doorway, torch in hand, glaring at her.

  ‘You’re reading!’

  She nodded serenely. ‘I do it a lot. How did you open the door?’

  ‘I picked the lock.’ He showed his teeth in a smile. ‘Breaking the door down would have meant an expensive repair.’

  ‘Not a problem with your famous money,’ she said sweetly, and turned a page. ‘Go away, please.’

  His jaw dropped in astonishment, pleasing her enormously. ‘Look, don’t be a fool—’

  ‘If that’s your idea of persuasion you’d better try again.’ She held up an admonishing hand as he started to speak. ‘We’ve already established that I was a fool to go to the cottage in the first place, an even bigger fool to fancy taking a look at your house, and the biggest fool of all to let you make love to me.’

  ‘Let me?’ He gave a sardonic bark of laughter. ‘You know it was a hell of a lot more than that.’

  ‘Something I now regret, and will never do again,’ she assured him.

  ‘Always supposing you were asked to,’ snapped Chance, quite visibly hanging on to his temper. ‘I came to tell you that Tom Hutchings had come up in his tractor to dig me out. He brought more candles—which you already know, since you’re burning one of them.’

  ‘I thought you could spare just two,’ she said, sweetly reasonable.

  ‘If you come down to the study you won’t need one.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘Come on, Georgia. You’ve made your point. If I was wrong, I apologise.’

  If he was wrong? ‘About what, exactly?’

  ‘Whatever the hell I said to make you lock yourself away up here in the dark. You can’t stay up here until morning!’

  She glared at him coldly. ‘I certainly can’t now you’ve broken the lock on the door.’

  Chance lost patience. He yanked the covers away and stared blankly. ‘You’ve got your clothes on!’

  ‘How observant! I was conserving heat.’

  ‘You won’t have to if you come downstairs.’ He held out his hand. ‘Let’s call a truce, Georgia. You won’t have to endure my company for long. Now the drive is clear the Range Rover will cope with the road if the snow holds off. If you want I can drive you back to Pennington tomorrow.’

  ‘How kind. I can’t wait.’

  ‘But that’s tomorrow, and only then if weather permits,’ he warned. ‘Now, will you please come downstairs and talk about supper?’

  ‘Oh, I see. You require my services as chef.’

  ‘No, I damn well do not!’ He took in a deep breath. ‘Look, I know I’ve offended you—’

  ‘A man of perception,’ she mocked.

  ‘All right, Georgia. Put your knife away. We can finish arguing downstairs. Now, get your torch, blow out that candle, and come down. Please,’ he added belatedly.

  She sighed. ‘Oh, all right.’

  They went down by the light of Chance’s torch beam, the silence between them as oppressive as the darkness. Georgia was heartily glad to reach the kitchen, where candles flickered on both the island and the table, giving the room an illusion of warmth. The dogs came rushing to meet them, and to Georgia’s delight Luther made almost as much fuss of her as Ruby.

  ‘They’ve missed you,’ said Chance, and took her torch. ‘I’ll leave it on the table where you can see it.’

  ‘Fine.’ After a quick look in the refrigerator, Georgia took out some supplies and shut the door.

  ‘What do you have in mind?’ asked Chance. ‘Whatever it is, I need a wash first.’

  ‘While you do that I’ll make a start,’ said Georgia. ‘You like omelettes?’

  ‘I do. As long as you have one, too. You hardly ate anything at lunch.’

  ‘I sneaked a sandwich upstairs before I settled in to the siege,’ she admitted.

  He touched her shoulder as he passed. ‘I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told me.’

  She looked up, her eyes steady in the candlelight. ‘You’re not the only one with a passion for the truth. I’m not in the habit of lying, either. About anything,’ she added, and felt pleased when she saw her hit strike home. ‘Give me twenty minutes or so—but no more than that, please. The food won’t keep hot for long.’

  Georgia got to work at speed. When Chance came back with minutes to spare she turned out two omelettes, one half the size of the other, from a pair of frying pans.

  ‘Smells wonderful,’ said Chance, and moved close to look at the plates.

  ‘I see you’ve laid the tray ready, so if you’ll take that, with one of these, I’ll bring mine,’ Georgia told him.

  ‘Yes, teacher!’ He blew out the candles on the table. ‘I’ll leave the other pair until I come back.’

  Chance put the tray down on the desk in the study and lit the two candles he had ready on saucers. ‘Luxury tonight. Heat and light.’

  ‘This was how people lived until only a relatively short time ago,’ said Georgia, determinedly conversational.

  ‘There speaks the history buff.’ Chance handed her a napkin and a fork and sat on the sofa beside her. ‘Would you have liked to live in some bygone age, Georgia?’

  ‘No. My main interest lies in the medieval—a time when there were no hot showers and very little hygiene. Women died in childbirth a lot.’

  ‘You want children?’

  She shrugged. ‘Some day, maybe.’

  ‘This is wonderful,’ said Chance indistinctly. ‘I’ll miss your cooking when you’re gone.’ He went on eating for a moment. ‘I’ll miss your company, too.’

  She raised disbelieving eyebrows. ‘Really? A mercenary gold digger like me?’

  His jaw clenched. ‘I was rash—caught up in the heat of the moment. I never thought of you like that, Georgia.’

  ‘Oh, come on! You thought exactly that!’

  Chance ignored her. ‘Your meal is half the size of mine. Would you like some bread, or something else?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  They had finished eating before Chance spoke again. ‘Listen to me, Georgia. You wouldn’t be the first woman who was only interested in me for my possessions. And I swore to myself I would never be made a fool of like that again. But when I took time to think logically just now it was obvious that no woman would opt for a solitary Christmas for mercenary reasons. It’s a contradiction in terms. I apologise.’ He got up to take their plates, and stood looking down at her obdurate face for a moment before loading the tray. ‘I’ll take this out. Would you like tea when I come back?’

  ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’

  Georgia stared into the fire, deep in thought, when he’d gone. Chance was in a conciliatory mood. Her eyes blazed as memories of Toby’s scheming flashed across her mind. If Chance was playing nice in the hope of another session in bed tonight he could think again.

  It was some time before he returned with the tray. ‘While the water boiled I took the dogs out,’ he informed her. ‘It’s damned cold out there, but at least it’s not snowing.’

  ‘Good.’

  The last time they’d had tea in front of the fire the silence between them had been companionable. Tonight it was heavy with things left unsaid. In the end Georgia put their cups back on the tray and turned to Chance.

  ‘May I ask you something?’

  ‘Anything you like, Georgie.’

  ‘When you thought of finding
out my phone number was it just an apology you had in mind?’

  ‘No. My first instinct was to invite you out to dinner, or whatever. But because Toby had told you so much about me I changed my mind.’

  ‘You thought I’d be attracted to the money, not the man?’ she said, resigned.

  ‘It crossed my mind. You wouldn’t be the first.’ Chance swivelled to face her. ‘If I were plain Nick Warner, farm hand or whatever, would you honestly have been just as keen to see me again?’

  ‘Yes. But you don’t really believe that. And since I’m going home—God willing—tomorrow, you’ll never know whether I was telling the truth.’ She shrugged. ‘Not that it matters. The moment I’m gone you’ll forget all about me.’

  He shook his head. ‘I could never forget you, Georgia—at night in bed most of all.’

  ‘I’m sure you can soon find someone to help you with that.’

  He seized her hand. ‘I don’t want anyone else. Right now I don’t care a damn whether you’re after my money, or what your reasons were for coming here, as long as you’re here right now. I want you bad, Georgie.’

  She sighed wearily. ‘I thought so.’

  Chance stiffened. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Earlier on you had a bit of a volte face—became quite conciliatory. So I assumed—quite rightly as it turns out—that you must fancy some company in bed tonight.’ She shook her head. ‘Well, it’s not going to happen.’

  He looked long and hard into her eyes, and then dropped her hand and turned away, his face grim.

  ‘Right.’ Georgia got up. ‘I’ll go to bed now.’

  He smiled sardonically. ‘Aren’t you nervous about that with no lock on the door?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Maybe you should be if you think I’m so desperate to have you in my bed!’

  ‘You mean you’d force yourself on me?’ she asked, with such polite interest she thought for a moment she’d risked having her neck wrung.

  His eyes blazed. ‘I’ve never forced a woman in my life—never would. And I’m certainly not going to make a start with you,’ he said shortly. ‘Which you know damn well.’