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

by Carole Mortimer

  She smiled kindly. ‘Of course I do. As you tell me—repeatedly—my safety is your paramount concern. Goodnight, Chance.’

  ‘Not so fast. I’m coming with you—but only to see you to your room. Laugh if you want, but I just need to know you’re safe before I turn in myself.’

  Georgia had rarely felt less like laughing. It was an eerie experience to walk up the wide staircase by the flickering light of the candle Chance carried.

  ‘If Ridgeway has ghosts the setting’s perfect for them tonight,’ she remarked, shivering.

  ‘If you’re nervous, forget about my damn rash accusation and come and share my bed, Georgie.’

  ‘Good of you to offer, but I’m cold, not nervous.’

  ‘All the more reason to accept my invitation!’ Chance went ahead of her into her room to light the candle on the bedside table.

  ‘No, thank you.’ Georgia stood by the bed, watching as the flickering flame threw the chiselled planes of his face into relief.

  ‘Georgie,’ he said at last, eyes locked with hers, ‘I truly am sorry.’

  ‘Let’s not go there again,’ she said wearily. ‘Goodnight.’

  With a muttered curse he pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely, then released her and strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind him with a force that almost blew the candle out.

  SHE STARED AT THE DOOR FOR A moment, then took the candle into the bathroom. Afterwards, unable to face sleeping in her clothes, Georgia changed into pyjamas and fresh socks at top speed, wrapped her dressing gown around her and got into bed to read. But her hand soon grew too icy to keep a grip on the book. With a groan of frustration she pushed it aside, blew out the candle and slid down under the covers, burrowing her head into the pillows. She forced herself to lie still, willing her body to grow warm, but it refused to co-operate.

  She heard Chance come upstairs, and stilled as his footsteps halted outside her door for a while, then continued across the landing to his room. Utterly disgusted by her disappointment, she waited, trying to calculate how long it would take him to settle down to sleep, but at last lost patience and switched on the torch. She forced herself to take off her dressing gown, her teeth chattering like castanets, and pulled on her cardigan and put the dressing gown back on top. She draped the blanket from the bed round her shoulders and thrust her icy feet into her slippers, put her glasses case in her pocket, then collected torch and book and stole from the room to go downstairs to the study.

  She closed the door behind her with a sigh of relief at the heavenly warmth still given out by the banked-down fire. She took the guard away, poked the logs into life and added more, then lit the candles Chance had left on the desk. Swathed in the blanket, she curled up in the corner of the sofa, put her glasses on and opened her book—and gave a sigh of exasperation as the door flew open and Chance strode in.

  Guns blazing again, thought Georgie. ‘Hi,’ she said, resigned.

  ‘It gave me a hell of a shock to find your bed empty,’ he snapped, closing the door.

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘And how, exactly, do you know it was empty?’

  ‘I thought I heard something, so I got up and went to investigate.’

  ‘I came down because I was too cold to get to sleep.’ She shrugged. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all now I know where you are.’ He sat down beside her. ‘Actually, this is a damned good idea.’

  ‘I know. You should have fetched a blanket.’

  He plucked her glasses away and put them on the desk. ‘I’ll share yours.’ He whipped the blanket away, moved close, and wrapped it round both of them. ‘Now you’ll be warm.’

  This was an understatement. Held close in Chance’s arms under the blanket she felt hot, not warm. And no matter how much her brain protested the rest of her was delighted to breathe in scents of soap and man and woodsmoke. She could feel her body relaxing gradually, even though his was doing the exact opposite. She could feel him tensing against her, muscle by muscle, and at last he gave a smothered groan and kissed her.

  ‘Don’t push me away, Georgie.’

  He parted her lips with his caressing tongue, kissing her with a subtle, coaxing sweetness which mowed down her defences, and with a sound half-sigh, half-sob she yielded to the pleasure of his mouth and to the hands that infiltrated layers of clothing to find her breasts. She quivered as he pushed the blanket aside and began removing their clothes. When they lay naked together at last he gave a visceral sigh of pleasure and kissed her with fierce demand, the subtlety gone as heat and passion flared up like wildfire between them. He moved his lips down her throat to breasts which grew taut, the centres hard and quivering, in response to the skill of his caressing lips and fingers, but when the caresses moved lower her brain woke up, and she shook her head in violent rejection.

  ‘Chance,’ she said hoarsely.

  ‘Yes,’ he rasped, as he leaned down to reach his dressing gown pocket.

  But Georgia gave him a great push that sent him sprawling on the fireside rug.

  ‘What the hell—?’ He shot upright, shaking his hair back from his angry face. ‘You came prepared,’ she spat at him, yanking on her pyjamas.

  ‘Would you prefer me to make love to you without protection?’ he snapped, and got up to shrug on his dressing gown.

  ‘I prefer no lovemaking at all!’ she retorted, furious because her voice was unsteady.

  His smile set her blood boiling in an entirely different way. ‘You’re lying, Georgia. Your body was all for it.’

  ‘True,’ she agreed, when she trusted her voice to sound normal. ‘My body did want you—until my brain told it to back off. Discovering that you came ready to party was a total turn-off. Just like your brother, Mr Warner, you don’t cope well with rejection.’ Her eyes flashed in the firelight. ‘I thought you meant it when you said you’d never had to force a woman.’

  Chance raked a hand through his hair—a gesture she was beginning to know. ‘I didn’t force you. I stopped as soon as you put the brakes on.’

  ‘There was a reason for that.’ She thought for a moment, wondering whether to keep quiet or tell him the truth, then gave a mental shrug. After tomorrow it wouldn’t matter anyway. She met his intent eyes squarely. ‘I fell in love with you the night we first met. I couldn’t get you out of my mind afterwards. Otherwise last night wouldn’t have happened—’

  He smothered the rest of her words with a conquering kiss, and then raised his head, his eyes triumphant. ‘You know damn well I fell for you in the same way, Georgie. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, either. The minute you walked into my arms that night I felt you were mine.’

  ‘Even after Toby said I was a gold-digger, after your famous money?’ She pushed him away, smiling cynically.

  ‘I had to wonder, especially after my past experience, but it didn’t stop me wanting you,’ he said hotly, his eyes blazing as she shook her head.

  ‘Then why didn’t you do something about it?’

  ‘I thought you were angry with me for hurting Toby, and that you blamed me for your break-up.’

  She smiled cynically. ‘If you’d told me that before your accusations I might have believed you.’

  He stared at her, the heat fading from his eyes. ‘If I could take the words back I would.’

  ‘It’s too late now. If you can drive me home tomorrow I’ll be grateful. After that, just let me know when the road from the cottage is clear and I’ll arrange to have my car collected. You needn’t be afraid of unwanted attentions again—at least, not mine.’

  ‘You are pushing your luck, Miss Smith,’ he said through his teeth.

  She nodded ruefully. ‘I’ve had so much luck over Christmas I suppose it was bound to run out some time.’

  Chance got up to see to the fire, and then turned to frown down at her. ‘So what do you want to do right now?’

  Georgia brightened. ‘Do you mind if I stay down here tonight, please? I won’t use many logs.’


  ‘Oh, for God’s sake—use all the damn logs you want,’ he said savagely, and strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Georgia let out the breath she’d been holding and laughed shakily as the dogs, roused by the noise, began barking their heads off in the kitchen. But the laugh soon morphed into sobs she muffled with the blanket so no one could hear. Not that anyone was listening.

  The barking had died down, and Chance was still in the kitchen with the dogs. Her breathing quickened as she heard the kitchen door open and close and the sound of familiar footsteps in the hall. But the footsteps went straight past the study door on their way to the stairs, and Georgia, deflated and miserable, fished a tissue from her pyjama pocket to mop her face, and began thumping the sofa cushions. She blew out the candles on the desk and wrapped the blanket round her, and settled down to try to sleep. She’d been right all along about love at first sight. It was a myth. And Chance Warner had obviously been lying about it to get what he wanted.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHANCE drove back to Pennington by a route which cut out most of the dangerous side roads, but took them several miles farther on before they reached the motorway.

  ‘A lot longer in mileage, but in this weather quicker and a lot safer,’ he told Georgia.

  ‘I hope the journey doesn’t take too long,’ she said anxiously.

  ‘Why? You have something pressing to get back for?’

  She cast a glance at his face, half hidden by dark aviators. ‘No,’ she said evenly. ‘I just thought you wouldn’t want to leave the dogs for long.’

  ‘No problem there. I rang Tom Hutchings on the car phone first thing this morning. He’ll get up to Ridgeway at some point to feed them and take them for a run.’ Chance kept his eyes on the sunlit icy road ahead. ‘He told me that snow ploughs and gritters had been out today. Otherwise I wouldn’t have set out in these conditions.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you,’ she said woodenly, hoping they wouldn’t meet much traffic.

  ‘Are you nervous?’

  ‘I would be if I were driving my car,’ she admitted, ‘but not in this one. Wonderful heater!’

  ‘A big improvement on life at Ridgeway right now.’ He slanted a glance at her. ‘Will your friend be at the flat when you get back?’

  ‘No. I rang Amy this morning. The shop is closed for a few days, so she’s staying with Liam at his place.’ She bit back a gasp as they hit an icy stretch.

  ‘Sorry,’ Chance muttered as he steered the car out of a slight skid.

  Once they reached the motorway the going was better, though the road was flanked ominously by high banks of snow, and low speed signs were in operation all the way to Pennington.

  It seemed such an eternity to Georgia since they’d left Ridgeway that she was surprised to hear a church clock tolling just midday as she gave directions to the flat when they reached the town. To her frustration there was no free parking space near her building, and Chance refused to let her have her belongings until he found a space a couple of blocks away.

  ‘I’ll see you safely inside,’ he said with finality.

  Georgia’s teeth clenched. She’d hoped Chance would take off right away. But common courtesy meant offering him a hot drink before he left. He held her arm in such a firm grip as they negotiated pavements rendered treacherous with slush over ice that Georgia breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the entrance to her building. They went up in the small lift in silence, both of them so constrained by their proximity conversation was beyond either of them. Georgia shot from the lift the moment it stopped, and ran to unlock her door.

  ‘Do come in. Have some coffee before you go back,’ she said politely, and took off her raincoat in the tiny hall. ‘Amy promised to stock me up with some basics this morning on her way to Liam’s.’

  Chance’s face was expressionless as he put down her bags. ‘Thank you.’ He followed her into the main room, which to Georgia’s relief was reasonably tidy and wonderfully warm.

  ‘I’ll just pop to the bathroom,’ she said, flushing. ‘Do sit down.’

  In the bathroom Georgia hastily transferred drying underwear to the airing cupboard, and put out clean towels before she went back to Chance. He turned from inspecting her crammed bookcases. ‘All yours?’ he asked.

  ‘Mostly. If you want the bathroom it’s next door on the left.’

  When a search failed to turn up any of Amy’s posh coffee Georgia shrugged. Chance would have to slum it for once. She spun round as he appeared in the doorway. ‘No real coffee, I’m afraid. Will instant do?’

  ‘Anything you’ve got, but not right away.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I have a big favour to ask. Could I possibly have a shower? God knows when the power will be back in Ridgeway.’

  Georgia smiled, taken aback. ‘Of course. Use anything you want on the shelf. But be warned—the really hot water runs out after ten minutes.’

  He stared, arrested.

  ‘What?’ she demanded.

  ‘You actually smiled at me!’

  The smile vanished. ‘I’ll make coffee once you’re out of the shower.’

  Georgia filled the kettle, put out mugs, and leaned against the small counter to look at the cold day outside. The early sunshine had given way to a uniform greyness which exactly matched her mood. She felt utterly desperate for Chance to get out of the shower and out of her flat.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Chance from the hall, jerking her out of her reverie. ‘That was wonderful. I tried not to take all the hot water.’

  ‘No problem,’ she said airily. ‘It will soon heat up again. I’ll make that coffee right away. Would you like something to eat?’

  He eyed her coldly as he raked a hand through his damp hair. ‘I could do with something before I face that journey again, but you’re so obviously desperate to get rid of me I won’t trouble you. I’ll let you know when your car can be moved. Goodbye, Georgia.’

  Without another word Chance Warner strode out of the flat, and left Georgia standing speechless in the kitchen doorway as the front door slammed shut behind him. Be careful what you wish for, she told herself bitterly. She went back to the kitchen, and with a sudden hatred of instant coffee made tea and took it to the living room to check the answer-machine. She listened to a message telling her that Maddy had been unwell over Christmas, and asking if Miss Smith could kindly postpone the start of lessons for a week. Georgia let out a sigh of relief as she returned the call. Miss Smith was only too happy to do that. By then she should be in better shape herself.

  By late afternoon the promised rain had arrived, and Georgia listened to it beating against the windows, wondering if Chance had made it back to Ridgeway safely. It was pointless trying to convince herself that she didn’t care if he had or not. Having waited until now to fall in love, it was depressingly unlikely that she would fall back out of it any time soon.

  When the phone rang that evening Georgia seized it eagerly.

  ‘Hi, Georgie. You’re home safe and sound, then.’

  Georgie swallowed hard on her disappointment. ‘Hi, Amy. I was here by lunchtime. Chance Warner drove me home in his Range Rover. Nerve-racking journey even so. I wouldn’t have fancied it in my car.’

  ‘Are you all right, love?’

  ‘I’m just tired. The power went off at Chance’s house late on Christmas Day, and it hadn’t come back on by the time we left this morning.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Amy screeched in horror. ‘How on earth did you survive?’

  Georgia explained about log fires, candles and the camping stove, also the obliging farmer friend with a tractor.

  ‘So where’s your car?’

  ‘Still at the cottage. I’ll arrange to have it picked up when the weather clears.’

  ‘I just hope you don’t get pneumonia after all that. You should have come to our place for Christmas, Georgie.’

  Amen to that, thought Georgia as she disconnected. But here at least she had light, warmth, and she was clean. Now all
she had to do was get on with the life she’d had before she’d met Chance Warner again.

  BY HER THIRD DAY BACK GEORGIA was beginning to feel it might just be possible. The nights were bad, and sleep only attainable if she read until her eyes refused to stay open, but she was able to fill the daylight hours with shopping to spend her gift tokens, trips to the library, and lunch and a film matinee with Amy while Liam was at the gym. She gave the flat the kind of thorough spring clean hard to achieve when she was working, wrote her thank-you notes, and spoke to her mother a couple of times. Her appetite was the main casualty, but without Amy on hand to nag this was less of a problem than it might have been.

  When the doorbell rang on the morning of the fourth day Georgia lifted the receiver to find someone ‘delivering flowers for Miss Smith’. Georgia thanked the man and took the great sheaf of flowers into the kitchen, her eyes widening at the message on the card.

  With love from Ruby and Luther. We miss you.

  Georgia put the flowers in the sink and sank her head into her hands as the entire torrent of tears she’d managed to keep back since her return from Ridgeway streamed down her face. ‘Damn you, Chance Warner,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Don’t do this to me.’

  It took the rest of the day to get back to some form of calm, but by the evening Georgia had managed it enough to eat scrambled eggs from a tray while she watched a film on television. And later she even managed to sleep, after finally finishing the tale of the redoubtable Lady Julitta, whose crusading lord had returned in time to fight off the usurper intent on seizing his castle before he lived happily ever after with his resourceful wife.

  Georgia emerged from her shower next morning with renewed determination on her face as she slathered moisturiser on it. She would dress in something special and go out after breakfast. The rain had stopped and it was a relatively fine day. She put on the underwear Amy had given her, added the new sweater and a short tweed skirt, and as the final touch suede boots with heels of the type scorned by Chance. She slicked her hair up into a smooth twist, put her contacts in, and was just getting her coat when the doorbell rang. She sighed impatiently as she picked up the receiver and heard that the postman had a parcel for her. But when she opened the door it was Toby Warner who stood holding a parcel. He was dressed in all his GQ glory, a hopeful smile on the face that was so like and yet so unlike his brother’s. And right now the last face she wanted to see.