by Sarah Morgan
Christy glanced in her rear view mirror. ‘Did you guys buy anything with Grandma?’
‘Loads,’ Katy said happily, and Ben beamed.
‘We bought you a—’
‘Shut up!’ Katy glared at him furiously. ‘You don’t tell people what their presents are, stupid.’
Christy sighed as she took the turning that led to the barn. ‘Don’t say “shut up”, Katy, it isn’t nice, and don’t call your brother stupid.’
‘Well, having all your secrets blown by your baby brother isn’t nice, and he is stupid,’ Katy muttered. Christy parked the car and switched off the engine. She wondered what time Alessandro would be back. Hopefully not too late. She wanted to spend the evening with him. And the night.
Maybe it was time for her to take the initiative, she thought to herself as she undid her seat belt and turned off the headlights.
After all, she’d been the one to stalk away after their passionate encounter in the maze at the Snow Ball. She could hardly blame him for keeping his distance.
‘Tomorrow is Christmas Eve,’ Ben announced as he wriggled out of his seat belt and opened the car door. ‘We can hang up our stockings. Do you think he’s set off yet?’
‘Who?’ Christy dragged her mind back to the practicalities of life, rescued her wet gear from the boot and trudged towards the barn.
‘Father Christmas, of course.’ Ben frowned up at her, his sweet face innocent and puzzled. ‘I don’t see how he can get round the whole world in one night, do you? If he doesn’t set off until tomorrow, he’s never going to make it. You say there’s no such thing as magic, so what will he do?’
‘I… er…’ Christy struggled for a suitable reply as she found her keys and opened the front door. ‘Well, we can’t understand everything that happens in the world,’ she hedged, ‘and I think Father Christmas leaves the exact amount of time he needs to do his job,’ she said finally. Katy rolled her eyes.
‘He won’t need long for you, anyway,’ she told her brother loftily. ‘You haven’t been that good this year.’
Ben’s face crumpled. ‘That’s not true.’
‘You’ve both been good,’ said Christy, keen to hurry them inside and avoid a row. ‘Who fancies some mince pies? I made them earlier.’
‘Me!’ both children shrieked simultaneously and they piled into the kitchen, dropping bags, hats and gloves onto the table and dragging chairs across the floor.
‘Grandma was telling us about her nativity play,’ Katy said, biting into a mince pie. ‘Mary had nits and the two halves of the donkey started fighting halfway through.’
Christy smiled as she reached into the cupboard for a large casserole pot. ‘Your grandma always has good stories at Christmas.’
Her mother taught the reception class at the local primary school and the highlight of the year was the nativity play.
‘Then the innkeeper said, “We’re totally empty, how many rooms would you like?”’ Katy continued, curling her leg under her as she helped herself to another mince pie. ‘And Joseph and Mary were so confused they completely forgot their lines and then one of the shepherds tripped and fell on the baby Jesus and—listen to this because it’s the best one—one of the three kings said, “I bring Frankenstein.”’
Christy laughed and Ben frowned. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Because the King brings frankincense. Frankenstein was a monster.’ Katy yawned. ‘A bit like you, really.’ She reached an arm across the table and Christy removed the plate quickly.
‘Enough, or you’ll be too full to eat your tea. Go and play a game while I get supper ready.’
‘Let’s play squash the present.’ Katy slipped off the chair and grabbed Ben’s hand. ‘We’ll squeeze and prod and shake and see if we can guess what’s in the parcels. Then we’ll see if we’re right on Christmas Day.’
‘If you haven’t broken it,’ Christy pointed out dryly, dropping onion into melted butter and frying it gently. She was wondering if she had time to take a shower before Alessandro arrived home.
Quickly she browned meat, added stock, wine and herbs and slid the casserole dish into the oven.
The children were sprawled on the living-room rug, bickering over a game of Monopoly that they’d started the day before.
Christy smiled as she watched them. They argued but there was no denying the love between them. Her children were gorgeous, she thought to herself.
Deciding that she could safely take a shower without war breaking out, she sped upstairs, stripped off quickly and padded into the bathroom.
She showered quickly, washed her hair and then padded into the bedroom and stared into her wardrobe, hoping for inspiration.
What was she going to wear? Something that would ensure that Alessandro would notice her.
But nothing too obvious or she’d look ridiculous.
Katy wandered into the room, wearing jeans, a baggy jumper and stripy socks. ‘Are you going to dress up for Dad?’
Christy felt the colour rush into her cheeks. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because you’ve got a funny look on your face and you’re staring into your wardrobe instead of grabbing a pair of jeans.’
Was that what she usually did? Christy frowned. She wore a uniform for work and it was true that when she arrived home she often just pulled on the nearest thing, which was invariably jeans and a jumper.
‘Wear red,’ Katy advised, springing onto the bed and sitting cross-legged. ‘Dad always looks at you in a funny way when you wear red.’
Wondering just when her daughter had become so observant, Christy reached into her wardrobe and pulled out the red dress. It was made of the softest jersey fabric and skimmed over her curves. She’d always loved it but she hardly had occasion to wear it any more.
She’d been wearing it the night of their anniversary. The night he hadn’t turned up. The night she’d decided to leave in order to shake him up.
What exactly was happening to their relationship now?
Certainly things between them had improved dramatically. They were working together and in many ways their relationship felt the way it had before they’d had children.
But did he really care for her or was he making an effort because he valued the institution of the family so much?
She wriggled into the dress, slipped her feet into a pair of high-heeled shoes that she loved and frowned at her hair.
Should she try and straighten it?
It tumbled in crazy, dizzying waves down her back, gold and russet mingling with rich copper. Occasionally she had it blow-dried straight, but left to its own devices it curled and twisted.
Wild, passionate hair, Alessandro had always called it.
Remembering his preference, she left the straighteners in her drawer.
‘Mum?’ Katy slid off the bed and hesitated, suddenly looking less confident than usual. ‘Are we going back to London after Christmas?’
Christy froze. Were they? She honestly didn’t know. She wanted Alessandro to ask her to stay. She wanted him to give her some indication that he wanted her. Yes, he was angry that she’d left and taken the children, but that wasn’t the same as missing her, was it?
‘I don’t know,’ she said quietly, knowing that Katy was old enough to deserve at least part of the truth. ‘I don’t know, sweetheart, but we’re trying to work everything out.’
Katy chewed her lip. ‘If I could only have one thing this Christmas, it would be you and Dad back together and living here like we always did.’
Christy felt her stomach turn. She’d stay, she told herself. Whatever happened, she’d stay for the sake of the children. How could she do anything else? Her own needs really didn’t matter, she told herself as she fixed a reassuring smile on her face and pulled her daughter into her arms.
‘You don’t have to worry,’ she whispered soothingly. ‘Everything is going to be fine for you.’
But would it be fine for her?
Only time could tell.
&n
bsp; * * *
The casserole was cooked and she was mashing potatoes when she finally heard Alessandro’s key in the door.
‘Daddy!’ The children hurtled towards him and he lifted them both into a hug.
Watching from the kitchen door, Christy felt her heart turn over. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t be leaving, she told herself. She couldn’t deprive the children of their right to live with their father. But where did that leave her?
He lifted Ben into his arms, swung him round and then laid him on the rug and tickled him mercilessly while Christy laughed.
‘You’re getting him all wound up,’ she scolded, ‘and just before bedtime.’
‘Isn’t that what fathers are supposed to do?’ He straightened in a lithe, athletic movement and looked at her properly for the first time. His gaze slid slowly down her slender frame and then his eyes returned to hers.
‘I’m very tired,’ he drawled in a soft voice, stepping over Ben and walking towards her. ‘I was thinking of an early night. Does that suit you?’
There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that made her heart miss a beat. ‘I’m pretty tired, too,’ she croaked, and Katy cleared her throat.
‘Well, before you both fall asleep, could you possibly feed us? We’re both starving.’
Christy dragged her eyes away from Alessandro’s burning gaze. ‘Oh, yes—dinner’s ready.’ Suddenly flustered, aware of his eyes on her, she hurried back into the kitchen and lifted the warmed plates from the oven. ‘Come on, then. Sit up.’
Suddenly she just wanted dinner to be over.
She wanted to be with Alessandro.
* * *
‘Daddy, will you read me a story?’
‘Of course.’ Alessandro smiled at Katy and then glanced at Christy. ‘Is that OK with you? Do you need help clearing up the kitchen?’
He hoped she’d say no. Clearing up the kitchen was his least favourite task and perhaps she knew that because she gave a smile and shook her head.
‘You go and read to the children. I’ll finish off here and meet you upstairs.’
Suddenly in the grip of a serious attack of lust, Alessandro had to force himself to follow his daughter into her pink, girly bedroom.
‘Just a quick story tonight,’ he muttered, as he scanned her bookshelves for something that had few pages. He wanted to be with Katy’s mother.
Katy reached for a huge fat book. ‘I’m reading this, but you don’t have to finish it so you can relax.’
Alessandro stared at the book and decided that if it fell on someone’s foot, he’d be taking them to the operating theatre. ‘Well, that’s a relief.’
Katy snuggled into bed. ‘Have you bought Mum something for Christmas?’
Disturbed from his contemplation of how little he could get away with, Alessandro looked up. ‘Of course.’
‘Well, what is it?’
Alessandro frowned. ‘It’s a surprise. I can’t—’
‘Dad.’ Katy sat up and wrapped her arms round her knees. ‘You need to tell me what it is. Presents are important to women.’
‘Which is why I chose your mother something that I know she’s going to love,’ Alessandro said smugly, thinking of the box in his boot.
‘So?’ Katy looked at him expectantly, and Alessandro sighed.
‘All right, I’ll tell you but you’re not to tell your mother.’
Katy rolled her eyes. ‘I’m eleven, Dad. I know about secrets. It’s Ben that’s the blabbermouth around here, not me.’
Alessandro smiled. ‘All right—I’ve bought her a food processor.’
Katy stared at him in shocked silence. ‘You bought her what?’
‘A food processor.’ Alessandro shrugged. ‘You know—she uses it all the time and hers broke and—’
‘I know what a food processor is,’ Katy hissed, glancing towards the door to check that no one was listening, ‘but, Dad, that isn’t a good present.’
‘I bought the most expensive model in the shop.’
Katy shook her head frantically. ‘You have to get her something else, something that girls like.’
Wondering how he came to be sitting on a pink bedcover, taking advice from his eleven-year-old daughter, Alessandro lifted an eyebrow. ‘Such as?’
‘Something more personal. Jewellery.’
‘I’ve never bought your mother jewellery. She doesn’t wear jewellery.’
‘Well, she can’t wear what you’ve never bought her,’ Katy pointed out logically, and Alessandro gritted his teeth.
‘It’s a waste of money.’
‘Dad, you’re totally loaded,’ Katy said scornfully. ‘What’s the point of having money if you don’t spend it?’
‘She doesn’t like jewellery.’
‘All right.’ Katy lay back on the pillow with a weary look on her face. ‘Give her the food processor and let’s see what happens.’
Alessandro hesitated and then leaned forward to kiss her. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said softly, ‘everything is going to turn out fine.’
‘Not if you give her a blender, it isn’t,’ Katy muttered, rolling onto her side and yanking the duvet up over her shoulders. ‘Our Christmas is going to be well and truly puréed. You might want to think about that before you wrap it up. When I grow up I’m going to write a book called The Inner Workings of a Woman’s Mind, and you’re going to be my first customer.’
It was a novelty, Alessandro mused as he strolled along to the master bedroom suite, to be told by his eleven-year-old daughter that he didn’t understand women.
Should he be amused or insulted?
Christy didn’t care about things that glittered, he told himself as he swiftly undressed and strolled towards the shower.
She cared about the things that mattered, like their relationship and the children. Por Dios—he hit the buttons on the shower and closed his eyes as hot water streamed over his body—he’d married her so quickly that they hadn’t even bothered with an engagement.
And he spent money on the things that mattered. She had a beautiful house, a reliable car…
By the time he’d wrapped a towel round his waist and walked back into the bedroom, he’d convinced himself that he’d shown his love in any number of ways that truly mattered.
And then he saw Christy standing by the bed, lost in thought as she twisted the wedding band on her finger.
What was she thinking? he wondered.
Suddenly his stomach gave a lurch. Was she thinking of taking it off? They still hadn’t had a conversation about their future and he was afraid to bring the subject up in case he precipitated the unthinkable.
Christy returning to London.
‘I bought you that ring in a tiny shop in the East End of London where we were working,’ he said quietly, and she glanced up quickly and smiled.
‘That’s right. We were in such a hurry, weren’t we?’
He studied her face for a long moment. Tried to read her mind. ‘Too much of a hurry, querida?’
For a moment she didn’t answer and then she gave a tiny shrug. ‘Maybe. We were young. We didn’t really think things through.’
Was she implying that, had she had time to think things through, she wouldn’t have married him?
Driven by an intense need to protect what was his and prove his love, Alessandro moved towards her and saw her eyes narrow and darken.
He recognised the look.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
With a rough oath, he crossed the room and brought his mouth down on hers in a fierce kiss, forgetting that he’d vowed to give her space. He didn’t want to give her space. She was his. And he wanted her.
Now.
And she wanted him. He could tell from the way she responded to his kiss.
She was as hungry and desperate as he was.
With a tiny murmur she slid her hands down his back and he felt her fingers jerk on the towel that he’d hooked around his waist.
His mouth still on hers, he undressed her s
wiftly and then lifted her and lowered her onto the centre of the bed.
She was all silken flesh and warm woman, the subtle scent of her perfume casting a sensual spell that threatened his ability to operate on any level other than the most basic.
With a groan of pure, masculine possession, he covered her body with his, feeling soft curves meet hard muscle and relishing the differences between them. She looked delicate but he knew her to be strong and passionate. Knew that he wouldn’t hurt her. That she was as eager as he was.
His mouth feasted on hers and his hand slid down to the top of her thighs and lingered.
He trapped her sob with his mouth, felt her body writhe under his and used his fingers to touch her intimately.
Reminding himself that he’d planned to make love to her slowly, Alessandro tried to pull away and gain some semblance of control over his reactions, but she wrapped one leg over his and drew it upwards, urging him towards her.
Wondering why he suddenly had the restraint of a teenager, Alessandro slid a hand under her hips, lifted her and thrust deep. He felt her fingers dig hard into his waist, and he thrust again, muffling her sob with his kiss.
‘Por Dios, you feel incredible,’ he said hoarsely, lifting his mouth just enough to enable him to see her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright and fevered and her mouth was bruised from the pressure of his. And she’d never looked more beautiful.
He shifted his position and moved, knowing exactly how to drive her upwards towards the ultimate pleasure. Her eyes drifted shut and he slid a hand into her soft, silken hair.
‘Look at me, querida.’ He gave a soft groan and brought his mouth down on hers again. Never had he had to work so hard to find the control he needed. ‘I want you to look at me.’
He didn’t know why it suddenly felt so important but it was, and perhaps she felt it too because her eyes opened and stared into his. And he saw everything there. Love. Passion.
Her fingers curled into his back and he saw her cheeks flush and her breath quicken and knew that she was close, but he held back, refusing to allow her the release she craved until he was ready.
