One Scandalous Christmas Eve

by Susan Stephens

  When he learned how unsophisticated she truly was and she learned that Dante was way out of her league.

  ‘It’s time for you to get on with your life,’ he continued gently. ‘You can’t be on call here for ever. I don’t want to restrict you, but I don’t want to lose what we’ve got either.’

  What had they got? What had she allowed them to have? She’d gone into something without thinking it through. Dante wasn’t a half-measures man and she had tried to short-change him. And now she could do no more than stand rigidly to attention, not trusting herself to say anything more than, ‘Thank you again. It’s very kind of you to see to the arrangements.’

  ‘It’s not kind,’ Dante argued. ‘It’s in your contract. You’ll leave tomorrow morning. The car will collect you prompt at six. That should still give you time to pack your things and say your goodbyes today.’

  How could she have forgotten that this was Dante Acosta, a member of the famous Acosta family, tech billionaire and world class polo player? Having recovered full use of his leg, Dante was no longer dependent on anyone, and he was obviously keen to move on—especially from an ingénue who knew next to nothing about sex.

  ‘I thought you’d want the first available flight back, so you can prepare for Christmas at home with your father.’

  ‘That’s right. That’s so thoughtful of you.’

  ‘Will you need an extra suitcase?’

  For two outfits and some knick-knacks she’d bought on the market? ‘That won’t be necessary, but thank you again.’

  ‘Flight time okay for you?’ Dante prompted.

  Jess could only hope she didn’t look the mess she felt inside. ‘Perfect,’ she lied. ‘The flight’s perfect.’ Even Bouncer was looking at her with concern. Trust a dog to sense trouble. You couldn’t fool an animal. ‘I’ll be ready to leave at six.’

  ‘Good. Please don’t worry about my ongoing treatment. I’ve already hired someone else to carry on where you left off.’

  ‘Good idea,’ she confirmed mechanically. Dante hadn’t wasted any time, but when did he ever?

  ‘I won’t be slacking,’ he promised with a smile.

  ‘I would never think that of you.’ To her horror a tear stole down her cheek.

  ‘It’s a big, burly man, in case you were wondering,’ Dante informed her with a grin.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t feel light-hearted. She had to get away before a complete meltdown happened and she betrayed her true feelings with huge racking sobs. ‘Physios come in all shapes and sizes,’ she agreed with a tight smile. ‘And I’m sure that whoever you’ve chosen will be very good.’

  ‘He’d better be,’ Dante agreed with a crooked smile. ‘You set the bar pretty high.’

  But her contract had ended. Deal with it. ‘I’ll leave my notes, though doubtless your new therapist will have his own ideas.’

  ‘Jess—’

  ‘That’s okay. I always intended to be back home for Christmas.’

  Extricating herself gently from Bouncer, who had wound himself around her like a comfort blanket, she dipped down to give the big yellow dog one last hug.

  Dante blocked her way as she stood up to go. ‘Your father will be pleased to see you.’

  ‘I’ll be pleased to see him,’ she said on a throat turned to ash.

  ‘I’d fly you back myself,’ Dante explained as he held the door for her when they left the stables, ‘but I have this business deal, and then my first team practice the day after tomorrow and I want to get some training in before then.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news,’ she said truthfully.

  ‘I know what you’re going to say—don’t overdo it,’ Dante supplied. ‘I promise I won’t. I owe my recovery to you, and I’ll never underestimate what you’ve done for me.’

  And you for me, Jess thought as the curve of Dante’s lips twisted her heart until she wanted to cry out in pain. You’ve taught me never to be naïve again, she concluded with her usual sensible self back in charge.

  ‘It’s my job,’ she said, pinning a smile to dry lips as she shrugged.

  How much more of this could she take? She was breaking up inside and desperate to put space between them. The last thing she wanted was to break down in front of Dante. What good would it do, other than make her look even more pathetic than she felt?

  She was halfway across the yard when Dante caught hold of her arm. ‘Was this just another job for you, Jess?’

  There was no chance to hide the tears in her eyes, nor did she even try. ‘I’ll miss you,’ she blurted. To hell with pride! What did pride count for in the end? What did she stand to lose when there was nothing left to lose?

  ‘I’ll miss you too,’ Dante admitted.

  ‘Just take care of those ponies—and yourself,’ she insisted. ‘Take care of Moon for me in particular. She needs a lot of attention.’ Unlike her human counterpart, thankfully, Jess thought as she firmed her jaw.

  ‘How can you doubt it?’ Dante queried.

  ‘I don’t,’ she said honestly. When it came to his animals, Dante’s love and desire to care for them was as acutely honed as her own. It was just human beings outside his family and staff he had a problem with.

  ‘We won’t forget you on the estancia, Skylar,’ he said dryly, standing back.

  An ugly swearword came to mind when Dante mentioned Skylar. Sadly, her mother had been wrong. There was no magic in the name. There was just Jess. Hurting like hell.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SHE WOULDN’T CRY, Jess determined as she stood at the kitchen sink on Christmas Eve in Yorkshire. This wasn’t about her, or missing Dante so much it made her heart drum a lament in her chest. This was about the village where she lived, and about her father and the wonderful pals who had kept him afloat while she was working. This year, thanks to the sale of the ponies, they could afford a real Yorkshire Christmas, which meant she could thank everyone by holding open house as her mother used to do.

  The scene beyond the steamed-up window would be perfect for a Christmas card. The snow fairies had arrived early this year, frosting the paddocks with pristine white, capping the fences with sparkling meringue peaks of snow. Her father had been out most of the day with the other local farmers, scouring the moors for stranded animals. They deserved a good feed when they got back.

  No longer a lonely widower crushed by grief, Jim Slatehome was part of the village again, and part of the horse world too, just as her mother would have wanted. Of course he felt sad and still missed his wife, but now, thanks to all his friends and the medical help he had finally agreed to accept, he had strategies to deal with black moments, which was the most anyone could hope for.

  Everything was right with the world, Jess told herself firmly as she put the finishing touches to the feast she’d prepared. Everything apart from one notable thing, she accepted with a pang. Where was Dante? What was he doing this Christmas? It made her unhappy to think of him alone. Surely he’d be with his family? It was such a big family.

  Dante playing gooseberry? Did that seem likely?

  If only he lived closer, she would have swallowed her pride and invited him over. If only. What an overworked phrase. It was no use to anyone, because it spoke of regret and things left undone.

  So where was he?

  According to her most reliable informant, the Polo Times, Dante Acosta had already whupped three types of hell out of his arch rival, Nero Caracas.

  He’d better not have damaged that leg.

  She’d researched the man who had taken over Dante’s treatment and, to be fair, his reputation was impeccable. Trust Dante to choose the best.

  It was the most frustrating thing on earth to care as deeply as she cared for Dante, Jess reflected as she pulled away from the sink, and yet be prevented from caring for him. He’d never played so well, according to Polo Times. And in a direct quote from
Dante, that was all thanks to his physiotherapist, Jess Slatehome, who, together with her close associate Skylar Slates, had raised him up when he’d been down.

  Dante had more than kept his promise to let the polo world know that Jess was good at her job. The phone had been ringing off the hook since the article was printed. Admittedly, most of the calls had been from reporters wanting to know what the ‘real’ Dante Acosta was like.

  ‘He’s such a loner and an enigma,’ they’d prompted, ‘while you were a young woman on her own.’

  ‘I’m a medical professional with a job to do,’ she had reminded them, remembering to add, ‘Happy Christmas,’ genuinely and warmly—because, like her, they were only doing their job.

  Happy Christmas.

  Jess’s mouth twisted with the pain. She missed Dante so much the words meant nothing. Swiping tears away, she cleaned down the kitchen until it gleamed like never before. Checking the fire, she hung up her apron. With a shake of her head, as if that might knock some sense into it, she thought through the rest of the day. The food was ready. There was nothing more to do, and she longed to get outside. There could be more sheep to find.

  * * *

  He could go anywhere for Christmas. Invitations were stacked up in a pile on his desk at the estancia. Those from his family had received polite refusals. Those who craved Acosta glitter to brag about went in the bin.

  He checked again. Nothing from Jess.

  Why should there be?

  Shifting position impatiently, he picked up a call from his sister, Sofia. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Compliments of the season to you too,’ she said dryly. ‘I gather you’re in a good mood.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  Accustomed to his stormy moods since the injury, Sofia gave his bad manners a bye. ‘I’m ringing to tell you not to buy so many presents. A truckload arrived today, when all we want is you.’

  ‘Another year, perhaps,’ he promised gruffly.

  The Acostas always gathered at Christmas to remember their parents, though all five of them under one roof for any length of time could be a recipe for disaster. To put it mildly, they could be fiery. Dante’s eldest brother always referred them to the Argentinian branch of the family which, he insisted, was far better balanced since all the brothers had married. He tried this same lecture each year but, as he remained unattached, it lacked bite.

  The problem, Dante reflected, was that none of them was prepared to risk their heart after the crushing grief of losing their parents.

  Even him?

  Why couldn’t he date Jess in a way she’d find acceptable? What was stopping him giving her the future she deserved?

  Only his stubbornness. And possibly Jess’s too.

  Glancing at the phone, he felt a stab of regret. He loved his sister, and would miss catching up with Sofia and his brothers at the annual get-together, but this year there was only one place to be.

  Why the change of heart?

  Try living anything approaching a normal life with one exceptional woman, with whom he had unfinished business, permanently lodged in his mind.

  * * *

  Everything was ready for whoever dropped by, Jess reassured herself as she left the farm. Gifts for her father were wrapped and ready, together with the ‘little somethings’, as her mother used to call them, for his pals, and for any surprise visitors. She’d brought in extra folding chairs from the barn, so all that remained was to tempt her father back to the house with the promise of a delicious feast.

  Financially, the year had ended on a high, mainly thanks to Dante’s purchase of their ponies. It was a real treat to have enough money to buy her father things he’d denied himself for far too long. There would be a satisfyingly large heap of gifts beneath a tree laden with baubles that carried memories. Everything was warm and welcoming, just as her mother would have wanted it to be. The tradition of open house at Bell Farm would continue.

  She paused at the top of a rise to stare out over the winter wonderland with its coating of snow and inevitably her thoughts turned to Dante.

  Where was he? Who was he with? What was he doing? Would he be lonely? Was his leg still okay?

  ‘Stop it,’ she said out loud. This was going to be a wonderful Christmas, to which her broken heart was most definitely not invited.

  * * *

  Dante’s flight through thunderclouds on his way from Spain to England was, to put it mildly, interesting, even in the luxurious surroundings of his private jet. The drive to the farm was even more so. No one was prepared to release a helicopter in such uncertain weather, so he hired a big workhorse-style SUV, but even that was brought to a sliding halt by snowdrifts on the exposed Yorkshire moors.

  Grinding his jaw, he grabbed some belongings and set off to walk to the farm. According to the satnav on his phone, he was close to his destination. This wasn’t the way he’d planned to arrive, but Jess wouldn’t care less if he arrived in a helicopter or on foot. Unimpressed by shows of wealth, she was the most down-to-earth woman he’d ever met. She demanded an entirely new rulebook. He was still finessing the detail as he ploughed on through the snow.

  He thought about Jess with each step, and what he owed her for restoring the strength in his leg. Most of all he thought about holding her. Maybe that was a stretch. There were no guarantees where Jess was concerned. She’d pick her own route through life.

  Pausing to look around and get his bearings, he was grateful for the map on his phone. There were no recognisable landmarks. Everything was covered in a blanket of snow. Even the road had become one with the field. Jess’s home turf seemed determined to show him an increasingly hostile face. If Jess did the same, he was wasting his time.

  Pulling up his jacket collar, he pushed on. There was an occasional flicker of light and a glimpse of colour down the hill, where a cluster of homesteads sat squat in the snow. He exhaled on a cloud of humourless laughter. Why was he surprised that a woman from such a bleak and forbidding landscape would be anything but strong and self-determining?

  It had occurred to him that Jess might refuse to see him. Who rocked up unannounced on Christmas Eve? It couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t going anywhere until they met up face to face. Jess had rocked his world on its axis and there was no way he’d let this go. If he reached the village—when he reached the village, Dante amended—he’d surely find lodgings for the night. The roads were impassable, so he was stuck here whether Jess agreed to see him or not.

  After another half a mile or so, he stopped to blink and rub snow from his eyes, seeing shadows moving in the distance. As he drew closer, he realised the shadows were men working in the field. Driven almost sideways by gusting wind, they were attempting to heave sheep out of a ditch. Several more animals were stranded, and he didn’t hesitate before pitching in.

  Fate had dealt him a kindness, Dante concluded as he worked with the other men. Rescuing the terrified animals built an instant camaraderie that allowed him to ask the way, enquire about lodgings and even learn something about Jess.

  * * *

  The moors had a peculiar stillness that only descended after a recent fall of snow. It was like being alone on the planet, without even birdsong to keep her company, Jess mused as she trudged on. She was keeping a lookout for her father and for his friends, as well as any stranded animals she might find along the way. She’d come prepared, with a snow shovel strung across her shoulder on a strap.

  She paused for a moment when she got to the brow of the hill. The view was immense. Now the snow flurries had died down she could see right across the moors to Derbyshire. But it was only a temporary respite because snow had started falling again.

  Bringing her muffler over her mouth, she prepared to slither down what was now a treacherous slope. Halfway down, she dug in her heels and skidded to a halt. An SUV was stuck in a snowdrift and tilted on its side. Thoughts flashed through her head. Up
permost was saving whoever was in the vehicle before they froze to death. Hurtling down the bank regardless of safety, she sucked in great lungsful of air. She had to conquer that panic. She’d be no use to anyone like this.

  Once she’d gathered herself, another question occurred: who drove a flashy SUV in the village?

  Could it be Dante?

  Don’t be ridiculous, she railed at her inner voice. Why would Dante come here on Christmas Eve? There were no ponies to buy. He’d bought them all. And would a billionaire’s Christmas include the simple pleasures of a small isolated village on top of the Yorkshire moors? He had absolutely no reason to come here.

  That didn’t stop her wading through the sometimes thigh-high snow. She had to reach the SUV. Not only would the driver and any passengers be in danger of freezing inside the vehicle; if they left it they could quickly become disorientated, and the result would be the same. Wind chill was deadly, and it was vital they reached safety and warmth soon.

  Fast progress was impossible, which gave Jess’s thoughts the chance to run free. Maybe Dante had somehow heard that Bell Farm was throwing its doors open to all-comers at Christmas. It wasn’t beyond the bounds of reason that he’d spoken to her dad but, whoever was in that vehicle, or maybe wandering around lost on the moors, she had to do her best to find them.

  There were times when Jess thought her feet would freeze into icicles and break off. This wasn’t helped by the local brook being covered by a thin layer of ice beneath a concealing carpet of snow. She yelped as her feet sank beneath the surface yet again, but now she was within touching distance of the vehicle and she pressed on.

  Swinging the snow shovel off her shoulder, she braced herself for whatever, or whoever, she might find inside. Was she too late? What if Dante had driven up to the moors? Why hadn’t she had the courage to tell him how she felt before now? It wasn’t as if she was shy or retiring. Tears froze on her face as she frantically dug out the snow. Why had she never told him she loved him? Why had she held back?