Wish Upon a Star

‘Is that your experience?’

She realised suddenly that she’d said too much. Revealed more than she’d intended. ‘It’s the truth.’

He swirled the last of his drink around his glass. ‘I agree that families are complicated,’ he said slowly, ‘and I agree that it’s pretty hard to find the right person and make it all work in today’s fast-paced, driven, consumer-orientated environment. And I think happiness is probably something different for each person. The important thing is to find someone like-minded and then live your own definition of happiness together.’

She stared at him. ‘You really believe that?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘Because it’s a romantic view of relationships.’

‘I disagree. I think it’s a realistic view.’

‘Believing that a family can be truly happy isn’t realistic.’

His gaze was searching. ‘Clearly you’ve never met anyone in a good relationship.’

‘Neither have you.’ She lifted her drink. ‘You can’t judge a family by watching from the outside. You have to be on the inside to know the truth. You probably have friends who you think are happy…’

A slight frown touched his brows and something flickered across his face. ‘I have friends who I know are happy,’ he said softly, and she shook her head.

‘How do you know? Are you there when the door closes and they’re left alone together? Do you know anything about the rows that they have in private?’

‘No, but I know a lot about the rows they have in public,’ he said dryly, reaching for the bottle and topping up his drink. ‘He’s Spanish and she’s Irish and to call their relationship volatile would probably be to risk accusations of understatement but, believe me, they’re happy. It might not work for everyone, but it works for them. And that’s what I mean when I say you have to find someone who wants what you want. One person’s happy marriage is another person’s living hell.’

Miranda felt the cold trickle down her spine. She knew everything there was to know about hell.

For a moment she sat in frozen silence and then felt the sofa dip as he sat down next to her.

‘Tell me about yourself. Tell me what you’re thinking about.’

She shook the shadows away from her mind. ‘Nothing.’ She’d already said far too much. She smiled at him and handed him her empty glass. ‘So—given that you’re such a romantic, why aren’t you married?’

He pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure that I’m particularly romantic. And I don’t have a wife because I happen to be picky about who I spend the rest of my life with.’ The gleam in his blue eyes made her heart skip and dance and she gave herself a sharp talking-to. It wasn’t so long ago she’d fallen for a charming smile and smooth patter. She wasn’t about to do it again in a hurry.

He put her empty glass down on the table. ‘If you ask me, the biggest problem with relationships is the reality gap.’

‘Reality gap?’

‘The gap between reality and expectations. People are basically flawed. If you expect families to be perfect then you’re doomed to disappointment.’

‘Maybe.’ She was suddenly very aware of him. ‘Do you realise that I haven’t even asked your name?’

He smiled. ‘It’s Jake. Jake Blackwell.’

She nodded. The name fitted the man, she decided, leaning her head back against the sofa. Strong. Masculine. ‘Well, Jake Blackwell, I haven’t thanked you properly for rescuing me today.’

‘It was my pleasure.’ His gaze lingered on her face. ‘It’s good to have company on Christmas Day. But promise me you won’t go out in the mountains again without the proper equipment and experienced company.’

She lifted her head. ‘I’ll do something about the equipment but the company is outside my control. I’ve only just moved to the area. I don’t know anyone.’

‘You know me.’ His quiet statement hovered in the air between them and there was something in his eyes that made her stomach flip.

She gave herself a mental shake and looked away, determined to ignore all the signals that her body was sending her. Mind over matter. Common sense over chemistry.

‘I’m sure you have better things to do than walk with a complete beginner who thinks that a whiteout is something you can achieve with a good washing powder.’

He laughed. ‘Not really. Any time you want to walk in the hills, I’ll be happy to act as escort.’