The Magic of Christmas

Aggie snuggled closer. ‘Play with my toys. And have a big tree.’

‘We can play. And we’ll find the best tree in the forest.’

‘Who will you sleep with?’ Aggie looked up at her. ‘If I get lonely I sleep in Chloe’s bed. She doesn’t mind as long as I don’t wet it. You could sleep there, too, if you get lonely. Or you could sleep with Daddy. He’s got more room in his bed.’

‘She can’t sleep with Daddy!’Her tone appalled, Chloe glanced towards her father. ‘Dad—’

‘You’re talking too much, young lady,’ Christian drawled, but there was laughter in his eyes as he scooped his daughter into his arms and gave her a look that was supposed to subdue her. ‘Lara will have her own room.’

Aggie shuddered. ‘No one to share with? But that’s lonely, Dad.’

‘I’d love to have my own room,’ Lara assured her hastily, trying not to think about sharing Christian’s bed. Trying not to think about Christian naked. ‘I won’t be lonely at all. It’s only for sleeping and we can all have such a lot of fun when we’re awake. That’s what counts.’

‘Really? You’re going to come and live here? She’s the miracle, Daddy,’Aggie breathed. ‘Lara is our miracle.’

* * *

Three days later Christian was wondering how one person, especially one as delicately built as Lara, could make such an impact on a house.

Her clothes were strewn over chairs, her shoes were left lying in the hall as a deadly trap for the unwary, and the whole house suddenly seemed filled with her enthusiastic, noisy chatter and endless jokes.

In a matter of days his entire house was transformed from an empty, imposing building into a chaotic family home. For the first time since he’d collected the keys from the estate agent, it actually felt as though someone lived there.

And she worked incredibly hard.

The pile of unpacked boxes diminished and books appeared in the previously empty bookcases. Lamps were placed on tables and paintings hung on walls.

But the biggest transformation was the noise level.

For months, the only real noise in the place had been Aggie’s chatter, but suddenly the whole place seemed to have come alive. The rooms and the spacious hallway reverberated with earsplitting shrieks and laughter. Even Chloe was talking more. And then there was the music. Classical, jazz, pop, it didn’t seem to matter as long as something was playing day and night.

And Lara sang all the time. She sang when she cooked, she sang in the shower and she sang as she put the children to bed.

She was the sunniest, noisiest, most positive person he’d ever met.

She was also the only woman who hadn’t made a pass at him.

But the tension between them was mounting to almost unbearable levels.

He’d given her a room on the top floor of the house, well away from his, but that hadn’t stopped her prancing unselfconsciously into the kitchen at breakfast-time in a skimpy strap top and a pair of little shorts which she obviously wore to bed.

She seemed totally unaware of her body.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t similarly immune.

In fact, there were moments when Lara’s body seemed to be the only thing he could think about.

Gritting his teeth, Christian tried to concentrate on the blood results that he was holding in his hand.

‘You look distracted.’ As if to torture him still further, Lara appeared at his side, a smile on her face. ‘I just came to tell you that I’m leaving in five minutes. Jane says I can go a bit early so I’ll pick up a few things for dinner on my way home.’

Wondering why she had such a volcanic effect on his libido, Christian wrestled against the temptation to power her back against the door. He should kiss her. Kill or cure. Except that he knew that in his case that approach wouldn’t work. ‘You don’t have to cook dinner.’ As far as he was concerned, the less contact the better.

She could have a sandwich in her room. And lock her door.

‘I like cooking. Are those Mrs Neel’s blood results?’ Apparently oblivious to his struggle for control, she peered over his shoulder at the results. ‘Oh, dear, that haemoglobin is very low. Are you referring her?’

‘To the gastroenterologists.’ He put the results down on the trolley and looked at her. ‘Is everything working out all right for you? You seem to be spending your entire free time unpacking boxes at the moment. Perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea. Maybe you should just move back to your flat.’ Did he want her to move back to her flat? He no longer knew the answer to that question.