The Magic of Christmas

‘A group of teenagers drove into a lamppost half an hour before I was planning to leave. They weren’t wearing seat belts.’ Christian gave a rueful smile and poured himself a large whiskey. ‘Can I offer you a drink?’

So formal. It was as if they were total strangers who’d never experienced an incredible, explosive kiss. ‘No, thank you.’ She finished laying the table. ‘I’ll just serve dinner and then I’ll go to bed. I’m tired.’

Suddenly she wished she’d eaten with the children. It would have stopped her having to spend an uncomfortable evening with Christian.

‘Don’t just disappear.’ He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and stretched his legs out in front of him. ‘You had a busy day.’

‘Yes. That woman with the fractured femur took a long time to sort out.’ She placed a dish of chicken in front of him. ‘I hope you like spicy food. It has quite a lot of chilli in it.’

‘I love spicy food. Are you all right?’ He frowned across at her as he served himself. ‘Usually by this point in the evening you’ve cracked at least ten jokes. Are you ill?’

‘No, not ill.’

In love.

The realisation struck her with the force of a tornado and she gave a soft gasp of shock. No. No. She couldn’t be in love. Not now. Not with Christian.

Wrong man. Wrong time of her life.

Oh, help…

‘Lara?’ His eyes were fixed on her face, his expression curiously intent. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’ve had a long day,’ she mumbled, passing him a bowl of fluffy rice. ‘Help yourself. It’s getting cold.’

‘You’re not eating?’

‘Yes. No. Just a small amount.’ She was too shocked to eat.

Love?

How had that happened? How could love just spring out of nowhere?

‘What’s wrong?’ His voice was unexpectedly gentle. ‘Are you missing your family?’

She gritted her teeth and wished he’d say something cutting and insensitive. Anything that might help her cope with the fact that she was in love with a man who wasn’t interested. ‘Yes, I miss them. No matter where we are or what we’re doing, we’ve always managed to get together at Christmas. This is the first year that we’ve been spread out.’

‘Tell me about your family Christmas. Did you have your own routines and traditions?’

Christmas. Routines and traditions.

It was as if the kiss had never happened. As if they’d never shared an amazing moment of intimacy.

Lara sat back, her plate untouched. ‘Well, traditionally Christmas Eve was spent squashing presents so hard that I almost broke them. Then I’d spend the whole night prising my brother’s eyes open just to see if he was really asleep or just pretending. Then I’d get up at some unearthly hour when it was still dark and wake the whole household. Mum and Dad never minded. They’d make themselves a really strong pot of coffee and snuggle up together with us while we opened our stockings. Then we ate these amazing cinnamon biscuits shaped like stars that Mum only ever made at Christmas.’

‘And how old were you then?’ His voice was amused. ‘Same age as Aggie?’

She pushed aside the sadness that threatened to swamp her. Suddenly she felt strangely vulnerable and she wished that her family wasn’t so far away. ‘Oh, I was at least twenty-four,’ s

he joked lightly. ‘I was describing last Christmas. So how about you? Tell me about your Christmas.’

‘Much more formal than yours.’ He helped himself to more chicken. ‘On Christmas Eve my parents would hold a dinner for friends and colleagues of my father.’

‘Colleagues?’

‘He was a lawyer. He spent a great deal of time networking.’

Lara pulled a face. ‘Christmas is for families.’