A Christmas Night to Remember

‘I don’t like being the last at anything,’ she said, determined not to get embroiled in another weakening embrace, and when Zeke took her arm without another word and led her to the stairs she knew he had taken her none too subtle hint.

The taxi Zeke had booked to take them to their dinner venue was waiting when they walked out of the theatre, the icy cold taking Melody’s breath away. Enclosed in the cosy cocoon of their box, she had forgotten the sub-zero temperature outside for an hour or two. He drew her firmly into him as they walked across the pavement, helping her into the taxi and giving the driver their new destination before settling beside her. He slid his arm along the seat at the back of her, a familiar action—and why it should result in her heart hammering in wild, panicked beats she didn’t know. She was too weary and emotionally spent to protest when he drew her head onto his shoulder, besides which it was achingly familiar.

‘Christmas Eve,’ he murmured above her head, his voice soft. ‘Your favourite night. The night of miracles.’

So he’d remembered. She had told him the first Christmas they had been together that Christmas Eve had always been special to her in some way she couldn’t explain. All through her lonely childhood and even lonelier teenage years the day had held an elusive wonder her circumstances couldn’t dispel or negate. It seemed a time for miracles, the restoration of lost dreams and hopes and aspirations, and she had never ceased to be affected by it.

Except for tonight. The thought pierced her through, but it was true. Tonight she was bowed down by reality and she had nothing to look forward to—no expectancy or belief that there was a ray of light at the end of her particular dark tunnel. She simply didn’t have it in her to trust she wouldn’t spoil what they had if she stayed with Zeke. She couldn’t live with the doubt and uncertainty, the wondering, the fear it would turn sour and he’d be driven into someone else’s arms. Someone with beauty and grace who was whole and happy and unscathed by life. A girl who could return his love with all her heart and trust him implicitly.

This was going to be their last night together. She nodded mentally to the thought. Somehow she would slip away tomorrow, find somewhere—anywhere—to stay. She had one or two friends who lived in this area. One of them would take her in. It wasn’t the best time to turn up on someone’s doorstep—Christmas Day—but she couldn’t help that. She had to escape Zeke. She had to make him see. Zeke wasn’t for her. And she didn’t believe in miracles any more.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AMAZINGLY, in view of her misery, Melody must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew was the taxi stopping and Zeke’s voice saying they were back at the hotel.

‘Come on, sleepyhead.’ His voice was tender, indulgent, as he helped her out of the car. ‘How about you change into something comfortable when we get to the suite? Maybe have a warm bath first? It’ll take Room Service a while to deliver once we’ve ordered so you’ll have plenty of time.’

She glanced at him as they walked into the foyer, knowing her limp was more pronounced tonight but unable to do anything about it. ‘I think I’ll go straight to my room,’ she said tightly. ‘And I’m not hungry. I’ll skip dinner, if you don’t mind.’

‘Hungry or not, you need to eat.’

‘No, Zeke. I don’t. I told you—I’m going straight to bed.’

They had reached the lift, and once the doors closed he faced her in the carpeted little box, his voice dangerously soft. ‘Dinner is compulsory, Dee. Unless you want me to choose for you, I suggest you look at the menu.’

‘For goodness’ sake.’ Truly exasperated, she glared at him. ‘What are you going to do? Force-feed me?’ she said irritably.

‘If necessary.’ He nodded. ‘Exactly that.’

She could see he wasn’t joking. ‘I’m not a child, Zeke.’

‘Then don’t act like one. You have been seriously ill and you’re still recovering. You need good food and plenty of it.’

This was ridiculous. ‘I think I’m quite capable of knowing when I want to eat, thank you very much,’ she said tartly.

Zeke raised his eyebrows as a smile flickered across his sexy mouth. The action said far more than words could have done and aggravated her further. Did he have to be so irritatingly chauvinistic? Melody thought waspily. And so certain he was always right?

She gave him what she hoped was a quelling glare and stared at the lift door as though it was the most interesting thing on the planet, knowing it was useless to argue. Nevertheless she was bristling like a furious little alley cat, determined not to give ground, when they opened the door to their suite. Whether Zeke was right or wrong didn’t matter. It was his peremptory attitude that had got under her skin.

The lights from the Christmas tree and the couple of lamps Zeke had left on made the sitting room dangerously cosy as they took off their coats—a miniature home from home. Zeke slung his jacket on a chair, loosening his bow tie and opening the first two or three buttons of his shirt as he walked across to the coffee table where the room service menu was sitting. ‘Now,’ he murmured smoothly. ‘I think the steak will do me nicely. How about you? And the raspberry and limoncello trifle sounds good. I’m starving.’

Melody plumped down sulkily on one of the sofas. She wouldn’t have admitted to a living soul that her mouth had watered as he spoke. ‘I had beef for lunch,’ she said stiffly.

‘How about oven-poached salmon with fennel and beetroot?’ Zeke suggested amiably. ‘That’s a light alternative and not so rich as most of the other dishes. Perfect to tempt the appetite.’

She shrugged, knowing she was acting like the child he had accused her of being but not knowing how else to protect herself against the temptation he presented. He looked more hard and sexy than any man had the right to look, and his lazy air and lack of aggression didn’t fool her one bit. ‘I think I will have a bath,’ she said flatly, as Zeke picked up the telephone, leaving the room without waiting for him to reply.

Once in her bedr

oom she shut the door and leaned her weight against it, wondering for the umpteenth time how she had got herself into this situation. ‘It’s just one night,’ she whispered. ‘Nothing has really changed.’ Her plans hadn’t altered, and Zeke couldn’t keep her married to him by force when all was said and done. She just had to keep her head and by this time tomorrow she could be somewhere else—anywhere else. Her soft mouth dropped unknowingly and she levered herself upright with a shuddering sigh.

She wanted to be a million miles away from Zeke, and yet she longed to be where she could see and watch and touch him every minute of every day. How was that for inconsistency? And she couldn’t let him see or even sense what she was feeling. She was no match for him at the best of times and his formidably intelligent mind and finely honed senses—attributes which had caused him to rise like a meteor in the world he inhabited—were at their most astute when concentrated on a problem he needed to solve. And at the moment she had no doubt that was how he viewed this situation. He hadn’t even begun to accept their marriage was over, everything about him proclaimed it, and so she had to remain strong and focused.

Melody didn’t linger in the bath, drying herself thoroughly and slipping into a pyjama vest top and matching loose trousers and then pulling on the fluffy bathrobe for added protection. She hadn’t heard a sound from outside her room but as she opened the bedroom door she could hear carols being sung. A carol concert was in full swing on the TV as she entered the sitting room, young choir boys singing ‘Silent Night’ with a purity of tone that was inexpressibly poignant.

Zeke was sprawled on one of the sofas, his long legs stretched out in front of him and a glass of brandy at his elbow. He looked broodingly tough and fascinatingly sexy, and Melody’s mouth went dry at the sight of him. His eyes opened as she walked into the room and he straightened slightly, indicating his drink with a wave of his hand. ‘Like one?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve had more than enough today, thanks,’ she said, pleased her voice sounded so normal when her heart was pounding like a drum. ‘I haven’t had any alcohol for the last three months, don’t forget.’