A Proposal to Remember

‘Fantastic view.’

‘Thanks.’ She tugged the hat off her head and shook her dark hair like a kitten in a rainstorm. Typical. She had a man to die for in her flat and she looked as though she’d been dunked in a puddle. ‘I’ve never bothered with curtains. No one can see in so it didn’t seem worth it.’

‘It’s a nice flat.’

She smiled. ‘Well, like I said, it’s the penthouse, but when I win the Lottery I’m buying a bigger version.’

For a moment he didn’t respond, and then he turned, a strange light in his eyes. ‘You do the Lottery? Is money important to you?’

‘No.’ She tossed the rubbish into the bin and smiled cheerfully. ‘Just what it buys. I love to dream, don’t you?’

He sucked in a breath and looked taken aback. ‘Well, I…’

‘Oh, come on!’ She tugged off her boots and coat and dropped onto the sofa, cross-legged. ‘Everyone dreams of winning the Lottery. Even people who never remember to do it!’

He was looking at her curiously, arms folded across his broad chest. ‘So what would you buy?’

‘I don’t know, the usual things…’ She shrugged. ‘A house in a better area, a car so that I don’t have to walk around at night.’

‘Would you give up your job?’

‘Oh, no!’ Her expression was horrified.

‘I love my job. And just think, if I won money I’d be able to rehouse Kelly and Mike without having to bow and scrape to Social Services all the time.’

Carlo turned back to the window. ‘You’d have a job to beat this view.’

‘Nice, isn’t it? They’ve converted so much of the Docklands area into housing and it’s a pretty good place to live.’ She glanced round her with satisfaction. She liked her flat. It was small, but it was cosy and homely and all hers. ‘Make the most of it. It’s pretty small now, but after tomorrow it’s going to get even smaller.’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ He moved away from the window and strolled towards her.

‘I’m buying my Christmas tree,’ she said proudly, ‘and it’s going to be big.’

‘Ah.’ He folded his arms across his chest and his sexy dark eyes twinkled at her. ‘So size matters to you?’

‘In Christmas trees, definitely.’ Zan was laughing at the innuendo and trying to control the frantic fluttering in her stomach. ‘I love everything about Christmas. I used to buy my tree on the first day of December, but the needles always fell off by Christmas Day and I got fed up with staring at decorated twigs so now I make myself wait. It’s an exercise in self-discipline. What about you? Do you like Christmas?’

He hesitated and then nodded. ‘I suppose so.’

‘But you’re sad because you won’t be at home this year?’ She tilted her head on one side and looked at him. ‘I know the feeling. I’m working this Christmas so I won’t be able to get home until New Year. But I’ve written my letter to Santa and he knows I’m here so all my presents should still arrive.’

He leaned broad shoulders against the wall and watched her, and she was breathlessly aware of how big he seemed in her tiny flat.

Big and male.

‘You’ve written to Santa?’

‘Of course! I’ve sent him my list. How else will he know what I want?’ She ticked them off on her fingers. ‘Diamond earrings, cashmere jumper, silky underwear—you know the sort of thing.’

‘Diamond earrings?’ His gaze slid down to her torn jeans. ‘You don’t strike me as a diamond earrings sort of girl.’

‘Don’t judge by appearances. I’ve never been given the chance,’ she told him gloomily. ‘With four brothers my childhood was all rugby boots and Action Man. Every single Christmas I’d get the same stuff as them. Don’t get me wrong. My parents are great and I love them. But somewhere along the line they forgot I was a girl. I would have given anything for something pink and girly.’

He blinked. ‘Pink and girly?’

‘You know, something feminine. What about you? What do you want for Christmas?’

There was a long silence, and when he finally spoke his gaze was disturbingly direct. ‘You.’ He spoke the word softly and then paused, his dark eyes holding hers. ‘I want you, Zan.’