Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Christmas Ever After

Christmas Ever After
Sarah Morgan
'A gorgeously sparkly romance about letting go and learning to love again. The perfect Christmas read!' - Julia Williams, bestselling author of Coming Home for ChristmasThe most wonderful time of the year?Jewellery designer Skylar isn’t so sure. Especially if she has to spend it with cynical, aloof Alec. So what if he’s a famous historian? He’s also determined to think the worst of her and when a twist of fate means they’re stuck together, she’s expecting disaster!But as they flee snowy London on a winter adventure that takes them from his family’s festive Cotswold chaos to her native Puffin Island, she realises that she may have misjudged him.As glittering Christmas nights draw in, the sparks between Alec and Skylar glow ever brighter. Could they find their own Christmas Ever After?Fall in love with the all new Puffin Island series from Sarah Morgan, the bestselling author who brought you Sleigh Bells in the Snow:Book 1 – First Time in ForeverBook 2 – Some Kind of WonderfulBook 3 – Christmas Ever AfterPraise for Sarah Morgan‘Sarah Morgan puts the magic in Christmas’ – Now magazine'Sarah Morgan continues to hang out on my autobuy list and each book of her that I discover is a treat' – Smart Bitches, Trashy Books'Full of romance and sparkle' – Lovereading'Morgan's brilliant talent never ceases to amaze' – RT Book Reviews'Dear Ms Morgan, I'm always on the lookout for a new book by you…' – Dear Author'Morgan is a magician with words' – RT Book Reviews'Definitely looking forward to more from Sarah Morgan' – Smexy Books'The perfect book to curl up with' – Heat




Praise for Sarah Morgan (#ulink_02b1317a-2006-5e3d-8c96-cf887eef0038)
‘A gorgeously sparkly romance’
—Julia Williams
‘The perfect book to curl up with’
—Heat
‘Full of romance and sparkle.’
—Lovereading
“I’ve found an author I adore - must hunt down everything she’s published.”
—Smart Bitches, Trashy Books
“Morgan is a magician with words.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Dear Ms Morgan, I’m always on the lookout for a new book by you …”
—Dear Author blog
SARAH MORGAN is the bestselling author of Sleigh Bells in the Snow. As a child Sarah dreamed of being a writer, and although she took a few interesting detours on the way she is now living that dream. With her writing career she has successfully combined business with pleasure, and she firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic, and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times.
Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children, who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or reading Sarah enjoys music, movies, and any activity that takes her outdoors.
Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books from her website: www.sarahmorgan.com (http://www.sarahmorgan.com) She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.





Dear Reader (#ulink_9b81d08f-5d16-5156-8b2b-4b099a02a6d0)
Welcome back to Puffin Island!
Plenty of us have dreams. Mine was to be a writer, and I have been lucky enough to have the support of those I love as I follow that dream. Skylar, the heroine of this story, hasn’t been so lucky. She’s a free spirit, an artist and jewellery maker with big dreams, but her family don’t approve of her choices and living her dream has come at a price. When her world comes crashing down one winter’s night she receives help from an unexpected source.
I’m sure most of us have, at one time or another, discovered we were wrong about someone. That is true for Alec and Sky. With a difficult divorce behind him, Alec isn’t looking for love. He certainly isn’t looking for it with Sky. Their relationship has always bordered on the adversarial, but when he sees her in trouble he can’t walk away. These two people didn’t expect to be spending the holidays together, and they certainly didn’t expect to enjoy each other’s company. Which proves two things; that people can surprise you and that sometimes you find love when, and where, you least expect it.
Writing this book was so much fun. I loved putting these two characters together and watching them slowly discover how wrong they were about each other and it was a treat to explore the charms of Puffin Island in winter after two summer visits (First Time in Forever and Some Kind of Wonderful)
You’ll find more information on the series and extracts from all three books on my website www.sarahmorgan.com and don’t forget to sign up to my newsletter to receive news of new releases straight to your inbox. I love hearing from readers and you can email me at sarah@sarahmorgan.com or join me on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSarahMorgan (https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSarahMorgan))
Happy reading!
Love Sarah
xxxx
To Jill Shalvis, who is kind, warm, generous and funny and also writes brilliant books.

Table of Contents
Cover (#uccd48c5e-235a-5feb-8285-5ada6e405053)
Praise for Sarah Morgan (#ulink_0d23ae5a-3cd2-5bb6-b712-4d4b4e655e16)
About the Author (#u1855a639-ba3f-5939-a274-e5ac0f1d9e46)
Title Page (#u23cd267f-20cb-5c67-8a93-762614f436d2)
Dear Reader (#ulink_4e3f96ea-5cf7-5012-a31d-5e44d9c2574d)
Dedication (#u25d56c87-19c9-5f2c-9944-576570ad3501)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_1480327d-3ee6-508d-92a0-5d9d26374cc4)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_194d4e7b-15a6-5de8-a96f-86376c5495b1)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d19a172b-424d-5719-b44a-ef681555626f)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_fc45349a-9aaa-55a1-87b3-1333dca74809)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract
Endpage (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_4d00f73a-1ee1-5c8c-8054-c8a08e245f2b)
SKYLAR TEMPEST STEPPED out of her hotel and lifted her face to the sky. Soft, thick flakes of snow drifted down from a sky of midnight blue, dusting her hair and blending with the wool of her white coat. It was like standing in a snow globe.
She reached out and caught a snowflake in her palm, watching as it slowly dissolved, its beauty fleeting and ephemeral.
London was experiencing a cold spell and bets were on for the first white Christmas in years. The snow had been falling for a couple of hours and the streets were frosted white. It was easy on the eye and lethal underfoot, which was why she’d decided to take a cab rather than walk the glittering length of Knightsbridge to the gallery.
She didn’t want to arrive at the most important night of her life with a black eye.
Smiling at the doorman, she stepped into the waiting cab.
Cocooned in the warmth, she watched as people bustled along the crowded streets. They walked, heads down, snuggled in layers of wool to keep out the cold. Stores with elaborately decorated windows shone bright with fairy lights, beaming shimmering silver across the snow.
Drinking in the light and color, she fought the temptation to reach for the sketch pad she always carried. In a world that often presented its ugly side, Skylar looked for the beauty and captured it in her art. She worked in a variety of mediums, dabbled in ceramics, but her first love was jewelry.
The necklace she’d chosen to wear tonight was an example of her work and the only splash of color in her outfit. She’d designed it as part of her latest collection, but she’d fallen in love with the piece and kept it. The stones were a mixture of blues and greens, Mediterranean hues that added warmth to a cold December evening.
Tonight was her big night, she was in one of her favorite cities at her favorite time of year and Richard was joining her.
They’d been an item for over a year. A year in which his entire focus had been his political career. Since he’d won his senate seat, the pressures had intensified. They’d barely seen each other in the months leading up to the election and the time they had spent together had been marred by his incendiary moods. She’d resigned herself to attending the private showing of her collection alone, so his call from the airport had been a surprise.
Now she was eagerly anticipating the night ahead.
Starting tonight, everything was going to be different. With the stress of the election behind them, they’d finally be able to enjoy quality time together and do all the things they’d talked about doing.
He’d hinted that he had a special Christmas gift for her.
A trip to Florence maybe?
He knew how much she’d always wanted that.
Or Paris, maybe, to visit the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay.
Her mood lifted.
They’d celebrate her exhibition and later they’d enjoy a more intimate celebration. The two of them, her luxurious hotel suite and a bottle of champagne. Tomorrow, they’d visit the ice rink at Somerset House. She’d walked past it the day before and spent a happy hour people-watching. Her creative brain had soaked up the kaleidoscope of color and smiling faces. She’d absorbed it all; the uncertain, the wobbly and the graceful. Twirling teenagers, parents holding eager children, lovers entwined. After that, they’d visit the London Eye at night. She’d watched the slow, graceful rise of each capsule over the dark ribbon of the Thames and decided she wanted to experience that.
It would be romantic, and she and Richard needed to spend more time on their relationship.
She stared out of the window, thinking about it.
Was this love?
Was this it?
She’d always assumed that when she finally fell in love she’d know. She hadn’t been prepared for all the doubts and questions.
“Christmas party, love?” The cab driver glanced in the mirror and Skylar gave him a smile, glad to be distracted from her thoughts.
“Not exactly. A private showing. Jewelry, pots and a few pieces of art.” A series of watercolors she’d painted on a trip to Greece to visit Brittany. Having a best friend who was an archaeologist had expanded her horizons. That trip had been the inspiration for her collection. Ocean Blue.
“Where are you from?”
“New York, and it’s pretty cold there right now.” She chatted freely, loving how friendly the cab drivers were in London.
“I hope you brought your credit card. Prices are high in this part of London. Whatever you buy is going to cost you.”
“It’s mine.” Excitement mingled with pride. “My collection.”
He glanced at her in his mirror. “I’m impressed. To have your work on display in these parts at any age would be something, but for someone as young as you—well, you’re obviously going somewhere. Your family must be really proud.”
Her good mood melted away like the snowflake she’d held in her palm.
Her family wasn’t proud.
They were exasperated that she persisted with her “hobby.”
She’d invited them. Sent them a pretty embossed invitation and a catalog.
There had been no response.
Turning her head, she focused on the snowy scene beyond the windows of the cab. She wasn’t going to let that ruin her evening. Nothing was going to ruin the evening.
The cab driver was still talking. “So you’ll be flying back home for the holidays? Family Christmas?”
“That’s the plan.” Although not the reality. “Family Christmas” sounded cozy and warm, like something from a fairy tale. It conjured up images of prettily wrapped gifts stacked beneath a tall tree festooned with twinkling lights and homemade decorations, while excited children fizzed with anticipation.
Christmas at her parents’ house felt more like an endurance test than a fairy tale, more corporate than cozy. The “tree” would be an artistic display of bare twigs sprayed silver and studded with tiny lights, part of a larger display planned and executed every year by her mother’s interior decorator. Stark, remote and not to be touched at any cost. The “gifts,” artfully stacked on various surfaces for effect, would be empty boxes.
Any child hoping to find something magical under her family tree would be disappointed.
Those gifts summed up her family, she thought.
Everything had to be shiny and perfectly wrapped. Appearances mattered.
Leaning her head against the cool glass of the window, she watched as a man and a woman, loaded down with bags, struggled through the snow with two bouncing, excitable young children. She imagined them arriving home and decorating the tree together. They’d write letters to Santa and hang stockings, counting the number of sleeps until Christmas Day.
The most important things in life, she thought wistfully, couldn’t be wrapped.
She watched as the family disappeared down a side street and then looked away, impatient with herself.
She was too old for Christmas fantasies and with Richard arriving and her exhibition she had plenty to celebrate.
Her phone rang and she tugged it out of her bag, expecting Richard again.
It was her mother and surprise mingled with warmth.
She remembered.
“Mom? I’m so happy you called.”
“I shouldn’t have to call—” her mother’s crisp, cultured tones came down the phone “—but your father and I need to know when you’ll be home.”
Bridging the gap between hope and reality gave her whiplash. “You’re calling about my schedule?”
“Stephanie sent you an email. You didn’t respond.”
Stephanie was her mother’s assistant and Sky knew the email was probably sitting in her inbox, along with all the others she’d ignored while burning the midnight oil to get ready for this week.
“I’ve been busy, Mom. It’s my private viewing tonight, and—”
“We’re all busy, Skylar, and I’d appreciate not having to chase my own daughter for a response. Particularly when you’re the only one without a job.”
Sky thought of the commissions she had lined up. She had enough work to keep her busy through most of next year. “I have a job.”
“I mean a proper job. I’m doing the seating plan for Christmas Eve. We’ll be eighty for dinner. Lunch is more intimate—forty. When will you be arriving?”
Sky leaned her head back against the seat, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
Forty? Intimate?
So much for a cozy family Christmas.
“I haven’t decided.”
“Then decide.”
Skylar imagined her mother seated at her elegant Queen Anne desk, ticking off the items on her to-do list.
Phone dreamy, wayward daughter.
“Christmas Eve.” At the last possible moment. “I’ll be home Christmas Eve, but I’ll make my own arrangements so you can cross me off your list. I’ll talk with Richard and see what works for him.”
“Richard has already sent through his plans.”
Without sharing them with her? “He emailed you? I was assuming we’d travel together.”
“You need to stop assuming and take action, Skylar. Richard’s career is on the rise, but he still found time to respond to my email personally. Your father is impressed, and we all know he’s not easy to impress.”
Sky’s fingers tightened on the phone.
She knew. She’d been trying to impress her father for years, so far with no success.
Something tugged deep inside her.
In third grade she’d painted him a picture. It had taken days of hard, painstaking effort to produce something she thought he’d like. She’d been excited by the result.
Look at this, Daddy. I painted it for your office.
He’d barely glanced at the picture and the next day she’d noticed it in the trash, buried beneath empty cans and juice cartons.
She never drew anything for him again.
She watched as snowflakes swirled and danced past the windows and tried not to mind that Richard had apparently succeeded where she had failed.
“He’s smart,” her mother was saying. “Persuasive. Charming.”
Except when he was under pressure. Then he was short-tempered and far from charming. But that wasn’t a side he showed to the voting public or her family.
She stirred in her seat, feeling guilty for not being more understanding.
This was his dream, and she knew how it felt to have a dream.
Richard Everson had nurtured ambitions of running for office since childhood. The occasional burst of irritability at this point was understandable.
Her mother was still talking. “You’re lucky to have found a man like him, but you won’t hang on to him if you’re dreamy and romantic. Relationships require application and hard work.”
And that, Skylar thought, was exactly how her parents’ marriage had always seemed to her. Work. More corporate merger than loving union.
Was that really what love was?
She hoped not.
“When is he arriving?”
“Christmas Eve, in time for lunch. He’ll be excellent at this sort of event.”
Event? “It’s Christmas, Mom.”
“I thought you would finally have grown out of romanticizing the holidays.” Her mother sounded impatient. “Your father has given a great deal of thought to the guest list. There are influential people attending. People who will be useful to Richard’s career.”
Not friends or family. People of influence.
“Anyone I know?”
“The list was attached to the email Stephanie sent. I hope you take time to prepare.”
“Preparing” involved absorbing and memorizing pages of notes on each individual. Likes, dislikes, topics to be avoided at all costs.
Even at Christmas it was all about networking.
A wild idea flitted into her mind. Christmas in a cottage on Puffin Island. Log fire, good wine and the company of her friends. She and Richard together without the pressures of the outside world.
It was a dreamy idea.
It was also heresy and it was never going to happen.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t be here, Mom.”
“You couldn’t have picked a worse time. You’re putting a great deal of pressure on Richard. As your father said when he spoke to him earlier, expecting him to fly to London right now is unreasonable.”
“Richard spoke to Dad?”
“He called this morning.” Her mother paused. “Choosing that man is the one thing in your life you’ve done right. Don’t make a mistake tonight, Skylar.”
Make a mistake about what?
“Wait a minute—what are you talking about?”
“I’ve said enough. The rest is up to you. Make good choices.” Her mother ended the call and Skylar sat for a moment, staring out of the window.
Make good choices.
Her family had never understood that, for her, art and the process of creating something tangible and beautiful, whether a pot or a necklace, wasn’t a choice. It was a need, maybe even an obsession. It came from deep inside. She had images clamoring in her head, ideas crowding her brain. Inspiration was everywhere, there were days where she was dizzy and dazzled by possibilities.
Choice wasn’t part of it.
She could no more have given up what she did than she could have given up breathing, but her family had never understood that. Their approach to life was analytical. Their appreciation of art was limited to its cultural significance or financial value.
Growing up, there had been days when she’d wondered if her parents had brought the wrong baby home from the hospital. They were good people, but she felt as if she was in the wrong house.
The phone rang again. This time it was Brittany and Emily, her friends who were both back on Puffin Island, in Maine.
“Tell us what you’re wearing.” Brittany’s voice came down the phone and Skylar grinned.
No doubt about it, without her friends she’d go insane.
Friends were like solar power, bringing warmth and light to dark corners.
“The silver dress with the white coat. Totally impractical.”
“No burgers, no ketchup and stay away from red wine. I bet you look like a snow queen. We rang to wish you luck because after tonight you’ll be too famous to talk to us. Are you excited?”
Skylar tried to forget the conversation with her mother. “I think so.”
“You think?” This time it was Emily. “Sky, this is huge. You should be so proud. We are.”
“Drink champagne, take photos and we’ll celebrate when you’re home.” Brittany’s voice echoed down the phone. “Wish we could be there with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Skylar hesitated, not sure whether to tell them or not. “I won’t be alone. Richard is coming.”
There was a brief silence and then Emily spoke. “That’s great.” Her voice was just a little too bright. “We thought he wasn’t going to make it.”
“Last-minute decision.”
“Why the change of heart?”
Sky wondered why the question should make her uncomfortable when she’d asked herself the same question. “He shifted his schedule. I guess that’s a sign that he cares.”
“Right. Well, we’re glad he came through for you.” Brittany’s tone was warm. “I hope having him there makes tonight even more special.”
They didn’t say anything more. They didn’t have to.
She knew they worried about her relationship with Richard.
Now that he’d won his senate seat, she needed to persuade him to spend more time with her friends. She was sure that if he knew them better, he’d love them as she did.
“I have to go.”
“Call us later! And if you see Lily and Nik, give them my love.”
The call left her smiling and she was still smiling as she stepped out of the cab.
The gallery was nestled between an antiques store and an exclusive boutique. Taking pride of place in the window of the gallery was one of her favorite pieces, a vase modeled on an ancient Greek amphora, the birds twisting sinuously against luminous blue glass.
Tempest Designs.
Maybe it had started as a hobby, but now it was a business. She had a small but exclusive international clientele and this was her first show in London. To be able to support herself doing something she loved had made the dream a reality.
So why were her mother’s words the loudest thing in her head?
You’re the only one without a job.
She paid the driver, reminding herself that Richard believed in her. He’d chosen to fly over for the weekend, which had to be the ultimate in romantic gestures and proof he was taking her choice of career seriously.
It didn’t matter what her parents thought.
This was her big night and nothing was going to spoil it.
ALEC HUNTER LEFT the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, shoulders hunched against the sharp bite of the wind and the falling snow. He’d planned a late-afternoon stroll along the river but the lecture he’d delivered had ended later than planned and afternoon had blended into evening.
In front of him the River Thames wound, ribbonlike, toward the bright lights of the city. He turned up the collar of his coat, pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked upriver.
He had four messages.
One from the BBC following up on the meeting they’d had earlier in the week to discuss his possible involvement with a documentary on Antarctica, one from his mother asking him to buy extra champagne, one from his younger sister telling him he’d better have bought her a great present or he needn’t bother coming home.
That one made him smile.
He texted her back and received a flurry of emoticons in return.
The final text was from his friends back in the United States, reminding him that tonight was the VIP night for Skylar’s exhibition.
He could imagine them, gathered together in Harbor House on Puffin Island, sharing a bottle of wine and laughing while they sent a joint text.
You need to be there, Alec. The rat boyfriend has decided to show up and Skylar needs the support of her friends.
Rat boyfriend?
Several thoughts flitted through his mind. The first was that he and Skylar could hardly be described as “friends.” On a good day they tolerated each other for the sake of their wider friendship group; on a bad day they barely managed to be civil. His second thought was that Skylar’s choices in her relationships appeared to be no better than his own, and the third was that Brittany clearly had no idea how far Greenwich was from Knightsbridge.
He checked the time and calculated that by the time he got across town in the traffic, her VIP night would be over. But if he didn’t at least show his face, his life wouldn’t be worth living.
Brittany and Emily would both kill him and Ryan would cut off his supply of free beer at the Ocean Club bar.
With a faint smile he texted a reply promising to go and pocketed his phone.
He doubted Skylar would be pleased to see him, but he would have done his duty and with any luck would still be invited to spend Christmas at Harbor House.
Skylar, he knew, would be going home to her family in Long Island.
Walking away from the river to the street, he hailed a cab.
It was going to take a lifetime to cross London but hopefully he’d make it before the evening was over.
He’d congratulate her, she’d smile politely, he’d leave.
Duty done.
THE ROOM WAS BUZZING.
“The turnout is amazing.” Judy, the owner of the gallery, was on her second glass of champagne. “Do you see who is over there? Cristiano Ferrara. He owns an exclusive hotel chain. Sicilian.” She lowered her voice. “Very sexy.”
“And very married. He commissioned a piece of jewelry for his wife, Laurel. She’s pregnant.” And that, Sky thought, was romantic. Not a stark piece of paper that declared you husband and wife, but thoughtful, loving gestures that showed how much you cared.
It was her favorite type of commission.
A gift designed as an expression of love.
And there was no doubt how much Cristiano loved his beautiful wife. When people approached him he was polite, but it was obvious that tonight was a treat for his wife and she was the focus of his attention. He looked at Laurel as if she were the sun, the moon and the stars all in one perfect package.
Sky watched them wistfully.
She wanted that. She wanted that intense passion, but most of all she wanted someone who thought she was the best thing on the planet.
Confused, Sky glanced across at Richard, who was working the room.
Did he feel that way about her?
And could she feel that for him? Did she feel enough? Was this all it was? Her head was full of questions she couldn’t answer.
She’d always believed that if she ever fell in love, she’d recognize the feeling instantly, but maybe it wasn’t that simple.
Richard had been the last to arrive and had barely paused to greet her before vanishing into the crowd. Now he was talking to Nik Zervakis, the wealthy Greek-American owner of ZervaCo, who had flown in with his fiancée, Lily, an archaeology friend of Brittany’s who had helped Sky with ideas for her new collection.
“Nik has given me free rein to buy anything I like,” Lily confided. “So far I’ve bought those gorgeous starfish earrings and that pot in the corner. It’s similar to one he already has at his home in Greece.”
“Your home, too.”
“Yes, my home! Unbelievable, isn’t it? I still want to pinch myself every day.”
“How did you know?” Sky’s mouth was dry. “How did you know he was the right one? That this really was love?”
“That’s a difficult question.” Lily pondered, her eyes on Nik. “I can’t describe it. But sometimes it feels as if my heart is too big for my chest.” She gave a half smile and walked over to the pot. “I really do love this.”
“I should be giving you that, no charge. None of this would have happened without your help. You’re the Greek ceramics expert.”
“Not anymore. I’m turning into a corporate wife. My choice.” Lily glanced at Nik again, her eyes sparkling like the lights on a Christmas tree. “Give my love to Brittany when you see her. Will you be spending Christmas on Puffin Island?”
“No. I’ll be spending the holidays with my family.”
Her family and a hundred and twenty strangers.
People of influence.
It would be as much fun as a trip to the dentist.
Trying not to think about that, she hugged Lily and then mixed and mingled, accepting compliments and answering questions about her work.
It occurred to her that the only person who hadn’t congratulated her was Richard.
Even after the two wealthiest people in the room had left to go on to another Christmas event, he continued to network, pumping fists and slapping backs as he made his way round the room.
Sky was starting to wonder why he’d bothered coming when she saw him speak to the gallery owner, clear his throat and get ready to make a speech.
Her heart sank. Was he going to congratulate her publicly?
She would have preferred a more intimate exchange, a few personal words that showed he was proud of her, but she understood that this was the way Richard did things. He was all about reaching the widest audience possible. Why charm one person if you could charm ten?
He lifted a hand to silence the hum of conversation. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight.” He delivered his most engaging smile, the one that had carried him all the way to Capitol Hill just weeks earlier. “We’re all busy people, but like you I couldn’t miss Skylar’s little party. I want to thank you on her behalf.”
There were a few “ahhs” but Skylar frowned.
Little party?
He made her feel as if she was back in kindergarten. And she didn’t need him to thank people on her behalf. She’d already thanked them, as he would have known if he’d arrived earlier. He’d blamed traffic and she’d felt churlish for thinking that he should have allowed more time.
There was a rush of cold air as the door to the gallery opened and she swiveled to see if she recognized the latecomer.
She caught a glimpse of ebony hair, a long black coat and powerful shoulders dusted in silvery snow.
Several women glanced toward the handsome stranger, and then he turned and Skylar saw that it wasn’t a stranger.
It was Alec Hunter.
A friend of Brittany’s, he was a maritime historian and his expertise and on-screen charisma had combined to give him a lucrative career that straddled academia and media. They called him the Shipwreck Hunter and he’d been credited with single-handedly making history sexy. Thanks to his adventurous exploits in front of the camera, he had droves of female admirers.
Skylar wasn’t one of them.
What was he doing here?
Yes, they occasionally socialized, but the truth was they tolerated each other for the sake of their mutual friends. He didn’t hide the fact he thought she was decorative and shallow. What had he called her back in the summer? A fairy princess.
If she’d been a dog, she would have been growling deep in her throat.
Telling herself that she didn’t care what he thought of her, she looked away.
It was one thing to try to please her parents for the sake of family harmony, but she’d be damned if she’d go out of her way to win the approval of a hardened cynic like Alec.
She knew he was a casualty of a bitter divorce and it didn’t surprise her. For her, the surprise was that someone had married him in the first place.
There was no way he would have chosen to come to her exhibition voluntarily, which meant that Brittany must have threatened or bribed him.
She stood still, making mental promises to kill her friend, and then realized that Richard was speaking directly to her.
“Skylar—” his voice carried across the room “—come up here and join me, honey. There’s something I want to say to you.”
Honey? Honey?
When did he ever call her honey?
Not wanting to make a public scene, Skylar walked forward.
Out of the corner of her eye she was conscious of Alec, his stillness setting him apart from the rest of the crowd. There was something remote and inaccessible about him. She knew that those perfect masculine features masked a sharp intellect and an equally sharp and sarcastic tongue. Most women found him insanely attractive. She found him superior and patronizing.
Leave, she thought. Go home. I don’t want you here ruining my night with your brooding scowl.
But he didn’t leave. Instead, he watched her with that intense, focused gaze that made her dress feel too tight.
Her skin prickled and heat whispered across her skin.
She nodded her head briefly in acknowledgment and then forgot about him because Richard took her hand.
Remembering Lily’s words, Sky looked into his eyes and tried to work out if her heart felt too big for her chest.
It didn’t.
As far as she could tell it was behaving as it should. Normal rhythm. Normal size.
Richard smiled. “A few weeks ago, I achieved a life goal. That achievement meant all the more to me because you were right there by my side.”
Forgetting about her heart, Skylar blinked in confusion.
This was her special night and he was talking about himself?
“Richard—”
“I promised myself that when I reached a certain point in my professional life, I’d turn my attention to my personal life. That moment has come. There’s something I want to say to you, and there is no better time than right now in front of our friends.”
Her only friends here had been Lily and Nik, and they’d left already.
The rest were acquaintances, high-profile clients and the press.
And Alec.
It niggled that he was here.
Good manners dictated that she speak with him, but what was she going to say?
Go home and stop ruining my fun.
No wonder you’re divorced …
All the options that came into her head were socially unacceptable and she knew that when the moment came she’d thank him for showing up. She’d offer him a glass of champagne and they’d make polite conversation about their friends.
Fake, fake, fake.
She wouldn’t mention the fact she knew he was here under sufferance, and no doubt he wouldn’t mention it, either. On the surface they’d be civil, even though neither of them felt remotely civil in one another’s company. She could keep up appearances. After all, she’d been trained by experts. She could talk about nothing for hours.
Richard lifted her hand to his lips. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to ask you.”
Trying to forget Alec, Sky forced herself to pay attention. “Ask me what?”
“I want you to marry me.” He’d had voice coaching and training in public speaking and it showed in the way he addressed the room. “I want you by my side for the rest of my life. From now on, we’ll be pursuing goals together.”
Sky gaped at him, wondering if she’d misheard.
She opened her mouth. No sound emerged.
“You’re in shock.” He was confident. Sure of himself. A man dazzled by the light of his own rising star. He was an only child, the sole focus of his parents’ ambitions. Unlike her, he’d exceeded their expectations. “I didn’t buy a ring. I thought you could make your own and give me a discount.” He included the crowd in the joke and there was a ripple of appreciative laughter.
Skylar wasn’t laughing. Nor was she appreciative.
Marriage?
She thought about the conversations they’d had over the past year. Intimate exchanges where she’d revealed her dreams.
Had he not listened to a word she’d said?
Apparently not, or he’d know that marriage didn’t interest her.
Love? Now, that was a different matter. She wanted love. What she didn’t want was a flamboyant public proposal. He was paying more attention to the guests than her, to the point that she wanted to wave her arms in the air and yell, Hello, I’m over here!
Beyond Richard’s shoulder she could see Alec Hunter and discovered he wasn’t laughing, either. He was standing in the same place, the collar of his black coat brushing against the dark shadow of his jaw. She would have drawn him as a vampire or a wraith, she thought. A creature of the night. Even still and silent he had presence, a quality that had no doubt contributed to his success as a TV presenter and his large female fan base.
Had he proposed to his ex-wife in public?
No, because despite his public persona, she knew he was intensely private.
“Skylar?” Richard’s smile was a little tense around the edges. “We’re all waiting for a response.”
All? She wondered at what point a proposal had become a group activity.
Her real response was, You have to be kidding me, but she didn’t want that to feature in the press reports of her event the following day.
Grateful for the years of practice in producing fake smiles, she gave one.
“This is a surprise.” Keeping the smile in place, she turned to the guests. “I hope you’ll excuse us. Richard and I need a little time alone.” She turned and walked through the gallery and into the storeroom that was next to an office.
Her heels tapped on the wooden floor. Her knees shook.
She hoped he was going to follow her because she didn’t want to say what needed to be said in public.
There was a click as he closed the door behind them. “Sky? What the hell are you doing?”
“No, Richard, the question is what are you doing?”
“I was proposing. All you had to do was say yes and you would have had great media coverage for your little party. Instead you have to go for drama.” He shot her an exasperated look. “Always with you, it’s drama.”
“I—” She was speechless. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“The word you were looking for was yes, but you missed your cue.” He spoke through his teeth and then inhaled deeply and smiled the smile that had first attracted her attention. “You were in shock. This is a big night for you, I understand that.”
She relaxed a little. Reminded herself they’d been together a long time, and that no one was perfect. “Good, because for a moment I wasn’t sure you did.”
His phone rang. “Excuse me one second, this could be important.”
She stood, her arms wrapped round her waist, wondering what could be more important than talking about their future.
She glanced around her, trying to stay calm. The room was an Aladdin’s cave of creative endeavor. Paintings were stacked against the wall, there were several bronze figurines on a shelf and a rolled-up carpet stood next to a table stacked high with boxes.
Not the most romantic setting.
Richard checked the number and silenced the phone. “It can wait.” Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he glanced at her blankly. “Where were we?”
“You were working out whether your phone call was a higher priority than a conversation about our future,” she said flatly, “and telling me you understood that tonight was a big moment in my life.”
“Of course I understand. A marriage proposal is a big moment in every woman’s life.”
There was a ringing in her ears. “Excuse me? That’s what you consider to be my big moment?”
“Getting engaged is a big deal.”
“We’re not engaged, Richard.”
“We will be when you’ve answered my question.” He gave her his most winning smile but she felt nothing but frustration.
He wasn’t listening to her.
Apparently he’d never listened to her. He steamrollered over her in pursuit of his own goals.
He had a five-year plan and apparently she was part of it.
“I don’t remember a question. You said ‘I want you to marry me.’ Much the same way a child might say ‘I want that candy.’” Too stressed to stand still, she paced the length of the room. “In the last year, how much time do you think we’ve spent together?”
“It’s been a crazy year, I’m not denying that. Of course, we would have spent more time together if you hadn’t insisted on spending so much time in your studio and on that island. But all that’s going to change when we’re married.”
“I thought I’d made it clear that marriage isn’t on my wish list. Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you, but we both know you didn’t mean it. Why wouldn’t you want to get married?” There was a hint of impatience in his voice. “Your parents have been married thirty-five years and never share a cross word.”
And never a loving one, either.
Never, not once, had she seen her parents show affection.
They didn’t hold hands.
They didn’t kiss.
There were no lingering glances, no suggestion of a bond of togetherness.
She wanted so much more.
“What are you doing here? I mean, what are you really doing here?”
His smile lost some of its warmth. “I came to support you, although given the mood you’re in I’m starting to wonder why I bothered. I’m still finding my way around Capitol Hill. Coming here was the last thing I needed right now.”
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t mean—” He dragged his hand over the back of his neck. “You’re determined to misunderstand everything I say.”
“Maybe that’s because I don’t understand. You told me you weren’t coming tonight, so what changed?” When he didn’t answer, she answered for him. “You saw the guest list and thought there might be people here who could be useful to you. Be honest. Tonight was never about me.” But she’d wanted it to be. And her creative brain had spun the facts into a scenario that she could live with.
Her mother was right.
She was a stupid dreamer.
Richard met her gaze head-on. “I’m not ashamed to admit the value of networking. You want honest? I’ll give you honest. This hobby of yours is fine, but you are wasting your life. You paint pictures and make jewelry and that wouldn’t matter except that you’re smart and there are so many other more useful things you could be doing. Things that would make me proud.”
She felt dizzy. “You’re not proud of me?”
“You’re not exactly saving the planet, Sky. Even you can’t pretend that what you do is important.” With a few words he’d dismissed what she did, tossing her dreams into the trash as her father had done with her first painting all those years before.
She felt as if she had emerged from a deep sleep.
“The last necklace I made was taken from a broach left to a client by her grandmother. It had been sitting in a drawer for a decade and she wanted it made into something contemporary that she could wear. Something relevant to her life that would remind her of someone she’d loved very much. It was important to her. Emotions are important.” But she knew he wouldn’t understand that.
To him, money, power and influence were the important things.
He was like her parents. Which was why they got along so well.
He made a conciliatory gesture. “This is a pointless conversation. We need to move on.”
“My work is not ‘pointless,’ and by ‘move on’ I assume you’re saying that your ambitions take precedence over mine.”
He frowned. “No, but you can’t argue with the fact that I’m serving a lot of people.”
“Are you? Or are you serving yourself? Because sometimes, Richard, I wonder if your career is about your ambition, not a selfless desire to dedicate your life to public service.”
His features hardened. “You want to talk about being selfish? What do you think your actions are doing to your parents? It’s time you stopped thinking of yourself and made them proud.”
“Since when do my parents have anything to do with our relationship?” A disturbing thought slid into her brain. “Why did you call my father?”
“I told him I was going to ask you to marry me. He and your mother were thrilled and they’re looking forward to celebrating when we join them on Christmas Eve.”
Was it really all about her parents?
Desperately wanting to be wrong about that, she took a step forward. “What if I said that this year I don’t want to spend Christmas with my parents? We could have Christmas by ourselves, just the two of us. Rent a little cottage on Puffin Island and spend our time playing games and chatting. Log fire, a real fir tree from the forest, walks in the snow, making love in the warm.” She’d said it to test him, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. “Let’s do it, Richard. Forget proposals, forget goals and careers—for once let it be the two of us and our friends. We’ll make a pact not to talk about work. Emily and Ryan are hosting Christmas at Harbor House and making it extra special for little Lizzy. Zach and Brittany will be there, too, and I’d love for us to spend more time with them. It will be perfect.”
“Perfect?” He looked appalled. “I can’t think of anything worse than Christmas on Puffin Island. What would be the point? Your parents have invited people who will be useful.”
“The point is it’s Christmas, Richard. It isn’t a business opportunity or an excuse to network, it’s Christmas.” How could she have been so deluded? They’d spent over a year together. She’d believed they had a future. “If not Puffin Island, how about Europe? We’ve always talked about going to Paris or Florence. Let’s do it!”
“This isn’t a good time.”
“It’s never a good time.” And she realized in a flash of painful clarity that she really had been fooling herself. When she cleared away the creative clouds of her imagination, the truth was right there, forming a stark picture. “When we first met I couldn’t believe how much we had in common. That first night—we stayed up until four in the morning planning a trip to Florence. Do you remember?”
He shifted. “Sky—”
“It seemed almost too good to be true, to meet someone who shared your dreams so exactly. There were so many things we were going to do, and we never did any of them. It seemed too good to be true, because it was.” She swallowed, finding it hard to look the truth in the eye because the truth made a fool of her. “My parents told you about me, didn’t they? You studied my interests so that you’d know exactly how to gain my attention.”
“There is nothing wrong with wanting to know someone.”
“What’s wrong,” she said slowly, “is that it wasn’t genuine. Love isn’t a business deal, Richard, it’s an emotion. It isn’t about convenience or ambition, it’s about feeling. Genuine feeling, not something manufactured for the purposes of manipulation.”
“There you go again. You expect a fairy tale and when you get reality, you’re disappointed. It’s the same with your attitude toward Christmas. You’ve always romanticized Christmas and it’s just one day.”
They were the same words her mother had used, and she knew it wasn’t coincidence.
The thought that they’d discussed her was horrible.
Almost as horrible as realizing what a mistake she’d made.
She felt humiliated and betrayed, foolish and a little embarrassed, but at least she had her answer.
She wasn’t the sun, moon and stars to him. She wasn’t even a speck of cosmic dust on the bottom of his shoe.
“Maybe it is just one day, but it’s an important day and this year I’d like to spend it with my friends.”
“Precisely, they’re your friends. They’re no use to me.”
“Friends aren’t supposed to be of use.” She heard her voice rise and tried to control it. “That isn’t what friendship is. It’s about giving, not taking.”
“What can they possibly give you? Your situation is nothing like theirs. You have family, they don’t. Emily had an alcoholic mother, Brittany’s mother clearly knew nothing about responsibility and don’t even get me started on Zachary Flynn. I don’t want to risk my reputation by being in the same place as him. Can you imagine what the media could do with that story?”
It was like looking at a stranger and she realized that up until now, he’d carefully shown the side of himself he’d wanted her to see. Even with her, he’d controlled his image. The only times it had slipped were the occasions when he’d lost his temper.
“If you’re forcing me to make a choice between you and my friends, there’s no contest.”
He relaxed slightly. “That’s good to know. Obviously you’d pick me.”
“No! I’d pick them. I love my friends.” And she was incensed by what he’d said. Incensed, deeply hurt and furious with herself for being so deluded. “And a friend would never do what you just did.”
She knew now there was no going back. No fixing.
“I know you love your friends, and that love makes you blind. It’s thanks to them you’ve lost sight of what’s important in life. We’re going to your parents’ for Christmas. They want the best for you. And so do I.”
She felt numb. Disconnected.
How could she have possibly thought this might be love? “I’m the one who will decide what’s best for me.”
“That’s the theory, but you always make the wrong choices.”
Anger flickered to life inside her. “Thank you for making it easy for me to say no to the question you didn’t ask.”
“Oh, for—” He bit off the word and inhaled deeply. “Skylar Tempest, will you marry me?”
“Again, no!” Her voice sounded strangely flat. “And I can’t believe you’re still asking after the conversation we’ve just had. You wanted me to choose. I’ve chosen. Now get out.”
He swore under his breath. “My flight leaves tomorrow and I have to be back in DC on Monday. I don’t have time to play games. I want to spend the next few hours celebrating, not fighting. All I want to hear is two words, that’s all. Yes, Richard.”
“I’m not playing games. We don’t want the same things. Apparently we never did, but I’m only now realizing that. And even if we did have a single thing in common, I can’t be with someone who is so rude about the friends I love. They’re too important to me. It’s over, Richard.”
Her words fell into a simmering silence.
She saw the change in him and her heart kicked hard against her chest. She’d been with him long enough to be familiar with every shift in his mood. It was like watching the sky darken over Puffin Island, heralding an approaching storm.
His temper was the thing she’d liked least about him.
“I propose to you in public and your response is to break up with me? That’s not happening.” His tone was thickened. “You will not humiliate me. Next time we step out there it will be together and you’ll be smiling. This time you are going to make the right decision.”
“If you really knew me, you’d know that being proposed to in public would be the last thing I’d ever want. I don’t believe in fairy tales, Richard, but I do believe two people should be together because they love each other, not because it suits their career ambitions or because it’s part of a five-year plan.” She saw him take a step forward but she stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated. “You need to go now. If you’re worried about being seen then you can use the rear exit.”
“I’m virtually a member of your family.” His voice was an ugly growl. “Your father loves me.”
“Then marry my father and I hope you’ll be very happy.” She was calm, trying to diffuse a situation that was threatening to explode, but it was too late and she saw the moment his anger snapped the leash and bolted.
In the past she’d handled every incendiary moment with care, never allowing it to reach this point. She’d soothed, placated and occasionally walked out, putting distance between them.
But it was too late for any of those options now.
The pin was out of the grenade.
His shoulders hunched. His features were contorted and ugly and in that single split second she wondered how she ever could have thought him handsome. On the outside he was perfectly wrapped, but on the inside …
“Richard, you need to get control of yourself.” Her voice was sharp. “Take some breaths.”
“You are a spoiled bitch.”
She flinched as if he’d hit her and then realized in a moment of suspended disbelief that he actually was going to hit her.
His hand came up and instinctively she sidestepped to evade the blow. Her heel caught on the edge of a box and she fell heavily, smacking her head on the corner of the table.
Pain exploded in her skull. Her vision went dark and there was a distant humming in her head. Something warm and wet trickled down her face and she opened her eyes dizzily, trying to see through the pain.
He stood over her, hands raised to ward off the accusation he was clearly afraid she might make. “I didn’t touch you.” There was a hint of panic in his voice. “I didn’t touch you.”
He made no move to help her.
Showed no concern for her well-being, only his own.
Her sense of betrayal deepened.
“Get out, or I swear I will damage more than your career.” Her voice sounded strange and distant. The world around her had blurred edges.
Oh, God, she was going to pass out. Just when she needed to be strong and kick his ass, she was going to faint.
“It was an accident, Sky, a stupid accident because you didn’t look where you were going. You know how dreamy you are …”
“You wanted two words? I’ve got two perfect words for you. Fuck off.” She lifted her fingers to her head and they came away sticky. “Go. Now.”
Crap. Forget ketchup—she was going to get blood on her new dress.
“The press are out there.” He growled the words, his eyes wild as his brain computed the potential PR nightmare. “They’re supposed to be reporting our engagement. Instead you give them this? Damn you, Skylar. You did this, you deal with it. Maybe a blow to the head will wake you up. When you come to your senses, call me. I’ll think about whether or not you’re really what I want.”
Without looking back he strode out of the side entrance and into the night, leaving Skylar lying in her own blood.
WHAT THE HELL were they doing in that room?
Alec prowled round the exhibition, ignoring the other guests. The crowd was thinning out, people melting away, some speculating on the romantic scene that was going on behind closed doors.
The public proposal had taken him by surprise.
Brittany had described him as the “rat boyfriend,” which hadn’t sounded to him like a relationship on the edge of happy-ever-after.
He’d found the proposal uncomfortable to witness, but judging from the oohs and ahhs from the women in the audience, he was alone with that feeling. That was probably why he was single. What did he know about romance? According to his ex-wife, nothing. She’d wanted sweeping gestures and frequent public demonstrations of his love.
Her insecurities and endless demands had made him feel as if he’d been given a life sentence for a crime he’d never committed.
Trying to delete toxic thoughts, he grabbed a glass of champagne and calculated how soon he could make his escape.
As soon as they reappeared, he’d offer his congratulations and leave.
He needed to remember to say what was expected of him—Congratulations, so pleased for you, I hope you’ll be happy—and not what he was instinctively driven to say: Are you both insane?
He paused, his eye caught by a display of jewelry, intricate silver artfully placed on silk the color of a Mediterranean sky. The design was eye-catching and original and the historian in him recognized the nod to shapes and styles used in Bronze Age Greece.
A woman approached and sent him a smile, her intention unmistakable.
Alec turned away without returning the smile.
He didn’t care if she thought him rude. Better to be rude now than have to extract himself later.
Another legacy of his marriage was his aversion to over-polished, high-maintenance women. His relationship with Selina had been six months of sex, followed by an elaborate wedding and two years of bitter arguments that had culminated in an acrimonious divorce.
At her insistence he’d attended two sessions of marriage guidance counseling, ostensibly to “learn about himself.” What he’d learned was that he didn’t like his wife any more than she liked him.
He’d also learned that he was better off alone.
He was too selfish to make a commitment to a woman.
He liked his life too much to sacrifice it for a relationship.
He glanced across the gallery again. The door remained closed, so he moved on. No doubt Skylar and her boyfriend were locked in a romantic moment, promising to love each other forever.
With time to kill, he prowled around the gallery. He knew Skylar worked in a variety of mediums, and it was only as he studied the pieces on exhibit that he reluctantly began to appreciate the range and extent of her talent.
He paused by a large painting, recognizing the rocky coastline of Puffin Island. He was no expert, but even he could see the composition was good. She’d captured the feel of the island perfectly, the sweep of a sandy bay, the movement of the sea and the threatening hint of a storm in the sky. Looking at it, he could feel the salty spray on his face and hear the plaintive call of the gulls.
He felt a pang of longing for his cottage on the wild north coast of Puffin Island. In a few days he’d be going back there and he’d be staying for a month. Long enough, he hoped, to finish a draft of his book. He was looking forward to the solitude.
The painting had a red sticker, which meant that someone had bought it.
Good choice, he thought, and then saw the tall, elegant pot in a dazzling shade of cerulean blue placed under a spotlight against a whitewashed wall.
Instantly he was transported to Greece. He could almost feel the heat, and smell the scent of wild thyme and jasmine.
Of all the pieces in the room, this was the one he would have chosen to take home. He could see at a glance that her inspiration had been a combination of Greek mythology and early Minoan ceramics. She’d artfully combined the old with the new and created a piece of startling beauty.
The crowd thinned a little more, but there was still no sign of Skylar.
A movement in the street caught his eye and he saw a tall, dark-haired man stepping into a waiting car.
Recognizing him, Alec frowned. Why would Richard Everson be leaving alone?
He waited for Skylar to come running after him, wearing that skintight silver dress and a megawatt smile, but the car pulled away with only one passenger.
Ignoring the voice inside him that reminded him it was none of his business, he moved silently across the gallery toward the door he’d seen her enter.
He tapped lightly, received no answer and opened it anyway.
The room was empty.
It was clearly a storeroom. There were paintings against the wall, a table stacked with boxes and—
A body.
Shit.
“Skylar?” In two strides he was by her side. “What the hell happened here? Speak to me. Are you—?”
He tilted her face and his hand came away sticky with her blood.
Her beautiful white-blond hair was streaked with it, her lips bloodless in a face drained of color.
His heart pounded. Whatever he’d expected to find, it hadn’t been this.
“Sky? Open your eyes.” He tried to scoop her up and then dodged as she swung her fist toward his face.
“Touch me and I swear the next thing you feel will be my stiletto in your balls.” She slurred her words and Alec swore under his breath and captured her wrist in his hand before she could do him serious damage.
“You might want to work on that pickup line, princess.”
Her eyes fixed on him and focused. Confusion changed to recognition. “What are you doing here? Did you come to gloat?”
“I saw Richard getting into a car and came to check on you. Good thing I did. I’m taking you to hospital.” Questions rose in his mind. What had happened? And why had Richard Everson walked out leaving her like this? He delved in his pocket for his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. And the police. Did he do this?”
“No. I fell. And I don’t want you to call anyone.” She struggled to sit up, her efforts giving him a glimpse of long legs and silk underwear.
Her body is the biggest work of art in the place, he thought, and averted his eyes.
It irritated him that he found her attractive.
“You had a nasty blow to the head. You need to stay where you are.”
“People have to stop telling me what I need. I know what I need. Crap.”
He turned back to look at her and saw she’d closed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you have a twin? I’m seeing two of you.”
“That’s not good.”
“You’re not kidding. One Alec Hunter is bad enough. Two is my worst nightmare.”
He took it as a good sign that she recognized him. “I’m relieved you’re still able to make a joke.”
“It’s not a joke.”
He gave a grim laugh. “I know I’m not your first choice of rescuer, but unfortunately I’m all there is.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need rescuing.”
He wondered if she had any idea how badly she was hurt. “Let me take a look at your head before you stand up.” Leaning her back against the leg of the table, he gently moved her hair back so that he could take a closer look at her injury. He’d been on expeditions to some of the wildest parts of the world and his first-aid skills were more than competent. “You don’t need stitches, but you have one hell of a bruise and you might have a concussion. I’m taking you to hospital.”
“I’m not going to the hospital. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. They might take a photo.”
He felt a rush of impatience. “Don’t worry, you still look beautiful and I’ll make sure they only get your good side.”
The look she gave him should have fried him to a crisp. “I don’t care how I look, dumbass. I care about what questions the press might ask. And I care even more about seeing their theories expounded in public. But it’s always good to know I’m the fortunate beneficiary of your good opinion. You can leave now. I appreciate you checking on me. I hope you break your nose on the way out.”
He breathed deeply. “It was a stupid comment. I apologize.”
She gave a weak laugh. “Wow. Now I am worried. I’m hallucinating, or hearing voices or something, because for a moment there I thought I heard you apologize. I don’t suppose you’d do it again? This time on your knees?” She gave a weak laugh. “Just kidding. Go, Alec. You’re done here. Off the hook.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why? You think I’m a vain waste of space. Why would you care what happens to me?” She closed her eyes again. “News flash. When a girl hits a crappy part of her life she needs friends around her, not someone who is going to make her feel more crappy.”
He ignored that. “Do you feel sick?”
“Yeah, but it will pass as soon as you’ve left. Don’t take it personally. You’re just not my type.”
It was a relief that she could still take a swipe at him. “Good to know. Come on, princess, let’s get out of here.”
“Princess? Did you seriously just call me princess again?” She cracked open one eye. “Are you trying to wind me up?”
“Yes. If you’re spitting mad, at least I know you don’t have brain damage.”
“You don’t think I have a brain. How can I have brain damage when I don’t have a brain?” Her muttered retort was so much in character that his concern eased slightly.
“In case you do have a brain, we need to get you checked out. If you don’t want an ambulance, we can take a taxi.”
“Why are you helping me? You hate me. Hence the reason you call me princess.”
“I seem to remember that last time we met you called me an asshole, so you’re not exactly complimentary.”
“Asshat, not asshole.”
“I think the exact phrase you used was ‘Professor Asshat.’” He rose to his feet. “Don’t move. I’m going to get a taxi by the back entrance. I’ll make sure no one sees you.”
He wondered who she was protecting. Richard Everson or herself?
He stepped out into the snowy street. For once luck was on his side and he hailed a taxi almost immediately. Instructing the driver to wait, he walked back through the rear entrance of the gallery and was surprised to find Skylar standing up and clutching the table for support.
He couldn’t believe she was on her feet. “I told you to stay where you were. I’m going to help you.”
“I don’t need you to help me. But my dress is covered in blood. It’s ruined.” She was shivering and Alec removed his coat and covered her up.
“Your dress is the least of your worries.”
“Not true. We princesses are very particular about how we look. We never know when a handsome prince might come riding by.”
Ignoring the dig, he eyed her bruise. “Right now you look more like a heroine from a Hitchcock movie than a princess.” Her hair was the glistening white gold of a Caribbean beach in the sunlight. Even streaked with blood, it was her most striking feature.
“Am I scary?” She gave a faint smile and let go of the table. She swayed and he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the waiting taxi without pausing to ask for permission. “Oh, for— Put me down! I can walk.”
“You’ll fall, and that will draw more attention.” He tried to ignore the scent of her and the feel of her slender curves.
“Whatever. If it validates your manhood, go right ahead and sweep me up, but if you slip on black ice and put your back out, don’t blame me.” But she stopped wriggling. “This is the point where you tell me I don’t weigh anything.”
He waited a beat. “If I had to guess, I’d say you weigh the same as a small hippo.”
“You have no idea how much I hate you.”
“I know exactly how much you hate me.” He lowered her gently onto the seat of the cab. “Wait there.”
She eased herself into a more comfortable position. “Where are you going? To find a chiropractor?”
He didn’t bother holding back the smile. “I’m going to tell a few lies about where you are.”
Alec strode back into the gallery, found the owner, made up something that he hoped sounded plausible, picked up Skylar’s coat and bag and joined her in the taxi.
The driver looked at him expectantly. “Where to, mate?”
It was a question he hadn’t considered until now.
Alec looked at Sky. Her eyes were closed, the livid bruising darkening before his eyes.
“Sky?”
She didn’t move.
His instinct was to ask the driver to deliver them to the nearest emergency department but she’d begged him not to, and he understood now it was because she didn’t want to risk the publicity.
He didn’t even know where she was staying. Was she checked into a hotel somewhere with Richard Everson?
“Sky.” He nudged her and her eyes opened slowly, as if she had lead weights attached to her eyelids.
“Go away. I’m going to sleep, probably for a hundred years, and if you kiss me to wake me up I’ll kill you.” Her eyes drifted shut again and Alec leaned his head back against the seat, wondering what he’d done to deserve this. He was kind to old ladies and tried never to forget his mother’s birthday but apparently someone still thought he needed to be punished.
Unable to come up with a viable alternative, he reluctantly gave the address of the hotel where he was staying.
The cab driver did a U-turn and Skylar’s head flopped against his shoulder. Alec tried to shift her away, but her body settled against his as if it had been custom designed to fit.
The only way to stop her sliding off the seat was to put his arm round her and he did that with the same degree of enthusiasm he displayed when completing his tax return.
The coat he’d lent her was open at the front and he saw that the silver fabric of her incredible dress clung to her curves like a body stocking. A perfectly wrapped Christmas parcel.
She had the face and body of a Victoria’s Secret model.
He imagined unzipping that dress and revealing those curves and quickly averted his eyes.
No way.
Not only was she injured and involved with someone else, but their relationship bordered on adversarial.
Who was he kidding? They didn’t have a relationship.
So why did he suddenly want to strip her naked and bone her into next week?
What the hell was wrong with him?
Given the circumstances his response bordered on the depraved, but knowing that seemed to make no difference. His body was a throbbing ache and he tried again to ease away from her, but she nestled closer. Immediately he was engulfed by the light, fresh scent of flowers.
He glanced down again, to the shimmer of her nails and the elaborate silver cuff on her narrow wrist that was obviously one of her own unique designs, forcing himself to admit the truth—he was turned on by a woman who set off every alarm in his body. The type of high-maintenance female he went out of his way to avoid.
And he was taking her back to his hotel room.
Last time he’d helped a woman in trouble it had ended badly.
He hoped the minibar was well stocked because he was going to need every bottle in the fridge to get through the next few hours.
Merry Christmas, Alec.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_fc98249d-1fa0-5a0a-9739-539754837029)
SKYLAR’S HEAD POUNDED, as if a thousand elves from Santa’s workshop were hammering on her skull. There was a tickling feeling on her face and she kept her eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep, lulled by the hum of the engine and the low murmur of male voices.
Alec’s voice. Alec Hunter.
She lay against his shoulder, the strength of his arm keeping her locked against a chest that was solid muscle.
He was an academic. A man who spent at least half the year delivering lectures and studying papers. He wasn’t supposed to have the body of a fighter.
She knew she should pull away but she didn’t have the energy.
Had she been in a better state she would have laughed.
Of all the people who disapproved of her, her parents and Richard included, Alec Hunter led them all. He made no secret of the fact he thought she was shallow and frivolous.
Princess.
It was the cruelest irony that he’d been the one to be by her side at her lowest moment.
At some point during the journey she felt him move. She assumed he was about to push her onto her own side of the seat, but then she felt him applying a soft pad to her head and realized that the tickling feeling was blood coming from the wound.
He’d given her his coat, she remembered, which meant that her head was rubbing up against the pristine white of his shirt.
Pristine no longer.
Even knowing that didn’t motivate her to move.
She would happily have stayed in the cab forever, all her problems suspended.
Eventually they came to a standstill.
Alec eased her away from him and pushed her hair back from her face.
“Sky? We’re here.”
She was surprised by how gentle his fingers were.
She opened her mouth to ask where “here” was, but he was already leaning forward to pay the driver and then there was the sound of the door opening followed by a rush of cold air that made her gasp.
She was about to tell him she could walk but he scooped her up without asking and carried her into what was obviously a hotel.
Bright lights dazzled and she screwed up her eyes against the light, thinking not for the first time that Alec Hunter had a touch of caveman about him.
She was treated to a close-up view of the stubble that shadowed his jaw.
He smelled dizzyingly good, a mixture of lemons, winter forest and delicious man.
He didn’t pause at the reception, spoke to no one, simply strode through a marble-clad lobby and into the elevator with the same cool authority he seemed to show in everything he did.
“I can’t believe they didn’t challenge you,” she muttered. “You could have drugged me, or kidnapped me for your pleasure.”
“They probably took one look at you and knew that no man in his right mind would take you on.” He paused outside a door, shifted his hold on her so that he could slide the card into the lock and carried her into the room.
“You’re so wrong about me.” Her stomach was rolling ominously. “I’m adorable when you get to know me.”
“I won’t be getting to know you.”
“Your loss.”
With an exasperated sound, he lowered her carefully to the bed and adjusted the dressing on her head. “It’s bleeding again. Remind me why I didn’t take you to the hospital?”
“Because I asked you not to and you listened.” It felt as if thunder and lightening were exploding in her head. “Do you have any painkillers?”
He disappeared into the bathroom and returned a few moments later holding some tablets. “Paracetamol.” Instead of giving them to her, he put them down next to the bed. “Look over my shoulder.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and switched on the flashlight function. He flashed the light over her eyes, checking her pupils. “How many of me are there?”
“One. But that’s more than enough so don’t go cloning yourself anytime soon.”
He didn’t smile. “Were you knocked out? Did you lose consciousness?”
“I don’t think so.” She winced as he took a photograph. “Are you going to post that to Instagram?”
“I’m not posting it anywhere. I’m keeping it in case we need it as evidence.”
“Evidence for what? That I look stunning with a black eye?”
“Evidence against your boyfriend.” His tone was hard. “Can you remember everything that happened?”
Her stomach roiled.
She thought about Richard. About the things he’d said and the expression on his face when he’d said them. “Yes, unfortunately. I’d give a lot for amnesia right now.”
She felt humiliated and irritatingly fragile.
The truth was she’d been completed deluded.
For once her creative brain had worked against her.
Alec hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He was obviously hoping she’d say no and she was touched that he’d even asked.
“No.” She decided to give him a break on that one. “I want to clean up and shut my eyes for a while. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“Liar.”
He shone the phone’s flashlight at her head. “That bruise isn’t looking good. Do you know who you are? What day it is?”
“I’m the non-prodigal daughter and today is the day I ruined my favorite dress, realized I was in a relationship with a dumbass and ended up in the hotel room of a man who hates me. I’m telling myself things can only get better.”
She bit back a hysterical laugh. At least now she knew it wasn’t love. No more doubts on that score.
Alec handed her the pills. “If you’re going to be sick, I want to know.”
Despite their less than perfect history, she almost felt sorry for him.
She knew what Richard was like with anyone who was ill. Instead of sympathy, his mind ran to vaccinations and quarantine. “It’s fine. Go check into another room. I’ll pay.”
“What’s the point in that? I brought you here to keep an eye on you.”
“But you want a sick warning.”
“Because it’s a bad sign with a head injury,” he said patiently, “and if that happens I’m taking you to hospital.”
“Oh. I thought—” She didn’t tell him what she’d thought. She was starting to wonder if her time with Richard had twisted her view on the world. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, but thank you.” She lifted her palm to her mouth but her hand was shaking and one of the pills slid onto the floor and vanished under the bed. “Sorry.”
He said nothing. Simply disappeared for a moment and returned to face her. This time he put a fresh pill in her palm and guided her hand to her mouth. Then he handed her the water. “What happened, Sky? Why did he leave you there like this?”
“Because he’s a jerk. Because he cares more about the media and his public image than he does about me. Because I didn’t do and say what he wanted me to do and say. Because he’s in love with my father.” It was all so ridiculous she started to laugh.
Alec looked bemused. “Your father?”
“Never mind. It’s complicated. You have no idea how complicated.” Even she couldn’t unravel what was real and what wasn’t. How many of their conversations had been false? If their relationship had been a movie, she would have watched it again with subtitles to see what she’d missed. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“No. Stay there. I’m going to clean up your head.”
She closed her eyes, heard the sound of running water from the bathroom, and then he was back with a washcloth and a towel.
“I’ll try not to hurt you.”
She didn’t tell him that most of the hurt was on the inside. Trying not to wince, she sat still as he gently cleaned her forehead. “I bet I look good. Black and red are my colors, and so is blue.”
He smiled. “Scalps are extremely vascular. They always produce more blood than they should and it looks worse than it is.”
It was rare to see him smile and she found it hard to look away. It was like catching a glimpse of the sun on a dark, stormy day.
“You should smile more. You look less intimidating when you smile.”
The smile vanished. “You have dried blood in your hair, but I can’t do anything about that. If we wash it, it will open the wound.”
The awkwardness was back.
She wanted a shower, but she wasn’t sure she could manage that without help and there was no way she was stripping naked in front of Alec Hunter. She’d suffered all the humiliation she could handle for one day. “Do you have my purse? I’ll call a cab and get out of your way.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my fancy hotel room. There’s a bottle of champagne waiting for me. Shame to waste it.”
“Champagne?” His voice sharpened. “He’s staying with you?”
“That was the plan, but I’m guessing I’ll be drinking it alone.” She thought about her plan to make the most of London at Christmas. Ice-skating alone. The London Eye alone. Yay. Fun times ahead.
“You can’t go back to your room. There’s a chance he might show up, and if he doesn’t it would mean you being on your own and you can’t be on your own. Not after a head injury. Someone needs to be with you.” He removed his tie and loosened a few buttons of his shirt.
She noticed the hint of dark chest hair through the gap in his buttons and averted her eyes quickly.
She didn’t need to know more about Alec Hunter than she already did.
“Relax. That ‘someone’ isn’t going to be you so don’t change your plans for me.”
“I don’t have plans.”
“You’re wearing a tie. I assume you had a date.”
“I gave a lecture earlier today.”
The reminder of his standing in the academic world did nothing to rescue her flagging spirits.
Here was someone else with a “proper job.”
She was the joker in the pack.
Feeling truly horrible, she flopped back on the bed and covered her eyes with her forearm. The pain in her head and the tiredness threatened to overwhelm her. She knew she should leave, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. “As soon as these painkillers have worked, I’m going back to my hotel.”
Somewhere in the distance she heard a phone ring and then the sound of a deep, male voice—Alec.
Whatever his faults, there was no denying his voice was almost hypnotically sexy.
She lay there, eyes closed, thinking she could happily listen to his British accent forever.
“Yes, I made it … No, not really. There were complications.” And then a pause. “Yes. Well, you were right.” Another pause. “She’s here with me now … My hotel room … No, she’s sleeping.” Another pause. “No, don’t do that … I know how close you are but you don’t need to come. I’ve got this … Yes, I promise I won’t leave her on her own. I’ll call you, Brittany.” His voice grew distant and she realized that he’d moved into the bathroom so that he didn’t disturb her.
And now she knew who he was talking to.
Brittany and Emily, no doubt calling to see how her exhibition had gone. Judging from the half conversation she’d overheard, they now wanted to fly over, which is what she would have done if it had been one of them in trouble. Only this time it wasn’t necessary.
I’ve got this.
Funny how people could surprise you.
The last person she would have expected to bail her out of a mess was Alec Hunter.
With that thought in her head, she drifted off to sleep and woke to the sound of heavy rain.
It took her a few seconds to realize it was the shower, not rain, and a few seconds more to realize her stomach was churning. She was going to be sick.
Hoping Alec hadn’t locked the door, she staggered off the bed, groggy and dizzy.
Shrugging off the coat he’d draped around her, she swayed into the bathroom just as he stepped out of the shower, gloriously naked.
“Holy crap.” For a moment she stared, distracted by his tough, muscular build and the shadow of hair on his chest. Through the haze of pain she registered that Alec Hunter might be a hardened cynic, but he had a seriously hot body. Her eyes followed the dusky trail lower and her eyes widened. He was fully, impressively erect. She heard him swear under his breath and then he reached for a towel just as her own body reminded her who was in charge.
She made it to the toilet and threw up, her humiliation complete.
If she’d lived through a worse day in her life, she couldn’t remember it.
EXASPERATED AND CONCERNED, Alec knotted the towel firmly round his waist and hunkered down next to her. He tried to forget those few pulsing seconds when her bleary gaze had fastened on his face and then drifted lower to other, more intimate parts of his anatomy. Parts that seemed keen to independently express just how attractive he found her.
“Sky?” Keeping his voice and his hands gentle, he drew her hair back from her face and muttered what he hoped were reassuring words. “I’m going to call a doctor.”
She shook her head and then moaned as she retched again. “Go away. Please go away. Just leave me.”
He’d never seen a more pitiful sight in his life.
It didn’t take a genius to guess how much she hated being ill in front of him.
But what alternative was there? He couldn’t leave her on her own in this state.
He rubbed her back, held her, and then when it finally seemed there was nothing left in her stomach, he stood up and left the bathroom long enough to fetch the water from the bedside table.
In those few seconds she had eased herself back against the tiled wall of the bathroom. Now she sat, eyes closed, knees bent, her silver hair flowing over her bloodstained silver dress.
Alec wetted a washcloth and crouched down next to her.
“Here.” He handed her the water and put the cool cloth against her forehead.
She sipped slowly and then lifted her hand and took the cloth from him.
“Stop being nice. I hate you and it’s hard to remember I hate you when you’re nice.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep reminding you. You need to go back to bed. You’ll feel better.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand but she ignored it.
“I can manage.” She straightened those long legs and staggered unsteadily to her feet, like a newborn foal trying to work out how to stand. “I bet this is the best date you’ve had in a long time. Taking care of a semiconscious, vomiting woman must be right at the top of your list of favorite ways to spend a Friday night.” Despite her light tone, she kept her head dipped and Alec slid his fingers under her chin and forced her to look at him.
“I know you don’t want to go to hospital, but I’m going to call a friend of mine. He’s a doctor. He works in the emergency department near here.”
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“That’s the choice, Sky. Either you see my friend, or I take you to hospital.”
“Bully.”
Alec looked at her, now dressed only in the tight silver dress. Her feet were bare, her hair loose around her shoulders.
With a bruise already turning all colors of the rainbow and her hair streaked with dried blood, she shouldn’t have looked good but she did.
She intercepted his gaze. “Bet I don’t look like a fairy princess now, hey, Shipwreck Hunter?”
“You look like one of the seven dwarfs.”
A tiny spark lit her eyes. “Which one?”
“The really ugly one.”
She gave a weak laugh. “Can I take a shower before I go back to my hotel? I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”
He doubted it was possible for Sky to go anywhere without drawing attention. Even bruised, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And that, he reminded himself, was another reason he was never going to lay a finger on her. In his experience very beautiful women were hard work. “You’re not going anywhere. And you’re not in a state to take a shower. You might pass out.”
“I won’t, but if you don’t hear me singing you can come in and rescue me.”
She’d be naked and wet.
He’d probably drown. “Sky—”
“I’ve already seen you naked. Nice body by the way.” She managed a smile. “Not bad for a puny academic. I guess that comes from wrestling alligators or whatever it is you do to impress your fan club of adoring women. Call me fussy, but I hate having blood in my hair. We both know you and I have nothing in common and anyway, you loathe me so we’re perfectly safe even if you do have to barge in and rescue me.”
He’d assumed their encounter earlier had confirmed that certain parts of him didn’t loathe her.
“Fine. Take a shower. I’ll be outside.” Leaving the door open, he removed himself from the bathroom, trying not to think of her naked and wet.
He pulled on jeans and a shirt and called his friend.
He’d always intended to make the call, just not under these circumstances.
As he put his phone down, he heard Skylar’s voice.
“Alec?” Her words were muffled. “I’m stuck.”
Swearing under his breath, he walked back into the bathroom and found her with her arms up, the dress covering her head and leaving the whole of her lower body exposed apart from a thin wisp of silver silk that covered the most vulnerable part of her.
Alec averted his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to take my dress off like you told me to.” She wriggled, her hips moving. “My arms are trapped and I can’t see what I’m doing. I’m feeling dizzy and I don’t want to throw up in my dress. It’s taken enough punishment.”
“Stand still.” Teeth clenched, he reached for the dress, the movement bringing him into contact with warm, bare skin. She smelled like roses and summer rain. “Doesn’t this thing have a zip?”
“No, it’s stretchy. It pulls on and off.”
He felt as if he was being boiled alive. “You should have pulled it down, not up.”
“I know that now, but it’s the first time I’ve worn it and I didn’t have a head injury when I tried it on.”
The situation would have been comical if he hadn’t been so tense.
Alec took hold of the dress, tugged gently and the fabric slid over her head. Which would have been a cause for celebration, except that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
He caught a full on eyeful of lush, creamy breasts tipped with pink and then she grabbed a towel and covered herself.
“That makes us equal.”
He backed off, searing his skin on the heated towel rail. “My friend is on the way over here now. As luck would have it, he just finished a shift.” And the sooner he arrived the better. He didn’t want to be alone with Skylar a moment longer than he had to be. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
He walked toward the door, keeping his back to her.
“Good. That’s thoughtful of you.” The shower hissed and then she cried out. “Ow! Crap, that hurts. How do you turn this thing off? Alec, you have to help me. I’m drowning.”
Wondering what the hell he’d done to deserve this sort of punishment, Alec stopped in the doorway and turned.
She was naked in the shower, her hands over her head to protect it. “Alec?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” His voice sounded as if he had a bad dose of the flu.
“You sound weird.”
“That’s because you have water in your ears. Stand still. I don’t want to soak my clothes. My luggage on this trip is ninety percent Christmas gifts. Close your eyes.” He picked up the shampoo, reduced the power of the jet and lathered her hair as quickly as possible. “This is your fault for having fairy-princess hair. You should have dyed it a different color and cut it short.”
“I never dye my hair.”
He rinsed her hair, careful to protect her wound, watching as the water slid down her body. It flowed over the curve of her hips to the shadow and light that nestled in the secret places between her thighs. The brief glimpse was enough to confirm she was indeed a natural blonde.
Heat flashed across his skin. He fought the urge to lower his mouth to her neck and breathe her in. He wanted to trace every delicate curve with his tongue, taste every inch of her.
“Alec?” Her eyes were shut, her lashes clumped with droplets of water. “Are you still there?”
He stood, trying to work out how he could be dizzy when he wasn’t the one who had banged his head.
“Yeah.” His voice emerged from his dry throat, rough and rasping. “I’m here.”
And it was killing him.
“Could you hand me a towel?”
In the grip of a brutal desire, he groped for the controls of the shower and then for the towels he’d left within reach beyond the shower screen. She took one from him and tied it around her like a sarong. He used the other to dry her hair, avoiding her injury.
“I’ve often wondered if people would take me more seriously if I dyed it black.” Her voice was muffled by the towel. “There have been studies, you know.”
“Don’t dye it black.”
“The weird thing is, my brothers all have dark hair. When I was little, I decided that a wicked witch had probably kidnapped me from my proper family and dropped me in the wrong house by accident. I assumed my parents would have given me back if they’d had a return address. They think I’m wasting my life doing arty things. So does Richard. What do you think?”
His brain had ceased to work from the moment he’d walked into the bathroom, but if he’d been capable of rational thought he would have been thinking that he didn’t want to know more about her.
As far as he was concerned, the more superficial his knowledge of her was, the better.
“What do I think?” He dried the ends of her hair and then stepped back out of the danger zone. “I think you charge ridiculous prices.”
“Really?”
No, not really, but the way she was looking at him, her luminous blue eyes wistful and vulnerable, hardened his resolve.
“Yes, really.” He slung the towel over the rail and struggled for words that would ensure she continued to think he was the big bad wolf. It was safer for both of them that way. Safer if he didn’t follow his instincts, which suggested he carry her back to the bed and this time join her in it. “Your nod to Greek mythology might be charming to someone with no depth of knowledge, but that doesn’t change the fact that there are significant inaccuracies.” Droplets of water clung to her cheek. Without thinking, he lifted his hand and wiped them away with his thumb. Her skin was as soft and smooth as the petals of a rose and he felt her still under his touch.
“You took the time to look round my exhibition.”
He let his hand drop. “I was killing time until I could get to speak to you.”
“Of course you were. You planned to leave the first moment you could.” Her cheeks were flushed. “Don’t be embarrassed. I was hoping you’d leave quickly. Now I’m glad you didn’t.”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
They stared at each other for a moment and then he heard a tap on the door and stepped away from her, relieved to have an excuse to walk away.
“That will be Michael.” He grabbed a robe from the back of the door, thrust it toward her and escaped from the steamy bathroom.
The sleeves of his shirt were wet from the shower and he rolled them up on his way to the door. At least with someone else in the room he was less likely to commit an act of gross indecency.
Despite the circumstances, he was genuinely pleased to see his friend and they chatted for a few moments, catching up on the main events of their lives, before Michael walked over to the bed to take a look at Skylar.
Alec wished he were somewhere else. This whole situation was wrong on every level.
It was too intimate, too personal.
He and Skylar barely knew each other.
What if Michael asked her a question Alec didn’t want to hear?
As far as he was concerned the bar for “too much information” was set low.
He prowled to the window and stood with his back to the room while his friend examined her. He could see the reflection of her body in the glass, so he pressed his forehead against the window and focused on the street below.
Snow was still falling and far beneath him people and cars moved slowly.
He heard Michael ask Skylar what had happened and heard her dismiss it as a silly accident.
Was that true? Maybe, but something told him that Richard Everson had played a part in that “accident.”
And even if he hadn’t, the one undisputable fact that stood out above all others was that the guy hadn’t stayed to help her.
“Just sick the once?” Michael stood up and pulled a sheet of paper out of his bag. “Alec?”
Bracing himself, Alec turned. “Yes?”
Michael handed over the paper. “Instructions for head-injured patients. You probably know it all, but read it anyway. If you’re worried, the next step is to bring her into the department for a scan. I’m in tomorrow, so call my mobile and I’ll arrange it.”
“Thanks.” Alec stared down at the paper in his hand.
Tomorrow he was supposed to be traveling deep into the English countryside to celebrate Christmas early with his family. It had made sense to combine a trip with his other commitments because he needed to be back in Maine in order to meet his deadline.
His friend snapped his bag closed. “She can’t be left on her own, of course, but given that she has you, that’s not a problem.”
Alec realized that Michael had misunderstood their relationship. He opened his mouth to put him right, but his friend was already walking to the door.
“I have to dash. I’m supposed to be having a late dinner with the in-laws. May will kill me if I don’t show up. Next time you’re over here, email me and you must come for dinner. Bring Skylar.” He opened the door and lowered his voice. “Can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you getting back out there. We were worried that after everything that happened with Selina you wouldn’t take the risk again. And I can see why you were finally tempted back into the scary world of relationships. Skylar is a stunner. Nice smile. Taking her home for Christmas?”
Alec frowned. “No! I—”
“Next time give me more notice. We’ll grab a beer. Give my love to your family. May and I are going over there for New Year’s Eve. Looking forward to your mother’s cooking—wish she’d give mine a few lessons.” He slapped Alec on the shoulder and was out the door before Alec had time to correct the misconceptions that were piling up.
He stood in the doorway, digesting the fact that his friends and family were still speculating on his divorce and love life.
He’d carefully laid down ground rules for that.
As far as he was concerned the subject was closed and he’d moved on.
He tried to spend as little time as possible thinking about his marriage. He certainly didn’t want others thinking about it.
Aware that there was silence from the bedroom, Alec locked the door and walked back into the room.
Skylar had fallen asleep.
Her hair, clean again, lay in a pool around her shoulders, as if someone had knocked over a jar of pale creamy honey.
Alec stared down at her and felt a flicker of concern.
He found himself wishing she’d wake up and return to her chatty, energetic self. Being with Skylar was like being outdoors without sunglasses on a day when the sun was just a little too bright. Usually he wanted to turn down the wattage, but maybe that was because his own world had been dark and gray for the past few years.
Sleeping Beauty, he thought and gently pulled the cover over her.
There was no question of her going back to her own hotel, at least not tonight.
He dimmed the lights, wondering what to do about his family gathering.
His mother was working on Christmas Day and he’d be back on Puffin Island, so this date for their annual “early Christmas” had been in his calendar for months.
It was the one time of year everyone made an effort to be together.
There was no way he could cancel.
Which left him with the problem of what to do about Skylar.
Through the window he could see the snow falling layer upon layer, leaving an ever-deepening carpet of white on the streets below.
If it didn’t stop soon, his journey home the next day would be hazardous. Negotiating English country roads in the middle of a snowstorm was not for the fainthearted.
He opened his laptop, scanned the news and found a photograph of Richard Everson. The caption said that he’d been in London for the exhibition of his girlfriend, jewelry designer Skylar Tempest. There was nothing about the proposal.
Alec closed his laptop and strolled over to the bed to check on Skylar again.
She was still sleeping, her breathing even, the bruising on her head dark against the swathe of pale hair.
The bed was huge, plenty big enough for two people to spend the night and not come into contact, but he lifted the bags from the sofa and piled them on the floor. He’d slept in places where most people wouldn’t venture, so the prospect of a night on a sofa didn’t bother him.
What bothered him was the woman lying in the bed.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_73a0d444-d027-51fd-836c-acedc9dffca2)
SKYLAR WOKE TO find her head still pounding. This time it felt as if someone was having a fireworks display inside her skull.
It was still dark in the room and it took her a moment to remember what had happened.
Her relationship with Richard was over.
Over, over, over.
She relived the evening in fast-forward, from the moment he’d taken the microphone to the moment she’d had to sprint to the bathroom.
She’d been ill, and in front of Alec Hunter of all people.
Why, oh why, couldn’t she have lost her memory?
She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow to muffle the groan, and then a horrible thought occurred to her and she lifted her head and checked the bed next to her.
It was empty.
Well, that was something to be grateful for. She might have crashed in the wrong bed, but at least she hadn’t slept with the enemy.
Feeling wobbly and thoroughly irritated with herself, she slid out of bed and saw Alec asleep on the sofa. He was too tall and broad for it and she suspected he’d had a very uncomfortable night. Strands of dark hair flopped over his handsome face, signposting a bone structure that made the artist in her want to reach for a pencil.
Sleep softened his hard features and made him seem more approachable.
And of course last night she’d seen a different side of him.
He’d been cool, competent and … kind.
Alec being kind was the last thing she would have expected.
Unlike the man she’d been dating, who had behaved like an unprincipled rat, Alec had refused to abandon her. He’d brought her back here, mopped up the blood and held her head while she’d been sick.
That, in her mind, had earned him enough points that he could pretty much do anything and she’d never be able to criticize him again.
Later, she knew that would irritate her, but for now she was grateful.
Grabbing her bag, she dragged herself to the bathroom and recoiled from her reflection.
No wonder he’d wanted to take her to hospital.
She could have starred in A Christmas Carol as one of the ghosts.
Lifting her hair, she studied her face. The corner of the table had caught her above the eye, lacerating the skin, but not badly enough for her to require stitches. Worse, was the bruising. She pulled her hair forward, experimenting as she tried to cover the damage.
Another wave of dizziness hit her and she closed her eyes.
When she opened them again she saw her silver dress rinsed and folded on a towel along with his white shirt.
Only one person could have done that.
Alec.
Rinsing would have ruined the dress, but it was ruined anyway and she was touched that he’d bothered.
Maybe she did have a serious head injury. She was getting soft thoughts about a man who thought she was a waste of space.
She’d go back to her hotel and lie down for a while. That should cure her.
Would Richard be there or had he already flown home?
She stared at herself in the mirror, the question she’d been ignoring looming in her mind.
If she hadn’t stepped back, would he have hit her?
The question went round and round in her mind as she splashed cold water on her face.
Then she tiptoed back into the bedroom intending to find her shoes. Instead, she walked straight into the solid wall of muscle that was Alec Hunter.
His hands gripped her arms and there was a fierce frown on his handsome face. “Where are you going?”
“Back to my hotel. Thank you for your hospitality.”
His grip on her didn’t ease. “You can’t be on your own.”
“I’m fine. I haven’t been sick again and I’ll take those instructions your doctor friend left. If I feel worse, I’ll take a cab to the hospital.”
“It’s December and it’s snowing. Not easy to get a cab.”
“I’ll find one.” Last night she’d been too ill to feel anything other than annoyance and embarrassment but now, in daylight, the whole incident felt sordid. “Look, I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done. I owe you, and part of my repayment is getting out of your way. You have a life to live, Alec. I heard you telling your friend that you were going home to your family.” She paused, distracted by the stack of gifts by the door. “Is there anything in those parcels?”
“Of course. You think I wrapped up empty boxes?” His gaze was curious and she felt the slow burn of embarrassment stain her cheeks.
He was probably wondering if her strange question was a symptom of her head injury.
“Ignore me. Looks like you’re in for a few days of fun.”
A normal Christmas.
The sort she’d never experienced.
“It’s an early family Christmas. We do this every year.” He dismissed it. “You can’t stay on your own, Sky.”
“You’re forgetting I have a bottle of champagne waiting for me at the hotel. I’m going to take a ride on the London Eye at night and go skating at Somerset House. Or maybe I’ll try the rink at the Natural History Museum. What do you think?”
“I think,” he said slowly, “that you’ve damaged yourself enough for one weekend.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a very competent skater. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“So you’re going to go skating by yourself and then drink all the champagne by yourself. That sounds like a lonely way to spend a weekend.”
“I might also order up a ton of cookies and comfort eat while watching holiday movies back-to-back. I’ll be fine, Alec. Go do whatever it is you were planning on doing today before you peeled me off the floor.”
“Will he be there?” He was blunt and direct and she sighed.
“At my hotel? I doubt it, but if he is then I’m sure we’ll have a few things to say to each other.”
“I’m not leaving you on your own with him.”
She was caught in a swirling tide of emotion. Exasperation, frustration that this had happened and something else. Something softer and more dangerous. She was touched. Really touched that he’d helped her and was still helping her.
“You don’t have to be all caveman around me.” Standing this close, she could see the masculine lines of his face and the stubble that shadowed his jaw. He was strikingly handsome and she now knew he was also strong and decent. For some reason she’d found it easier when she hadn’t known that about him. “I can handle Richard.”
“The way you handled him last night?”
“I handled him just fine until I fell.”
“And if you hadn’t fallen?” He spoke softly. “What then?”
She knew what he was asking because she’d been asking herself the same thing. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “And it doesn’t matter now. I appreciate your concern, but this is my problem and I’ll deal with it.”
“You’re not in a fit state to deal with anything. If he walked into the room now, what would you do? You don’t have the strength to defend yourself from anyone. You’re vulnerable.”
And yet hadn’t she been a thousand times more vulnerable the night before, with Alec?
He’d seen her stripped down, bare, both literally and figuratively.
And she’d seen him.
Her brief glimpse of his powerful frame was welded into her brain.
Heat poured over her and she tried to make a joke.
“I could vomit on him. That would send him running, believe me.”
He didn’t smile. Instead he crossed the room, picked up her purse and found her phone. “Check your messages. I want to know if he called.”
“I forgot to switch it on. It’s an annoying habit of mine.” Hands shaking, she took the phone. “He won’t have called. I don’t think you know Richard very well. I damaged his ego.” But that was the least of her problems. She switched her phone on and saw four missed calls. “Two calls from Brittany, one from Emily and one message from my mother.” Even though she could guess what it would be about, a faint thread of hope made her press the button to listen. Because her fingers were shaky and she wasn’t concentrating she played it back on speaker.
“Skylar? Richard landed at JFK a few hours ago and called to update us, which was good of him under the circumstances. I had hoped that the time had come when I could stop having to make excuses for you. That this once you’d make the right decision. But it seems not. I confess that of all the difficult conversations I’ve had in my life, that was one of the most awkward and embarrassing. You’d better call him back fast and hope he’ll reconsider.”
Awkward and embarrassing was having played that back on speaker.
Without looking at Alec she ended the call, digesting the fact that while she’d been bleeding and throwing up in Alec’s bathroom, Richard had been flying first-class across the Atlantic.
Feeling as energetic as roadkill, she sank onto the sofa Alec had recently vacated.
“Well, I guess you have the answer to your question. No one is looking for me, so you can safely leave me unprotected.”
And alone.
Totally alone.
London no longer felt exciting and full of possibilities. It felt big and impersonal.
“That was your mother?”
Hearing the undercurrent of shock in his voice, Sky kept her head down and sent a quick text to Brittany. “Yeah, she’s always pretty formal on the phone. Of course it doesn’t help that she’s probably gone nuclear over this thing with Richard.” Without elaborating, she dropped the phone in her bag. “I have one more favor to ask. Could I borrow a shirt? I’ll return it next time I see you.”
“I’m not leaving you alone in an impersonal hotel room when you’re vulnerable. You’re coming home with me.”
It was the last thing she’d expected him to say and she glanced up at him, shocked. “You’re kidding. Alec, we’re not even friends.”
“You need to stop being a drama queen. It’s too early in the morning.” A smile touched the corners of his mouth, distracting her.
She was usually too busy being irritated to notice the detail of his features but this close she could see that his eyelashes were thick and dark. He hadn’t shaved and the line of his lower cheek and jaw was dark with stubble.
In that single moment she could understand why he had an army of female fans.
Alec Hunter might be insanely irritating, but he was also insanely hot.
And now she knew what he was hiding away under the smart suits and rugged outdoor wear.
Unsettled, she looked away. Maybe she was vulnerable. Something had to explain the way her brain was working.
“Usually you accuse me of being a fairy princess.” She tried to lighten the atmosphere. “I’m trying to work out if drama queen is a promotion or not.”
“It’s a sideways move. Where are you staying? We need to collect your things and settle your bill.”
“Alec, you can’t just—”
“Either you disappoint my family by making me stay here with you, or you come with me. Your choice.”
She gave a choked laugh. “You heard my mom—I don’t make good choices.”
“You mean you don’t make the choices other people want you to make,” he said drily. “If you really want to stuff yourself with cookies you can do it at my house. My mother loves to bake. She’ll be delighted to have someone with your appetite to feed. There will be enough carbohydrate and sugar on offer to comfort an entire sorority.”
“You’re British. What do you know about sororities?”
“My father is American.”
“I didn’t know that about you.” She was starting to realize there was plenty she didn’t know about him, including the fact that caring for a sick woman didn’t put the smallest dent in his calm demeanor.
And he was decent.
Moody, irritating, insanely hot, but decent.
He could have made an excuse and left her alone. Instead, he’d stayed with her.
“What’s it to be, Sky? Are we spending the next few days in a hotel room or with my family?”
“I can’t just show up at your family’s home and join in a private gathering.” But the alternative was spending a week alone in a hotel room steaming mad about Richard and that was about as appealing as pulling her hair out at the roots. “Your mother won’t want me. I’ll ruin her numbers for the catering and mess up her seating plan.”
“Seating plan?” His brows rose. “People sit wherever there is room. If we run out of chairs, we use the piano stool. My family is very easygoing and my mother never quite knows who is coming until the day. And as for catering, she always cooks enough to feed half the village.”
Skylar tried not to compare that with her own experience of family occasions. Guests were expected to confirm. Last-minute extras were strongly discouraged. “This is your special time with your family and you and I aren’t exactly intimate.”
His eyes gleamed. “You’ve seen me naked and I’ve seen you naked. We’re a lot more intimate than we were this time yesterday. Do you need to go back to the gallery?” He moved around the room with stark efficiency, packing things into one small suitcase.
“No. I can call Judy.” She chose to ignore his comment about having seen her naked. She really didn’t want to think about how she’d ended up naked in a shower with a man who, until yesterday, she’d actively disliked. “Last night was the important bit. Fortunately it was almost over when this happened. She must be wondering what happened to me.”
“She isn’t. I talked to her before we left. She was the one who gave me your bag and coat.”
“What did you say to her?”
“That you weren’t feeling well. She obviously isn’t a fan of public proposals, so you had her sympathy. She told me to tell you that the exhibition was a huge success and to call her when you’re ready.” He gave her a long, searching look. “You’re pale. Still feeling ill?”
“No.” She was careful not to move her head. “But I could use some more of those pills you gave me.”
He walked into the bathroom and returned with the packet and a glass of water. “Take two.”
She swallowed them and drank the water. “About last night—”
“Forget it.”
“I won’t forget it Alec. I’m sorry you had to sleep on the sofa. It looks horribly uncomfortable. Are you aching all over?”
“No, and you need to stop apologizing. It’s starting to irritate me. I’m used to you arguing with me.”
Struck by another wave of dizziness, she closed her eyes. “I’ll start arguing with you as soon as those pills work.”
“You’re not going to look your best in the Christmas photos this year.”
He lifted his hand and smoothed her hair back, taking a closer look at her head. The brush of his fingers sent a rush of tingly heat across her skin.
“My family doesn’t do photos. Christmas is a very formal affair. Everything is scripted and planned.” The thought of Christmas made her want to curl up under the bedcovers and never come out.
He took the glass from her hand. “I need to call my mother and warn her that we’ll be one extra so she can make up the spare room. Then I’m going to find you some clothes. I have a pair of track pants that might do until we can fetch your things. You can roll up the legs and belt the waist.”
She was grateful to him for not pursuing the topic of Christmas.
“Great. If my unique seduction tricks of bleeding on you and throwing up on you haven’t worked, hopefully wearing baggy clothes will nail the deal.”
There was a brief pause and she saw a faint flicker of a smile touch his mouth.
“You’d look good in anything.” With that surprising comment, he walked to the phone by the bed. “I need breakfast before we hit the road.”
She stared at him, the air trapped in her lungs and her tummy doing acrobatics.
He didn’t pay her compliments. Ever. If anything, he went out of his way to make sure she knew she wasn’t his type.
True, there had been the moment in the bathroom, but he was a guy, wasn’t he? It hadn’t meant anything. Healthy, virile, sexually active hot guy meets half-naked girl in the bathroom. It was a moment she’d already forgotten—well, maybe not forgotten exactly, but she certainly wasn’t reading anything into it.
Half an hour later a tray arrived, heaped with fresh fruit, organic yogurt, pastries and scalding-hot coffee.
They ate while watching the sun rise over a frozen winter morning.
She noticed a stack of notes and his laptop on the desk. “Did you work last night?”
“For a while. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”
He’d stayed awake for her? She pulled the corner off a croissant. It flaked in her fingers, buttery and warm. “This is only my second trip to London. I was hoping to see some of the sights before I left.”
“When is your flight? You might still have time for that.”
“A week on Sunday. Then I’ll be back in New York for a couple of weeks before Christmas.”
The croissant was too rich for her stomach so she left the rest and picked at a few berries.
Alec, she noticed, drank lots of coffee.
It felt strange having breakfast with him in his hotel suite, wearing his shirt under a hotel robe. It felt—intimate. If housekeeping had walked in, they would have assumed they were lovers.
“How are we getting to your parents’ house? You have a car here?”
“I hire a car when I’m in London.”
“How long will it take us to get to your home?”
“Around two hours, depending on the weather.”
“You British are obsessed with your weather.”
“When you’ve seen the roads around Honeysuckle Cottage, you’ll understand why.”
He packed up his laptop while she dressed, then picked up the bags of gifts and the rest of his luggage and opened the door to their room.
“Honeysuckle Cottage? Such a cute name.” She walked past him, careful not to brush against him. “By the way, I’m not a drama queen.”
His eyes gleamed. “Fairy princess crossed with drama queen.”
“So what does that make me? A fairy queen or a drama princess?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know after we’ve spent a few days together.”
A few days.
Yesterday she’d been getting ready for her exhibition and now here she was with a bruised head and a bruised heart, going home with a man with whom she’d always had a difficult relationship.
Which all went to prove that whenever you were anticipating a happy ending, life was guaranteed to mess it up.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_17d09bd4-7857-52be-b643-1103717fbb2d)
THEY CRAWLED OUT of London and gradually the congestion eased and the roads opened up. It was still snowing heavily and Alec knew the country lanes around his parents’ house would be difficult to navigate.
In the seat next to him Skylar slept, her hair a halo of silver-gold around a face almost as pale as the snow.
Concerned by the long silences from someone who usually talked enough for six people, Alec glanced at her from time to time. In daylight the bruising looked worse and her sleepiness worried him. He contemplated calling Michael again, but reassured himself with the knowledge that she’d had a disrupted sleep the night before and was probably just tired.
Maybe her pallor was the result of stress.
He didn’t know what had shocked him most, the absence of any evidence of concern on the part of Richard Everson or the cold, unemotional message from her mother.
He couldn’t help comparing it to those months after the breakdown of his own marriage when his family had been in constant contact. At the time he’d been exasperated by their refusal to leave him alone, but now he felt grateful that they’d cared enough to bother.
Skylar had close friends, but they were far away on Puffin Island.
Here, she was alone.
Alone, except for him, and he knew without her having pointed it out that he was the last person with whom she would have chosen to spend her lowest moment.
He turned off the main road, driving through untouched countryside, past woodland and fields coated in a thick layer of snow.
The closer he got to home, the more uneasy he felt.
What the hell had he done?
The only woman he’d ever brought home was his ex-wife and the memory of how that had played out was permanently embedded in his brain.
Sweat cooled his skin.
He didn’t want to be trapped with Sky. He didn’t want to be trapped with any woman who was emotionally vulnerable.
He wasn’t fooled by her constant quips and cheery humor.
She was hurting and he didn’t want to be within a million miles of a woman who was hurting.
He drove in silence, brooding on the weekend ahead.
Somehow he had to find a way of keeping his distance.
Finally, as he approached the market town near his parents’ house, she woke.
She stirred and turned her head, absorbing her surroundings.
Tiny lights glowed in shop windows, illuminating honey-colored stone. Glossy green wreaths studded with plump red berries decorated the doors and a large Christmas tree dominated the village square.
“It’s the prettiest place I’ve ever seen.” She stifled a yawn. “Where are we?”
“The Cotswolds. We’re about two hours from London. This is the village of Brockburn-on-the-Water. My parents live about five minutes from here, although it might as well be a million miles if they haven’t cleared the road.”
He waited for Skylar to flip down the mirror and start applying makeup but instead she shifted in her seat and gave him her full attention.
“Tell me about your family. What does your father do?”
“He’s a GP. A family doctor. He came over to England straight after medical school, met my mother and never went back. He’s senior partner in the village practice. My mother works in the renal unit in the hospital.”
“Are you an only child?”
“Two sisters. One older, married with twins, the other younger. Olivia is sixteen.”
“Sixteen? That’s a big age gap. I bet you freaked out when you discovered your mom was pregnant.”
“Why would you think that?”
He’d been completely freaked out.
Her insight was unnerving.
“Because when she was born you would have been—what? Sixteen? Seventeen? No teenager wants to be faced with tangible evidence that their parents still have sex. So you’re an uncle and a big brother. I have older brothers, too. They spend the whole time telling me what I should be doing. Are you like that?”
“There would be no point because Liv wouldn’t listen.” He drove down the lane toward his parents’ house, past trees laden with soft snow and fields dotted with animal footprints. The winter sun was low in the sky, sending light shimmering over fields of white.
“So both your parents are in medicine, but you didn’t want to be a doctor?”
“No. When I was five I wanted to be an Arctic explorer. My uncle gave me an explorer’s kit for Christmas and I remember taking it down the garden and camping out in the shed. Took them two hours to find me and by then I’d almost frozen to death.” Mindful of the icy surface, he eased the car round the last bend and turned into his parents’ drive. “We’re here. This is it.”
Honeysuckle Cottage stood as it had for several centuries, its stone walls glowing a soft gold in the sunshine. A large evergreen wreath studded with berries hung in the center of the door and two large bay trees placed on either side of the stone steps sparkled with tiny lights.
“This is your home?” Sky stared at the house. “It’s the most idyllic cottage I’ve ever seen, apart from Brittany’s. It reminds me of the house in that movie The Holiday. You’ve probably never seen it.”
“I’ve seen it. Liv tortured me with it a few years ago. I’m still scarred. My revenge was to force her to sit through a turgid documentary on Napoleon.”
She laughed. “One of yours?”
“I aim for several steps up from turgid.” Before he could even switch off the engine the front door opened and he saw his family crowding into the doorway to welcome them. His mother snatched her apron over her head, evidence that she’d been in the kitchen when she’d heard the car. Behind her was his father with the phone in his hand and next to him his uncle, wearing a pair of flashing reindeer antlers. Alec felt a rush of affection for them and then remembered Sky. He could imagine what she was thinking. “I probably should have warned you that my family loves Christmas. Most of the year they’re relatively sane, but there’s something about this time of year that sends them over the top. Even my father, although for him the mulled wine probably has something to do with it.” He slid out of the car, tense, knowing that this place wasn’t going to suit glitzy Skylar.
His ex-wife had hated the rustic country life his parents led. An invitation to join them for the village pub quiz had been met with disdain and a stony refusal, as had all activities that involved the wearing of sturdy boots. Everything had been wrong. The weather too cold, the people too loud and tactile, the food too full of carbohydrates and fat. The final straw had been the animals. On the last occasion they’d visited, Alec had been forced to shut the dogs out of the house and had felt so guilty looking at their mournful faces he’d made their excuses and left early. He and Selina had separated just days later, after an incident he preferred to forget.
As always, just thinking about her elevated his stress levels.
It didn’t help that he was, once again, accompanied by a woman who looked as if she’d stepped straight out of the pages of a glossy magazine. Even with her bruised face and no makeup, Skylar was stunning.
What had he been thinking?
He shouldn’t have brought her here. His family didn’t deserve another Christmas like the one they’d had three years before. He should have found another way.
He slammed the car door, his mood darkening with each passing second.
No way was he shutting the dogs out this time. If she wanted to avoid them, she could spend time in her room. And her reluctance to get her feet muddy, or her fingers frozen by snow, would give him the opportunity to spend time alone with his family.
He was still working out how to best manage the situation when his sister flew out of the door, her booted feet making indentations in the snow.
She was wearing an oversize sweater with a sparkly star in the middle and her hair tumbled in chocolate-brown waves around her shoulders. “Alec!”
Ignoring Skylar, Alec strode to meet her and caught her in a hug. “Is that the Christmas jumper?”
“Yes, Granny saw a picture in Cosmo and copied it for me. I am the envy of my friends. Karen was given one with a truly gross reindeer. She’s wearing it inside out.” She eased away and he saw her eyes widen as she noticed Skylar. “Oh, my— Who—? She’s— Wow, Alec. How did a geeky guy like you get someone as gorgeous as her?”
Aware that his sister’s whisper was louder than most people’s normal conversational tone, Alec clenched his jaw. “Could you maybe speak a little louder? Embarrass me a little more?”
Grinning, she rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I could probably manage that. Embarrassing you is my favorite pastime.”
“Skylar, this is my sister Olivia.” Anything he might have added was interrupted by barking as the dogs heard his voice and tumbled in an excited frenzy out of the house.
Nelson was first, his glossy black coat a startling contrast against the white of the snow, but close on his heels was Churchill, who hated being left behind.
Cursing under his breath, Alec made a grab for them but they sprang toward Skylar, tails wagging.
Why was it that dogs made a beeline for the person least interested in them?
He waited for her to recoil and take refuge in the car, but instead she dropped into a crouch and embraced both dogs, laughing as they licked and jumped all over her with clumsy enthusiasm and a blur of wagging tails.
It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “They’ll ruin your coat.”
She didn’t seem to be listening. Her hands were all over the dogs, and she rubbed Nelson behind his ears until he whined in ecstasy and rolled in the snow.
“When I asked you to tell me about your family, you didn’t mention these beautiful, beautiful dogs.”
“But I hope he mentioned his beautiful, beautiful sister,” Liv said happily, letting go of Alec and joining Sky. “The black Lab belongs to Alec. His name is Nelson. He’s pretty old now but young at heart.”
Hearing his name, Nelson rolled over and shook himself, showering Sky with snow.
“Thank you, I needed that.” Laughing, she wiped snow out of her eyes. “And who is the beautiful chocolate Lab?”
“He’s mine. He’s called Churchill, but we call him Church. He’s only two. We hoped he’d be wise and statesmanlike, but so far it’s not looking good. I’m trying to train him but neither of us is very disciplined so that hasn’t turned out so well.” She dragged him away from Skylar and then saw the damage. Her smile melted into panic. “They’ve made a horrible mess of your lovely coat. I’m so sorry. I’ll have it cleaned.”
Alec tensed, understanding the reason for the stammered apology. Selina had made a song and dance about having her clothes cleaned after the dogs had jumped on her and Liv had taken the brunt of her displeasure.
“I don’t care about the coat.” Sky kissed Nelson on the head and stood up. “It was a stupid color to buy but I was having a low moment and felt like treating myself.”
Alec wondered why she’d been having a low moment. She would have bought the coat before her relationship had crashed and burned, surely?
Livy looked at it longingly. “I’ve always wanted a white coat.”
Sky looked wistfully at the dogs. “I always wanted dogs.” She’d braided her hair into a loose plait and it fell casually over one shoulder. The beam of the sun highlighted shades of wheat and pale gold that almost dazzled in the light. If Alec didn’t already have evidence to the contrary, he would have assumed the color couldn’t be natural.
Recalling exactly how he knew she was a natural blonde made his body heat. Irritated, he scowled. “You don’t seem like a dog person.”
His sister sent him a curious look and Sky smiled.
“How does a dog person look? Any relation to a princess person?” There was a spark of fire in her eyes that told him that however battered she was by the events of the past twenty-four hours, she was still perfectly capable of holding her own with him. “You have a habit of thinking you have me all figured out. People with blond hair wearing a white coat can’t own dogs, is that it?”
Liv gave a snort of laughter. “That’s my brother. Thinks he knows best about everyone. It’s infuriating. Drives me crazy.” Sky turned to say something to her and Liv gasped in consternation. “What happened to your head?”
“She fell,” Alec said shortly, “and she should probably be sitting down so let’s get indoors.”
“Good idea.” Incurably friendly, Liv slid her arm through Sky’s. “Come inside. You need to meet Mum, Dad and Uncle Harry. And Granny is here. She can’t wait to meet you.”
Alec watched as Skylar was swallowed up by the embrace of his enthusiastic family. The dogs were barking, everyone was talking at once and he was left on his own to unload the luggage.
Nelson nudged his leg and he gave a grunt.
“It’s your lucky day, pal. She likes dogs. Looks like you won’t be spending the weekend shut in the garden after all.”
By the time he’d transferred everything to the hall, everyone was in the kitchen and Sky was standing by the range cooker holding a glass of mulled wine and looking slightly dazed.
“I’ve never had mulled wine before.”
“It’s red wine, spices, a few slices of citrus fruit. Delicious. I think it counts as one of your five a day, but Simon disagrees.” His mother opened the oven and removed a tray of golden-brown, flaky pastry snacks. “Fetch the cooling rack please, Liv.”
“And a touch of brandy. Don’t forget the brandy.” Uncle Harry winked and then crossed the room and embraced Alec. “The wanderer returns. We’ve killed the fatted calf in your honor.”
“It’s a turkey. Calves don’t have wings, Uncle Harry.” Liv pulled the wire rack out of the cupboard and set it down on the center of the table. “And we’re eating it tomorrow. Tonight is game casserole. I helped make it. The meat has been marinating in wine for the past two days. Mum used one of Dad’s precious bottles and he threw a fit so you’d better say how delicious it is.”
Alec shrugged off his coat. “Where is Dad?”
“He’s on the phone as usual. He’s not even supposed to be working this weekend but the practice has been decimated by a flu bug. You know how it is at this time of year.” His mother arranged the pastries on the rack while Skylar sipped the wine and closed her eyes.
“I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. It’s—”
“You probably shouldn’t be drinking alcohol anyway.” Alec interrupted her before she could deliver a caustic remark that might upset his mother. “Leave it and I’ll find you something else.”
Skylar opened her eyes. “No way. It’s delicious. I was going to say it tastes like Christmas.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “It tastes like Christmas in a glass.”
“I always think the same thing.” Alec’s mother handed her a plate and gestured to the rack of cooling pastries. “This end is mushroom, garlic and chestnut. The far end is feta and spinach. You need to relax, Alec. You’re very tense.”
Of course he was tense.
He’d brought a stranger into his home at a time of year that was reserved for family, although so far he couldn’t fault her manners.
“You should sit down,” he said to Skylar, his voice gruff.
His mother nodded. “Yes, you should. That bruise of yours is nasty, dear, and you do look very pale.”
“I always look pale without makeup.” Skylar licked her fingers. “These are delicious. The only thing I can produce in the kitchen is soup. You’re a wonderful cook.”
Alec saw his mother melt like ice cream left in the sun.
“Settle yourself there and rest,” she said. “Simon will take a look at your head as soon as he’s off the phone. Maybe we should give you something nonalcoholic. After all, you have to save yourself for the champagne later. We don’t want you falling asleep in the middle of the celebrations.” She glanced up as Alec’s father walked back into the room. “Well?”
“It was Mary from the village. She needed reassurance, that’s all.”
“So you don’t have to go out? That’s good.”
“Celebrations?” Alec helped himself to a pasty. “What are we celebrating?”
“You really need to ask?” His mother exchanged looks with his father. “It’s been three years since you brought anyone home, Alec. We’d almost given up and now here you are with Skylar. I know you won’t want to talk about it, but—well, we’re just so happy for you both.”

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