Christmas Miracle. Линда Гуднайт
there was something mildly teasing in them and he could see she was working it out, working out if he was only teasing or if he was being mean.
And he couldn’t be mean to her, he discovered. Not in the least. In fact, all he wanted to do was gather her up into his arms and tell her it would all be all right, but of course it wasn’t his place to do that and he couldn’t make it right for her, couldn’t make her father step up to the plate and behave like a decent human being.
If he was the man he was thinking of, Jake knew David Jones, had met him in the past, and he hadn’t liked him at all. Oh, he’d been charming enough, but he’d talked rubbish, been full of bull and wild ideas with no foundation, and at one point a year or two ago he’d approached him at a conference asking for his investment in some madcap scheme. He’d declined, and he’d heard later, not unexpectedly, that he’d gone down the pan. And it didn’t surprise him in the least, if it was the same David Jones, that he’d walked out on his family.
So he couldn’t make it right for David’s little daughter. But he could help her with the tree, and he could make sure they were warm and safely housed until their situation improved. And it was all he needed to do, all his conscience required.
It was only his heart that he was having trouble with, and he shut the door on it firmly and concentrated on getting the lights on the tree without either knocking it over or hurting any more of the innumerable aches and pains that were emerging with every hour that passed.
‘Are you OK doing that?’
He turned his head and smiled down at Amelia ruefully. ‘I’ll live. I’m nearly done.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on. You look as if you could do with some more painkillers.’
‘I’ll be fine. It’s just stretching that hurts—’
‘And bending over, and standing, and—’
‘Just put the kettle on,’ he said softly, and she opened her mouth again, closed it and went out.
He watched her walk down the hall, watched the gentle sway of her hips, the fluid grace of her movements, the lightness in her step that hadn’t been there yesterday, and he felt a sharp stab of what could only be lust. She was a beautiful, sensuous woman, intelligent and brave, and he realised he wanted to gather her up in his arms, too, and to hell with the complications.
But he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t, so with a quiet sigh he turned back to the tree and finished draping the string of lights around the bottom, then turned them on and stood back.
‘How’s that?’
‘Really pretty!’ Kitty whispered, awed.
‘It’s a bit crooked,’ he said, wondering if there was any way he could struggle in under the tree and right it, but Edward—typically—rushed in with reassurance.
‘It doesn’t show,’ he said quickly, ‘and it looks really nice. Can we put the rest of the things on now?’
‘We have to wait for Mummy!’ Kitty said, sounding appalled, and so Jake sent them off to the kitchen to find out what she was doing and to tell her to bring biscuits with the tea. He lowered himself carefully on to the sofa and smiled at Thomas, who was sitting on the floor inside a ring of fat cushions with a colourful plastic teething ring in his mouth.
‘All right, little man?’ he asked, and Thomas gave him a toothy grin and held out the toy. It was covered in spit, but it didn’t matter, he was only showing it to Jake, not offering it to him, so he admired it dutifully and tried oh, so hard not to think about Ben.
‘That’s really nice,’ he said gruffly. ‘Does it taste good?’
‘Mumum,’ he said, shoving it back in his mouth with a delicious chuckle, and Jake clenched his teeth and gave a tiny huff of laughter that was more than halfway to a sob.
What was it about kids that they got through your defences like nothing else on earth?
‘You’re going to be a proper little charmer, aren’t you?’ he said softly, and was rewarded with another spitty little chuckle. Then he threw down the toy and held out his hands, and it was beyond Jake to refuse.
He held out his hands, hoping his broken wrist was up to it, and Thomas grabbed his fingers and pulled himself up with a delighted gurgle, taking Jake’s breath away.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Not really,’ he said a little tightly, massively relieved to see Amelia reappear. ‘Um—could you take him? My hand—’
‘Oh, Jake! Thomas, come here, darling.’
She gently prised his fingers off Jake’s, and the pull on the fracture eased and he sank back with a shaky sigh, because it hadn’t only been the fracture, it had been that gummy, dribbly smile and the feel of those strong, chubby little fingers, and he just wanted to get the hell out. ‘Thanks. That was probably a stupid thing to do, but—’
‘You couldn’t refuse him? Tell me about it. Look, I’ve brought you something lovely!’
‘I don’t really want a cup of juice,’ he said softly, and she laughed, the sound running through him like a tinkling stream, clean and pure and sweet.
‘Silly. Your tea’s there, with the painkillers.’
He found a smile. Actually, not that hard, with the warmth of her laughter still echoing through him. ‘Thanks.’
‘And chocolate biscuits, and shortbread!’ Edward said, sounding slightly amazed.
‘Goodness. Anyone would think it was Christmas,’ he said in mock surprise, and Kitty giggled and then, before he could react or do anything to prevent it, she climbed onto his lap and snuggled up against his chest with a smile.
‘It is Christmas, silly—well, it is tomorrow,’ she corrected, and squirmed round to study the tree. ‘We need to put everything else on it.’
‘Biscuits first,’ he said firmly, because he needed his painkillers, especially if Kitty was going to bounce and fidget and squirm on his bruises. And his arm was really aching now after all the silly things he’d done with it that day.
So they ate biscuits, and Kitty snuggled closer, and he caught the anguished look in Amelia’s eye and felt so sad for them all that it had all gone wrong, because Kitty’s father should have been sitting somewhere else with her on his lap instead of hiding from his responsibilities in Thailand, and he should have been there with Rachel and Ben, and none of them had deserved it—
‘Right. Let’s do the tree,’ he said and, shunting Kitty off his lap, he got stiffly to his feet and put the baubles where he was told.
He was being amazing.
She couldn’t believe just how kind he’d been all day. He’d been so foul to her yesterday, so sarcastic and bitter, but somehow all that was gone and he was being the man Kate had talked about, generous to a fault and the soul of kindness.
He was so gentle with the children, teasing them, humouring them, putting up with their enthusiastic nonsense, and then, when the tree was done and she’d swept underneath it to pick up the needles that had fallen out of it while they’d decorated it, they went into the kitchen and she cooked supper while she danced around the kitchen with tinsel in her hair, singing along with the Christmas songs on the radio and making Thomas giggle.
And then she’d looked up and seen Jake watching her with an odd look on his face, and she’d felt the breath squeeze out of her lungs. No. She was misreading the signals. He couldn’t possibly want her—not a destitute woman with three children and a smelly, expensive little dog.
So she pulled the tinsel out of her hair and tied it round the dog’s neck, and concentrated on cooking the supper.
Sausages on sticks for Kitty, with roasted vegetable skewers in mini pitta pockets so she could pretend she was having