Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(104)
It occurred to her belatedly she should mark the occasion with something, lest he get the wrong idea. She stopped halfway to the door and turned back.
“Don’t read anything into last night, that was last night and now is… well, now,” she finished lamely.
He stood slowly and surveyed her with a curiously intense expression.
“Nothing’s changed,” she warned.
He watched her a moment and then the intensity faded from his eyes and warmth filled them.
Warmth from Douglas was something else Julia wasn’t used to and something she found excruciatingly hard to resist.
When he spoke, his voice was amused, “I figured that.”
She ignored his warmth, his tone, gave one curt nod and escaped.
He was gone most of the day on business. It was the day before Christmas Eve and the children were already beginning to let their excitement override their common sense. It took all her time to finish up her Christmas chores, break up their arguments and deal with what would essentially be three days without Mrs. K (who would be coming for Christmas dinner, but as a guest).
Douglas arrived home for supper and joined them, having shed his jacket and tie. Then, after the pudding dishes were whisked away by Mrs. K, Julia settled in the lounge with the children to watch a Christmas DVD when Douglas strolled in, holding a sheaf of typed papers that had black scrawling all over them.
She looked closely at the papers and saw it was her business plan.
His eyes met hers. “If you have a moment, Julia, I’d like to discuss this with you.”
She stared at the papers, unable to mask her horror.
“You’ve marked all over it,” she whispered.
“Ten minutes,” he said, his tone gentle.
From the marks she figured it would take ten hours but like a doomed man heading to the gallows, she followed him to his study.
He sat at his desk and she stood opposite.
“It’ll be hard for you to see from there,” he commented, quirking an arrogant brow.
She glared at him, already beside herself with curiosity that was mingled with hesitation warring with the feeling that she did not want to spend any more time alone with him than was absolutely necessary.
She didn’t trust him, not one bit.
But curiosity won out and with an undignified sigh, she walked around the desk and stood at his side.
He immediately began to explain his notes, using his Mont Blanc pen to indicate bold scratching and what they meant to her passages, patiently explaining what he wrote and why.
She found, against her will, that she was fascinated by what he had to say. He was very clever, thorough and intuitive. Despite herself, she leaned forward, bending at the h*ps to rest her elbows on his desk.
Finally, unable to hide her enthusiasm, she became fully engrossed, leaned into him, grabbed the pen out of his hand and started to write her own notes around his as he talked. Their heads were bent together over the document barely an inch apart.
When they came to the last page, she underlined (twice) a particularly salient concluding point and, lost in the pleasure of the work, turned her head to smile at him.
“This is brilliant,” she complimented him, unable to stop herself.
“It was very good before I started,” he replied, his eyes hooded but her mind was still fully consumed by the document.
“Thank you,” she replied, dismissing a compliment that, since it came from Douglas (who she knew had a very astute head for business), was very dear indeed.
Before she could turn her head away, he caught her chin in his hand and leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers in sweet, but hard, kiss.
Her body instantly froze but she had no time to have any further reaction as a sound came from the door.
Julia tore her chin out of his hand and shot upright.
Lizzie was standing at the door.
“Sorry,” their niece started to retreat then came back in a rush of two steps, a tentative grin settling on her face. She grabbed the doorknob and declared helpfully, “I’ll just close the –”
“Lizzie-babe, there’s no need,” Julia said but the door already closed with a snap.
In a dither (an actual dither), Julia grabbed the papers and started to move away. She halted, twirled and stammered, “Um, thanks Douglas… for this… it’s good.”
He had come to his feet and was watching her, his eyes actually dancing mischievously.
Dancing. Mischievously.
At his expression, she wanted to scream or throw herself into his arms. Instead she forced herself to start to leave again and noticed she still had his pen so she rushed back and held it out to him.
“Keep it,” he said, not looking at the pen, instead looking in her eyes.
“But it’s an expensive pen.”
He shrugged. “I have others.”
She ignored him, placed it carefully on the desk and fled the room.
The next day, Christmas Eve, she had no time to worry about Douglas as she was too worried about the children. Tammy and Gav always made Christmas a very special day for the kids and Julia wanted to be on her guard just in case they lapsed into the same melancholy that she felt edging every moment of her day.
They seemed to cope well with Willie and even Lizzie doing their best to stay jolly and Patricia helped by calling and making everyone laugh. They sat around most of the day, watching Christmas DVDs and eating. Julia made them homemade pizza for dinner, Douglas joined them finally and they all ate the pizza while watching Gavin’s favourite movie, White Christmas.