One More for Christmas(15)

“You don’t really know me, Kyle, and that’s my fault not yours. I—I’m not the person you think I am. I mean I am, but I’m also so much more. The real me wants to have a love affair so all-consuming that I forget to go to work—instead of forgetting the man and the date because I’m at work. I want to sneak off in my lunch break and buy sexy lingerie, instead of eating at my desk and taking calls. I want to drink champagne naked in bed, not seated in a theater bar surrounded by strangers. I want to have wild, desperate sex without caring when or where, and I definitely don’t want to think about work at the same time. I—I want to see stars when I’m kissed.”

Had she just said that aloud? Had she really just said that?

It was all very well resolving to be more open and honest, but it had left her feeling exposed and uncomfortable. She might as well have paraded down Newbury Street naked. Thank goodness she was ending it and wouldn’t have to face him again. This was what happened when she let wild Samantha take control. That version of her needed to stay locked away inside where she could cause minimum damage.

Dying of embarrassment, she forced out a few more words. “So what I’m saying is it’s over. And I don’t think this will be too much of a shock to you. I know there are many things about me that annoy you—not least the fact that my sister is so important to me and we speak every day. But that is never going to change, and neither is the whole passion thing, so I think we should both just accept the way things are and agree, amicably, that it’s been fun but it’s time to end it.”

There. She’d done it. She’d said it. In fact she’d said far too much.

Samantha closed her eyes and breathed slowly to try and slow her racing heart. She hadn’t realized her feelings were quite so close to the surface.

Kyle still hadn’t responded, which she took to be a sign that he was shocked by her frankness. She was shocked, too. Drinking champagne in bed, naked? Where had that come from?

She gave him a few moments to respond and then gave up waiting. “This is... I’m starting to feel a little awkward...” Understatement of the century. “Say something. Anything.”

There was only silence on the end of the phone.

Samantha felt a rush of exasperation, but also a growing sense of conviction that she’d done the right thing by breaking up with him. She’d spilled every one of her emotions all over him. She’d been honest and open, the way all those relationship books said you should be, and what had she got in return? Not warmth and understanding, but silence.

“Kyle? What do you think?”

“What do I think?”

The voice on the end of the phone was deep, rough and entirely unfamiliar.

“I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. We’ve never had dinner, boring or otherwise, and we’ve also never had sex, so I wouldn’t know about the chemistry, but drinking champagne naked in bed sounds like a pretty good date to me. And I have no idea who Kyle is, but clearly he’s a guy who needs to get his act together. Because you’re right—no one wants or needs a bland, neutral, polite relationship.”

Samantha sat without moving. Without breathing.

Who...?

Charlotte was supposed to be calling two people for her: Kyle, and Brodie McIntyre, the guy who owned the lodge in the Scottish Highlands.

If she hadn’t been speaking to Kyle, then that could only mean...

Without saying another word, she reached for the vodka and downed it in one gulp.



Ella


“One mouthful.” Ella Mitchell sliced the broccoli into smaller pieces and gave her daughter an encouraging smile. “Just one.”

“Want a hug, Mommy.”

“Oh no—” Ella gave a firm shake of her head. “You are not hugging your way out of this one. First comes broccoli. Then comes the hug.”

Tabitha screwed up her face. “Why?”

Everything was why. Why, why, why.

“Because it’s delicious and it’s good for you.”

“It’s yucky.”

“Not yucky. It’s a superfood. It will make you strong and healthy.” Using all the wrong arguments, Ella. “Also, most importantly, it looks like a Christmas tree.” Seeing Tab’s frown, she held up a stalk of broccoli as evidence.

“A Christmas tree has more needles.”

“True. But from a distance—”

Tab shook her head. “A Christmas tree is bigger.”

Ella abandoned that line of persuasion. “How about because if you eat your veggies, I will feel like a good mom. And I want to feel like a good mom.”

“I want to be a unicorn.”

Ella laughed and filed that remark to share with Michael later. They’d laugh about it over dinner. Childhood goals. “Unicorns eat broccoli.”

Tab’s eyes, the same hypnotic blue as her father’s, narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because they know what’s good for them.”

Tab poked at her broccoli. “How do you know they eat broccoli?”

Ella wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or frustrated that her daughter didn’t take anything at face value. “Their diet is as mythical as the creature, but it is widely assumed that in order to grow a horn and have magical qualities they need to consume good levels of Vitamin D, calcium, potassium and phosphorus.”