Page 48 of All I Want for Christmas

For a moment, as his hand moved to her hair, she thought he hadn’t heard it; but when it came again thirty seconds later, he pulled back slightly, though still didn’t get up. Instead, they sat face to face in their own world, breathless with passion, his gaze reaching deep into her and finding what he wanted to see; what she wanted to hide, but couldn’t.

He kissed her again, their urgency growing even as the doorbell rang once more.

‘Hadn’t you better get that?’ she breathed, her lips still against his, not wanting to break apart.

‘No,’ he replied, refusing to release her. The kiss had made prisoners of them both and this intrusion, this threat, only increased their desperation. She felt his grip around her tighten as her body pressed against his, touching at every point.

The bell rang again. ‘...They sound insistent.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘...It could be important.’

‘No.’ He increased his hold on her, but this time she did pull back.

‘You don’t know that.’

He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers in frustration. ‘...Someone had better be dying,’ he muttered under his breath, breathless too. ‘...Don’t move. I’ll get rid of them.’

He got up, striding over to the door, and looked back at her with open want for a moment before disappearing down the stairs.

Darcy sat in silence for a moment, grateful for the brief reprieve. She needed to get her breath back. She’d never been kissed like that before. She’d never felt her own edges blur, her body so completely overrule her mind...Not that she needed talking out of anything. He had been the one pushing for boundaries, not her, and if the dinner with Tristan and Freja last night had proved anything, it was that it was – somehow – possible to sleep together and still maintain a professional relationship. Why not them, too? In his arms just now, everything had felt so natural between them – effortless and inevitable – it was as if she was simply allowing water to flow downhill. Letting Nature take its course.

In her mind, she heard Freja’s voice telling her he was everything she didn’t need. And it was true that the more she saw of his life, the more she saw the differences between them. He came from and belonged in a different world to hers.

And yet, she would deny him nothing. She didn’t care if they didn’t match or suit. Freja hadn’t seen the connection between them. The chemistry was too strong to ignore.

She reached for her glass of wine and took a deep slug, hernerves rising as she anticipated his return and everything that would follow. Him, in that doorway, coming towards her. For her...

His voice drifted up the stairs and she strained to hear, but the words were indistinct. Until, suddenly, they weren’t. She heard a woman’s voice rise with...frustration? Anger?

She heard the low bass of Max’s voice, also getting louder: ‘...didn’t agree this!’

‘Can’t we be spontaneous?...was missing you!...you’d call!’

Darcy caught her breath. Angelina.

‘...come back!’

Her heart pounded with sudden guilt and shame. They were together, she knew that. What was she doing, allowing herself to be seduced by a man she had seen with his girlfriend, only the day before?

Hurriedly, Darcy put down her wine glass and picked up the letter again as she heard footsteps running on the stairs. In a panic, she perched herself on the front edge of the sofa cushions to look less at home. She cupped her chin in her hand and was reading intently when, moments later, the door was pushed open.

She readied herself with a polite smile, but the woman stopped in her tracks at the sight of her.

‘Hi—’ Darcy’s voice trailed off.

Max came up behind the woman a second later, looking tense. There was a taut silence. Darcy felt as if her heart was about to fall from its perch to her feet. She saw Max slump a little as he recognized the look of shock – and dismay – in her eyes. He swallowed.

‘Darcy, this is Natalia. Natalia, Darcy,’ he mumbled.

Wow. It really was a revolving door policy he had going.And she had been right on the cusp of stepping into it. She felt stupid. Humiliated. Meaningless.

‘Hello,Natalia.’ She smiled benignly, as best she could, at the woman: tall, blonde. Model.

‘Darcy and I work together,’ he said as the woman spun on her heel to look back at him accusingly. And rightly so. ‘She’s researching a project at the gallery.’

‘Oh, really?’ Her words were heavily accented with Russian and sarcasm. She didn’t sound like she believed a word of it.

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