Page 45 of All I Want for Christmas

‘But it looks so good. What if I can’t?’ she protested, jokingly reaching a hand towards it.

He caught her hand with his. ‘Sometimes we have to.’

The joke was gone as she looked up at the wordweto find him openly – hungrily – staring at her, at her mouth. She was transported back to their first few moments in the National Gallery, when the flirtation had been open and strong; not something to deny or repress or pretend wasn’t happening. Would it be so terrible if he were to kiss her? After all, Freja and Tristan worked together, andtheywere making a success of it.

But he dropped her hand and turned away, decanting the boxes, before carrying the plates over to the table.

She followed him, the two of them taking their places again, as at breakfast. In silence, she helped herself to a little of everything.

‘This is what you should try first,’ he murmured, pushing towards her a singular white scallop wrapped with a lacy,deep red vine. Like the cake, it too was sitting on a small white fluted dish, as if they were dining in the restaurant itself. ‘It’s a scallop, gently grilled and served with blackcurrant and a dried scallop roe infusion.’

She peered at it. ‘The lacy bit is blackcurrant?’

He nodded.

‘So not only do you have world-class art on your walls, your food is art too?’

‘Not every day, but I thought perhaps you’d appreciate it.’

For a moment she had thought he was going to say it was a special occasion.

She watched as he carefully split the scallop with a fork and held it out towards her. ‘Try it.’

She looked at it, hesitating as she saw that he wasn’t handing her the fork to take from him. It felt intimate to her but his gaze was inscrutable and she leaned forwards, her mouth opening for him as he gently fed her. Automatically her eyes closed as the flavours hit her tastebuds.

‘Well?’

‘Oh my God,’ she groaned, not wanting to swallow but to savour the taste for as long as she could. She opened her eyes again. ‘...Bastard. You’ve ruined me.’

He grinned. ‘Have more.’ He held up the other forkful.

‘You’re a feeder,’ she muttered, taking it with more hunger this time.

He arched an eyebrow. ‘You clearly don’t eat enough.’

‘Oh, I eat plenty,’ she shrugged. ‘Just in fits and starts. Some days I’ll eat like a fairy and others, like a trucker.’

He laughed at that, his shoulders shaking, and she realized it was the first time she had seen him actually let himself go, even for a moment. It made him seem younger.

They ate with appetite after that, sharing the dishes, hereyes closing at the profusion of flavours, little sighs of happiness escaping her as he forked different samples onto her plate for her to try. ‘Oh God, this is so good.Sogood.’

He looked bemused, watching her.

‘What?’

‘You do a little nod of your head every time you like something,’ he said, doing an impression of her.

‘No I don’t.’ Did she? She had never noticed.

He shrugged.

‘Well, you smoosh your mouth to the side when you’re reading,’ she countered.

He looked scandalized, his brows coming together in a deep frown. ‘I don’tsmoosh.’

‘Oh, you do.’

He paused for a beat. ‘Darcy, I don’t smoosh.’

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