Page 90 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
“Oh, yes.” She jumped up and crossed to the CD player, ejecting the Floyd album. “Amy lovesSleeping Beauty— would ‘Once Upon a Dream’ work?”
“Yes, that’s perfect.”
It felt so easy, so natural, taking her in his arms and beginning to move to the music. She was concentrating on her steps, and he had to remind himself to do the same. That subtle, feminine perfume was drugging his mind.
He glanced around the room. Sarah had come here often. She would have sat on the sofa where he had just been sittinghimself. He could almost see her sitting there, smiling the way she did, nodding her approval.
She was my best friend. What could be better?
Yes, Sarah would want him to be happy again, to find love again. She wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his life alone.
For a long moment, he hesitated. It was a risk . . . “Kate, I . . .” He drew in a steadying breath. “You’re my friend and I . . . I don’t want to lose that. But . . . do you think there’s a chance . . . Could we be more than friends?”
Those soft brown eyes gazed up into his. For a long moment he thought she was going to push him away, tell him not to be ridiculous, but then a slow, sweet smile curved her pretty mouth.
“I . . . I think so. I’d like that.”
Warmth flooded through his veins, and he bent his head to brush his lips over hers. He felt a small tremor run through her slim body. Those neat, hardworking hands gripped his shoulders, and her flowery, feminine perfume drifted into his senses.
And a small voice in the back of his head seemed to whisper,What took you so long?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Hi, Mum.”
Kate was swaying and humming along to the lilting melody of ‘Fairytale of New York’ as she hung gold and silver baubles on the small Christmas tree she had set up in the corner of the café. She turned to greet Debbie with a wide smile.
“Hello there, my luvver. Is it still raining?”
“Pouring.” Debbie laughed as she paused in the doorway to shake out her umbrella. “Still, I suppose after the lovely summer we’ve had we can’t really complain.”
“Not at all.”
“I made some of the cinnamon rolls and some more apple puffs.” She lifted the box out of her shopping bag.
“Ah, that’s good. Those apple puffs went really well yesterday.”
Debbie dropped a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek as she passed through to the kitchen. “How’s Mike?”
Kate felt the heat rise instantly to her cheeks. “Oh . . . fine.”
Debbie’s eyes widened. “Mum, you’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not.” She knew she was blushing harder. “I was cooking. It’s hot in the kitchen.”
“Oh? Are you sure you haven’t got something to tell me?”
“Of course not. You sound like you’remymum.”
Debbie laughed. “All right. If you want to keep your secrets . . .”
“There’s no secrets. We’ve just . . . been dancing a few times. And I’ve enjoyed it.”
“Well, that’s good.”
Except there were secrets — secrets she wasn’t ready to tell yet. Not even to her daughter. Secret hopes, secret dreams — secrets of kissing Mike Slade.
She’d always been fond of him, but as a friend, her best friend’s husband. And after Sarah died they’d mourned her together. It had never occurred to her to think of him in any other way — until that night when they’d danced at Debbie’s wedding.
