She nodded. The name fitted the man, she decided, leaning her head back against the sofa. Strong. Masculine. ‘Well, Jake Blackwell, I haven’t thanked you properly for rescuing me today.’
‘It was my pleasure.’ His gaze lingered on her face. ‘It’s good to have company on Christmas Day. But promise me you won’t go out in the mountains again without the proper equipment and experienced company.’
She lifted her head. ‘I’ll do something about the equipment but the company is outside my control. I’ve only just moved to the area. I don’t know anyone.’
‘You know me.’ His quiet statement hovered in the air between them and there was something in his eyes that made her stomach flip.
She gave herself a mental shake and looked away, determined to ignore all the signals that her body was sending her. Mind over matter. Common sense over chemistry.
‘I’m sure you have better things to do than walk with a complete beginner who thinks that a whiteout is something you can achieve with a good washing powder.’
He laughed. ‘Not really. Any time you want to walk in the hills, I’ll be happy to act as escort.’
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky and she still didn’t dare meet his eyes. Neither did she think it worth telling him that, after today, she wouldn’t be seeing him again.
How could she?
It just wasn’t possible. Her life was already more complicated than she would ever have believed possible and so far she hadn’t begun to work out how she was going to unravel it all. And, anyway, he probably wasn’t interested in tomorrow either. Hadn’t he been honest about the fact that he just didn’t want to spend Christmas Day on his own?
‘You ought to eat something. I’ll go and raid the kitchen and then we can sprawl on the sofa and watch agonisingly awful Christmas television. We can spend the afternoon guessing what’s really happening behind the happy families.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
He brought out a selection of food and switched on the television but, in the end, they talked more than they watched and it was dark by the time Miranda glanced at her watch and realised how late it was.
She really ought to be going, she thought reluctantly, but somehow couldn’t find the enthusiasm or motivation necessary to move. And was that surprising? All that awaited her was a cold, cheerless bedroom in an equally cheerless flat. But at least it was cheap, which was the important thing. At the moment she just needed to save her money.
Jake had retreated to the kitchen in search of more food and she flicked idly through the channels, stopping at the picture of a sad-loo
king child. The narrator informed her in low, mournful tones that the little girl was just one of many children waiting for adoption who would be without parents this year.
Miranda felt tears prick her eyes and blinked furiously. What on earth was the matter with her? Then she gave a sigh. She knew exactly why she was feeling so emotional, but it didn’t make it any easier to cope with!
Strolling back into the room with a plate full of warm mince pies, Jake deposited them on the nearest table and sat down next to her on the sofa. ‘You look really sad. What’s the matter? Are you crying?’
Horrified at her uncharacteristic lack of control, she summoned up a smile, wishing he hadn’t chosen that precise moment to come back into the room. ‘Of course I’m not crying. Just a bit tired, I think.’ It was a partial truth. ‘Just ignore me. I need to go home and go to bed.’
‘Not until you’ve sampled these gorgeous mince pies. And if you think I’m going to let you go home when you’re upset, you don’t know me. It’s still early. There’s no hurry.’ His expression was concerned. ‘I wish you’d tell me what’s the matter. Is it the whole Christmas thing?’
‘No. I’m just being stupid.’ Despite her best efforts, her eyes filled again. She heard him give a soft curse and then she was pulled into his arms.
He was all hard muscle and masculine strength and for a long, indulgent moment she closed her eyes and allowed herself the luxury of leaning on someone. Just for a moment, she promised herself. What harm could it do?
Then he released her slightly and slipped his fingers under her chin, tilting her face to look at him. ‘You’re very beautiful, do you know that?’ His voice was low and husky and she felt her heart bang hard against her ribs as she stared into those, blue, blue eyes.
Pull away now, Miranda, a voice said inside her head, but she suddenly found that she couldn’t move.
His gaze lingered on hers, dropped to her mouth and then his head lowered.
And he kissed her. Gently at first, his mouth brushing over hers, his gaze holding her trapped. Then he coaxed her lips apart with the tip of his tongue and slid both hands into her hair, holding her head steady while he took the kiss several stages further.
Her eyes drifted shut and suddenly she felt as though she were falling. Her head spun, her body felt suddenly weak and everything inside her was either pounding or fluttering.
Never before, in her entire adult life, had she felt like this.
By the time he finally lifted his head, she couldn’t remember why she’d been crying. She couldn’t remember anything.
‘Oh… You… I should go,’ she muttered in a feeble attempt to regain some sort of control.