A Christmas Affair. Кэрол Мортимер

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      She took one last lingering look at the room and the man before rushing out of the door.

      How she managed to say goodbye to Mary and the other secretaries in the outer office she didn't know; her throat was aching with the effort of holding back the tears by the time she got outside the building, and she almost fell inside the taxi she hailed.

      And then the tears fell like a waterfall.

      The driver shot her a worried glance in his driving-mirror. ‘Christmas party?’

      She would have laughed at the suggestion if she could have stopped feeling miserable long enough; the closest Dominic came to recognising Christmas was to let his staff leave an hour earlier than usual!

      But she nodded anyway, because it was what the driver obviously expected to hear, and also because she was starting to cry again.

      Thank God she had packed her case and done her few errands before going to the office this morning. Now she just wanted to get away, pausing only long enough to change into warm clothes for the journey ahead of her. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in her flat any longer than she had to be.

      Which was why she muttered and mumbled to herself as the doorbell rang just as she was bending down to pick up her suitcase. It was probably the janitor calling for his Christmas tip!

      She stared dazedly up at Dominic as he stood outside her door, no longer the suave executive in the formal suit, but looking just as devastatingly attractive in fitted black trousers and a thick Aran sweater worn beneath a black leather jacket.

      Having resigned herself to the possibility of perhaps never seeing him again, Cathy could only stare at him in stunned surprise.

      ‘As you're so adamant about going down to Devon again today,’ he told her in measured tones, ‘I've decided to drive you.’