Rags To Riches Collection. Rebecca Winters

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      ‘Daddy—’ Ella clasped him tight about the neck ‘—we have to see if Santa’s been.’

      Nicola shook herself, trying to dispel images that had nothing to do with Christmas and everything to do with Cade and rumpled sheets. ‘We...uh...thought you might like to join us.’

      ‘You were right.’

      His blue eyes sent her a simple message—thank you. It turned her to mush.

      Oh, grow a backbone, Nicola Ann!

      She ousted her mother’s voice from her head immediately. It was Christmas. She wasn’t going to tolerate that voice today.

      ‘Shall I lead the way?’ she asked Ella.

      Ella nodded and, without further ado, Nicola set off for the living room. She might not need a backbone, but a little steel in her legs wouldn’t have gone amiss. The presence of warm male flesh moving so closely behind her leached the strength from her limbs with each step she took.

      She hummed “Jingle Bells” under her breath in an effort to ignore and counter her traitorous body’s reaction. Her newfound Christmas optimism and excitement—it left her so much more receptive to...to other things it would be wiser not to name.

      She paused on the threshold of the living room, caught Ella’s eye and smiled, and then with an arm partly around the little girl and partly around the father who carried her, she swept them all into the room.

      Ella’s eyes widened. They grew as large as frisbees as she stared at each of the stockings tacked to the mantelpiece, all full to bursting.

      ‘See, sweetie? Didn’t I tell you Santa would come?’

      Ella pressed her face to Cade’s neck and promptly burst into tears.

      He stared at Nicola over the top of Ella’s head, his eyes wide with panic.

      Nicola shook her head and gave him a thumbs-up. ‘Excitement,’ she mouthed silently.

      In no time, Ella wriggled from her father’s arms and had seized her stocking, squealing in delight as she extracted her bounty.

      In less than ten minutes, the rest of the family had joined them, Verity carrying Holly. With nothing to do but to watch and enjoy, Nicola sat back and took it all in, soaked up the joy and awe of the children, the warmth and affection of the adults and the promised magic of the day.

      ‘You okay?’ Cade asked, plonking himself beside her on the sofa, one of his hands resting briefly on her knee.

      ‘Yes, of course. I...’

      To her horror, she found her eyes prickling with tears. Cade’s expression sharpened in a heartbeat. He moved towards her but she shook her head, gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed ‘excitement’ to him. He grinned then and she was grateful she witnessed it through a sheen of tears or it might well have slayed her where she sat.

      When she was sure she could speak without disgracing herself, she said, ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before except on the telly. I’ve never experienced this much...unadulterated joy.’

      His eyes softened, those amazing blue eyes that could look as hard as the sky or as soft as a breeze, depending on their mood. ‘Nic—’

      ‘No, no.’ She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. ‘It’s wonderful.’ She beamed at him. ‘I want to thank you for letting me be a part of it.’

      She couldn’t explain to him what a privilege she found it...or what a revelation. In Melbourne she’d developed a veneer of cynicism about Christmas to protect herself from disappointment and inevitable letdown. She realised now how self-defeating that had become. She made a vow to dispense with that cynicism for good. Christmas should never be a chore or something to run away from. It should be celebrated and cherished.

      * * *

      Cade tried to keep his attention on the children—on their merriment, their wide-eyed delight and their comical glee with their presents—but the smell of strawberry jam filled his senses and he found his eyes returning to Nicola again and again.

      Her eyes shone with as much delight as the children’s. A soft smile curved her lips. He found it particularly hard to drag his gaze from those soft, plump, kissable, strawberry-jam-scented curves. If he could have just one Christmas wish, it would be for another taste of those lips. Not a quick brush of his lips against hers, but a thorough and devastating rediscovery of their shape and texture, of their give and take, of their taste and the way her body with its killer curves melted into his when—

      ‘Daddy?’ A tug on his shirtsleeve brought him back with a start. A glance at Nicola’s pink-tinged cheeks told him his hungry survey hadn’t gone unobserved.

      Friends! He’d promised they’d be friends. Nothing more.

      He swiped a forearm across his brow. He had to get these darn hormones back under wraps before they flared out of control and brought him undone. But, damn it, they dodged and weaved and bucked his restraint with greater ferocity than the brumbies he’d been breaking in these last few weeks.

      ‘Daddy?’ Another tug.

      ‘What, princess?’

      ‘When can we open the presents under the tree?’

      The presents under the tree were from the family members to each other.

      Ella hopped from one foot to the other. ‘I have five presents under there!’

      He understood the lure and excitement of presents—he’d admit to a certain amount of curiosity about the present under there with his name on the gift tag, written in Nicola’s neat schoolteacher’s hand—but he didn’t want his daughter growing up to think that was all Christmas was about.

      ‘Not until after Grandma reads us the Christmas story after breakfast. Then we’ll all take turns to say what we’re grateful for. That was a tradition from his own childhood.

      Ella leaned in close. ‘I’m grapeful for lots and lots of things, Daddy.’ She climbed up onto his knee and snuggled in close. ‘I’m very grapeful that Santa came, that he didn’t forget. And I’m grapeful that you’re here and Holly and Grandma and Nic and Harry and Auntie Dee and Uncle Keith and Simon and Jamie...and that it’s like a big party.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Aren’t you grapeful for that?’

      His chest expanded until he thought it might explode. He had to swallow before he could speak, infected by all that darn female emotion that had been flying around no doubt. ‘You bet.’

      But as Ella slid off his knee with a final squeeze, he knew he couldn’t blame anyone else for the prickle of heat that threatened his eyes and his heart. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to—he’d given his daughters the Christmas they deserved. It filled him up and made him breathe easier. He would never neglect Christmas again. Never. It was too important. In a world that could be cold and brutal, it was too...necessary.

      He glanced at Nicola. His children’s infuriatingly delightful nanny had helped him make this day a reality, just like she’d promised she would. He wondered if she realised that was because of who she innately СКАЧАТЬ