Billionaire Bosses Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

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      How could she up and leave without saying goodbye? Leaving a freaking note?

      He glared at the offending piece of paper in disgust, bitterness twisting his gut into knots.

      Growling in frustration, he shoved it in his pocket and headed for the storage room under the house where he stashed his gear. He had to hit the waves. It was the place he did his best thinking.

      However, as he stomped around, grabbing a wetsuit and his favourite board—the one with more dents than a dodgem—a funny thing happened.

      Some of his initial anger faded, to be replaced by a clarity that left him shaken.

      He paused mid-step, halfway between the storage room and his car.

      What the hell was he doing?

      It was Christmas morning—a time for warmth and caring and happiness. Emotions he’d been lacking lately, if he were honest with himself.

      Not this last week with Callie, but before that.

      Riding the tubes hadn’t held the same buzz in a long time, crashing in fancy hotel rooms after a competition had lost appeal, and the string of meaningless dates left him feeling faintly empty.

      The real reason behind the surf school had been to make his family sit up and take notice, see he was more than a sport-obsessed surfer, to show them they’d done wrong in not trusting him with his dad’s illness.

      But another underlying reason was that he’d wanted to give something back to the sport that had given him everything, and connecting with the kids at the beach last week had made him feel worthy in a way he hadn’t in for ever.

      That had been the hardest thing to realise over the years following his dad’s cancer disclosure—that somehow he hadn’t been worthy. He might now understand his dad’s motivation for secrecy, but it would take a while for his old beliefs to ease.

      Hanging with the teens had helped with that. Callie had too. He’d felt rejuvenated this last week, had truly felt close to a woman for the first time ever.

      She’d made him reassess the way he treated his family, made him see things in a new light. And he’d been happy in a way he hadn’t for a long time. So what the hell had happened?

      Buoyed by his overture towards his dad, he’d taken another risk and told her he had feelings for her. Why had she run?

      After she’d given him that gift last night he’d thought she felt the same way... Well, he’d thought wrong.

      The way he saw it, he had two options. Forget about the gift he’d bought her, then head for the surf before boarding that plane this afternoon and heading back to the life he knew.

      Or quit running and confront Callie.

      He headed for the car, the board tucked under his arm suddenly weighing him down. When he stowed it in the back, the weight didn’t shift. Then his gaze landed on the red Roadster he’d driven Callie here in—a replica of the car they’d explored Italy’s south coast with.

      He remembered the thrill of taking the curves of a spectacular scenic route, laughing and teasing, and later he’d explored her sensational curves in minute detail.

      He’d wanted to resurrect the past—this car was testament to that—but was he willing to try a different outcome this time?

      What would his life be like if he didn’t walk away second time round? If he made a full-blown declaration and truly trusted her with his heart?

      Terror made his hands shake, and he stuffed them into the pockets of his board shorts.

      He had his answer right there.

      He’d re-established a bond with his dad and he’d never felt so relieved. Taking a risk on people wasn’t all bad. And he wouldn’t be feeling this sick unless he really felt something for Callie. Something that went deeper than caring.

      The question was, how far was he willing to go to prove it to her?

      * * *

      Callie had put on a brave face for her mum. She’d made a show of savouring the cardboard-tasting turkey and dry Christmas pud, she’d sung the loudest through the residents’ carolling, and she’d fake-laughed over each and every corny joke pulled from a cracker.

      She’d thought she’d done a pretty good job of pretending there was nothing wrong. Until she wheeled her mum back to her room and Nora snagged her hand, concern deepening the fatigue lines in her sunken cheeks.

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      Callie opened her mouth to protest but Nora shook her head.

      ‘Do me a favour, sweetheart, and let me be a mum to you in whatever way I can.’

      As a guilt trip, it worked. She’d been taking care of her mum for a while now, and she knew it irked the once independent Nora.

      Nora had relished her role as a single mum, not once complaining. When a job had needed doing, she’d got on and done it, so to have her mobility and her dignity curtailed by this dreadful disease... Callie couldn’t begin to fathom how awful it must be.

      ‘Work pressures. Nothing major,’ she said, not wanting to worry her mum—not today.

      Nora had always loved Christmas with all the trimmings: roast turkey and stuffing, trifle, pudding—the works. They’d always had a fresh tree and stuffed stockings, and a day made all the more special by a mother who’d do anything for her only child.

      It might have been understated and only the two of them, but it had meant a lot to her mum.

      Now those Christmases were in the past, but the least Callie could do was not ruin this Christmas for Nora. Not when she’d already ruined her own.

      Nora searched her face, as if seeking the truth, and Callie ducked down to give her an impulsive hug. ‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’m fine.’

      And then she glanced over her mum’s shoulder and saw Archer hovering in the doorway.

      ‘What the?’

      ‘Callie?’

      She straightened and laid a comforting hand on her mum’s shoulder, hoping her glare conveyed what she wanted: for Archer to turn around and leave the way he’d come.

      Following her line of vision, Nora slowly swivelled until she too faced Archer.

      ‘Can I help you, young man?’

      He hesitated a moment, before squaring his shoulders and stepping into the room. ‘I sure hope so, Mrs Umberto.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘I’m Archer Flett, a friend of your daughter’s.’

      The way he gently shook Nora’s hand eased Callie’s anger somewhat. Though she couldn’t figure out why she was so angry. Was she upset at him showing up here, or upset at herself for wanting to fling herself at him despite a definitive goodbye?

      Well, on her part anyway. It looked СКАЧАТЬ