The Christmas Project: A laugh-out-loud romance from bestselling author Maxine Morrey. Maxine Morrey

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      ‘Jesus, you look frozen to the bone. Get in here.’ He reached an arm out and took the bag I was carrying, hurrying me through the door at the same time.

      ‘It’s so cold out there today!’ I said conversationally as I shed my coat and almost immediately started shivering. I put my coat back on. ‘Actually I think I might keep this on for a bit longer.’

      ‘I’ll get us some hot drinks. Don’t worry the bedroom is nice and warm.’

      I looked up in surprise. And for once, Michael O’Farrell wasn’t wearing that self-assured, confident look. His face showed almost as much surprise as mine.

      ‘That sounded a lot different from how it was supposed to.’

      ‘Right.’

      ‘I just meant that the bedroom – the guest room – you wanted to make a start on today is warm. For us to work in. Work on. Oh, for Christ’s sake. Put me out of my misery, will you?’ His face was equal parts pain and amusement.

      I laughed and saw his face relax entirely. It was something that had been happening from a little more the last couple of visits and I was glad of it. I’d hated the tense atmosphere of the first session. It wasn’t only uncomfortable, but it stirred up memories I wanted to keep buried. This slight relaxation in the mood worked much better for me. And I couldn’t help but think it better for Michael too. Don’t get me wrong, we were hardly friends, but for the most part he wasn’t glaring at me and I wasn’t calling him names, so we had definitely moved on a little.

      I pulled a couple of items out from under the spare bed. In one hand I held a copy of The Hungry Caterpillar, in the other the tiniest thong I had ever seen.

      ‘Interesting combination.’ I held them up to Michael.

      ‘Oh! That’s where it went. My nephew was looking for that.’

      ‘Not to be judgemental, but I really hope you’re talking about the book.’

      He smiled at me. ‘I am.’

      I looked at the pants dangling in my other hand, barely held by the minimum portion of fingertip and thumb required.

      ‘I think the hungry caterpillar may have been at these. They can’t possibly have been that tiny to start with.’ I shifted my eyes to him. ‘I take it these aren’t yours?’

      ‘No. Not really my colour.’

      ‘Any idea whose they are? Is she likely to want them back?’

      He wrinkled his brow, then tilted his head at them, thinking. I gave an eye roll and shook my head.

      ‘What?’

      ‘The fact that you have to think that hard about it!’

      ‘Oh, don’t be such a prude.’

      ‘I am not a prude! But neither have I ever left anywhere “sans knickers”. Although frankly they’re so small as to be practically pointless anyway.’

      ‘I think they were more for effect.’

      ‘Clearly they had the desired one.’

      He tilted his head at me and grinned. ‘Are you jealous?’

      ‘What? Of course I’m not jealous. Don’t be ridiculous.’

      He gave me a look. ‘If you say so.’

      ‘I most certainly do say so. Now, what do you want to do with these? Will you be seeing her again and able to return them?’

      He scrunched his face. ‘Doubt it.’

      ‘Oh. So you do at least remember who they belong to now? That’s something I suppose.’

      ‘I thought you said you weren’t going to be judgemental.’

      ‘I said that about your nephew. Not you.’

      ‘OK. Then for your records – as you seem to make them for everything – her name was Eva. She’s a Russian model, incredibly beautiful. I had an early morning appointment and she was very snappy that she had to leave early, from what I remember. Apparently not a morning person.’

      ‘Whereas I’m sure you’re absolutely delightful.’ My tone implied I believed he was probably anything but.

      ‘I am the epitome of cheer.’

      I threw a disbelieving glance.

      ‘Just bin them. She won’t be calling.’

      ‘Sure?’

      ‘Positive. I got the impression she didn’t get turfed out of a man’s bed at 6 a.m. very often.’

      ‘I imagine not.’

      ‘In my defence, I had told her about the appointment and that I needed to leave early the following morning.’

      ‘I guess she didn’t think that applied to her too.’

      ‘I was hardly going to leave her alone in my house all day. I’d only met her that evening.’

      ‘And yet deemed that long enough to take her to bed.’

      ‘It wasn’t like I dragged her here. She came of her own free will.’ His eyes danced with mirth at the double entendre. I flung the pants at him and walked out of the room.

      ‘Can I ask you something?’ I said, as I hauled some more ‘accumulated items’ out from the wardrobe.

      ‘I should think so. Can’t guarantee I’ll answer it but you can give it a go.’

      I shot him a look that told him what I thought of that reply.

      He shrugged. ‘Honest answer,’ he said, disappearing under the bed to unearth whatever treasures lay under there. After the pants incident, we’d decided to swap places.

      ‘Evasive answer,’ I said, stretching on my tiptoes to reach the higher items. My fingertips brushed them and I took a step back, looking to see if there was a chair I could use. I giggled as my gaze fell on Michael. He was wriggling about under the bed, pulling things out, interspersed with the occasional sneeze. What particularly caught my eye was how nice his bum looked in those jeans. I hadn’t actually noticed before, but it really was –

      ‘You’ve gone quiet. That makes me suspicious.’ His statement interrupted my thoughts.

      ‘What?’ I said, blushing and supremely glad he was still wedged under the bed so he couldn’t see.

      ‘You said you were going to ask a question and then just went silent. Should I be worried?’

      ‘No. I was just concentrating on…something.’

       Which most definitely wasn’t how nice your bum is.

      ‘Right.’

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