Название: A Spanish Christmas
Автор: PENNY JORDAN
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
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Esteban arrived and then departed with Elena’s cases, whilst Meg waited in trepidation for Christian to return to release her to go down to the car with her own luggage, whilst he made sure the apartment was securely locked.
The apartment door opened and Christian strode in, giving Meg an inimical, sweeping glance.
‘You have everything?’ he asked her, the tone he used to her far more curt and abrasive than the soft affectionate one he used to his godmother, Meg noticed.
Simply nodding her head tersely, she bent to pick up her two cases, intending to make her way to the lift and then down to the waiting car, leaving him to lock the flat on his own.
She was wearing the clothes she had travelled to Spain in, but today she was carrying her jacket over her arm, deeming the soft cashmere sweater she was wearing warm enough for the car journey. Just to be on the safe side, she had also swathed a toning honey-coloured pashmina around herself.
As she leaned forward to pick up her cases, Christian stopped her, telling her, ‘I’ll carry those.’
It was on the tip of Meg’s tongue to remind him sharply that she was not a sixty-year-old invalid like his godmother, and was more than capable of carrying her own bags, but the truth was that her injured wrist and hand were feeling stiff and painful. She knew that she would have to carry each of her bags out into the hallway individually, and that her medical bag was particularly heavy.
Even so, her eyes smouldered with the feelings caution told her it would be unwise to voice and, for a moment, as their glances clashed, Meg could see in Christian’s an answering smoulder daring her to defy him, before it was banished to be replaced by a look of coolly thoughtful consideration.
In silence, he placed her bags outside the apartment door in the elegant hallway, then told her, ‘We’ll go down in the lift together, if you will just wait until I have secured the apartment.’
Only the fact that she was wary of trying to carry her medical bag prevented Meg from going down to the car on her own. Not that he kept her waiting long … She had barely had time to do more than chide herself for the way she was reacting to him when he was locking the outer door to the apartment and striding past her to summon the lift.
As Meg had already discovered for herself, the lift to the apartments was not exactly generously proportioned. It held Elena’s wheelchair with Elena in it and herself—just—which meant that it allowed two fully grown adults, especially if one of them was over six foot in height and with the breadth of shoulder surely more appropriate for a top-scoring polo player than a businessman, just about enough room, provided they did not mind sharing their own personal ‘space’.
Even with her two cases in the lift between them, Meg still discovered that her body felt that Christian was standing very intimately close. But that was still no excuse for it to start reacting as though it liked that proximity rather than objected to it.
Determinedly, Meg stared forward, her soft lips clamped tightly closed. There was no way she was going to allow Christian to guess how idiotically her body was behaving. But suddenly the lift jolted to a halt, throwing Meg off balance and into Christian and, of course, it was only natural that he should reach out to steady her. Field her was probably a more appropriate term, Meg recognised, the breath whooshing out of her lungs as she collided with the impressive hardness of his chest.
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