fatherâs knees. âCome and see what Father Christmas put in my stocking, Daddy. Lots and lots and lots.â
âFirst things first, little Zoe,â he said, carefully removing a sprig of mistletoe from the buttonhole of his jacket as he stepped into the hall.
Fascinated, Lauren watched as he held the green-leaved twig over his daughterâs dark head, then bent and kissed her.
âLauren says we must do everything according to tradition on Christmas day, Zoe,â he said, straightening up again, with the mistletoe held high.
âKiss Lauren, too, then, Daddy,â Zoe instructed.
His head turned and, before Lauren could move away, his lips met hers.
She was aware of a faint trace of spice. That his skin was cold from the outside air. That his mouth was gentle and undemanding. And then it was gone, leaving her with a strange sense of regret.
âNow, come and see all my presents, Daddy. Theyâre upstairs in my bedroom. I had a really, really ginormous stocking and it was filled right to the top, and there wasââ
The little girlâs voice died away when she reached the top of the stairs and went into her bedroom. Lauren pushed the front door shut. She was surrounded by a feeling of déjà vuâ only this time, there was no mistaking that this really had been a kiss.
The turkey was still on the table when she went into the kitchen. Automatically she spooned the juices over it, re-wrapped its foil, and replaced it in the oven, while her mind whirled with a turmoil of thoughts.
Why did I just stand there? Why didnât I move away? Heâs probably spent the morning with that piece of mistletoe, kissing every nurse in sight. Itâs the kind of think Rick would do.
But even as she thought it, she knew she was wrong. No matter how great their similarity in looks, Matthew and her ex-husband were as unalike as chalk and cheese.
CHAPTER FIVE
Zoe was back in the kitchen before Lauren realised. âDaddy said youâd want me to help you some more.â
He was getting her presents in from the car, Lauren remembered. To put round the tree.
âOf course I do, poppet. How about finding the glass dishes for the orange and grapefruit starter? Theyâre in that cupboard. Only be very, very careful how you carry them, wonât you?â
Holding her breath, Lauren watched as the little girl crossed the kitchen with each small cut-glass bowl, until the last one was safely on the table.
âIâll do it,â Zoe insisted, dipping a spoon into the basin of fruit.
She was still filling the bowls when Matthew came to join them, one eyebrow lifting in a question mark when he saw her.
âIâm helping Lauren, like you said, Daddy.â
âCan I help as well?â
Zoe shook her head. âNo, Daddy. Itâs dinner-time now. Lauren and me have got it all ready, so youâd better go and sit down at the table.â
* * *
Sitting on the floor, wearing a red paper crown, Lauren decided sheâd eaten, and definitely drunk, far too much. It was easily done on a day like this. Now, as they drank strong dark coffee, it was present-opening time. Zoe was in charge.
The pile of presents had grown to at least five times its original size since the previous night. All Zoeâs, smuggled in earlier. Lauren yawned in the warmth of the blazing wood fire and settled her head back against the arm of Matthewâs chair.
Through half-closed lashes, she glanced up at him. His thin good-looking face was smiling as he watched his daughterâs excitement.
âJust what I really, really wanted. How did Father Christmas know?â she kept repeating, while the heap of torn wrapping paper grew around her.
Matthew suddenly leaned forward as the little girl picked up a flat, oblong, holly-papered box. âWait, Zoe. That oneâs for Lauren.â
Bemused, Lauren took it.
âJust a small thank-you,â he said quietly.
Carefully, she began
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