A Christmas Affair Page 6

  Cathy looked from Dominic's hard, mas­culine frame to the two-foot-high conifer he held in his arms, and then back again.

  It hardly seemed possible that he had gone to all that trouble for her. And only a few minutes ago she had been talking so scathingly about his death!

  With a choked sob she turned and fled from the room.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE bedroom was icy cold, the mattress damp, but Cathy didn't notice any of that as she sat down heavily on top of the bed, the almost un­controllable sobs shaking her body.

  'I didn't mean to make you cry.'

  She turned sharply as Dominic sat down on the bed next to her. 'You didn't,' she sniffled, rubbing agitatedly at the tears on her cheeks, tensing stiffly as Dominic's arm came about her shoulders.

  'It's been quite a day one way or another, hasn't it?' he mused ruefully.

  She gave a choked laugh at the under­statement. 'You could say that!'

  'I just did,' he derided drily, his fingers gentle beneath her chin as he turned her to look at him. 'I don't think I've ever seen you cry before.' He frowned searchingly.

  'Today has been a different kind of day,' she reminded him.

  Dominic nodded abruptly. 'It certainly has,' he acknowledged gruffly. 'But how about we try and salvage something from it and go and see what we can find to put on that minute tree—?'

  'It's a beautiful tree,' she defended it fiercely. 'The most beautiful tree I've ever seen!'

  He gave a teasing smile. 'I think that may be a bit of an exaggeration!'

  Cathy looked up at him, loving him all the more at that moment. She had always believed he was human under that hard facade; she could only wish helplessly that she hadn't been proved so right at a time when she was so vul­nerable. It would be so easy to reach up and put her arms about his neck and pull his head down to hers. In fact, it was what her arms ached to do.

  And Dominic would probably be shocked out of his mind if she did that!

  She stood up abruptly. 'It's cold up here,' she dismissed abruptly.

  Dominic watched her wordlessly for several long seconds before he stood up. 'I suppose we should go and see what, if anything, we can do with that tree,' he conceded ruefully.

  To Cathy it really was the most beautiful tree she had ever seen, she acknowledged as they used the red ribbon that had adorned the hamper, and popped some of the corn to put on the tiny green branches. It certainly wasn't the biggest or the grandest tree she had ever seen, but it was, quite simply, a gift from Dominic she had never expected.

  Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure as the tree took pride of place on the coffee-table in the lounge. The ribbon and the popcorn did little to hide the fact that it was a baby conifer hardly strong enough to sustain even that slight weight, and yet it was a symbol of a gentleness within Dominic that up until now Cathy had only dared to hope for.

  Dominic looked at it consideringly, unaware of her emotion. 'A few coloured lights might have made it halfway presentable—'

  'It's perfect as it is,' Cathy insisted firmly.

  Green eyes glinted with laughter. 'And let no one say any different, hm?'

  Her head went back with mock challenge as she fell in with his light-hearted mood. 'Not unless he's a very brave man.'

  His lips twitched. 'I'm not that brave!'

  'I should hope not,' she said with feigned haughtiness.

  'Wine?' Dominic prompted gently.

  In truth, she was still feeling a little heady from the wine they had drunk earlier with their meal, but the moment was too perfect for her not to want it to continue, too poignantly rare and beautiful not to be a memory she would cherish for a very long time to come.

  'Mm, please,' she accepted with a nod, her voice husky.

  'I won't be long,' he told her softly. 'At least we don't have any problem keeping the wine chilled,' he added ruefully.

  Cathy sat and stared at the flickering of the fire as she waited for him to come back with the wine. The flames danced and played, flirting tantalisingly, just as her dreams of herself and Dominic together had merely flirted with reality.

  Those dreams… How wonderful they had seemed at the time. She couldn't have guessed how far out of her reach they would always be.

  'I really will get us away from here as soon as possible,' Dominic told her frowningly as he placed two glasses and the bottle of wine down on the table before joining her on the sofa.

  Cathy broke her gaze away from the mes­merising fascination of the flames to look up at Dominic dazedly for several seconds as she tried to absorb what he had just said to her.

  She shook her head. 'It really doesn't matter,' she dismissed. 'I'd stopped even thinking about it,' she added as she realised he must have thought that was why she was so quiet.

  'Then why did you look so sad?'

  'Did I?' she said brightly—too brightly! 'Maybe I'm just tired.'

  That hadn't been the right thing to say either! Tiredness meant bed, and they were both going to have to sleep in this room tonight. She was no coy young girl to cower and balk at the thought, especially when it was such a necess­ity, but events had been such today that she was so vulnerable…

  Dominic ran his hand tiredly around the back of his nape. 'It certainly has been one hell of a day,' he grimaced with feeling.

  Cathy smiled at him teasingly, determined to regain some of the spirit that had kept her— and her self-respect—intact the last five futile years. 'Poor Dominic,' she mocked. 'Having the PA you personally trained leave you, and then, to make matters worse, being forced to acknowledge that most dreaded of seasons in such a basically commercial way as a Christmas tree!'

  He turned his head slightly so that he could look at the tree as it stood so nobly proud in its makeshift adornment. 'There's nothing in the least commercial about that tree,' he said huskily. 'In fact, this is the closest I've come to enjoying a Christmas for more years than I—' He broke off abruptly, shaking his head, his mouth twisting ruefully. 'Here I am ac­tually enjoying it, and in terms of what you wanted it's a disaster for you!'

  Cathy looked at him frowningly. Could he really be enjoying this impromptu Christmas?

  She had learnt from hard-won experience that Dominic rarely said anything he didn't mean, so it had to be true, amazing as it might seem. And amazing it certainly was!

  'Wine, I think,' he announced determinedly before she could make any verbal response, sitting forward to pour two glassfuls of the golden liquid. 'Happy Christmas, Cathy,' he teased, his gaze warm in the firelight. 'And I really mean that.'

  She could see that, could feel herself being drawn towards him. She took a hasty sip of her wine and choked as it caught unexpectedly in her throat.

  Dominic patted her firmly on the back as she spluttered and coughed. 'Now you know how all those other people must have felt when Scrooge did an about-face,' he mocked as her breathing slowly calmed.

  Guilty colour flooded her cheeks. 'I was very angry when I made that remark,' she defended.

  'As hell,' he acknowledged drily, relaxing back on the sofa.

  Cathy sipped her wine more carefully the second time. 'What is your middle name?'

  He shook his head. 'Classified information.'

  She gave him an indignant look. 'I've worked for you for five years and I still don't know it!'

  He quirked taunting eyebrows. 'Reconsider your notice and I might think about telling you.'

  'I'm not that interested,' she told him haughtily.

  'No?' he taunted, very relaxed as he slouched down on the sofa, absently twirling his wine glass between long, tapered fingers.

  She had to admit—to herself, at least—that his reluctance to reveal his middle name had been something that had intrigued her for a long time. But not to the extent of actually re­turning to work for him to find out what it was! 'No,' she dismissed offhandedly.

  'More wine?' He refilled her glass. 'It will help keep you warm,' he excused at her raised brows.

  It w
as also making her more sleepy than ever, her eyelids drooping tiredly. 'Shouldn't we start thinking about making up some beds and trying to get some sleep?' she suggested abruptly.

  'Bed,' he corrected lightly.

  The tiredness vanished as if a bucket of icy snow had been thrown over her. 'I don't—'

  'This sofa makes up into a bed, Cathy,' he informed her in a brisk voice that brooked no arguments. 'I have no intention of sleeping in a chair when there's a perfectly good bed available.'

  She put her glass down with a loud thud. 'You're such a gentleman!' Her eyes blazed.

  'Being a gentleman doesn't come into it.'

  'I couldn't agree more!'

  'Damn it, Cathy,' he rasped, his eyes nar­rowed impatiently, 'you aren't a schoolgirl, to be shocked at the thought of sharing your bed with a man.'

  She wasn't a schoolgirl, no, but the thought of sharing a bed with a man, any man, not just Dominic, did panic her a little.

  Her early teenage years had been spent going on the usual harmless dates with boys of her own age, and her latter teens had been spent mainly studying, with barely time to think about men, let alone to have fully fledged af­fairs with any of them. And then she had met Dominic and the time for any affairs, love or otherwise, had passed her by in her feelings for him.

  At the age of twenty-six she had never shared a bed with any man, even platonically. And she wasn't sure that was possible, on her part, with Dominic being the man she loved above every­thing and everyone else.

  'I didn't say I was,' she returned defensively, standing up with uncoordinated agitation. 'But if you won't sleep in the chair, I will!'

  Dominic stood up too, tension in every line of his body. 'You've become damned unrea­sonable recently, a little she-cat who spits and claws for no good reason.'

  'In your opinion,' she snapped. 'J think I have every reason.'

  'Exactly—you're unreasonable!'

  They stood glaring at each other for at least a minute, until Cathy, at least, began to see the funny side of the situation. What on earth were they doing, shouting at each other and carrying on in this way? They were both unreasonable.

  Dominic relaxed slightly as she gave a rueful smile, and shook his head. 'This might be hackneyed, and as clichéd as hell, but you're beautiful when you're angry.'

  The words might never have been spoken before as far as Cathy was concerned; all that mattered to her was that Dominic had said she was beautiful.

  Her gaze was locked with his. 'Maybe I should have got angry more often.' Her voice was husky.

  He nodded, his own gaze unwavering. 'Maybe you should.'

  'I—' She swallowed hard at the sudden tension that crackled between them. 'Dominic, what's happening?' she asked uncertainly, voicing her thoughts.

  'Does it really matter?' He was standing in front of her now.

  It mattered more than anything else ever had in her life before. But the situation was fast whirling out of control, and that kiss Dominic had given her at the service restaurant earlier in the day paled into insignificance at the burning passion that ignited between them as soon as their lips met.

  Cathy trembled with the intensity of the emotion, holding on to Dominic's shoulders to steady herself as she swayed. And then she wasn't holding on to him at all but twining her arms up about his neck, her fingers entwined in his hair, silky soft hair that was infinitely sensual to the touch. As was the feel of his body pressed against her, hard, remorseless flesh that fitted against hers so perfectly.

  His tongue danced a pattern against her lips before seeking entry, and Cathy's body gave a trembling response.

  She had to stop this while she still had enough sanity left to do it!

  She wrenched her mouth away from his, breathing hard, her eyes dark grey pools of confusion. 'What are you doing?' she gasped breathlessly.

  His lips travelled down the column of her throat. 'I know it's been a long time for me,' he murmured gruffly, 'but I didn't think I was that out of practice.'

  She didn't care how long ago it was since he had held a woman like this; the fact was, it was she whom he was holding now—and her de­fences were crumbling fast.

  'You don't work for me any more, Cathy,' he encouraged softly.

  She frowned, although it was difficult to think coherently when he was nibbling at the side of her mouth with his lips. 'What dif­ference does that make?' she managed to ask raggedly.

  'None at all to me,' he dismissed drily. 'I just thought it might make you feel more com­fortable. Do you think we could stop talking now? I can think of much nicer things we could be doing.'

  Cathy wouldn't have used that word herself; heady, evocative, provocative, ecstatically pleasurable—that was what kissing Dominic was!

  But had he lost all sense of reason?

  It would seem that he must have done, she hazily acknowledged as she gasped her pleasure at his marauding mouth against her throat. Her neck arched as her eyes closed instinctively.

  And suddenly she no longer cared, either, that after this they would probably never be able to face each other again without embar­rassment and awkwardness.

  Her father, a man who had loved life and had it taken from him at the young age of fifty-three, had always maintained that life was for living, that there should be no skirting around it in an effort of self-protection. Because of that philosophy he had lived every one of his years to the full before terminal illness had taken him from them. But he had died with all his family knowing that he hadn't left behind a life of un­fulfilled wishes and 'if only's'.

  And she wasn't going to have any more mis­givings about this time with Dominic, either. She would take what he offered, whatever it might be.

  With a soft cry of compliance she moved her arms up about his neck as her body curved into his, loving every pleasurable sensation that action caused.

  'Oh, Cathy,' Dominic groaned. 'Dear God, the warmth of you!'

  Warmth didn't begin to describe the raging inferno that exploded between them, a fire that had her gasping with pleasure at the moist heat of Dominic's mouth on her breasts as she ex­plored every hard inch of his body with hands that trembled in the shy compulsion. Lips that searched, hands that caressed, bodies that cried out for a burning satisfaction neither of them could deny.

  And when that moment came it seemed to last forever, and yet for the briefest, most beautiful moment in time, suspended pleasure that made them soar and peak before gently falling back to earth with their bodies still entwined.

  Cathy stretched with the sensuousness of a cat, cosily warm beneath the duvet despite her nakedness.

  Nakedness…

  Her lips flew wide open as she realised from the glowing ache she felt in her body that the memories she had of last night were no dream, that every ecstatically beautiful moment of it had been a reality.

  Dominic had made love to her, all night long, with a gentle intensity that made her cheeks blush and her breathing become raggedly erratic.

  She turned to him, quickly, eagerly, only to find she was alone in the sofa-bed they had made up for themselves some time in the night. She frowned as she saw the sheet of stark white paper, with Dominic's distinctive heading on it, propped up against the pillow next to her own.

  Her hand shook as she reached for it and read the words, 'I'll be back as soon as I can,' signed with the unmistakable scrawl that was Dominic's name.

  He had gone back to the car without waking her first…

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE morning after the night before.

  It had to be the worst experience in anyone's life. Especially when the man you had just shared the night before with disappeared the next morning before you were even awake.

  It could have been the most ecstatic or mis­erable morning of Cathy's life. And there was no doubt in her mind which one it was for her.

  A twenty-six-year-old virgin, seduced by a man it was—still—futile to love; there could be no doubt this was the worst moment of her life.r />
  Dominic had been gentle with her, antici­pating her every need for caution, initiating her into lovemaking with a tenderness that had made her cry and silently plead with him not to voice the stunned question in his eyes as he looked down at her so concernedly.

  It had been a moment in time that had stood still, never ending, but seeming so quickly over, only to be claimed by singing emotions that had led them both to the edge of an ecstasy Cathy hadn't imagined existed.

  And still that question had remained unan­swered, for their bodies were entwined in a warmth that had needed no fuel to relight it moments, seconds later.

  Dominic had proved a wonderful lover, a man completely unselfish in his lovemaking, his body a sculpture of hard planes and bronzed skin that had awakened a response within Cathy which still made her tremble with a yearning she now had to deny.

  She stood anxiously at the window searching for some sign of Dominic's return as she watched the bleak snow-covered countryside before her.

  How long had he been gone? The note had said he would be back as soon as he could; it gave no indication of what time he had set off.

  He could already have been out there for hours, for all she knew; she had been so com­pletely exhausted that nothing had disturbed her dreamless sleep, not even the removal of that heated body that had given her so much pleasure.

  How long had he been gone?

  A sob caught in her throat as she accepted the fact that he could be lying somewhere out there helpless in the snow right at this moment.

  He had no right to just go off like that without telling her, even if they had agreed he should go this morning. It was thoughtless, ar­rogant—completely in character, in fact! She should really have realised he might do some­thing like this.

  Where was he?

  How dared he?

  God, by the time he got back—she refused to contemplate that it might be an if he got back—she was going to be ready to personally throttle him for causing her this anguish.

  And, knowing Dominic as she did, he would probably wonder what all the fuss was about!