All I Want for Christmas
Ros Clarke
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Ros Clarke. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
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Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Lovestruck is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Adrien-Luc Sanders
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition December 2011
Chapter One
Anna was never, ever going to the office Christmas party again.
With her head still thumping like a herd of elephants, she’d dragged herself into work. Now she had to face the knowing glances and smothered grins of her colleagues as she walked past them on the way to her office. Grateful for some privacy, she slumped into the cushioned leather chair behind her sleek glass-topped desk and checked her watch. Half an hour late. Half an hour wasn’t too bad after the night she’d had.
A quiet knock, and then her assistant slipped in, closing the door behind her.
“Coffee,” Jennifer said. She set a large paper cup on Anna’s desk, together with a blister pack of pills. “And painkillers.”
Anna raised her head and grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”
Jennifer cocked an all-too-perky eyebrow. “I went up to the second floor.”
The second-floor machine dispensed double-strength brew. Usually Anna stuck with a normal level of caffeine, but today she was grateful Jen had made the effort to go upstairs. She nodded her thanks.
Mistake. Bad mistake.
Anna closed her eyes and waited for the hammering in her head to subside. Within a few minutes, the sweet black coffee and the painkillers blessedly began to work their magic. She looked back at her assistant, who still waited patiently.
“It’s not good news, is it?” Anna asked.
Jen grinned. “Well, that depends how you look at it. I saw Mr. Munro while I was up there.”
Anna exhaled slowly. Hugh Munro was the shining star of the company’s creative firmament—and the star of all Anna’s most embarrassing memories.
“He said he was taking you to lunch,” Jennifer added.
Any other day, that would be good news. But not the morning after the office Christmas party. Anna groaned. “Please tell me you said I had a meeting.”
“I told him your diary was clear all day.”
Terrific.
“You’d better fill me in on what happened last night,” Anna muttered. “I remember there was karaoke.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How badly did I embarrass myself?”
“You had everyone going,” Jen said with a smirk. “They all joined in on the choruses. ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day,’ ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.’ All the classics. And then you did your solo.”
Anna shut her eyes. She couldn’t have. Not again. Please say she hadn’t sung—
“‘All I Want for Christmas Is You.’”
“What did they put in that punch?”
Jennifer shrugged. It was all very well for her—she hadn’t made a fool of herself singing out of tune in front of the entire staff. And after the singing…
“I kissed him, didn’t I?”
“I think he kissed you, really. It was sweet.”
Sweet.
Anna laid her head on her desk. “I don’t want to see anyone today, Jen. If someone asks, tell them I’ve got something urgent to catch up on before the Christmas break and I can’t be disturbed.”
“Shall I bring you another coffee?”
“Please.”
No amount of caffeine would make this better. She’d drunk too much and kissed Hugh Munro at the office Christmas party.
Again.
Last time she’d been so mortified, she’d managed to avoid him entirely until the New Year. Hugh had eventually tracked her down and asked her out for a drink after work, but when she’d refused, he hadn’t bothered to try again.
Bastard.
Still, his polite indifference meant she hadn’t needed to keep coming up with excuses. After a while, they’d settled back into a comfortable routine of occasional chats in the lift or by the coffee machine and semiregular lunches at the Italian restaurant around the corner from the office. As far as Anna was concerned, the kiss had been all but forgotten, and she was grateful for his friendship.
But after two glasses of punch, friendship just hadn’t been enough.
Next year she was definitely sticking to the apple juice. She shook her head. Next year she wasn’t going to the party at all.
Excellent plan.
This year, she would just have to hide again. Down here in finance, there was no reason to spend time with the advertising agency’s creative directors. No professional reason, anyway, and she always had work as an excuse to avoid anything else.
Anna picked up her phone and dialed Hugh’s extension. “Look, about lunch…” she began.
“Good morning to you, too.” He was smiling. She could hear it.
Bastard.
“I can’t make it. I’m very busy today.”
“Doing what?”
“Well…” Anna cast around for a plausible excuse. “I’ve got to finish the end-of-year budgets.”
“You did them last week.”
Damn. “Yes, well, there are some, er, amendments. Urgent ones.”
He laughed. “Anna, I’m taking you to lunch. I already booked a table at Giovanni’s.”
“Oh.”
“The tiramisu is on me.”
She could never resist Giovanni’s lusciously rich, creamy tiramisu, and he knew it. “Hugh, I’m not sure—”
“I’ll pick you up at twelve.”
“But—”
“I’ve got a client on the other line. I’ll see you later, Anna. We’ll talk then.”
Chapter Two
At five to twelve, Anna picked up her bag and coat and hid in the ladies’ loos.
Three minutes later, Jennifer followed her in. She grinned and said, “He says you’ve got two minutes, and then he’s coming in to get you.”
“He can’t!”
Jennifer glanced at the flimsy swing door. “He can, you know.”
“Ninety seconds!” Hugh’s voice echoed with amusement but did nothing to disguise his determination.
Anna whipped out her comb and tidied her hair. If she were going down, she’d do it with all guns blazing.
“Thirty seconds!”
She dashed on a streak of dark pink lipstick and pinched some color into her cheeks. Nothing could disguise her faintly bloodshot eyes. Resigned, she slipped her arms into her coat and picked up her handbag.
“Coming, ready or no—” Hugh cut off as she emerged into the foyer. “Good decision.” He winked.
Anna glared at him. How did he manage to look so good the day after the office party, anyway? “I’m not talking to you.”
He laughed. “Fine. You can eat spaghetti alla vongole and sip a delicious Montepulciano, and I’ll do all the talking.”
She shot him a dark glance, then turned away. “We’re not talking about last night.”
“No.”
Anna looked back, surprised by the stern tone of his voice. He had folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.
“Not again. This time we’re going to talk about it openly and honestly. Like adults, not teenagers.”
Ouch. That was below the belt.
“Couldn’t we just ignore it and move on like adults?” she muttered.
Hugh raised an eyebrow. “We should get going if we don’t want to lose our table.”
Outside, the pavement was slippery with frozen slush. Three days earlier, the freshly fallen snow had been pretty. Now, melted and refrozen several times, it was just ugly gray ice. Anna walked gingerly, careful to keep her balance. The last thing she wanted was to slip and give Hugh an excuse to catch her.
They paused, waiting for a chance to cross the busy road. Anna’s hand bumped against Hugh’s.
“You’re cold,” he said.
“It’s winter.”
“You need a pair of gloves,” he remarked as they crossed the street to the restaurant.
“I lose them.”
“Here. Get inside, where it’s warm.” Hugh held open the door for her.
Giovanni greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks. “Bellissima signorina!”
“Hello, Giovanni.” Anna couldn’t help but smile. Giovanni’s outrageous compliments were one of the reasons she loved coming here.
“Today I have a special for you,” he told Hugh. “Beautiful oxtail, cooked since yesterday so it will melt in your mouth.”
Hugh’s lips twitched into a smile. “I think I’ll take a look at the menu.”
Giovanni sighed dramatically and shook his head. “No soul. That is the problem with English men.”
“No heart, either,” Anna agreed, with a pointed look in Hugh’s direction.
“Come, then. I have your table here.” Giovanni handed them each a menu. “A bottle of wine?”
“Anna?” Hugh asked.
“I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”
He laughed. Bastard.
“We’ll have a bottle of sparkling mineral water, thanks.” Hugh raised a knowing eyebrow at Anna. “Still feeling it from last night, huh?”
“I thought we were forgetting last night.” She was not blushing. The heat in her cheeks was perfectly normal after the cold outside.
“No.” Hugh’s eyes twinkled. “You were forgetting. I was going to have an adult conversation about it.”
Anna hid behind the large leather-bound menu. “The penne sounds good. Or maybe I’ll try the chicken with dolcelatte and spinach.”
“Or maybe you’ll have the same thing you have every single time.” Hugh whipped the menu out of her hands.
Anna glared at him. “Maybe I’ve decided to start taking some risks.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “Risks like last night?”
She sighed. “Last night was a mistake. I’m sorry. Can we please move on from it now?”
“No.” Hugh shook his head decisively. “We can’t.”
Giovanni returned with the water. Hugh ordered the lasagna for himself and the spaghetti for Anna. She frowned.
“Sorry, did you want something different?” Hugh raised an eyebrow.
“For the signorina, it is always the spaghetti alla vongole,” Giovanni said with a cheerful nod. “The best spaghetti in London, no?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “And yes, I’ll have the spaghetti.”
Hugh poured them each a glass of water, then leaned back in his plush red chair, watching her. Anna glanced around the restaurant. Deep burgundy gilded ribbons had been twisted into classic bows and elegant festoons. Golden candles lit the windows, and fresh greenery scented the air. It was lovely.
And Hugh was still watching her.
One of them would have to break the silence. She didn’t see why it should be her. He was the one who wanted to talk. She shifted in her chair, then took a sip of water.
Fine. If he wasn’t going to say anything, he could listen to her. “Look…”
“I’m looking.”
His lips twitched until he was almost laughing, but not quite. She wished he wouldn’t do that. It always made her want to lean over and kiss his lips into a proper smile. Anna tightened her grip on the water glass to stop herself from doing anything so stupid.
“I like what I see,” he said.
“I thought this was supposed to be an adult conversation.”
“Sorry.”
“So am I. It shouldn’t have happened. It was unprofessional, and I’m sorry. Next year, I just won’t come to the office party.”
“That would be a shame.”
Anna shrugged. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“You could tell me why.”
“Why what?”
“Why you can’t keep your hands off me once you’ve had one drink too many.”
She reached for a slice of Giovanni’s delicious focaccia bread and began to crumble it on her plate. “People do the strangest things when they’re drunk.”
“That’s true.” His eyes narrowed. In the candlelight, they were almost golden.
Anna ducked her head. “So, that’s all it was.”
“Hm.”
The waiter arrived with their food. Anna asked for grated Parmesan and freshly ground black pepper. If she took long enough, maybe Hugh would let her get away with changing the subject.
“Delicious,” she pronounced, tucking in hungrily.
“Good. Did you have breakfast today, by the way?”
“What?”
“Had you eaten anything this morning?”
“I had coffee.”
“That explains it. You’re always grumpy when you’re hungry.”
“I wasn’t hungry,” she replied automatically.
“Eat your lunch.”
She twirled her fork into the spaghetti. As the pasta warmed her from the inside, her irritation began to seep away. Maybe Hugh had a point.
“Better?” His voice was surprisingly tender.
“Yes. I needed that. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Is there a reason you keep running away from me?”
He spoke softly. Anna’s cutting retort died on her lips. She closed her eyes and took a ragged breath. “I’m not running now.”
Hugh laid his hand over hers. “I’m glad.”
His hand was warm and oddly comforting. It took a considerable effort for Anna to draw hers away.
“This isn’t a good idea.”
“Why not?” He smiled. “I like you, Anna. You like me. Why isn’t this a good idea?”
“I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m happy just being friends.” She picked up her holly-patterned napkin and folded it between her fingers.
“Friends who can’t keep their hands off each other after a glass of punch?”
She shrugged, fixing her gaze on her empty plate.
Hugh leaned across the table. “I don’t believe you, Anna. I didn’t believe you last year, but you ran away so fast every time I tried to tell you how I felt. I told myself I’d read you wrong. I tried to believe it had been just a drunken mistake you didn’t want to repeat.”
His voice lowered. Anna instinctively moved closer.
“But then you did it again,” he murmured, and she shivered as if he had touched her. “Once might have been a mistake, but not twice. I know what I heard in your voice when you sang for me last night. I know what I saw in your beautiful brown eyes when you walked toward me, never taking your gaze from mine. I know whose name you whispered when you put your arms around my neck. My name, Anna,” he said savagely. “And then I kissed you. Because you wanted it, and so did I.” He leaned back in his chair, leaving her staring up at him, pulse racing wildly with desire. “So don’t tell me you’re happy being friends.”
Anna slumped in her seat. She wasn’t happy, but she couldn’t tell him why. She wasn’t ready for that. She couldn’t bear the inevitable pity. She didn’t want to hear his excuses. Neither of them needed that embarrassment. Much better to let him down gently.
“Fine,” she said in a bright voice that sounded false even to her ears. “I won’t tell you that. But we can’t be anything else. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry,” he repeated slowly. “For what, exactly? For kissing me like I was the only man in the world? For running away from me? Or for lying to me again?”
“I’m sorry for ever making you think we had a chance.”
Hugh gave her a long, measuring look, then called for the bill. She took her purse out of her pocket, but he dismissed it with an impatient gesture and handed his credit card to Giovanni.
“No tiramisu for the signorina?” Giovanni asked as he processed Hugh’s payment.
Anna mustered a smile. “Not today.”
He gave her a knowing look. “It is good for the heart, the tiramisu.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my heart,” she said sharply, then shook her head. “Sorry. I’m a bit on edge today.”
Hugh jabbed his number into the card machine and handed it back.
“She needs dessert,” Giovanni said with a nod toward Anna.
Hugh looked her up and down coldly. “So she does.”
Anna gritted her teeth. “Actually, I need to get back to the office. Maybe next time,” she added politely, for Giovanni’s benefit.
Hugh merely helped her into her coat and nodded farewell to the restaurateur.
They headed back toward the office, Anna half a step behind Hugh. At the corner he turned left instead of right and Anna, focused on the treacherous pavement, walked right into him. Hugh grabbed her arm before she hit the ground. He hauled her upright and grasped her shoulders.
When they were both steady on their feet, she said, “The office is the other way.”
“Jennifer said your diary was clear. I thought we might take a walk.”
“Because it’s such a nice day?” she said dryly. “And we’re enjoying each other’s company so much?”
He let her go and resumed walking.
“Next time, you could try asking me,” she shouted after him.
Anna paused on the street corner. She didn’t want to be back at the office all that much. She wouldn’t get any useful work done.
“Are you coming, then?” Hugh grunted over his shoulder.
She smothered her giggle at his bad temper. “Fine. Wait while I catch up.”
A few minutes later, they turned into a small square with a number of brightly lit shops and open market stalls, all strung with Christmas lights.
“We need to get you some gloves. Here.” Hugh walked over to a nearby stand. Patterned scarves in vivid jewel tones waved like banners in the chilly breeze. Chunky hand-knitted hats and gloves were piled high on the table: bright reds and greens in Christmas patterns for kids on one side and subtle, sophisticated shades in adult sizes on the other. Hugh picked up a pair of thick gloves and held Anna’s hand against them to check the size.
“Green or blue?” The soft cashmere gloves were warm against her skin, but it was Hugh’s casual grip that set her pulse racing.
“Blue. I mean, you shouldn’t be buying me gloves. I’ll lose them.”
“Tie them on a string.”
She looked up into his laughing eyes, and her heart skipped. She wanted to say yes to him. To everything. She nodded slowly. “Maybe I will.”
“Here, try this on.” Hugh handed her a matching woolly hat. “That should keep you warm.”
Anna pulled it on, but it wouldn’t fit over her neatly pinned knot of hair. Hugh raised a challenging eyebrow. She shrugged and took out the pins, letting her hair spill down below her shoulders.
He smiled. “Beautiful.”
“The hat?”
“You.”
She caught her breath. “Hugh,” she warned.
“It’s my New Year’s resolution.”
“What is?”
“To be completely honest.”
“But it’s not the New Year.”
“No, but I need to start practicing now.”
“Idiot,” she said mildly. She couldn’t be angry with him for a compliment like that.
It was hard to be angry with him at all. If only things were different. Anna couldn’t ask for a better man than Hugh. He was kind, he was thoughtful, and he knew how to make her laugh even on the worst days.
When he kissed her, he made her feel like the most precious, most cherished woman in the world. When he smiled at her, as he did now, it was as though he lit up the world just for her.
“Put your gloves on,” he said.
She did, and then held up her hands to show him.
Hugh grinned and took hold of them. “Warmer now?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good. Let’s walk along the river for a bit.”
A fine mist diffused the afternoon light, giving the city a soft-focus glow. As they wandered along the Embankment, Anna and Hugh passed street vendors selling roasted chestnuts and others with piles of sweet-scented pine trees. A choir of wide-eyed children sang carols outside the National Theatre, their pure, clear voices full of innocent wonder. Anna stopped to listen, caught by her own childhood memories. The awe she used to feel at a world transformed by tinsel and sparkling lights. The hope that anything was possible in a world where reindeer pulled sleighs full of presents through the sky.
Hugh led her to a nearby bench, where they sat and listened together for a long time. Anna watched the river slumber past, all the lights reflected in its dark water, like an impressionist painting brought to life.
She sighed.
“Are you okay?” Hugh asked.
“Yes.” She leaned forward, gazing into the dark water of the Thames. “I just wish every day could be like this.”
“Cold and damp?”
She elbowed him.
“Isn’t it enough just to enjoy the moment?” Hugh asked.
She shook her head firmly. “No. It’s lovely while it lasts, but it doesn’t make anything else better.”
“Anything else being?”
Anna bit her lip. “Work.”
“But you like work.”
“Sometimes I do.”
“So what else?”
“Karaoke?” she offered.
“Your karaoke is excellent,” Hugh replied solemnly. “Especially that last song.”
“‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’?”
“Exactly.” He took her hand in his and leaned down. “Anna?” he murmured.
He smelled so good. So warm. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to know what it felt like when she wasn’t drunk. Would it stop her heart the way it had before?
Could she just enjoy this moment?
She edged forward until her lips just brushed against his. “Hugh.”
He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. She opened her mouth to his, and he took the invitation. His lips were gentle and soft. She hadn’t remembered that, but she liked the unhurried way he gave himself over to the moment. He took his time, letting his lips linger on hers. Impatient, she pressed back, urging him on, slipping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.
His hands slid under her coat, cold through her blouse and jacket but still detonating fireworks in every nerve ending. “Anna,” he whispered. “My beautiful Anna.”
She pulled away with a jerk. “No.” She shook her head. “No, Hugh, not yours.”
He held her arms and gazed grimly down at her. “How long are you going to keep pretending?”
She avoided his gaze. “I’m not pretending.”
“You want me.”
“I wanted to enjoy the moment. I thought it would be enough.”
“Was it?” His voice was savage with hurt.
Anna’s vision swam. Desperately, she blinked back bitter tears. “It has to be.”
Hugh took hold of her chin and lifted her face until he could look into her eyes. “I never realized you were such a coward.”
His words hit her like a blow to her stomach. She jerked away and wrapped her arms around herself.
“I’ll see you back at the office,” he said curtly. “Keep the hat and gloves. Consider them an early Christmas present.”
She didn’t look up until long after he was gone. The sun was low in the sky, and the river reflected its deep, fiery red light. The choir had gone, leaving only the memory of their joyful carols.
She checked her watch. She couldn’t be home late today. Her mother’s care worker had been happy to stay the night before, on double pay, while Anna was at the Christmas party. It was the one night of the year when she could let her hair down and pretend she was a normal, unmarried thirty-something woman with no responsibilities. But today brought back the reality of a mother with early-onset Alzheimer’s, who couldn’t be left home alone.
Chapter Three
Three times.
Hugh stomped back to the office, grinding down his injured pride with every step.
Three times they’d kissed, and three times Anna had rejected him. Surely that was more than enough for any man to take the hint.
He’d never wasted time chasing a woman who wasn’t interested. What was the point? He moved on and found someone else. He didn’t stick with women when it got difficult, either. That drove his mother nuts, but it made sense to Hugh. Why stay when it stopped being fun? Life was too short.
So, that was it. For over a year, Anna Gardner had been an itch he’d needed to scratch. The other women he’d gone out with hadn’t been able to dislodge Anna from his thoughts. Today she’d done it herself. She’d made it quite clear that she wasn’t interested, so Hugh was moving on.
Only Anna was interested. She’d enjoyed their kisses every bit as much as he had. He knew she enjoyed his company. But more than that, when she’d gazed into his eyes and leaned up to whisper in his ear, he’d known she wanted more. She wanted him. So why did she keep pushing him away? And why did he keep going back for more?
He’d reached his second-floor office, and he was still thinking about her. Damn the woman. Hugh slammed the door shut behind him. He wouldn’t go back to her again. Three times was enough—more than enough. He glared at his computer and tapped out a curt response to a particularly inane client query.
If only she didn’t kiss him so sweetly and look at him as if he were a damn hero. If only he didn’t feel the need to wrap his arms around her and tell her he would make everything right for her. If only he could get the woman out of his mind for half a second so he could do his job.
He sighed heavily. It was no good. He still wanted her. He would give her one more chance, but he needed a new strategy.
Hugh picked up his phone.
Chapter Four
Hugh checked the address again, then rang the doorbell. He stepped back to survey the house. This was where Anna lived? A small terraced house with straggling end-of-season potted geraniums and lace nets in the windows? It looked like the home of an elderly person, not the smart, professional young woman he knew.
This was definitely the place, though. Hugh had pulled in a couple of favors to get Anna’s address. He’d thought about calling her but hadn’t wanted to give her the opportunity to put him off.
She was slow to answer the door. Maybe she wasn’t home, and he’d wasted his time. He was about to ring a second time when the door opened a crack.
“Hi,” Hugh said with a confident smile he didn’t feel. “I brought Chinese.”
Anna frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. I brought takeaway.” He held up the bag.
“You can’t. I don’t…” Panic flashed in her eyes. Why would she be nervous about crispy duck and king prawn chow mein?
“Have you already eaten?” He thought he’d come early enough to avoid that possibility. She wasn’t dressed to go out, not in a russet-red casual woolly jumper and faded jeans. Her hair was tied back loosely, so that it framed her beautiful face. Without makeup, she looked younger. More vulnerable.
Anna glanced back into the house. “No, I haven’t eaten. But you need to go.”
A door banged shut somewhere inside. Anna’s eyes flickered.
Hugh cursed under his breath. There was someone else. That was why she’d resisted him. She had another guy. Why hadn’t she just told him? He would have backed off straightaway.
“Sorry,” he ground out. “I didn’t know. You should have told me. I’ll go.”
Anna nodded. Hugh turned to leave. She called after him with an odd desperation, “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t look back.
“Anna? Anna, are you there, love?”
Hugh froze.
Not a lover. An elderly woman.
He turned. Anna hadn’t closed the door, and he could see the other woman silhouetted against the light.
“I’m just coming, Mum.” He’d never heard her so tender and patient.
“Who was that at the door, dear?”
“No one, Mum.”
“Anna.” Hugh didn’t know what else to say.
She glanced back, shaking her head in a mute plea.
“He looks like a nice young man, dear. Why don’t you invite him in?”
“He’s just leaving, Mum.” Anna’s eyes met his.
Hugh smiled brightly at Anna’s mother. “I’d like to come in.”
“There you are, dear.”
Anna shrugged helplessly. “You’d better come in. But don’t upset her,” she muttered.
Hugh nodded. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” He turned to Anna’s mother. “I’m Hugh. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello, dear. I’m Irene.” She held out her hand, and Hugh shook it. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a nice young man like you. Isn’t it, dear?”
“Yes, Mum. Shall we bring Hugh through to the sitting room?”
Irene fussed over him, settling him in to a comfortable chair while she took one end of the dark blue sofa. She stood up again almost immediately to check the radiator.
“Would you like a newspaper?” Irene offered. “My father always enjoyed reading a newspaper before dinner, you know.”
Hugh nodded. “I often do as well, but not tonight. Why don’t you sit down, Irene?”
“Where shall I sit?” She looked around, bewildered.
“Just there on the sofa.” Hugh pointed. “Then you can tell me about your daughter.”
Irene’s face lit up. “Do you know my Anna?”
“I do. We work at the same office.”
“Are you an accountant, too?”
“No.” He laughed. “I can barely add up straight.”
Anna had taken the carrier bag of Chinese food through to the kitchen. She reappeared with a bottle of sherry and three glasses.
“Mum? Hugh?”
Irene took a small glass.
Hugh raised a hopeful eyebrow, but Anna shook her head. Sherry or nothing, then. “A small one for me, too.”
Anna handed him a glass and poured her own.
“Cheers,” Hugh said, and he raised his glass to the others.
Irene smiled. “Good health to you.”
Anna merely raised her glass. “I’ve put the food in the oven,” she said. “I’ll bring it out when it’s heated through properly.”
While Irene continued to chat away at Hugh, Anna laid the small dining table. When it was ready, she set out the takeaway on table mats. Irene insisted that Hugh should sit at the end of the table and help himself first. Anna spooned egg-fried rice and lemon chicken onto her mother’s plate and handed it to her before serving herself. Irene stared down at the food in distress.
“It’s okay, Mum,” Anna soothed. “Here’s your fork, look.” She showed her how to pick up the food and bring it to her mouth. “That’s it.”
“I forget, you see,” Irene told Hugh. “Silly, isn’t it?”
Hugh glanced at Anna. She watched him fiercely, practically daring him to say the wrong thing. He cleared his throat. “We all forget silly things sometimes.”
“Anna never forgets,” Irene said proudly.
“Anna is a very remarkable person.”
Irene smiled. “I know.”
“Anna is right here,” Anna said through gritted teeth.
“Well, of course you are, dear. Eat your dinner now, and talk to the nice young man.”
“Hugh,” Anna reminded her.
“Hugh,” Irene repeated. “Do I know him?”
Anna shook her head. “He works in my office.”
Irene’s eyes were the same deep brown as her daughter’s, and her fine hair would once have been the same rich chestnut. She turned Anna’s own smile on Hugh as she asked, “Are you an accountant, too?”
She didn’t remember. Not ten minutes ago they’d had this same conversation, and Irene didn’t remember.
Hugh summoned a smile. “No. I leave all the hard work like that to Anna.”
Anna, who hadn’t told him she lived with her mother. A mother with dementia, who clearly needed constant supervision. Why hadn’t Anna told him? Why hadn’t she trusted him?
“He’s a creative designer, Mum. He comes up with all the ideas.” Anna had barely touched her food. When she picked up her glass, her hand trembled.
“My Anna is an accountant, you know.”
Hugh nodded. “I know. She’s a very good accountant.”
“She is,” agreed Irene.
When they’d finished their meal, Anna stacked the empty plates and Hugh helped her carry the dishes through to the kitchen.
“I’ll wash up,” he offered.
“No, don’t worry. I’ll do it later.”
“Anna.” He rested a hand on her waist. “I want to help.” And he needed a moment to himself.
She shrugged. “In that case, go right ahead. Mum and I will be watching TV.”
Left alone, Hugh leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. What the hell was he doing here?
He set about cleaning up, but as he rinsed the plates and scraped the leftover food into the bin, his mind wouldn’t stop working. Why had Anna never said anything about her mother? Did she think he wouldn’t have understood? That he wouldn’t have cared? Did he mean so little to her?
Had she pushed other people away, too? Perhaps she couldn’t see that she needed friends to support her. There was courageous independence, and then there was foolhardy stubbornness.
And it looked like Hugh would have to show her the difference.
He took a tray of coffee through to the sitting room.
“Not for Mum,” Anna said under her breath. “It keeps her awake all night.”
Hugh pretended to watch the TV while he drank his coffee. As soon as he was finished, he stood up. “I’d better get going.”
Anna shot him a look of gratitude. Irene sounded bewildered as she asked, “Where are you going?”
“I’m going home, Irene. It was nice to meet you.”
Anna followed Hugh out to the door and handed him his coat.
He shrugged it on, then stepped closer. “I thought we were friends. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She pulled him outside, closing the door behind her. “I haven’t told anyone at work. I don’t need their pity.”
“You thought I was offering you pity?”
“What else?”
“I don’t know. You never gave me the chance to find out.”
“Anna!” Irene called from the sitting room.
She opened the door and called back, “Coming, Mum.” With a harsh look for Hugh she added, “I have to go. You have to go.”
He took a deep breath. He hadn’t intended to lose his temper. “I’ll ring you later,” he promised. “We have things to discuss.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
He cupped her face gently between his hands and looked down at her. So beautiful. He’d thought it before but never seen it the way he did now. So brave. How could he ever have called her a coward? She needed someone on her side, even if she didn’t realize it yet. He’d show her she could trust him.
He brushed his lips against hers in a promise. “I want to.”
Chapter Five
Anna curled up in bed, staring at the phone handset on her bedside table.
It was after eleven. Would he really call?
She wouldn’t blame him if he’d had second thoughts. Why would anyone want to get involved with her? Hugh was the kind of man who could easily find another girlfriend. A woman who was free to spend her time with him. One who was able to put him first, instead of an increasingly needy mother.
She would just tell him not to bother. Give him an easy way out. That was the best she could do.
The phone buzzed. Anna picked it up immediately, in case her mother woke.
“Is this a good time?” Hugh asked. “Can you talk?”
“Mum’s in bed, if that’s what you mean.” Anna heard the bitterness in her own voice.
“Anna, I’m so sorry.”
He’d phoned her to say he was sorry? She counted to ten and took a deep breath. “I told you. I don’t need your pity.”
He bit back a curse. “I meant, I’m sorry I accused you of being a coward.”
“Oh.” A smile crept across her face. The tension in her shoulders unclenched.
“I just wish you’d felt you could tell me.”
“Talking about it doesn’t change anything.”
“It changed things between us. That’s why, isn’t it?”
She sighed. “Yes, that’s why. Mum isn’t safe on her own. I pay for a care worker during the day so I can work, but otherwise I have to be at home with her. Evenings, weekends, holidays.” She was as blunt as possible. She needed to put him off. “So there isn’t any point. We couldn’t ever have more than lunch at Giovanni’s and a quick snog on the way back to the office.”
“Anna…” After a moment he continued, “How long has she been like this?”
“About eighteen months. She’s only sixty.” Anna swallowed. She hated talking about it. “So, she didn’t think anything of it when her memory first started to go. She’s too young.”
“Much too young.”
“Early-onset, they called it. Apparently some people get Alzheimer’s in their thirties or forties. Mum was lucky.”
“Not very lucky.”
“No. No, not very lucky. Hugh, there’s something else.”
After a moment, he asked gently, “What is it?”
She drew a deep breath. “It’s hereditary. Possibly. Probably.”
“Anna?” His voice was rough.
“Mmm?” She didn’t want to hear it. She braced herself for rejection.
“I wish I were sitting next to you right now.”
“Hugh…”
“I think you need someone to give you a hug.”
She paused, blinking back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. “I don’t get many hugs.” Kisses and gentle tokens of affection from her mother, yes. Not crushing hugs of comfort from tall men with broad chests and strong shoulders.
“I could come over,” he offered.
She longed to say yes. She wanted to fling herself into his arms, to cry all over his shoulder and draw comfort from his warmth and strength. “No,” she choked out. “No, it’s late and it would worry Mum.”
“Okay. But the offer stands. Any time you need it.”
After they ended the call, she set the phone down on her bedside table. The house was quiet, and a great wave of loneliness swept over her.
For eighteen months now, her life had been all about caring for her mother. Her friends had been good at keeping in touch, at first. But when months had passed without Anna joining them at the pub or accepting a dinner invitation, the texts dried up and the phone calls grew fewer and further between.
Work was her one outlet. For eight hours a day, she lived like an ordinary person. She was good at her job, she enjoyed the responsibility, and she had great colleagues. She hadn’t told anyone at work about her mother. She didn’t want their pity. She didn’t want them to treat her any differently.
But now Hugh knew.
He had been kind. Kind to her mother at dinner, and kind to her when he phoned. He hadn’t backed off, and he hadn’t tried to fix everything. Unlike everyone else who’d offered help, Hugh had known instinctively the one thing Anna craved most.
A hug.
That was all she needed. Someone to put his arms around her and hold her close. Someone to let her know she wasn’t alone, that she had support when she needed it.
Her hand crept toward the phone. She could call him now. He would come.
And she would look utterly pathetic. A grown woman, unable to get to sleep without a man to give her a hug.
Anna put the phone well out of reach, plumped up her pillows, and switched off her bedside light. She was fine on her own.
She had to be.
Chapter Six
As soon as he’d met Irene, Hugh had begun looking for solutions, coming up with creative ideas to make Anna’s life easier. Creative thinking was Hugh’s forte. That was why clients were queuing up to get on his books at the agency. Problem solving for Irene was much more comfortable than processing his own reactions to Irene’s illness and Anna’s life.
After Anna hung up, Hugh had stayed up for hours, thinking. Thinking about her. How young and pretty she’d looked, barefoot in her baggy sweater and jeans. How desperately she’d tried to keep him from knowing about her mother. So brave. So independent. It was easy to see why she wouldn’t want pity.
Would she accept help?
He’d seen how much love the two women had for each other. He’d seen it in Anna’s patient responses and Irene’s proud glances. He could see Anna’s deep need to care for her mother as long as she possibly could. A residential home would be the last resort for both.
But Anna needed help. She couldn’t continue with a life that never allowed her out of the house. She had no space for a hobby, no time for fun. No time to just be Anna.
Irene was still young. Anna could be caring for her for years. Years that she should be spending falling in love, starting a family, having adventures. Years when she could be falling in love with Hugh, starting a family with him, the two of them having adventures together.
Years when he could be falling deeper and deeper in love with her.
He grimaced. Feeling sorry for himself wasn’t any use to Anna. The last thing she needed was a burden of emotional guilt laid on her by a selfish admirer. She needed someone who would support her.
If he was going to help, he needed to know the facts. He rolled out of bed and switched on his laptop. He typed “Early-onset Alzheimer’s” into the search bar. He recognized Irene’s symptoms on the first website he visited. The memory failure would only get worse. There would come a point when she couldn’t be cared for safely at home. She was likely to develop distressing mood swings.
The next ten years would be unbearably hard for Anna. She was right; she didn’t have space for a normal relationship. She couldn’t go out to dinner or spend weekends in the country. And the alternative she’d given, of lunches at Giovanni’s and quick snogs on the way back to the office, was as unappealing as she’d meant it to be.
He kept reading, compelled to find out what was likely to happen to Irene.
And to Anna.
Familial Alzheimer’s. He tried to ignore it, but it was mentioned on every website and in the end, Hugh forced himself to read. A genetic predisposition. If Irene had the gene, there was a good chance Anna had it, too. There was a test that could tell.
Hugh stared grimly at the computer, as if it were somehow responsible for the devastating facts it presented. His fist clenched, ready to punch the screen. He could throw the heartless machine out of the window. He could rage against the world that was destroying his Anna’s life—a world where he could do nothing to save her.
All he could do was be there for her. Give her a hug when she needed it. Support her through the hard times.
It wouldn’t be easy. It was a million miles from the kind of relationship Hugh had hoped for. It terrified him. How would he cope if Anna started losing her memory? How would he stop his heart from breaking if she looked at him and didn’t know his name?
He could suggest she take the test. Find out what the chances were.
And then what? He could walk away? Tell her it was too hard?
Hugh pressed his lips together. How had he ever dared to call Anna a coward? She was the bravest person he knew. She hadn’t walked away. He’d bet it hadn’t even occurred to her. She loved her mother, and that’s what love meant. It meant sticking with her when things were tough.
Anna didn’t have to take any test. The only test was whether he loved her enough. This couldn’t be the easy come, easy go sort of relationship he was used to. It wouldn’t be fair to Anna, and it wouldn’t be fair to Irene. She needed someone willing to stand with her, no matter what the future held.
Hugh switched off his laptop. The Internet couldn’t tell him if he loved Anna. No amount of searching would help him decide if he could be the man she needed. He had to find his own answers to those questions…somehow.
Chapter Seven
On Monday morning, a cup of coffee and a paper bag waited on Anna’s desk with a sticky note: In case you didn’t have time for breakfast. She smiled and peeked inside the bag. A warm almond croissant.
Anna leaned back in her chair. He’d brought her real espresso, not from the machine, and she savored every sip.
As if on cue, her phone rang just as she popped the last flaky croissant crumb into her mouth. She smiled as she answered it. “Hello.”
“Morning,” Hugh said.
“Morning. Thanks for breakfast.” She crumpled the croissant bag and threw it in the bin.
“My pleasure.”
“So, I think I owe you lunch.”
“You’re on. Lunch at Giovanni’s and a quick snog on the way back to the office?”
“Hugh.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be vulgar.”
“You know how things are. I can’t offer you more than friendship.”
“We’ll see.”
He hung up before she could protest further—and truthfully, she wasn’t sure she had it in her to keep resisting.
The next day, she found a green envelope on her desk. She slid out a card emblazoned with a red-nosed Rudolph, with a dewy-eyed female deer gazing up at him in adoration. As she opened it, a familiar tune tinkled: “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”
Saw this and thought of you, Hugh had written.
Anna put the card in the top drawer of her desk and opened her laptop, still grinning.
On Wednesday, it was a snow globe with a scene of the London skyline. She kept it on her desk. Every time she shook it, glittery snowflakes fell around the familiar landmarks, and she smiled. After that, she began to expect little presents and surprises every day. Hugh hadn’t made any attempt to ask her out. Even when they ate lunch together, he didn’t try to hold her hand or kiss her again. Perhaps this was his way of accepting her friendship without pressing her for more than she could give.
It’s enough, Anna told herself. It has to be enough.
On Christmas Eve, the office closed at midday. Anna had arranged for Irene’s care worker to stay for the afternoon so she could do some last-minute shopping. Hugh arrived at her desk at twelve.
“Do you have time for lunch?”
Anna checked her watch. “If it’s quick. I’ve still got a long to-do list, and I have to be home for Mum.”
“Of course. I can’t stay long, either.”
It was a damp, cold day, so they hurried to the restaurant. She was grateful for its welcoming warmth. Giovanni kissed Anna and tried to tempt Hugh with a special dish of pasta with duck’s liver. Hugh’s lips twisted into a grimace that made Anna laugh.
“He has no soul, Giovanni, remember?”
“Ah, signorina, I fear you are right. But for you it will be the spaghetti alla vongole and dessert, yes?”
“Yes, please.” She couldn’t resist the chance to be with Hugh a little longer. The next few days would be lonely with just her mother for company. She would make the most of this time.
Anna handed her menu back to Giovanni. “We’ll have a bottle of your finest red wine. My treat,” she added, when Hugh looked up in surprise.
“Are we celebrating?” he asked, after Giovanni had taken their order.
“Yes.” She grinned. “It’s Christmas.”
“What are you doing for Christmas Day?” Hugh asked later, while she enjoyed her tiramisu. He’d opted to have a coffee after his pizza.
“It’ll just be Mum and me.”
“No hordes of family?” His eyebrow quirked.
“No. Mum’s got a brother in Canada, but otherwise it’s the two of us.”
“What about your father?”
Anna shook her head. “He left when I was a baby. It’s always been Mum and me.”
“I see. So will you cook a turkey?”
She laughed. “No. A chicken is more than enough for us. But we like to decorate the house, and we usually sing along with a cheesy Christmas CD.”
“You should get a home karaoke machine,” he suggested.
“Not a chance. What about you?” She stirred the froth into her cappuccino.
“My sister always invites everyone to her house. Cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, the whole lot. Total chaos, but fun.”
“It sounds like it.” It did. It sounded like a proper party. Even before her mother developed Alzheimer’s, Christmas had been a quiet day just for them. Two people weren’t enough for silly board games or charades. Without any children, there was no excuse for Christmas stockings or pretending Santa Claus had come. They would have a nice roast dinner, open their presents, and watch TV.
“You’ve got the whole week off, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Mum’s care worker likes to go away over Christmas, so I always book time off.”
“Good. Look, I’m sorry I can’t stay any longer. This is for you.” He passed her a small package, then another. “And this is for Irene.”
Anna’s eyes stung with sudden tears. “Thank you. I know she will appreciate it.”
Hugh stood. “Have a happy Christmas, Anna. You deserve it.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Eight
Irene knocked on Anna’s bedroom door. “I’ve made you a cup of tea, dear.”
Anna rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Come in, Mum.”
In her pink dressing gown and with her hair tangled, Irene looked as though she might be nearer to forty than sixty, but her hand shook as she passed over the mug.
“Happy Christmas, darling.”
Anna smiled. “Happy Christmas to you, Mum.”
“Shall I put the bacon on?”
“No, Mum. I’ll do that in a minute. Sit down here and let’s open our presents.”
Irene’s face fell. “I don’t think I remembered to get you a present, Anna darling.”
Keeping her smile firmly in place, Anna shook her head. “Don’t worry, Mum. We’ve got plenty. Look, these are for you.” She’d bought several small things. Her mother would worry if she spent too much. Irene stroked the soft purple cardigan and agreed it would look nice with her favorite skirt. She opened the rose-scented bubble bath for them both to smell. Together they examined the DVD of three classic romance films and debated whether Cary Grant or Rock Hudson made the better hero.
Then Anna reached for the gifts from Hugh. He’d bought two CDs for Irene. Fun, happy music from the sixties and seventies that she would remember and enjoy. Anna was impressed by the thought he’d given to such a gift.
For Anna there was a pair of earrings. Nothing too elaborate, but stylish and beautiful. She slipped them into her ears and showed them off to her mother.
“You look lovely, darling. Very pretty.”
Anna bent to kiss her mother’s cheek. “You go and get dressed now, Mum. The new cardigan and your tartan skirt, remember. Then we’ll see about breakfast.”
But first, she needed to talk to Hugh.
He answered on the first ring. “Happy Christmas, Anna.”
“Happy Christmas.”
“Did you open your presents?”
“Yes. Thank you, they’re lovely. But Hugh, I just realized I didn’t get anything for you. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She would find a way to make it up to him. “Mum was thrilled with her CDs.”
“I thought if she was anything like you, she’d enjoy singing along.”
She groaned. “I thought we’d forgotten that.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I hoped we had.”
She was smiling when the call ended and still smiling when she joined her mother in the kitchen. They put on one of Hugh’s CDs during breakfast and sang along, laughing as they tried to remember the lyrics to the old songs. Irene belted out a ballad into a wooden spoon. Anna’s heart tightened. This was a moment to remember and cherish in the hard times to come.
Together, they prepared their Christmas lunch. Irene peeled potatoes while Anna stuffed the chicken. The kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of bay leaves, onion, and cloves, simmering in the milk for the bread sauce. They cut crosses in the base of the sprouts and sliced the carrots into neat batons.
“There’s enough for an army,” Irene said with satisfaction.
“More than enough for us, but the leftovers will mean we can have a lovely lazy day tomorrow.”
“You work too hard.”
“I work a perfectly normal amount.”
Irene laid her hand on Anna’s cheek. “You work too hard,” she repeated. “I see everything you do for me, even if I don’t always remember it.”
“Mum, you know I don’t mind.”
“I know. But you’re tired, Anna. I can see it in your eyes.”
Anna shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ve got the whole week off, haven’t I? Shall we go out? Where would you like to go?”
“What about that nice young man?” Irene asked.
“Hugh. His name is Hugh.”
“Hugh,” Irene repeated obediently. “What about Hugh?”
“What about him, Mum?”
“I like him.”
Anna smiled. “So do I.” It didn’t make it any easier. Admitting how she felt about Hugh—and how she thought he felt about her—didn’t change the reality. They couldn’t be together. He must know that as well as she did, though he was kind enough to let her down gently.
She sighed. “Why don’t you lay the table, Mum? I’ll start on the gravy.”
Anna mixed up the meat juices with stock and cornflour, stirring until the gravy thickened. She left the pan on low heat and went to check on Irene.
“Mum, you’ve set three places.”
“Have I?” Irene looked at the table. “I’m sorry, I must have been muddled.”
“It’s only you and me. You know that.”
“Of course, dear. I’ll change it now.”
But when they sat down, there were still three placemats, three sets of cutlery, and three wineglasses at the table. A pair of silver candlesticks held festive red candles. Anna put the chicken in the center of the table, with dishes of steaming vegetables, roasted potatoes, gravy, and bread sauce all around. Shiny confetti of golden bells and green holly was scattered across the pure white tablecloth.
Anna lit the candles. Irene smiled at her with shining eyes. “It’s all so beautiful, dear.”
Anna returned her smile and raised her glass. “Happy Christmas to us.”
Irene lifted her glass but held it, waiting. The doorbell rang.
Anna frowned. “Who would that be on Christmas Day?”
Irene put her glass down. “I think you’d better let him in, dear.”
It couldn’t be. He was spending Christmas with his sister and his family. He’d said so. It wasn’t until she opened the door and saw him standing there, red-faced from the cold, that she dared to let herself hope.
“Hugh. Oh, Hugh.” She fell into his arms, pressing herself tightly against him and burying her face in the deep warmth of his chest. His strong, reassuring hug was the best Christmas present she could have asked for. He held her close, then tilted her face up to his.
“Merry Christmas, darling.” His kiss was soft and tender. Anna tangled her hands in his dark hair, pulling him closer. They clung to each other until Anna was forced to break away and take a breath.
“Why are you here?”
He looked down at her, eyes full of warmth. “Where else would I be?”
“But what about your sister? And your family?”
“I popped in this morning and gave out all my presents. But once I’d told Polly about you, I had to tell my mother, and my aunts, and various other assorted female relatives. They practically pushed me out of the door. They’re looking forward to meeting you, by the way.”
“I still don’t understand. What are you doing here?”
“Having Christmas dinner, I hope. Your mother assured me there would be plenty.”
“My mother? Hugh.” Anna put her hands on her hips. “Have you been scheming behind my back?”
With an apologetic look, he said, “A little. I phoned yesterday afternoon and spoke to her.”
“You could have spoken to me!”
“I wanted to surprise you. Do you really mind?”
Anna shook her head. “No. I don’t mind. Come in.”
“Great. Hold on a second.”
He went back to his car and picked up something large and heavy. Another present?
Anna held the door open and let Hugh carry the box into the sitting room. “What is it?”
“I’ll tell you after dinner. We should eat before the food gets cold. Hello, Irene.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “Hugh.”
“That’s right. I’m sorry I was a bit later than we planned. This all looks delicious, by the way. Who should I thank?” He looked between mother and daughter.
“Joint effort,” said Anna.
“Anna,” said Irene at the same moment.
Hugh laughed. “I’ll thank you both, then. Why haven’t you pulled the crackers yet?” He picked up the shiny red Christmas cracker from his side plate and offered the other end to Irene. They pulled so hard the cracker burst with a bang and the silly trinkets flew out. Hugh got down on hands and knees to pick up the plastic spinning top, which had ended up under the table. Unfolding the red-and-green paper hat, he solemnly placed it on Irene’s head.
“Beautiful,” he pronounced. He turned to Anna. “Now for you, gorgeous. How many glasses of wine have you had, by the way?”
“This is my second. Why?”
“No reason. I think I’d better fill you up again.”
They finished lunch and cleared away in time to watch the Queen’s speech. Anna switched off the TV after the National Anthem and turned to Hugh. “Are you going to tell us what’s in that box now?”
“I certainly am.” He opened up the box and pulled out a large black speaker with a microphone attached. He raised a challenging eyebrow at Anna. “What do you think? Have you got enough Dutch courage, or should I mix up a batch of office-party punch?”
“Karaoke.” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Anna loves to sing,” Irene said innocently.
“Excellent. I’ve heard you like to sing as well, Irene. Do you want to start us off?”
The three of them, still in their paper crowns, made an oddly matched group. Irene warbled a clear soprano line. Anna’s own voice was deeper, while Hugh had a bellowing bass. But they were having fun, Anna realized. Just as she and Mum had enjoyed singing together in the kitchen, it seemed right that the three of them should sing together now.
Hugh put on a Christmas track, and they galloped through carols and Christmas songs. Finally, Hugh selected the song Anna had been dreading.
It was corny and cheesy, but the lyrics captured everything she’d been feeling all day. The presents were lovely, the food had been good, but the only thing she wanted for Christmas was Hugh. He’d had several glasses of wine with lunch, so he wouldn’t be able to drive home. She could suggest he stay the night. She could offer him the pullout bed in the sitting room…or she could offer to share her bed.
Just one night with Hugh wasn’t what she wanted, but it was more than she’d hoped for. If things were different— She shook her head. She couldn’t let herself think like that. She wouldn’t change the choices she’d made.
So she’d just enjoy what she could.
Chapter Nine
Hugh hoped Anna was getting the message. He didn’t care that she hadn’t given him a present. He didn’t care about the dinner or the karaoke. He only cared that Anna had let him in. She’d welcomed him into her home and her family.
He just hoped she was letting him into her heart.
Once Irene was snoozing comfortably on the sofa, Hugh stood and took Anna’s hand. “Come into the kitchen. I want to talk to you.”
“Talk?” she said with a cheeky grin.
“Talk first.”
“Enjoy the moment first,” Anna replied, winding her arms around his neck and making her point very firmly. She tasted of Christmas—sherry trifle and mince pies—and she felt like heaven. She made him forget where they were and what he wanted to say. He closed his arms around Anna’s waist and kissed her in earnest.
“Talk now,” he said, when he had a chance to catch his breath and remember his own name. “Please, Anna.”
“Okay, talk.” She didn’t let go, but she dropped her hands to his waist and gave him a little space.
He looked into her deep brown eyes, and his heart swelled. He loved her. He loved her so much. He had to get this right, for his sake as well as hers.
“I love you.” He hadn’t quite intended to blurt it out like that, but it was as good a place to start as any.
He’d thought it through over and over again in the last couple of weeks and, in the end, it had been easy. He wanted Anna. He loved Anna. He always had. Seeing her with Irene—her patience and her courage—had only made him realize how he’d always felt about her. There were risks and there might be heartache, but there was only one answer.
Anna.
He said it again, more confidently. “I love you.” Her eyes widened, but she still didn’t say anything.
“I love you, Anna.” A third time, to be sure she knew he meant it.
“I…I heard you the first time.”
He nodded. “Okay. Well. That’s it, I suppose. I wanted to say it. To you. Today.”
She turned her face away. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. I wondered if you were going to ask to stay the night.”
He took her hands in his and held them against his chest. “I’d love to stay the night. Every night. I want to be with you, Anna. I want you.”
She tried to pull her hands free, but he held on. “You can’t,” she said, her voice choked. “You know what it’s like. I can’t go out in the evenings. I have to be here on weekends. I can’t be with anyone, Hugh. I just can’t.”
“You can go out if you have someone to stay with Irene. You came to the office party.”
“I told you—that’s my one treat. The only time in the year when I get to let my hair down.”
“You have lovely hair.” Especially when she left it loose as she had today, falling in soft curls around her shoulders.
She flashed him a brief smile. “That’s not the point.”
“No. The point is that your life would be much easier if you had someone else to help out.”
“I can’t afford to pay for another care worker. And I wouldn’t even if I could. Mum doesn’t deserve that. I owe it to her to be here as much as I can.”
He stroked his thumbs soothingly across the backs of her hands. “I’m not talking about another care worker, Anna. I’m talking about me.”
“You?” She stared up at him in shock. “But you don’t have time to help me. Your job demands even more hours than mine.”
He took a deep breath. “I’d have time to help if I moved in with you.”
“But why would you want to do that? You’ve got a perfectly good flat of your own, haven’t you?” Anna shook her head.
“How many glasses of wine did you have? I didn’t think it would be this complicated. I love you, Anna. I want to move in with you so I can be with you. I want to be a part of your life and, while your mum is living here, a part of hers.”
“I’m not sending her to a home.”
“I’m not suggesting you should,” he assured her. “She doesn’t need to be in a home. She’s happy here.”
“She’s not good with change. I don’t know how she’d cope if someone else moved in.”
“She likes me,” Hugh pointed out.
“Yes. Yes, she does.”
“It wouldn’t be easy; I know that. But I think it would be worth it.”
Anna looked around the tiny kitchen. “The house isn’t big enough for another person.”
“I think you’re just making excuses now.”
She withdrew from him to lean against the counter. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively and admitted, “I’m scared. What if it doesn’t work? What if we break up? How would Mum cope then?”
He nodded. He’d worried about that, too. “We don’t have to rush into anything.”
He’d wait as long as she wanted. It was the sensible thing to do. They would both need time to get used to the idea, and so would Irene. But when they were ready for forever, Hugh would be waiting.
She gave him a rueful smile. “I’m not sure a year is actually rushing.”
Hugh raised an eyebrow. “So you’re finally admitting that you fancied me at last year’s Christmas party, then?”
“If we’re being completely honest, I’ve fancied you since I started at the agency.”
Hugh stepped closer. “You hid it very well.”
Anna shrugged. “I knew it couldn’t go anywhere, so it seemed easiest to pretend I wasn’t interested.”
“But you are interested?”
She looked down at her feet, across to the door, and finally up at Hugh. “I love you. Does that count?”
He had her in his arms before she’d finished speaking. He kissed her, hard and deep and full of pent-up emotion he hadn’t known was there. Her response was as intense and needy as his. He clung to her so tightly he might never let her go.
Hugh pressed kisses over Anna’s lips, her cheek, her forehead, her nose, her lips again, settling into their warm embrace. He couldn’t get enough of her. He would never be able to get enough of her. He loved her. She loved him. They loved each other.
Anna stiffened and ducked her head against his shoulder.
Hugh turned them both around, not letting go. “Hello, Irene.”
Irene was smiling happily. “I said he was a nice young man, Anna, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Mum,” she agreed, blushing fiery red.
“Do you want to tell her?” Hugh murmured.
“Hugh’s going to be moving in with us, Mum. Living here. Is that all right?”
Irene’s eyes lit up. “Hugh,” she said confidently.
“That’s right.” He opened his arms to her. “Hugh.”
She let him hug her and give her a warm kiss. She reached across to pat Anna’s cheek. “He’ll take care of you, dear.”
Hugh slipped his arms around their shoulders. He looked from mother to daughter. “We’ll take care of each other. How about that?”
Anna smiled up at him, eyes shining with tears. She nodded. “Yes. We’ll all take care of each other.”
He dropped a kiss to her hair. “That’s all I wanted for Christmas.”
She looked at her mother, then at Hugh. “All I wanted for Christmas was you.”
Acknowledgments
I wouldn’t have written this story without Paula to spur me on, and Mary to tell me what it’s about. It wouldn’t be half as good as it is without the help of Heather and Adrien. And you wouldn’t be reading it if Entangled hadn’t taken a chance on me.
About the Author
Ros is a writer, a student, a church worker, a crafter, a blogger, a Twitterer, a lazy gardener, and an appalling house-keeper. She is interested in almost everything except cricket and football (US and UK) and mostly she likes happy endings in fiction and in real life.
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