The Christmas Sisters. Sarah Morgan

      “I captured your knight.”

      “I remember.” His smile was almost boyish. “I can still take your king. Give me a chance to try. You won the last two games we played and my confidence has taken a severe blow.”

      His confidence had always seemed to her to be indestructible.

      “I think we should finish the proposal.”

      “You’re afraid you’re going to lose.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. “I looked at your presentation. It’s brilliant. We’re going to win this business.”

      Relaxing slightly, she leaned across to scan the spreadsheet on his screen. “You need to change that.” She tapped one of the numbers. “Didn’t you get my email?”

      “The one you sent at 3:00 a.m? Yes, I picked it up this morning on our way to the airport, but we’re not all as lightning fast as you.” He altered the number. “You have a hell of a brain, McBride, but why weren’t you sleeping?”

      “I like work.” More specifically, she loved numbers. Loved data and computer code. Numbers were reliable and behaved the way she wanted them to. Numbers didn’t wrap themselves round your heart and squeeze until the blood stopped flowing. “I wanted to finish this project.”

      “You couldn’t have done that in the eighteen-hour day you put in?”

      “I had things on my mind.” And not just the fact that her period was late.

      She’d been thinking about the two voice mail messages that had been sitting on her phone for a month.

      She’d had similar calls before over the years, particularly at this time of year as the anniversary of the accident approached. This time she didn’t recognize the name. She’d learned not to respond, but still the message sat like a leaden weight in the pit of her stomach, reminding her of things she didn’t want to think about.

      She’d almost asked Beth if she’d had a call, too, but then she would have had to talk about it and she didn’t want to.

      It was something she and Suzanne had in common. They both preferred to ignore the past.

      Adam saved the file they were working on. “Suzanne and Stewart were relatives?”

      “Friends of my parents. They adopted the three of us.” Which only served to intensify her guilt that she couldn’t be the person they wanted her to be.

      “And that’s why you feel you have to be there at Christmas. Because you owe them.” It was a statement of fact, not a question, and she didn’t argue with him.

      She did owe them, and she knew she could never repay the debt. “That’s part of it.”

      “Take me with you.”

      “My family live in Scotland, in the remote Highlands. I can’t imagine you dealing with dodgy Wi-Fi and an intermittent phone signal.” She eyed his polished loafers. “You’d hate it.”

      “I would not hate it. For a start, I’m a lover of single malt. Do your folks happen to live near a distillery?”

      Hannah sighed. “In fact, they do, but—”

      “Well, there you go. I’m already sold. Also, I appreciate beautiful scenery. A few romantic walks in a misty glen would be a perfect way to unwind.”

      “A misty glen? You’ve been watching too much Braveheart. At this time of year the glen is usually buried under a foot of snow, and if there’s mist, you’re going to be lost and die of hypothermia.”

      He gave an exaggerated shudder. “I knew there was a reason I chose to live in Manhattan. Seriously though, think about it. If I was there with you, we could work on the presentation. Believe it or not, I can live without the internet. No internet might turn out to be the greatest Christmas gift of all.”

      It was one thing to tell Adam about her family. Quite another to introduce them.

      Champagne corks would pop.

      Hannah would be swept along by an uncontrollable tide of expectation.

      “You’re going to the Caribbean and that, believe me, is going to be a thousand times better than Christmas in the Scottish Highlands. It’s likely we’ll be snowed in.” The thought of it made her hyperventilate. Trapped. Unable to breathe. Buried.

      She heard Suzanne’s voice, thick with tears. They’re gone, Hannah. They’re dead.

      Maybe she should have invented a business trip to some far-flung corner of the globe to get herself out of it for another year. If she visited a client in Sydney, she could be on a plane for almost all of the festive season.

      Last year she’d chickened out at the last minute and she knew Posy hadn’t believed her limp excuse.

       Who the hell decides they need to revamp their company on Christmas Eve, Hannah?

       Even Santa leaves his corporate evaluation until the New Year.

      There had been a time when Posy had worshipped Hannah and followed her round like a shadow. She’d crawled into her bed and refused to be dislodged. She’d held her hand. She’d sat on her lap. She’d clung like a burr, all softness and vulnerability.

      Hannah felt the tightness in her chest increase as she thought about it.

      To say that they’d grown apart would be an understatement, and Hannah knew the whole thing was her fault.

      Her relationship with her youngest sister was yet another piece of evidence to support her belief that she’d be a terrible mother.

       So what was she going to do if she was pregnant?

CHAPTER FOUR

       Posy

      IN A REMOTE valley in the Scottish Highlands, Posy McBride stood at the base of an avalanche field buffeted by an icy wind. It froze exposed skin and crept through gaps in clothing. The air smelled sharply of winter and each breath emerged as a cloud of vapor.

      Snow the size of boulders lay strewn across an area that attracted climbers from all over the world. This area of the Highlands was known for its steep cliffs, challenging routes and its tendency to avalanche in the winter months.

      The dog waiting next to her was tense with anticipation and excitement.

      “Away find!” Posy gave the command and the dog bounded onto the debris field, weaving to and fro, nose to the snow.

      Other members of the mountain rescue team had formed a probe line and were searching with slow, methodical purpose.

      “She’s a champ,” Posy muttered, striding to catch up as Bonnie struggled over the huge boulders of snow, a smudge of gold in a sea of white as she searched for human scent.

      Rory, the training officer for the team, walked up to her, a radio in his hand. “Phil fell over a few times. His scent will be all over the snow. That’s going to confuse her.”

      “It’s not going to confuse her. She’s trained in air scent and trailing.” Posy didn’t take her eyes off Bonnie. “See? She’s showing interest in that spot right there. She’s a natural.”

      “Phil would have put human scent on the surface.”

      At that moment Bonnie started barking. Then she flew across the snow back to Posy.

      “Show me!” Posy followed her back to the place that had caught her attention.

      Rory followed at a slower pace, cursing as he stumbled. “I bet Luke a tenner she wouldn’t find him.”

      “And for that lack of faith you’re going to have to pay up.” Posy reached Bonnie,