Christmas With The Single Dad. Sarah Morgan

nothing wrong with any of the equipment. It’s just that exercise and I have an ambivalent relationship.’

      ‘Love, you ain’t the only one,’ Harry said with a consoling pat to Nicola’s arm. ‘Now, how about I bathe the littlies while you stack the dishwasher?’

      It was obvious Harry adored Ella and Holly and, if the expression on her face was anything to go by, she enjoyed bath time too. Nicola was happy to divide the chores. ‘Deal.’ She rose and started to clear the table.

      ‘You promised to read me a bedtime story, Nic!’ Ella reminded her. ‘Don’t forget.’

      She planted her hands on her hips and gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. ‘How could I forget something as important as that?’

      With a giggle, Ella allowed Harry to lead her away.

      A glance back at the table confirmed that Cade watched her. She couldn’t decipher the expression in his eyes, but it made her break out in gooseflesh and turned all her fingers to thumbs. She opened her mouth to fill the quiet, but shut it again. That kind of rattling on was neither dignified nor self-possessed. She stacked the dishwasher, and suffered his examination in silence.

      ‘Nicola,’ he said, finally breaking the silence, ‘you don’t strike me as the gym-junkie type.’

      No, she was more a curl-up-on-the-sofa-with-a-good-book-and-a-block-of-chocolate type. Admitting that certainly wouldn’t be dignified, though. ‘I think we’ve definitely established I’m not the jogging-outside-in-the-fresh-country-air type either,’ she managed with a wry, hopefully dignified smile. ‘Despite what I said, I do understand the benefits of regular exercise and I am grateful for the use of your home gym.’

      She poured detergent into the dishwasher and then switched it on. ‘I have every intention of continuing.’

      He stood. ‘Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’

      Last time he’d said that he’d showed her a home gym.

      He grinned at her hesitation. ‘You’ll love it, I promise.’

      Nicola smelled like strawberry jam. He’d first noticed it when he’d helped her to her feet yesterday morning. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of it out of his head. He’d been craving another hit ever since. Walking beside her now towards the stables, he could drag that scent into his lungs unimpeded and drink in his fill.

      Still … He glanced across at her. There was no denying that she was a hell of a puzzle. When she let her guard down her blunt honesty and self-deprecation made him laugh. She was completely unguarded around the children. She was much more reserved around him and Harry. Especially him.

      And the shadows in her eyes haunted him. They reminded him of last Christmas, with all of its bleak despair and bitterness. He didn’t want reminders of last Christmas. He wanted festivity and merriment and all-out Christmas cheer.

      His lips twisted. He had a hunch that plugging away every day on that darn treadmill and rowing machine weren’t going to improve Nicola’s Christmas cheer. It might just cement those shadows in her eyes for good!

      Exercise-wise, he had her pegged as a team player—basketball, cricket, softball, it probably wouldn’t matter which. There wasn’t a chance he’d be able to organise that out here, though. At least, not until the rest of the family arrived in a week and a half’s time.

      Which left him with one other option to win her over, and help dispel those shadows.

      He ushered her through the door of the barn. She glanced up, spearing him with those amazing eyes. She opened her mouth, and then shut it again. He sensed the effort it took her and wondered why she didn’t just ask what she so obviously wanted to.

      He took her arm to guide her through the early evening dimness of the barn and through a connecting door to the stables. Her eyes widened as they walked along the line of horse stalls. Her breath quickened and beneath his fingers her skin suddenly seemed to come alive.

      He dropped his hand, shook it out, and told himself to stop being stupid. Halting at a stall halfway down the row, he gestured to the horse inside. The mare whickered softly and nuzzled his hand for a treat. He fed her the lump of sugar he’d stolen from the kitchen.

      ‘This here is Scarlett O’Hara.’ He glanced down at Nicola, who was staring at the horse as if she’d never seen one before. ‘She’s yours to ride for the duration of your stay at Waminda Downs.’

      She stared at him as if she hadn’t understood. The hair at his nape started to prickle. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Did he have her pegged all wrong? It was just …

      She liked kids. She liked dogs. It made sense that she’d like horses too.

      He hunched his shoulders. ‘I mean, if you don’t want to ride that’s fine. But if you do, I’m happy to teach you.’

      Her eyes filled and he backed up a step. Darn it all! She wasn’t going to cry, was she? He was trying to instil Christmas spirit, not histrionics.

      She clasped her hands beneath her chin. ‘Do you really mean that?’

      Just for a moment, she reminded him of Ella. He rolled his shoulders and eyed her warily. ‘Sure I do.’

      She swallowed. Her eyes went back to normal. If amazing could be called normal. ‘All my life,’ she whispered, reaching out to rest a hand against Scarlett’s neck, ‘I’ve wanted to learn to ride.’

      Her eyes suddenly shone. Her whole face came alive. She smiled. The same way she smiled at Ella and Holly. A full and open smile. A wholehearted smile. At him.

      The impact hit him square in the middle of his chest. The ground beneath his feet tilted. Fire licked along his veins to pool and burn in his groin. Desire stirred inside him for the first time in sixteen months.

      He took a step away from her. ‘First lesson at six-fifteen sharp in the morning,’ he rapped out. Then he turned on his heel and fled. He couldn’t even respond to the thank you she called after him.

       CHAPTER THREE

      CADE had Jack, his head stockman, give Nicola her first riding lesson. He stayed away.

      Curiosity, though, defeated him by mid-morning. When he saw Ella and Holly with Nicola on the lawn in the shade of one of the date palms, their tartan blanket a flash of blue and red in the sun, he took a breather from breaking in a promising young colt to make his way over to them.

      As he drew nearer he could hear them singing Waltzing Matilda, their heads bent over … something. At least, Nicola and Ella were singing, Holly mostly la-laahed. He glanced around the garden at all the Christmas decorations and wondered why they weren’t singing Christmas carols.

      His gaze returned to Nicola and he chewed the inside of his lip. Without warning, Holly crawled into Nicola’s lap. One of Nicola’s arms went about her, cradling her easily. With her other hand she pushed the hair back from the child’s forehead and dropped an easy kiss there before picking up her … crayon again. She and Ella were colouring in a gigantic picture of a billabong—complete with kangaroos, koalas, wombats, a spindly emu and … a bunyip that Ella was colouring purple and orange.

      He surveyed the tableau and something warm and sweet pooled low in his belly. He’d have loved it if they sang Jingle Bells and coloured in a festive Santa-themed picture, but it was obvious Nicola had developed an easy relationship with his children in a very short space of time, and for that he was grateful.

      ‘Ella,’ Nicola said, halting mid-verse.

      It was only when she stopped that he realised what a lovely singing voice she had.

      ‘I have eyes in the back of my head and I do believe your daddy is standing right behind us.’

      Ella