Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection. Rebecca Winters

you might have cracked a rib. You really ought to go to hospital and get checked out.’

      He’d unzipped his leathers now and was wriggling out of the top half, struggling more than he had the last time I’d seen him do it. Automatically, I reached up and pulled the shoulder of the suit past his own.

      ‘Thanks. They’ve earned their keep today.’ He pulled the sleeve around and inspected it for scuff marks, giving a sigh when he found plenty.

      ‘They can be replaced. You can’t.’

      ‘Ah Katie. Are you saying I’m irreplaceable?’

      I levelled a look at him. ‘I’m saying there is only one of you. Thank goodness.’

      He smiled. ‘Fair enough. Look, I’m going to go and change and then I’ll be back and we can set to doing whatever it is that you had planned for today.’

      I shook my head. ‘Did you not listen to me?’

      ‘I did. I just chose to take another option.’

      ‘There is no other option. You resting is the only option.’

      ‘So you’re not staying.’

      ‘No. I can come back in a couple of days and we can catch up then.’

      ‘Right. But it was the living room you were planning on tackling today?’

      ‘It was. But another couple of days won’t hurt.’

      ‘OK. I’ll just go and change and then I can make a start without you.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘What?’ he replied, his face the picture of altar boy innocence.

      ‘You’re not starting anything without me.’

      ‘Why not? Afraid I’ll muck it up.’

      ‘I just told you why not!’

      ‘And I told you I’m fine.’

      ‘And clearly you’re not. You’re black and blue, you’re limping heavily and it’s obvious your ribs hurt.’

      ‘Only when you make me laugh.’

      I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. ‘I knew it would be my fault.’

      He laughed again. ‘Ow.’

      I gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘How on earth do your family put up with you?’

      ‘Practice.’

      ‘Go and get changed. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

      ‘You don’t need to – ’

      ‘Go!’ I said, pointing straight armed at the stairs.

      ‘I’m going, I’m going.’ And he began climbing the stairs, unaware that the fact he was doing so slowly, one by one, unlike his normal jog of two at a time, told me everything I needed to know.

      ***

      ‘Kate?’ Michael called.

      ‘In here,’ I called back from the living room.

      He appeared at the door wearing tracksuit bottoms that had seen better days, a T-shirt that didn’t look too bad from what I could see and the zip-up hoody he’d thrown over the top and left unzipped also had some hope for it. We’d had a brief discussion about sorting his clothes at some point, but as these lived in the master bedroom and he’d already declared that as not needing attention, I was still unsure as whether I was ever going to get my hands on his wardrobe. Michael glanced down at his clothing.

      ‘I’m getting the impression my outfit doesn’t meet with your approval.’ His expression was hard to read.

      ‘You look fine. Why would I mind what you wear? And they look…comfortable, which is the important thing.’

      He gave me a look.

      ‘What?’

      ‘There’s a “but” there.’

      ‘There isn’t a “but”.’ How did he do that? I had to admit it was getting more than a little disconcerting.

      ‘Oh, there is definitely a “but”.’

      ‘Are you going to get your weight off that leg and sit down or not?’

      ‘When you tell me the truth.’

      ‘Fine,’ I shrugged. ‘It’s your discomfort. Doesn’t bother me.’

      Michael tilted his head in acknowledgement. ‘What are we doing?’

      ‘Basically pulling out everything that’s in this room and putting it into categories. I think half your jackets are down here so, for example, they can be taken and hung up in your wardrobe. Assuming you want to keep them.’

      ‘Perhaps I’d better ask you if I should keep them as you seem to have an opinion on my clothing already.’

      I rolled my eyes and said nothing. He chuckled and then sucked in his breath as his ribs protested. I glanced round but he was carrying on with the task I’d detailed. Bending down, he scooped an armful of jackets up and straightened. He said nothing but the pain was so clear on his face it made me wince.

      ‘Right. That’s it. Put those down.’

      ‘What? Why? I thought this was the plan.’

      ‘It was the plan before you started auditioning for Cirque Du Soleil this afternoon.’

      ‘I told you, I’m fine.’

      ‘And I didn’t tell you, but you should already know, that I’m not an idiot.’

      ‘I never thought for one moment that you were.’

      ‘Then stop trying to pretend you’re not in pain. If you’re not going to go to hospital, the least you should do is sit down and rest. Look, sit there.’

      I steered him towards a space I’d already made on the sofa whilst he’d been upstairs changing.

      ‘Sit.’

      Mikey looked down at me and I held his gaze firmly.

      ‘I said, sit. Please.’

      A flicker of a smile played on his lips and he obeyed.

      ‘Tea.’ I handed him the mug I’d made.

      ‘You’re kind of bossy sometimes. You know that, don’t you?’

      ‘It’s not bossiness. It’s called being sensible and organised.’

      ‘Are you always sensible and organised.’

      ‘Pretty much.’

      ‘Let me guess. You were a wild child growing up but you’ve got all that out of your system now.’

       Boy, he couldn’t be any farther from the truth if he’d tried.

      ‘Not at all. Now. If I pull stuff out, then you can tell me whether it’s still wanted and we can start finding homes for it.’

      Something caught my eye and I crossed the room to get it. Upending the pile of goodness knows what that had almost covered it, I found a beautiful footstool upholstered in pale blue and white Toile de Jouy. Bending to lift it, I was halted in my tracks.

      ‘Don’t you dare.’

      ‘Excuse me?’ I said turning to find Michael approaching me. ‘And I told you to sit down.’

      ‘I’m not going to sit there and watch you heave furniture about. I know you consider me some misogynistic Neanderthal – ’

      ‘I never said that.’

      ‘You never say a lot of things.’

      I