Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection. Rebecca Winters

reason to turn your back on me and I don’t blame you. I know I hurt you.’ Her fingers caressed his hand, whilst he looked back at her, not encouraging, but not moving away either. ‘Please, can we have one dance? For old times’ sake?’

      Michael flicked his gaze to me. I could see he was caught. He wasn’t the only one who’d seen the interested glances being thrown at the little vignette being played out here, and he wasn’t about to make a scene.

      ‘Go ahead. I’ll see you in a bit.’ I gave him a smile and walked away, back towards the table. A waiter passed me with a tray of champagne. I swiftly lifted one and took a sip, keeping my expression light. After all, I had no reason to be put out. The evening hadn’t started out as a date. We were just two friends having a pleasant evening. Yes, he’d been charming and for a moment out there, there’d been the hint that maybe…

      I lifted the glass to my lips as my gaze found the two of them on the dancefloor. They really did make the most beautiful pair. I watched as she whispered something, and he smiled, shaking his head slowly. She responded with her own widening smile, her hands moving up his shoulders until they rested at the back of his neck. She bent her forehead against his and…

       Goodness, was that the time?

      Of course there wasn’t a taxi in sight as I left the hotel. The doorman and I waited, looking in vain for an available cab as he valiantly struggled against the wind and sleet with an umbrella until it finally gave up and flipped itself completely inside out, bending the spokes into something worthy of display in the Tate Modern.

      ‘Sorry, Miss.’ The doorman looked at me apologetically. Rain dripped from the brim of his top hat and I, dressed completely inappropriately for the weather, was now soaked completely.

      ‘Not to worry. I’m sure I shan’t dissolve.’ I smiled at him, even though it was really the last thing I felt like doing right now.

      A taxi came into sight, its light signalling its availability. The doorman let out a two fingered, piercing whistle that cut through the whipping wind and, thankfully, caught the driver’s attention. He began signalling and pulled in front of the building, whereupon the doorman quickly opened the door for me.

      ‘You go home and get warm now, Miss.’

      I thanked him and promised that I would, then clambered into the cab as elegantly as I could with a dress that was now completely sodden and clinging to my skin. Using my wrap to casually disguise anything that might be a little X-rated in such a state, I gave the driver my address and sat back on the seat, watching as the water dripped off my skin and dress and collected on the floor around my feet.

      As we made turns, rivulets scooted off, making little puddle tributaries. I watched as they did. Concentrating on them so that I didn’t have to concentrate on anything else. But I knew I couldn’t avoid those thoughts for ever. I pulled out my phone and noticed two missed calls from Michael, and a text that just said ‘Where are you?!’

      Outside the cab, London still thronged with people. There were few things that stopped this city, and rain certainly wasn’t one of them. As we sat waiting at a red light, I studied the reflections of the Christmas lights in the shiny wet pavements, the colours merging as the downpour increased in strength and droplets bounced up off the pavement. Pedestrians increased their pace, some dashing into doorways to take cover until the weather abated enough to move on.

      Inside the cab, I drew my finger down the window glass, creating a line in the condensation that had begun to build on it as I steamed like dim sum in my favourite Chinatown restaurant. I looked back at my phone and opened Michael’s text again. I pressed reply.

       Hi. Really tired and have an early client so needed to leave. Sorry not to say bye but didn’t like to interrupt. Hope the evening was successful for you and have my fingers crossed for you re the contract. As house is now finished, I just want to take this opportunity to say I wish you all success in the hosting of your first Christmas, and for the New Year. Merry Christmas!

      I read the text through again. It didn’t go anywhere near saying what I really wanted to, but that was probably a good thing. I’d spilled my heart out to Michael O’Farrell once before. It wasn’t going to happen twice. And especially not now. Pressing send, I waited for it to show it had been delivered then switched off the phone and tucked it back in my bag just as the driver pulled in to the kerb in front of my building. About to hand over the fare, I pulled a face.

      ‘Sorry. I left a bit of a puddle.’

      His eyebrows shot up and he turned in his seat to look at the back of his cab.

      ‘Oh! No, I mean it’s just the rain! It dripped off me. That’s all, nothing…else.’

      Relief showing in his face, he took the cash, to which I’d now added an even more generous tip for giving him a fright that there’d been an accident on the floor of his taxi. He nodded, but I still wasn’t entirely sure he believed me, which was about right for the way that this night had ended up.

      For a moment, it had held so much promise. Promise I hadn’t even known I wanted. But now I knew. I was more sure of it than of anything I’d ever known: I’d completely and utterly fallen for a client, something that went against all of my self-imposed rules. But Michael O’Farrell had been a rule-breaker from the start, whether intentionally or not. He was unlike any other man I’d ever met. And I wanted him more than any other man I’d ever met. And just as it began to look like that might actually become a possibility, that he might actually feel the same way, his past had walked back in, and from what I saw, she wasn’t just in his past any more.

       Chapter Twenty-Three

      Bolting the door behind me, I hoiked up the wet hem of my dress, kicked off my shoes and squelched through to the bathroom. Whacking the shower on full, I stripped off and stepped under the water. Tipping my face to the stream of water, I let it pour down, enabling me to convince myself that it wasn’t tears flowing down my face, just the shower water. Admittedly this charade became harder to keep up when I stepped out, wrapping myself in an oversized fluffy towel, and found that watery tracks continued to trickle down my cheeks. I sat down heavily on the side of the bath.

      There was no denying it. After so many years of holding back, of seeing what sort of destruction loving the wrong person could wreak, promising that I would never be a part of anything like that again, never be part of such pain, here I was. My throat hurt, my chest hurt, my head hurt and in amongst it all, there was more pain in my heart than I’d thought possible to feel. I thought I’d protected myself against all this. And I had when I’d been paying attention. But falling for Michael had been gradual. Unplanned. Unexpected. And now unbearable.

      I wiped my face with the back of my hand and padded into the bedroom. It was freezing. The outdated storage heater was having another of its moments. I stuffed my foot into a trainer, gave the thing a kick and made a mental note to give the landlord a call in the morning. Although, this close to Christmas I had a feeling it might not be the most successful call I’d ever make.

      Shivering, I pulled out my fleeciest jammies and then shoved my arms into my cosy dressing gown, wrapping it around me tightly, making myself into a human fleece burrito. Pulling back the covers, I hopped in and quickly yanked them back up over me, leaving just my eyes peeking out. Closing them, I tried to push away all the thoughts of what might have been tonight. It wasn’t like me to be fanciful and imagine what could be. I’d learned from my mother that that sort of thinking only brought heartbreak and disappointment.

      Michael was someone else’s. Maybe he always had been. And if he had a chance at making his marriage work again I should be happy for him, shouldn’t I? But inside there was a voice that questioned this new turn of events. It was clear from his behaviour and the way he’d run his life since Angeline had left that he’d been totally in love with her, and that her infidelity, her leaving, had devastated him. But in the past six weeks he’d changed. He’d begun to get back to who he really was beneath all the hurt and anger