His Christmas Present (6 page)

She sipped her
champagne and rubbed her nose as the bubbles tickled it. “Are you happy?”

He studied her,
amused now. “That’s a very chick thing to ask.”

“Well, I am a
chick.”

“Clearly.” He took
a swallow of his own wine, his eyes teasing.

“So? Are you
happy?”

He shrugged. “I think
so.”

“You don’t sound
sure.” She smiled as the waitress approached, and ordered an almond tiramisu
with marinated cherries. He ordered honey cake, and they sat back and surveyed
each other.

“I’m excited about
the takeover,” he said. “Confident about my chances at the company. Looking
forward to the challenge.”

“You still haven’t
answered my question.”

He gave her a wry,
slightly exasperated smile. “Yes. I guess I’m happy enough.”

She had to ask.
“Is there a special someone?”

He dropped his
gaze to his glass. “No. Not at the moment.”

She waited for him
to elaborate, but he remained silent. Was he thinking about the older woman?
Probably not, because he’d said that had happened six years ago.

“
Was
there?” she asked.

He sighed. “I went
out with a girl for a few years. Lauren.”

“What happened?”

He twirled his
glass, still not raising his eyes. “She wanted more than I was willing to
give.”

“She wanted to get
married?”

He lifted his gaze
to hers. “Yes.”

“Have kids?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t
want to?”

“No.”

“With her? Or just
in general?”

He said nothing,
and she couldn’t guess his thoughts.

“I know I’m being
nosy,” she said. “Change the subject if you want. But I’m just interested. I
haven’t seen you for ages and you’re gorgeous and I can’t work out why you’re still
single.”

His eyes met hers,
and his lips started to curve. “Are you flirting with me, Miss Green?”

Her cheeks warmed.
“Sorry.”

“It wasn’t a
complaint.” His smile widened, the twinkle reappearing in his eye. Then he
sighed and stretched out his legs. “I don’t know what went wrong. I just wasn’t
ready. I was only twenty-five, and making my way up in the company. I work
sixty hour weeks sometimes—there’s hardly time for a wife, let alone a family.
Maybe when I’m older… Me and kids don’t mix. Sometimes I think I might never
settle down.”

He looked sad and
resentful at the same time, obviously frustrated that this Lauren hadn’t
understood. He’d liked her, but she’d asked for more than he was willing to
give. Had he loved her?

Megan’s gaze
lingered on his wide shoulders, his thick dark hair. She imagined sliding her
fingers into it, pulling his head down to kiss him.

Stupid, stupid Lauren
to have pushed him too far, too soon.

He sat relaxed in
his chair, one arm hooked over the back, so casually sexy it made her ache. Cody
had been so different. He was a computer technician, and she admitted to
herself now that he was actually rather dorky, into online games and sci-fi
conventions. He had liked a bit of culture though, and they’d met at an art
exhibition and got talking, and dated for a while before moving to the bedroom.
They’d never set the bed alight, but she’d enjoyed sex well enough, although
after seeing him with the bimbo she’d realised how lacklustre their own sex
life had been.

She couldn’t put
all the blame on Cody, though. Although it had hurt that he’d appeared so
passionate with the other woman, she had to admit to herself that he’d never
fired her up either. Their sex life had been gentle and tender, grown from
affection, and it had never progressed beyond that. He’d never made her heart
flutter when he walked into the room.

What would it be
like to go to bed with a guy like Dion? She watched as he poured the last drops
of the champagne, noting the way his jacket stretched across his shoulders as he
leaned forward, how his long fringe fell across his forehead. Why had he kissed
her on the bridge? She pressed her lips together, remembering how he’d bent his
head and touched his lips to hers, the same way as he had all those years ago
the night of the party.

How would it feel
to have the sort of sex she’d seen Cody having with that woman? The sort she’d
seen in the movies, where a couple ripped off each other’s clothes before they
even got to the bed, where they seemed out of their minds with passion. She’d
always puzzled whether that sort of desire was real or a figment of movie
makers’ imaginations, and hadn’t been able to envisage getting carried away
with a man to that extent.

But for the first
time she imagined feeling that way, with Dion.

He looked up and
met her eyes, but instead of looking away she held his gaze. How would it feel
to make love with this man? To have him kiss her, touch her, fire her up her
senses?

There was no
possibility of anything serious. They lived on opposite sides of the world, and
clearly he didn’t want to be tied down. The next day he’d be off sorting out
the takeover and then he’d return to England, and she’d be on the plane back to
New Zealand.

But they had
tonight.

Her heart raced,
and something must have shown in her face because he tipped his head to the
side and looked at her more intently, amused and interested at whatever he saw
in her eyes.

“So enough about
me.” He gave a quick smile to the waitress as she delivered their dessert, then
scooped a piece of the honey cake and chewed thoughtfully as he watched Megan
sample her tiramisu. “Tell me about your love life.”

She snorted and
sucked the chocolate off the spoon. “Nothing to say. I’d heard university was
supposed to be full of sex and drugs, but I never saw any of it.”

He grinned. “You
sound disappointed.”

“I was! I waited
ages to get stoned and ravished, but nothing happened. I got good grades
though.”

He laughed and
offered her a spoonful of the cake. “This is lovely,” he said. “Try some.”

She met his gaze.
Intense, challenging. This was the sort of thing lovers did, not two friends
who hadn’t seen each other for years.

Tingling all over,
she leaned forward, closed her lips over the spoon and tasted the cake.

“Mm,” she said,
licking her lips. “Lovely.”

He dragged his
gaze to her plate and nodded at her tiramisu. “What’s that like?”

“Yummy.” She
scooped some up. “Try it.”

He did the same, closing
his mouth over the spoon and removing the dessert. She dropped her gaze and
took another bite herself. Why did it turn her on to think he’d eaten off the
same spoon? Her blood raced around her body, and her nipples tightened.

Jeez, get a
grip. It’s only chocolate.

Even so…

He finished his
cake and leaned back in his chair. Linking his fingers, he gave her a
mischievous look, so like the young Dion she’d known that it made her catch her
breath.

“So Cody was your
first boyfriend?” he asked curiously.

She played with
her glass. “The one and only.”

He looked
suspicious. “You’ve only been with the one guy?”

“You think I’m
lying?”

“I think you’re
far too pretty to have let only one man get his hands on that sexy body of
yours.”

She widened her
eyes. “Dion! Now who’s flirting?”

He grinned. “Is
that an objection?”

She giggled. “No.”
She’d drunk too much champagne. But she liked talking like this.

She was so wary
about flirting with men. In spite of her words, she’d been very cautious in
college. There’d been stories of one girl who’d played around and got herself
into serious trouble when she invited attention she didn’t want, and that had
horrified Megan. Although deep down she thought she may be an extrovert, her
disorder made her more circumspect than she might otherwise have been. She’d
kept away from parties and concentrated on studying, and as a result didn’t
have quite the same, relaxed affinity with the opposite sex that most of her
friends had.

So it was nice to
open up a little for once, because flirting with Dion was safe. Okay, so they
hadn’t seen each other in a long time, but even so, the way he’d taken care of
her when he’d seen her distress told her he hadn’t changed that much.

He finished off
the last drops of champagne in his glass. “Do you want another bottle?”

“Cripes, no, I’ll
be flat on my back if I have another glass.”

“In that case I’ll
order two.” Their eyes met and they both laughed. “Come on then.” Dion
signalled to the waitress for the bill.

Megan lifted her
bag onto her lap and fiddled with the clasp. “Will you let me pay half?”

“Megan, for God’s
sake.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “I want…” He hesitated and
looked at her fingers. “I need to say sorry.”

“What for?” she
said, puzzled.

“For what happened
at the midwinter party.”

 She bit her lip.
All these years she’d dreamed about him kissing her, and he regretted it. “It’s
okay,” she said, a little icily. “It doesn’t matter. Forget about it.”

She went to pull
her hand away, but his fingers tightened and refused to let go. When she looked
up, his gaze was fixed on her, intense.

“I don’t regret
it,” he said firmly, as if reading her mind. “I’d do the exactly the same thing
again. I’d been wanting to kiss you for ages, and when I saw you standing out
the deck, singing away…I had to do it.”

Her face grew
warm. He’d been wanting to kiss her for ages?

“So why do you
need to say sorry?” she whispered.

He leaned forward,
lacing their fingers together. “Because of the way I left. Because I didn’t
stay in touch. I wanted to—I rang every day for the first two months to talk to
you.”

She stared at him.
“I did not know that.”

“I always got your
dad or Sean. Your dad yelled at me and hung up. Sean would talk to me, but he
refused to hand me over to you.”

Resentment boiled
in her stomach. Her brother had never told her this. “Why?” she said furiously.
“Why would he do that?”

Dion shrugged.
“You were only fifteen. I guess he didn’t want you in contact with a guy three
years older living on the other side of the world. And I was going to
university, so I suppose they decided it was pointless. Your dad thought I
betrayed his generous offer to look after me, that I took advantage of you. I
didn’t see it like that, but I understand how it must have looked to him. I
hadn’t exactly been a model student.”

Her lips curved.
“You were a rather naughty young man.”

He grinned. “And
you loved me for it.”

She hesitated, but
at that moment the waitress came over with the bill, so she leaned back as Dion
fished out his credit card and handed it over.

Did he know just
how crazy she’d been about him at the time?

All of a sudden depression
swept over her. It had all happened years ago, when she was still practically a
child and he was ninety-nine percent hormones. It didn’t mean anything now.

The waitress
brought their coats over and he held hers so she could slip her arms through.
He put his on, and they walked up the stairs back into the Old Town Square.

The mid-afternoon sun
shone through the clouds, and the square bustled with people. The snow had
stopped for a while, but the tops of all the stalls forming the Christmas
market were dusted with white.

The huge tree in the
centre hadn’t yet been lit, but in front of the statue of John Hus a group of
men and women were singing carols, their joyous voices joining with the
ambience of the restaurant and somehow spiriting them back hundreds of years.

“Are you okay?” Dion
indicated the people milling about in front of the stalls.

In truth, she felt
okay with him beside her, but she knew he must have other things to do so. “I’m
fine. Thank you for a lovely lunch, Dion, I really enjoyed it.”

“Me too.” He
looked across at the stalls, giving her a view of his profile, his strong jaw
shadowed with stubble.

Was he trying to
think how to excuse himself? She slipped her hands in her pockets and gave him
a bright smile. “Well, I hope the takeover goes well.”

“Mm.” His gaze
came back to her. “What are you up to now?”

She shrugged and
glanced around. Did she have the courage to tackle the market? “I might do some
shopping for a while. It looks like there might be some nice bits and pieces to
take back as souvenirs.”

He nodded. “Mind
if I join you?”

She smiled. “You
don’t have to. I know you’re busy. I’ll be fine.”

His eyebrows
lifted. “Are you under the impression I’m offering because I think you can’t
cope?”