“And you’re the man I really want. Can you see my dilemma?”
For a long moment he searched her face. “What are you saying to me, Carly?”
“That I want to talk the job offer over with you first before I make any decisions. We haven’t had a chance to talk about our future. Assuming we…we have a future together.”
Dylan groaned. “Of course I want a future with you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
He pulled her to him and held her close. She nestled her head against his shoulder, breathed in his familiar scent, felt the hard strength of his body. This. Dylan. This was where she wanted to be. She could not lose him again.
“I’m ready to listen to whatever you have to say,” he said. “You sprang the news about the job on me. I assumed the worst.”
So close to him, Carly couldn’t think with a clear head. And she wanted to see his face as they talked. She pulled away. “We love each other but I live in London and you live in Sydney,” she said. “If we want to be together, one of us will have to compromise.”
Dylan massaged his right temple as if he had the beginnings of a headache. “Straight out—I would like you to be in Sydney. But I know this is an important job for you.”
“It’s a restaurant half the chefs in the country would kill to work in. I’ve coveted the position for a long time.”
Dylan paused, then spoke as if he were thinking out loud. “Living in London is not something I’d given any thought. I like living in Sydney. I’d lose a truckload of lucrative bonuses if I left the company I work for here. But I could consider starting my own business. Thanks to the internet I could, in theory, work anywhere.”
“So you’d move to London for me, Dylan?” She held her breath for his answer.
“This feels like déjà vu. I don’t want to lose you again. Of course I would consider it.”
“Seriously?”
He frowned. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. I love you, Carly. I want us to be together.”
She leaned up to press a quick kiss on his mouth. “There’s nothing I want more than to be with you. Wherever we might live. You could move to London. Or I could say no to the job in London and look for a job here. There are fabulous restaurants in Sydney. And there’s De Luca’s. Dad’s been hinting he wants to slow down and it might be time for me to take over.”
“Is that what you want? More than your dream job?”
She laughed. “Look at us, pussyfooting around. Each being so considerate of the other. Which is as it should be, of course. I’ll come out and say it. My dream job is, when it all boils down to it, just another job helping a famous chef make his name even more famous. I would very much like to move back to Sydney to be with you. I would love to run my family’s restaurant—which has my name on it. But I’m glad that you were prepared to move for me. Does that make sense?”
He grinned. “In a convoluted Carly kind of way,” he said. “Let’s have some straight talk now. When are you going to move back to Sydney?”
“I have to go back in three days, as planned, and pack up my life there before I come back for good.” There weren’t many people to say goodbye to, she realized. But the friends she’d made would stay friends.
“I could go with you to help,” Dylan said.
“That sounds like a plan,” she said, her heart zinging with excitement and anticipation.
“We could take a vacation. You could show me that Bavarian castle.”
“It would be covered in snow at this time of year.”
“All the better,” he said. “We could stay somewhere warm and snug—”
“And never get out of bed.”
“That could appeal,” he said, with a lascivious lift of his eyebrows.
She laughed. “I honestly don’t mind how many castles we see, or don’t see, as long as I’m with you. In bed or out of it. Though, on balance, in bed sounds pretty good.” She pressed herself against him and claimed another kiss.
“What about this house,” he said. “You’d live here with me?”
“I would love to live in this fabulous house with you.” Her voice caught. “I’ll make sure it’s never lonely again.”
“In that case, I’d like to give you your Christmas present,” Dylan said.
He had always been very thoughtful when it came to presents—she’d been the envy of her girlfriends when it came to her birthday and Christmas. “You got me a present? But I didn’t get—”
“This is actually something I bought you more than four years ago. I never got the chance to give it to you.”
“You kept a gift for me all this time?” she marveled.
“Yes,” he said.
“Well, it can’t be chocolate or it would have melted and—”
He pulled a small velvet box out of the pocket of his chinos.
“Oh,” Carly said, suddenly lost for words.
As she stared at the little box, her heart started to beat double quick time. She gasped when he flipped open the lid to reveal an exquisite emerald-and-diamond ring nestled in a bed of cream satin.
Dylan took a step closer. His eyes seemed to go a darker shade of blue. He cleared his throat. “Will you marry me, Carly? Do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Carly didn’t know what was most entrancing—the ring or the expression in Dylan’s eyes. “Yes. Yes, please.” She tried to say more, but her voice wouldn’t work, choked by threatening tears of joy.
Dylan’s smile of unreserved happiness and love mesmerized her. That they had met each other again by chance this Christmas was some kind of miracle. Thank heaven for Morris the cat.
Dylan picked up her left hand and slipped the ring onto her third finger. It fitted perfectly. She held up her hand to admire it as the gems flashed green fire in the last rays of the sun. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. Thank you.”
“You wore a lot of green at the time,” he said. “And the emerald reminded me of the flashes of green in your eyes.”
“I still do wear green,” she said. “Clever you for choosing something so perfect.” She splayed out her hand again for him to admire. “I love it.” She looked up into the eyes of the only man she had ever wanted. “And I love you. Always did. Always will.”
“I’ve never loved anyone but you,” he said.
“You were going to propose four years ago?”
He nodded. “But I think the timing is better now.”
“Me too,” she said as she reached up to kiss him. “Coming back to Sydney for Christmas was a very, very good idea.”
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Dear Reader
I had such fun writing Carly and Dylan’s story—I hope you enjoyed reading it!
I love Christmas and all the celebrations of the festive season. Christmas can be an emotional time of year. I thought it was the perfect time for two people who are so obviously meant to be together to realize they never stopped loving each other.
If you enjoy a Christmas-themed romance, you might also like my November 2015 release from Harlequin Romance, Gift-Wrapped in Her Wedding Dress where Dominic Hunt, a billionaire Scrooge who hates Christmas, meets vivacious party planner Andie Newman, who loves everything about the season. Both have tragedy in their pasts to overcome but grow to realize the best Christmas present they can give each other is their love.
Merry Christmas!
Kandy
KANDY SHEPHERD is an award-winning, multi-published author of contemporary romance. She has twice won the Australian Romance Readers Association (ARRA) award for Favorite Contemporary Romance. Kandy lives on a small farm in the Blue Mountains near Sydney, Australia, with her husband, daughter, and a menagerie of four-legged friends. Kandy believes in love-at-first-sight and real-life romance—they worked for her!
Kandy loves to hear from her readers. You can find her at her website kandyshepherd.com and on Facebook and Twitter
HER SMALL-TOWN CHRISTMAS WISH
~
JEN
NIFER ST GEORGE
To Mom, who said this was her favorite story so far.
Being part of this fabulous LoveCats DownUnder Christmas Box set project has been so fantastic. It’s been an absolute pleasure working with my fellow LoveCats—Rachel Bailey, Michelle Douglas, Louisa George, Helen Lacey, Stefanie London and Kandy Shepherd. I would like to particularly thank Rachel Bailey, Stefanie London and Louisa George who provided invaluable feedback on the draft manuscript.
Also a big thank you to Beverley, David and Joanne. As ever, I appreciate your eagle eyes seeking out my hilarious errors. Also to Alexandra Nahlous for her wonderful work in copyediting.
And as always, to Rose.
Copyright © 2015 Jennifer S George
All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
Even after twelve years, the mere painted image of her mother shook Giselle Harrington, rattling fear through her body. Standing in the enormous living room of her childhood home, her hands trembled. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the portrait of the woman who’d manipulated and marked her so cruelly in life, and now in death.
She swung away from the haunting picture and surveyed the painfully familiar room. Years ago, a designer magazine had called it classic chic; Giselle had known it as a beautifully decorated prison. An elegant veneer witness to the cruelty contained within.
Immaculate order was what her mother had neurotically insisted on. Even now, after her death, the Christmas tree in the corner had ornaments at precise intervals. Brilliant blue and silver this year. She touched a silver bauble. Each year had a different theme, new expensive decorations, all placed in perfect symmetry. Never had one of Giselle’s lovingly handmade treasures graced the branches.
She grabbed the tree and shook it hard. A silver bauble fell and cracked on the polished wooden boards. She cringed, shrinking her body into a smaller version of herself. For a brief, ghastly moment she was a child again cowering from the consequences and the predictability of their horror.
“Hey. Stop that.” The male, authoritative voice sounded vaguely familiar. She flinched. Who the hell had followed her into her mother’s house? She turned slowly, pulling her spine into a rigid line. No one gave her orders anymore.
“This is private property,” he continued. “Please leave.”
“I beg your pardon, but it’s you who must leave.” This stranger had no right to barge in here. “This …” The imperious words evaporated faster than fresh summer rain on sizzling black bitumen. The stranger morphed into Jake! She sucked in a sharp breath. Jake Carlton. Her childhood friend. Her childhood emotional savior. For just a moment, the darkness and terror of the room fell away to memories of happiness and joy.
Jake Carlton. No longer a lanky teenager but a man. Hollywood couldn’t cast a better country-town hero. Tall and wide-shouldered in a checked shirt and broad-brimmed hat. Thick brown hair and ocean-blue eyes. Rugged and handsome. Jeans molding in all the best places. His stance proclaimed, This is my town, stranger, explain yourself.
His stern expression faltered. “Giselle?” His eyes widened and the most gorgeous smile built across his face. “Is it you?”
All the hurt and damage stored in her bones prevented her from running forward and throwing her arms around him. Holding him close. Communicating with her body how much she’d missed him.
“Hello, Jake. Nice to see you.” The words tasted stupidly stiff. She held out her hand.
“But what? How?” He looked around, as if someone would explain her presence after such a prolonged absence.
“I’m back to sort out Mother’s estate.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry about Faye.” Before she could stop him, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. Her cheek pressed into his hard chest. The heady scent of ocean breeze, Australian bush and raw masculinity enveloped her. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment of grief at all she’d lost.
“She was a remarkable woman,” Jake said. “We all miss her.”
Giselle stiffened. Faye Harrington had certainly been remarkable. Jake Carlton and the rest of the tiny town she’d grown up in didn’t know the ugly truth hidden behind the closed doors of the largest and most opulent house in town. That was truly remarkable.
“It’s so wonderful to see you,” Jake whispered in her hair.
She tightened her emotionless shell, the one she used to protect herself from her past and the constant scrutiny of her life. Jake clearly sensed her discomfort and set her free. She walked to the fireplace, putting a good distance between them.
“Nice to see you, too,” she said. The stilted conversation was horrible, uncomfortable. Such a contrast to their childhood ease. She fiddled with a silver picture frame. But it didn’t matter. She was definitely not in Turtle Beach to renew old acquaintances. She was here to ensure anything remotely related to Turtle Beach was finally and completely out of her life, including her mother’s estate. To face her past and leave all the hurt and anger and pain where it had begun. She’d erase the Harrington estate from her life and then she’d move on at last. Then surely she could be happy. Deliriously, fabulously, all-consumingly happy.
“I’d hoped to see you at the memorial service we held a few months back,” he said. “The church was packed.”
Giselle swallowed down the bitter, ashy taste in her mouth. Even in death her mother pulled an adoring crowd.
“Nearly the whole town was there,” he said.
Another reason for her not to have come. To be forced to greet those people who hadn’t believed her, hadn’t protected her, hadn’t saved her. But instead had branded her a liar.
“Faye was so loved and she did so much for Turtle Beach,” he went on.
“I didn’t want the world’s media gawking,” she said. She hadn’t meant her tone to come out so clipped. “I held a private funeral in Sydney. I arranged for her to be buried here next to Dad.” Her father, the lovely, kind man in her memory, had died when she was five. From her mother’s stories, they’d had a passionate love. Her father deserved to have the woman he loved by his side.
“I know. Daniel did a beautiful job on Faye’s grave. There’ve been fresh flowers there most days. Have you been over to see it?”
“No.” And she never would.
He tried to hide it, but shock flared in his eyes.
“I could take you.” His tone was kind, but she could hear the disguised reproach.
“No, thanks.” Her heart constricted unexpectedly. She longed for nothing more than to spend a few more moments with Jake. He’d been her solace in a world of shame and pain. But he was part of the world she’d been forced to leave behind and there was no going back.
The moment of awkwardness stretched. They’d shared half a life of closeness and half a life of arid separation. Knew so much of each other once and now knew so little. The pain of losing Jake from her life had never left her. But, she’d had to sacrifice his friendship to save herself.
“So, are you staying long?” Jake asked, clearly trying to inject some normality into the conversation. “So much has changed since you left. I could give you a quick tour.”
“No, thank you. I’m meeting a buyer here. Hopefully signing a contract and then I’m leaving.”
Jake’s head jerked back. “You’re selling the estate?”
What, you thought I’d come back here? To live? “Yes.”
“You can’t do that.” His dictatorial tone drove the hairs on the back of her neck to bristling attention. Again with the orders.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Jake.” No one did. Not anymore. She’d rid herself of that frightened little girl within and had become strong.
He shook his head slightly. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. You might not know, but your mother donated all the outbuildings to the community. The stables are now an art gallery. The hay shed is a café and the barn is a community crèche.” He took a step toward the door. “Please, let me show you.”
No. She didn’t wan
t to know about the worthy community activities. She just wanted Harrington estate gone. Her history gone. That damaging part of her life, gone. Taken by a developer and changed so substantially there’d be nothing left to remind her of how she’d started life. Every reminder of that scared little girl erased.
“I’m sure you’d be able to negotiate with the new owner about the buildings.”
“Giselle, please. A developer’s not going to honor a handshake agreement. Don’t sell to them.” He paused and rubbed his brow. “If you must sell, give us time to fundraise and we’ll buy the buildings through a community fund, or something like that.”
Her phone buzzed in her handbag. Thank goodness. Jake was cracking her defenses. “Excuse me.” She pulled out her phone from her bag.
“Hello.”
“Ms. Harrington?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Gordon Turner.”
Good. Turner was the developer’s representative agent. From their discussion, this was a done deal. “Are you nearly here?” She glanced out the front window.
“No. Unfortunately, our flight was turned back to Sydney. Storms around the airport prevented us from landing. Looks like we won’t make it up there today. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” Damn. Damn. Damn. She didn’t want to stay in Turtle Beach a moment longer than she’d planned. “Tomorrow?”
“Maybe. I’ll have to get back to you. I’m booked solid for the rest of the week. I’ll let you know as soon as possible. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” Giselle ended the call and closed her eyes for a moment. She needed this to be simple. To be done.
“Problem?” Jake asked.
“The buyer’s plane has been turned back to Sydney. They aren’t coming today.”
He smiled. “Let me take you to lunch. I know what you’re like. If you don’t eat, you get dizzy.”
She stared at Jake. He was probably the person who knew her best in the whole world. They hadn’t seen each other for twelve years, and yet, there before her stood her oldest and dearest friend. She looked back at the portrait. She couldn’t stay in this town any longer than necessary. It was its hold on her she was here to obliterate.
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