LITMIR.BIZ

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sighed.

      ‘It won’t fit into our living room, sweetheart. How about that one over there—it’s a lovely shape.’

      Lizzie shook her head, her hand still locked around one branch of the tree she’d chosen as if she couldn’t quite let it go. ‘I love this one. I want this to be our tree.’

      Bryony closed her eyes briefly. ‘Lizzie—’

      ‘It’s a great tree and we can always trim the top,’ Jack said firmly, and Bryony lifted an eyebrow.

      ‘You’re planning to lop six feet off the top?’

      He grinned. ‘If need be.’ He squatted down next to Lizzie, his hair shining glossily black next to the little girl’s blonde curls. ‘The lady likes this one. So the lady gets this one.’

      ‘You need to learn to say no to her, Jack.’

      ‘Why would I want to say no?’ He scooped Lizzie into his arms and grinned at her. ‘So you want this tree?’

      Lizzie nodded and slipped her arm round his neck. ‘Can I have it?’

      ‘Of course.’ Still holding the child, Jack slipped a hand into his pocket and removed his wallet. ‘Here we are, Blondie. Merry Christmas.’

      Bryony shook her head. ‘I’ll pay, Jack.’

      ‘My treat.’ His eyes locked on hers, his expression warm. ‘Please.’

      She hesitated and then smiled. ‘All right. Thanks.’

      Lizzie tightened her arms round Jack’s neck. ‘Why do you call Mummy Blondie?’

      ‘Because she has blonde hair, of course.’

      ‘But I have blonde hair, too.’

      Jack gave a start. ‘So you do! Goodness—I never noticed.’

      Lizzie gave a delicious chuckle. ‘Yes, you did. I know you’re joking.’ She hugged him tight and then looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Jack…’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t tell me, you want to go home and play Weddings?’

      ‘No.’ She lifted a small hand and touched his cheek. ‘I asked Santa for a daddy for Christmas.’

      Jack went still. ‘I know you did.’

      ‘Well, now I wish I’d asked him to make you my daddy,’ Lizzie said wistfully. ‘I love you, Jack. No one plays Weddings like you do.’

      Bryony swallowed hard, the lump in her throat so big it threatened to choke her.

      ‘Lizzie…’ Jack’s voice sounded strangely thick and his hard jaw was tense as he struggled to find the right words. ‘I can’t be your daddy, sweetheart. But I’ll always be here for you.’

      ‘Why can’t you be my daddy? I know Mummy loves you.’

      Bryony closed her eyes, fire in her cheeks, but Jack just gave a strange-sounding laugh.

      ‘And I love your mummy. But not in the way that mummies and daddies are supposed to love each other.’

      Bryony rubbed her booted foot in the snow and wished an avalanche would consume her. But there wasn’t much chance of that in the forest. So instead she looked up and gave a bright smile.

      ‘But Santa is going to choose you a great present,’ she said brightly. ‘I know he is, and in the meantime we’d better buy this super-special tree before anyone else does. It’s the best one in the forest and I can see other people looking at it.’

      Lizzie’s eyes widened in panic. ‘Hurry up, then!’

      Bryony took Jack’s wallet and went to pay while he opened the boot of the four-wheel-drive and manoeuvred the huge tree inside, with Lizzie jumping up and down next to him.

      ‘Most of the needles have just landed on the inside of the vehicle,’ he muttered to Bryony as they climbed into the front and strapped Lizzie in. ‘I think we might be decorating twigs when we get it home.’

      Bryony glanced at him, wondering if he realised that he’d called her house ‘home’.

      ‘Are you getting a tree yourself, Jack?’ she asked, and he shook his head, holding the wheel firmly as he negotiated the rutted track that led out of the forest onto the main road.

      ‘What’s the point? I’m going to be working for most of it.’ He glanced at Lizzie who was listening to a tape through her headphones and not paying any attention. ‘And, anyway, Christmas is for children.’

      Bryony gave him a searching look. ‘Are you coming to Mum’s this year?’

      Jack concentrated on the road. ‘I don’t know. Sean wants to be with Ally and the kids so I’ve said I’ll work.’

      ‘You come every year, Jack.’ Bryony frowned. ‘Lizzie would be so disappointed if you weren’t there. All of us would. You’re part of our family. At least come for part of it.’

      ‘Maybe.’ His shrug was noncommittal and she sighed.

      ‘I know Christmas isn’t your favourite time of year.’

      There was a long silence and then he sucked in a breath, his eyes still on the road. ‘Christmas is for families, Blondie. I don’t have one.’

      Bryony bit her lip. ‘Have you heard from your mother lately?’

      ‘A postcard six months ago.’ He turned the wheel to avoid a hole in the road. ‘She’s with her latest lover in Brazil.’

      Bryony was silent and he turned to look at her, a mocking look in his eyes. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m thirty-four. I certainly don’t expect my mother to come home and play happy families after all this time. I think that’s one game we never mastered in our house. When everyone else was unwrapping presents around the tree, my parents were at different ends of the house nurturing grievances.’

      ‘Jack—’

      ‘And that was a good thing.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘If they ever met the rows were so bad I used to run and hide in the garden. Once I was out there all night and they didn’t even notice. I always used to think that was why we had such a big house with so much land. Because no one wanted to live next door to anyone who argued as much as my parents.’

      His experience was such a contrast to her own happy childhood that Bryony felt suddenly choked.

      ‘You used to come to us.’

      ‘Yeah.’ He gave a funny smile. ‘You were the perfect family.’

      Bryony looked at him, suddenly wondering for the first time whether that had made it worse for him. ‘Was it hard for you, being with us?’

      He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t hard, Blondie. You always made me feel as though I was Santa himself from the moment I walked through the door. How could that be hard?’

      Bryony smiled. She used to stand with her nose pressed against the window, waiting for Jack to arrive. Longing to show him her presents.

      ‘You were just like Lizzie.’ His voice softened at the memory. ‘I remember the year you had your ballet dress from Santa. You wore it with your Wellington boots because you were dying to play outside in the snow but no one could persuade you to take it off. You were in the garden building a snowman in pink satin and tulle. Do you remember?’

      ‘I remember tearing it climbing a tree.’ Bryony laughed. ‘I just wanted to keep up with my brothers.’

      On impulse she reached out and touched his leg, feeling the rock-hard muscle under her fingers. ‘Come for Christmas, Jack. Please?’

      He gave her a funny, lopsided smile that was so sexy she suddenly found it hard to breathe. ‘Better see what Santa produces for Lizzie first,’ he said softly, turning into the road that led

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