LITMIR.BIZ

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      She’d thought she’d done a pretty good job of pretending there was nothing wrong. Until she wheeled her mum back to her room and Nora snagged her hand, concern deepening the fatigue lines in her sunken cheeks.

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      Callie opened her mouth to protest but Nora shook her head.

      ‘Do me a favour, sweetheart, and let me be a mum to you in whatever way I can.’

      As a guilt trip, it worked. She’d been taking care of her mum for a while now, and she knew it irked the once independent Nora.

      Nora had relished her role as a single mum, not once complaining. When a job had needed doing, she’d got on and done it, so to have her mobility and her dignity curtailed by this dreadful disease... Callie couldn’t begin to fathom how awful it must be.

      ‘Work pressures. Nothing major,’ she said, not wanting to worry her mum—not today.

      Nora had always loved Christmas with all the trimmings: roast turkey and stuffing, trifle, pudding—the works. They’d always had a fresh tree and stuffed stockings, and a day made all the more special by a mother who’d do anything for her only child.

      It might have been understated and only the two of them, but it had meant a lot to her mum.

      Now those Christmases were in the past, but the least Callie could do was not ruin this Christmas for Nora. Not when she’d already ruined her own.

      Nora searched her face, as if seeking the truth, and Callie ducked down to give her an impulsive hug. ‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’m fine.’

      And then she glanced over her mum’s shoulder and saw Archer hovering in the doorway.

      ‘What the?’

      ‘Callie?’

      She straightened and laid a comforting hand on her mum’s shoulder, hoping her glare conveyed what she wanted: for Archer to turn around and leave the way he’d come.

      Following her line of vision, Nora slowly swivelled until she too faced Archer.

      ‘Can I help you, young man?’

      He hesitated a moment, before squaring his shoulders and stepping into the room. ‘I sure hope so, Mrs Umberto.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘I’m Archer Flett, a friend of your daughter’s.’

      The way he gently shook Nora’s hand eased Callie’s anger somewhat. Though she couldn’t figure out why she was so angry. Was she upset at him showing up here, or upset at herself for wanting to fling herself at him despite a definitive goodbye?

      Well, on her part anyway. It looked as if he hadn’t taken too kindly to her brief farewell note.

      ‘Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I need to see Callie before I fly out later today.’

      Callie frowned but he blithely ignored her, his dazzling smile deliberately taunting.

      ‘Merry Christmas, by the way,’ he said.

      He produced a box from behind his back, in crimson shiny paper bound by gold ribbon. ‘Not very original, I’m afraid, but if you’re anything like your daughter I thought you might enjoy a sweet treat.’

      ‘How thoughtful.’ Nora’s hands shook as she took an eternity to undo the ribbon and rip the paper.

      Callie had to stop from reaching out to help. Not from pity for her mum but the desire to see Archer leave.

      ‘Dark mint, my favourite.’

      Nora’s grateful smile made Callie’s heart ache. She hadn’t wanted to tell her mum anything about Archer, and now the rat had left her no choice. Nora would want to know all about the nice young man who knew her favourite chocolates and how he knew and...the rest.

      She’d kill him before she sent him packing.

      ‘I hate to intrude, but do you mind if I have a quick word with Callie?’

      Nora shot her a quick look—a very perceptive look by the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

      ‘Not at all. Go ahead.’ Nora rattled the box. ‘And thanks for these. I’ll enjoy each and every one.’

      ‘My pleasure.’

      His smile was genuine, without an ounce of pity, and Callie grudgingly admired him for it.

      ‘We can talk outside,’ she said, with a subtle jerk of her head towards the door. The last thing she needed was for her mum’s gossip radar to prick up. Any more, that was.

      Callie couldn’t figure out what Archer was doing here. She’d given him an easy out with that note, and she’d assumed he’d jump at the chance to fly off into the blue yonder and resume his life.

      The last thing she’d expected was to see him rock up here. It made her angsty and uncertain and decidedly edgy.

      She’d had this all figured out—end fling; resume working relationship—and now he’d messed that up.

      She waited until they’d stepped outside Nora’s room before jabbing him in the chest. ‘How did you find me?’

      Her snappish tone only served to make him lean against the wall, arms folded, grin cocky.

      ‘Not all that difficult. You said you’d be spending the day here, so I checked redial on the phone at the beach house for the number, rang it, discovered where your mum was staying.’

      ‘Nice one, Sherlock,’ she muttered, still clueless as to why he was here.

      ‘Actually, I’d make a lousy detective, because I have no clue as to why you ran out on me in the middle of the night.’

      ‘It was early morning. Tom and Izzy were heading to Melbourne, so I thought I’d get a head start on spending Christmas with Mum.’

      ‘Bull,’ he said, his grin replaced by thinly compressed lips and an unimpressed frown. ‘You couldn’t have rung Tom at four a.m. on impulse to hitch a ride, which means you must’ve organised this last night.’

      Why couldn’t he be all brawn and no brains?

      ‘Tom’s wisely not answering his phone, but I have no doubt you coerced him into aiding and abetting your little escape.’ For the first time since he’d shown up a flicker of uncertainty creased his brow. ‘I don’t get it, Callie. I thought we had something going—’

      ‘Had being the operative word.’ She shook her head, wishing her heart would stop flipping all over the place and slamming against her ribcage at the thought of him showing up here because he genuinely cared.

      No use wishing for the impossible.

      Fact: he was still getting on that plane later today.

      Fact: whatever he said wouldn’t change a thing. They led different lives, a world apart.

      Fact: she loved him, and seeing him again only drove the knife in that little bit deeper.

      ‘Look, we had a great time, Arch, but it’s over.’

      His glare turned mutinous. ‘Doesn’t have to be.’

      He rummaged in his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

      ‘Here. This was supposed to be your Christmas present.’

      When she made no move to take it, he placed it in her hand and curled her fingers around it.

      ‘Go on, take a look.’

      More than a little curious, she unfolded the paper and gasped.

      A computer printout for an open-ended, first class, round-the-world air ticket.

      In her name.

      ‘We’ve got a pretty good thing going, Cal, I don’t want it to end. This way you can join me wherever I am. We can

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