SNOWED IN WITH THE BILLIONAIRE by Caroline Anderson Read Free Book Online

desperately because the very last thing he wanted to play was hide and seek, with his memories running riot—
    ‘Won’t he get lost?’
    ‘In here? Hardly.’
    ‘Just in here? There’s nowhere to hide.’
    ‘Oh, you’d be surprised,’ she said, her laugh like music to his ears. ‘Go and hide, Josh. Sebastian will count to ten and look for you.’ She met his eyes over the table, mischief dancing in them. ‘It’s simple. He “hides”,’ she explained with little air quotes, ‘and you look for him. I’m sure you can remember how it works.’
    Oh, yes. He could remember how it all worked, particularly the finding part. She’d never made that difficult after the first time...
    He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them she’d looked away and was halving cherry tomatoes.
    ‘Well, go on, then. Count!’
    So he counted to ten, deluged with memories that refused to stay in their box, and then he got to his feet, ignoring the giggling child under the table, and said softly, ‘Ready or not, here I come!’
    Their eyes met, and he felt his heart bump against his ribs. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, the tension palpable. And then she dropped the knife with a clatter, bent to pick it up and turned away, and he found he could breathe again.
    * * *
    ‘Has he settled?’
    ‘Finally. I’m sorry it took so long.’
    ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s a strange place. Will he be all right up there on his own?’
    ‘Yes, he’s gone out like a light now and I’ve got the baby monitor.’
    He nodded. He was sprawled on a chair by the Aga, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, one arm resting on the dining table with a glass of wine held loosely in his fingers, watching the news.
    He tilted his head towards the screen. ‘The country seems to be gridlocked,’ he said drily.
    ‘Well, that’s not a surprise. It always is if it snows.’
    ‘Yeah. Well, there’s over a foot already in the courtyard and the wind hasn’t let up at all which doesn’t bode well for the lane.’
    ‘Which means you’re stuck with us, then, doesn’t it?’ she said, her heart sinking, and swallowed. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I should have left earlier, paid more attention to the weather forecast.’ Gone the other way and stayed in the traffic jam, and she’d have been home by now instead of putting them both in this impossibly difficult situation.
    He shook his head. ‘They got it wrong. The wind picked up, a high pressure area shifted, and that was it. Not even you could cause this much havoc.’
    But a wry smile softened his words, and he slid the bottle towards her. ‘Try this. It’s quite interesting. I’ve found some duck breasts. I thought it might go rather nicely.’
    She poured a little into the clean glass that was waiting, and sipped. ‘Mmm. Lovely. So—do you want me to cook for us?’
    ‘No, I’ll do it.’
    She blinked. ‘You can cook?’
    ‘No,’ he said drily. ‘I have a resident housekeeper and if she’s got a day off I get something delivered from the restaurant over the road—of course I can cook! I’ve been looking after myself for years. And anyway, my mother taught me.’ He uncrossed his legs and stood up. ‘So—how does pan-fried duck breast with a red wine and redcurrant jus on root-vegetable mash with tenderstem broccoli and julienne carrots sound?’
    ‘Like a restaurant menu,’ she said, trying not to laugh at him, but she had to bite her lips and he balled up a tea towel and threw it at her, his lips twitching.
    ‘So is that yes or no?’
    ‘Oh, yes—please. But only if you can manage it,’ she added mischievously.
    He rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t push your luck or you’ll end up with beans on toast,’ he warned, and rolled up his sleeves and started emptying the fridge onto the worktop.
    ‘Can I help?’
    ‘Yes. You can lay the table. I’ll let you.’
    ‘Big of you.’
    ‘It is. Do it properly. The cutlery’s in this drawer.’
    She threw the tea towel