Page 70 of The Secret Holiday Kiss

‘Not right now.’ She brushed her lips over his. ‘Not for ages, actually.’

He pulled her more firmly against him. ‘Good,’ he said, and deepened the kiss. As Daisy succumbed to it, she wondered how many nights with Avery Hudson would ever be close to enough.

It was the ninth of December and Mistingham had transformed into a postcard-perfect Christmas village. Every door had a glossy, greenery-filled wreath, dried oranges and cinnamon sticks adding colour and scent; delicate white lights or cascades of rainbow bulbs dripped from roofs and adorned window frames, and Penny For Them played Christmas hits through its always-open doors, filling the air with Wham and Eartha Kitt and Mariah Carey alongside the pings and clangs of the machines.

The window display in Hartley Country Apparel had a male and female mannequin dressed as close to Santa and Mrs Claus as Fiona could get them with the clothes from the shop; Mrs Claus was wearing the Bloody Mary jumper Daisy had turned down on her first day back. Ermin had set up a tableau of LED reindeer and penguins, a wildly oversized robin and a Christmas turkey on the green, their soft glow brightening the gloomiest days, and the bakery smelled of sausage meat and turkey, of cranberry and spiced apple.

As Daisy worked through her list, sending her plans to Mary and Winnie, returning to Vea’s crafts to order her swags of shimmering material in pink, gold and silver for the ball; as she met with Sophie at the Stationery Emporium to add the final, jewelled details to the dance cards, she let the festive spirit seep into her bones. Her mood was lifted by the beautiful village she had once escaped, she was inspired by its commitment to being Christmassy, and she was supercharged from two consecutive nights spent in Avery’s arms.

In the middle of the afternoon, when it had been at least seven hours since she’d seen him – kissing him goodbye at the door of May’s cottage like an illicit lover – she ran out of willpower. She bought a box of mince pies from Dexter, and walked up the lane alongside the hotel to the melodramatic chords of ‘Heaven’ by Bryan Adams, and found Jazz and Omari standing just outside the construction site.

‘Daisy!’ Jazz called. ‘I’ve not missed a ball meeting, have I?’

‘Not at all,’ she said, trying not to show how flustered she was at finding her here, ‘though I have bought some fabric I’d love you to see. I was going to make it into elaborate paper chains, but now I think we could just hang it along the walls, give the room proper Regency vibes.’

‘That sounds great,’ Jazz said with a grin.

‘I’m looking forward to the ball,’ Omari added. ‘We’re all going to hire suits and skinny ties.’

‘Mmmm,’ Daisy said appreciatively. ‘If you could also prepare some sort of Rat Pack performance, that would be glorious. They sang Christmas songs, didn’t they?’

Omari laughed. ‘I’m sure they did, but you won’t think our tribute is glorious once I’ve belted out my first out-of-tune note.’

‘Fair enough. As long as you come and look pretty, and you dance rather than stand awkwardly on the sidelines, that will be enough.’

‘Yes, Major.’ He saluted.

‘That’s General to you. If general is higher up than major? I have no idea.’

Jazz laughed. ‘What have you got there?’ Her tone was far too knowing, and Daisy felt the blush reach the tips of her ears.

‘Mince pies. I just … I nipped in to see Winnie, and thought you could all do with a bit of fuel.’

‘Of course you did,’ Jazz said, at the same time Omari shouted, ‘Avery! Someone’s here to see you!’

Daisy almost went to hide in his van, because she had so clearly been busted. She hadn’t bought anything for his team before today.

‘Having a lovely time, are you?’ Jazz asked with a smirk.

‘All my projects are going very well, thank you.’

‘Especially the Avery project,’ Omari added.

Daisy folded her arms, almost dropping the box of mince pies. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Honestly?’ He laughed. ‘I’ve never seen him in such a good mood. Whistling, offering to take over all the annoying jobs, grinning from ear to ear, he …’

‘Holy shit,’ Jazz murmured, but Daisy wasn’t really listening because Avery was striding towards them, hard hat and hi-vis on, tanned arms brightening the December day because he was only in a T-shirt and low-slung jeans.

‘Holy shit what?’ she said distractedly.

‘The look on both your faces. This project must be going really well. World-class project, right here.’

Avery stopped in front of Daisy, and she knew her grin mirrored his.

‘Daisy,’ he said. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’

‘Mince pies.’ She thrust them towards him. ‘For you and the team.’