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Did Ellie have friends at school? Peers who were supporting her through this? The school staff said so, but wouldn’t she be a little better by now, if that were the case?

Nonetheless, when Chloe’s car pulled up out the front of the manor, he’d been waiting for her, watching from his office window. And as she alighted, he felt it again: the tightening in his body of anticipation, and something else. A need he hadn’t even thought about indulging for months.

She was dressed more casually than she’d been on their previous two meetings—in form-fitting jeans, ankle boots and a turtleneck sweater. No coat. Her hair was in a ponytail. She stretched languidly, eyes fixed on the drive as a truck followed in her wake. When it pulled to a stop, she lifted a hand in greeting to the driver, her smile wide and natural. Her eyes flicked to the house and he stepped away from the window, uncharacteristically caught off guard.

Then, he was moving with long, confident strides towards the stairs, and the woman who was going to make Christmas magic come alive for Ellie.

“I managed to find help—at least for today,” she said in greeting, when she felt Dimitrios emerge from the house. Even before turning around, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her heart hammered into her ribs.

He didn’t match her smile. He looked…stressed. Tense. Worried.

Her smile slipped. “Is everything okay?”

He seemed to visibly shake himself, nodding. “Great to have you back.” He held his hand out in a gesture of greeting and she extended her own. There was nothing unusual about shaking a client’s hand, but there was something out of the ordinary in the way heat and sparks seemed to burst through her at the slightest touch, reminding her instantly of the way it had felt to press her fingers to his bicep. If the intervening month was supposed to have eradicated that awareness, the opposite was true.

“We’ll try to stay out of your hair,” she said, pulling her hand away and casually wiping it down the side of her jeans. It didn’t stop her fingertips from tingling. Two men stepped out of the truck and moved around to the doors at the back, opening them with a loud metallic thud.

“That’s not necessary. I’m available to help.”

She glanced up at him, then wished she hadn’t. His gaze was trained on the back of the truck so all she could see was his chiseled jaw, covered by a five-o’clock shadow, and she felt a burst of something insane—a desire to reach out and run her finger towards his chin, feeling the hard edges of him.

“Really, you’re paying a fortune. As much as possible, I’ll try not to bother you.”

She rubbed her hands together for warmth. It was one of those perfect winter days—bright blue sky, milky sunlight and a temperature hovering close to zero, if not under.

“We had a deal, Chloe. I never go back on my word.”

“I can tell that about you.” The words were out before she could stop them.

When she looked at him again, he was glancing down at her, one brow raised in silent enquiry.

“You just seem very…duty bound.”

His jaw shifted and her fingers tingled, temptation firing through her. “Isn’t everyone?”

It was a telling response, showing that he truly believed duty was a defining characteristic for most people. She looked away, staring at the removalists pulling boxes out of the truck.

“I’ll let you help,” she conceded finally. “When I’m ready for it. But there’s honestly not much to do until the truck’s emptied.”

He looked down at her, eyes sweeping across her face. “Doesn’t that constitute help?”

As she watched, he rolled up his sleeves—quite literally—to expose tanned forearms that were somehow even more beautiful than she’d imagined. She focused on the boxes being pulled from the truck instead. At least, for as long as she could before Dimitrios crouched down, trousers stretching over his muscular quads, while he hooked his fingers beneath the box and lifted it effortlessly.

“Anywhere in particular?” he asked, turning back to face Chloe. God, she hoped she wasn’t drooling.

“Um, the front hallway is great,” she called, eyes flitting to his forearms. “Thanks.”

He walked as though the box weighed nothing—and she knew that wasn’t true, she’d packed it herself. So he was strong, too, not just built.

Pressing her teeth into her lower lip, she walked across the gravelled drive, warm breath forming clouds of fog in front of her. She chose a smaller box and lifted it, making her way towards the house at the same time Dimitrios emerged. His eyes lowered to the box, something crossing his features that she didn’t understand, as he stopped abruptly in front of her and put his own hands beneath the cardboard.

“I’ve got it,” she insisted.

“I’m here to help, remember?” And something like a smile shifted on his face, like the sun bursting out from a cloud with all the brightness in the world, and her lips parted into an ‘o’. It was an involuntary and totally unwarranted response, and one that didn’t go unnoticed. His eyes dropped to her lips, and his smile slipped, his face once more bearing a mask of focus. Determination.

She blinked away, the moment leaving sparks buzzing just beneath her skin. She turned abruptly, moving back to the truck, selecting another box. This time, when he took it from her halfway, she didn’t argue, and so they continued unpacking the truck, box by box, until his entrance-way was filled with cardboard and the promise of Christmas magic.

“Christos, that’s a lot,” he said, standing back with hands on hips—hips that were narrow compared to his broad, muscled shoulders. She could imagine the way his abdominal muscles would pull taut across his toned stomach, tanned skin and…