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'Don't worry, I'll do it.' Quinn shifted position slightly and every nerve in her body responded. 'I might have another glass of wine before I turn in.'
'Right.' She stood looking down at him and felt faintly ridiculous when she realised she didn't know what to say. 'Well, thank you for having us all,' she managed lightly, the flick of her hand encompassing Tabitha and the kittens, the former watching her son crawl belly-fashion across the carpet as he stalked his two sisters, who had momentary control of the messy sphere of wool.
'My pleasure.'
The smoky flavour was stronger, and she could feel his eyes on the back of her neck as she walked towards the door.
'Candy?'
She actually had her hand on the doorhandle when he spoke and she had to nerve herself to turn and face him with a studiously blank expression. 'Yes?'
'Happy Christmas.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Candy awoke early on Christmas Day in the beautiful cream bedroom, she would have laughed in derision if someone had told her she was about to enjoy the best Christmas of her life. But from the moment she joined Quinn at the breakfast table an hour later there was magic in the air.
Quinn had metamorphosised into the perfect host; amusing, considerate, charming and attentive. And once Mary and Bernard joined them and the four of them had swapped presents the festive atmosphere just continued to grow.
Candy experienced a slight hiccup in her state of euphoria when she unwrapped Quinn's present to her. If she had expected anything at all it had been perfume, or something relatively impersonal, but the exquisite gold bracelet made up of tiny beautifully fashioned links which on closer inspection turned out to be minute cats, was anything but that.
'It's beautiful.' She raised surprised and wary eyes as her face flushed a rosy pink.
'So are you.' His hands cupped her face and he kissed her swiftly on the lips as his parents looked on approvingly.
Candy reminded herself, strongly, that they were supposed to be in the first throes of mad, passionate love, and managed to force a weak smile as she lowered her gaze to the bracelet in her hands. She hoped his parents would assume her lack of response to his kiss was embarrassment, as she had only known them for such a short time, and it appeared this was so as Mary said warmly, 'I have to say you are such a refreshing change from some of these rather hard-boiled types that seemed to be all the fashion these days, Candy. I'm not an anti-feminist, far from it, but so many girls seem to have lost the air of delicacy that makes women attractive, don't you think? And Quinn tells us you are a wonderful cook.'
'I wouldn't say that.' She raised her eyes to Mary's happy, smiling face and wondered what Quinn's mother would think if she voiced exactly what she was thinking right at this moment about her precious son! It wasn't fair to get Mary's hopes up like this, it really wasn't, not when there wasn't a chance of a relationship developing.
'Oh, but I would, darling.' Quinn was still standing next to her, and as she raised narrowed blue eyes to his handsome, satisfied face he must have read the very definite warning the azure gaze was sending, because his easy grin wavered a little and he quickly said, 'Here, let me put it on for you. The safety clasp is difficult to get used to at first.'
His hands were very big and strong as he took her slender wrist and draped the fine lacy bracelet over her skin, his fingers warm and sure of themselves. He stroked one thumb across the tender base of her hand before he let go, and she felt the mild caress like an electric current.
'Thank you.' She almost snatched her hand away; Mary and Bernard had turned away to rescue Alfie, who had managed to jam himself under the sofa as he hunted a scrap of Christmas paper, so there was no need to pretend.
If Quinn noticed the action he didn't betray it by so much as the flicker of an eyelid, and once they had finished the giving and receiving the four of them put on their coats and trudged through the snow, which was a good few inches thick, to the little church Mary had spotted the day before.
Quinn tucked her arm through his as they began to walk, pulling her into his side and looking down at her with such a deliriously sexy smile that it took every inch of the short stroll for Candy to pull herself together. But she managed it—just—and she had to admit, as she slipped into bed at the end of what had been a perfect day, that he had behaved faultlessly throughout.
Once the short service in the quaint fifteenth-century parish church had been over they had all wandered back to the apartment through the Christmas-card wonderland as a few lazy snowflakes had begun to fall, enjoying a couple of sherries before their enormous Christmas dinner of turkey and all the trimmings.
Candy and Quinn had taken the dogs for a walk in the silver glow of the afternoon—his parents had chosen to listen to the Queen's speech on TV before dozing in front of the fire—and then they had all tucked into turkey sandwiches, hot muffins oozing with butter and jam and enormous slabs of Mary's scrumptious Christmas cake before playing cards.
Boxing Day followed equally enjoyable lines, but then just after tea—when Mary and Bernard were due to leave to drive back to Oxford—Quinn's mother took Candy aside while the two men finished watching an action film on TV.
'Candy, I'm probably speaking out of turn,' Mary began quietly, 'but I just want you to know that this is the happiest I've seen Quinn in years. He is very fond of you, my dear.'
Candy stared at the older woman for a second as her brain refused to come up with coherent words, and then she stammered, 'We're more good friends than anything,' as she felt the hot flood of colour that had started at her toes surge into her face.
'But that's marvellous, don't you see?' Mary responded fervently. 'To my knowledge Quinn has never had that with any other woman, even poor Laura,' she added as her voice dropped even lower. 'He has always been popular with the opposite sex, even as a little boy the girls would fight to have him to their parties and make any excuse to call and see him, and he grew up thinking… Well…'
Quinn's mother suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable.
'That he only had to crook his little finger and they came running?' Candy put in somewhat dryly.
'Exactly.' Mary's tone was rueful. 'He never seemed to go through the spotty, gangly stage that afflicted most of his friends.'
No, she had to admit she couldn't see Quinn Ellington with pimples and awkward lanky limbs, Candy agreed silently.
