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He gives me a smile that lights his whole face. Poor guy is probably just delighted to get in out the cold. His fingers look a little blue round the handle of the basket. He nods towards the door.
I shake my head at myself and sprint to the door. As I enter the hallway I slow to a decorous walk, smoothing my hands over my hair, and trying to compose myself.
Nothing to be excited about. Breathe. Play it cool.
I can hear the words echoing in my head, but my body is screaming a very different story. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. What the hell is wrong with me?
I suck in a deep breath and wrench open the door.
“Sera,” he breathes.
“Ali.”
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t quite myself yesterday. My brain might have forgotten,” he says as he lets the basket slip to the doorstep. “But my heart didn’t.”
Any semblance of pretended coolness evaporates when he sweeps me into his arms. His hungry mouth finds mine, parting my lips with a kiss that was worth waiting twenty years for. When we eventually break apart, I am gasping for breath.
He touches my face gently, his face lit with wonder. “I can’t believe you are here.”
“I am. Right here.”
“Poor Molly. I hadn’t heard. I’m sorry for your loss. When you mentioned your great-aunt yesterday, obviously I didn’t connect the dots. My head wasn’t really at the game.”
“That’s ok. Thank you. Would you like to come in?”
He lifts the wicker picnic basket and follows me into the living room.
“Can I take your coat?”
He shrugs off his jacket. I can’t help but notice that time does not seem to have had much effect on his physique. I imagine he probably still trains every day. Certainly looks like it. His fetching mohair Christmas jumper is at least two sizes too small and clings to every curve and plane of his muscular chest.
He notices my look.
“I’ll just take this off too,” he mutters. I raise my eyebrow. “It is pretty warm in here,” he continues.
I blush. The fire. Of course.
I’m staring. I can’t help myself. His chest in that plain white t-shirt is a work of wonder. The sleeves fit snugly round his huge biceps, leaving his forearms exposed to my gaze. I imagine him stepping forward and wrapping me into those arms. I think I would actually melt.
“Sera? Would you like something to eat? I brought some turkey, some trimmings, and some mince pies. I remembered you said you’d be working. I’m glad I remembered something…” He looks sheepish.
“No, thank you. I’ve eaten. But go ahead if you are hungry.”
“I’m okay, thanks. I had dinner with Mum and Dad. I waited until after dinner because I wanted to be sure you’d be home. Sera…” He takes a step forward, closing the distance between us in one long-legged step.
I look up into his blue eyes.
“I never forgot you,” he says, his voice husky. “Well, except for yesterday. I can’t believe I didn’t recognise you.”
I touch the side of his forehead, running my fingers gently over the livid bruise that has bloomed round his wound. He is also sporting quite a significant black eye.
“You did have a pretty serious head knock. I wasn’t for letting you go, you know, but I was overruled.”
He wraps his arms round me, and I sink into his embrace.
“I should never have letyougo,” he murmurs against the top of my head.
“I didn’t think you would even remember my name…”
