The Christmas Night Miracle

She already knew that, those strong, slender hands didn’t grow crops or tend animals. In his youth maybe, but certainly not for the last twenty years or so.

He gave a confidently dismissive smile. ‘We weren’t discussing me.’

‘We aren’t discussing me, either.’ Meg drank down some more of her wine before placing the almost empty glass down on the table. ‘Offering Scott and I shelter for the night does not entitle you to comment on either myself or my family.’

‘No?’ he taunted huskily, putting his own glass down on the carpeted floor before getting slowly to his feet. ‘Then what does it entitle me to?’ he challenged, that vivid blue gaze moving over her slowly, from the tips of her toes to the top of her ebony head, before moving down slightly to rest speculatively on the fullness of her lips.

For some reason he was deliberately trying to unnerve her. And he was succeeding. The atmosphere between them was now charged with expectation, the intensity of his gaze almost tangible against her lips.

He was playing with her, Meg recognized frowningly. It was there in the mocking twist to his mouth, the hard gleam of laughter in his eyes.

She drew in an angry breath. ‘It entitles you to my heartfelt thanks,’ she bit out tautly.

He gave a brief inclination of his head. ‘Which you’ve already made. Several times,’ he drawled.

Her eyes sparkled with her anger. ‘Which I’ve already made several times,’ she agreed tightly. ‘Now if you will excuse me.’ She bent to pick her handbag up from the floor. ‘It’s been a long day, and I’m very tired.’

‘Oh, I’ll excuse you, Meg,’ he told her mockingly. ‘I’m sure that most men would excuse you anything.’

Her mouth tightened. ‘Goodnight, Mr Cole,’ she told him firmly before turning on her heel to leave.

‘’Night, Meg,’ he called after her tauntingly.

Her shoulders stiffened slightly but she didn’t halt her departure, only starting to breathe again once she was out in the hallway with the door firmly closed behind her.