Millionaire Under The Mistletoe: The Playboy's Mistress / Christmas in the Billionaire's Bed / The Boss's Mistletoe Manoeuvres

Darcy closed her eyes. ‘Thank God,’ she breathed. Only just blinking back the emotional floods, she opened her eyes and saw Clare hugging their father while Nick, an imbecilic grin on his face, was pounding him on the back.

‘Did she say why she…?’ Darcy began huskily.

Jack shook his head. ‘No, she said she wanted to talk. That’s good, isn’t it…?’

‘Very good,’ Darcy said firmly, hoping with all her heart that she was telling the truth.

Jack nodded. ‘She’ll be here tomorrow morning.’

Darcy had reached the point when she couldn’t hold back the tears of relief any longer. ‘I’ll go get the tree in,’ she announced huskily.

She was struggling with the evergreen when Nick joined her.

‘Good news…?’ He stood, his back against the garage door, watching her efforts and making no reference to her puffy eyes.

‘The best,’ she agreed.

‘Personally I’m keeping all extremities crossed just in case.’

‘A wise precautionary measure,’ Darcy agreed with a tired smile.

‘About Clare…’

‘I don’t want to talk about Clare.’

‘You know she doesn’t mean half of what she says.’

‘The half she does mean is enough sometimes,’ Darcy responded drily.

‘Things aren’t going as well as she’d hoped with the firm. I don’t know the details, but I do know it’s not good.’

Darcy’s eyes widened in sympathy. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Only knew myself because she was in a bit of a state when I dropped in the other week. It does explain the conniving-bitch act.’

‘You don’t think she’s desperate enough to…?’

‘Sleep her way out of trouble?’ Nick considered the idea. ‘Shouldn’t think so.’

Darcy was torn; she knew she ought to be more concerned about her sister’s welfare than the possibility that Clare might find the solution to her problems in the bed of her own lover. Jealousy was not a nice feeling.

‘Do you think you could give me a hand with this?’

Nick took the tree off her. ‘All you had to do was ask. There’s never a twin around when you want one,’ he added, hefting it into his arms.

‘And there’s always two around when you don’t want one,’ Darcy added with feeling.

They were halfway up the driveway when Nick planted the rootball on the ground. His expression as he turned to face her suggested he’d come to a decision about something.

‘I didn’t tell Clare all the things I learnt about Erskine.’

‘From a reliable source, no doubt.’

‘It’s all on file, Darce. Do you want to know?’

She shrugged her shoulders, affecting uninterest, while she was just bursting to shake the information out of him.

‘Well, in that case…’ he began, balancing the tree against his hip.

‘I’m interested!’ she snapped, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him back to her.

‘Apparently the guy married his childhood sweetheart. Five years ago this Christmas Day she was killed.’

Darcy closed her eyes. Now she had the answer to his distaste of all things Christmassy. How awful to have such a powerful reminder year after year of his personal tragedy. Her tender heart ached for him.

‘That’s not all. She was pregnant…’

Oh, God, there was more to come! She could hear it in Nick’s voice. Her eyes flickered open; she met her brother’s eyes—not only more but worse. Darcy didn’t see how that was possible but she waited tensely, her stomach tied in knots for him to deliver the clincher.

‘A motorbike mounted the pavement—it was crowded with people coming out of midnight mass. They were holding hands, but it didn’t touch him, just her.’

Darcy was seeing the horror of it; her chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe. ‘He saw her die.’ She blinked back the hot sting of tears; she ached with empathy. She turned away from her brother and fought to master her emotions. Losing a wife he loved and his unborn child—how did a person come back after a cruel blow like that?

‘She died instantly, but he tried to revive her. When the paramedics got there eye-witness reports said that it took five guys to eventually persuade him to let her go, and, Darcy…’ he touched her arm ‘…he made the biggest deal of his life on New Year’s Eve. Makes you think, doesn’t it…?’

‘What are you suggesting—?’ she began, hotly defensive.

‘I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just saying that a man like that needs handling with care…’

Darcy’s eyes slid from her brother’s. ‘Shouldn’t you be telling Clare that?’ she muttered evasively.

‘Clare thinks she’s a lot more irresistible than she is.’

‘You only think that because you’re her brother,’ Darcy retorted. Jealousy tightened its grip on her—Reece wasn’t Clare’s brother.

Darcy tucked her hair behind her ears and stood back to get the full effect of her decorative efforts. She heard the door open behind her.

‘Switch on the lights, will you?’ she called without turning around. She gave a satisfied sigh as the tree was illuminated. ‘It’s a bit lopsided.’

‘It’s got character,’ a very familiar deep voice replied.

Darcy gave a startled yelp and dropped the bauble in her hand as she swung around. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her body temperature seesawed wildly at the sight of the tall figure, as did her emotions.

‘Do you give all your lovers receptions this warm and welcoming?’

Lovers. A sensual shudder rippled down her spine. ‘Hush!’ she hissed, reaching up and pressing her hand to his lips. ‘Someone will hear.’

His disdainful expression was that of a man who didn’t care what other people thought. Darcy would have taken her hand away, but he caught hold of her wrist and held it there against his mouth. The giddiness that had begun to recede came rushing back with a vengeance as his lips moved along her flexed fingertips, then equally slowly returned to the starting point.