The Christmas Night Miracle. Carole Mortimer
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smiling at the little boy in spite of himself.
Children, especially little ones like this, were not part of his everyday life. Although, despite what he might have said earlier, he was fond enough of his nieces and nephews.
‘Do you know my granma and grandad?’ Scot looked up at him expectantly.
He gave a shake of his head. ‘I can’t say that I’ve ever met them, no.’
‘Scott, it really is time for your—’
‘Neither have I.’ Scott spoke at the same time as his mother, his expression wistful now.
Curiouser and curiouser, Jed mulled frowningly. Scott had to be at least three, perhaps a little older, and yet he claimed never to have met his own grandparents. Jed could understand the lapse where the boy’s father’s parents were concerned, but not with his maternal grandparents.
What sort of people were the Hamiltons never to have even met their own grandson?
CHAPTER THREE
‘IS IT all right if I come in?’ Meg hesitated in the doorway to the sitting room.
She had just put Scott up to bed in the guest bedroom—a guest bedroom with a double bed that she and Scott could share, thank goodness. Scott was a restless sleeper, and she hadn’t relished being kicked all night in the confines of a single bed with him. Although perhaps she should think herself lucky she was sleeping in a bed at all tonight; she and Scott could so easily have ended up huddled together in the car somewhere.
She shrugged. ‘If you’re busy I can always…’
‘Always what?’ Jed Cole came back derisively, lounging in one of the armchairs but putting down the book he had been glancing through. ‘Your choices are pretty limited in this cottage.’
A flush heightened her cheeks. She felt strangely uncomfortable now that she was alone with this darkly enigmatic man. Although he was only three, Scott’s presence had acted as a buffer between the two adults, making personal conversation almost impossible. Something that was no longer true.
Especially after Scott’s statement earlier concerning his grandparents.
And her parents, her whole family, in fact, were something she would rather not discuss.
She grimaced. ‘Well, I could always go and tidy the kitchen.’
‘All done,’ Jed Cole dismissed dryly, almost as if he had guessed what she would do and had nullified it. ‘For the main part the cottage is pretty basic, but it does have a dishwasher and washing machine, and, wonder of wonders, central heating.’
Meg had already noted that the entire cottage was warm, that the log fire burning in this room was only for effect and not to provide actual heat. ‘Were they here when you bought the cottage or did you have them installed afterwards?’ She moved further into the room, feeling slightly shy with this man, as shown by the inanity of her conversation.
Not surprising really. Jed Cole was the sort of darkly handsome man who would wreak havoc with any woman’s pulse-rate at the best of times. Here, alone in a cottage with him, the snow on the ground outside creating an eerie silence, she found him nerve-janglingly attractive, his dark good looks, the intensity of his deep blue eyes, combined with the lean strength of his body, making Meg completely aware of him.
Which was quite an admission coming from a woman who hadn’t so much as accepted a date in over three years.
Jed Cole shook his head now. ‘I don’t own the cottage, Meg, it belongs to…a friend of mine,’ he dismissed abruptly. ‘I’ve just been staying here for a while.’
Not exactly helpful. And she hadn’t missed that slight pause when he’d told her whom the cottage belonged to. ‘Do you work in the area?’
He settled back in the armchair, blue gaze hooded now. ‘No.’
She gave him a quick glance, not sure whether or not to sit down herself; if they were going to continue this horribly stilted conversation, probably not. ‘Perhaps you have friends in the area?’
He grimaced. ‘Don’t know a soul.’
Hmm, talkative man, wasn’t he? Perhaps it would better if she just made her excuses and went back upstairs.
‘My turn now,’ Jed drawled hardly. ‘Why has Scott never met your parents?’
She had known by the narrow-eyed way he’d looked at her at the time that he wasn’t going to let that statement pass, but the directness of his question now threw her into some confusion. Most people, most polite people, wouldn’t have pursued the subject, but Jed Cole had made no effort to be polite, so why should he start now?
‘I was about to have a glass of red wine,’ he continued lightly. ‘Would you care to join me?’
Why not? She’d had a long and stressful day, and she somehow didn’t think it was going to get too much better if Jed Cole was going to start asking her questions like the one he just had.
He stood up now, careful to avoid the dark wooden beams on the ceiling as he did so.
She should have known that he didn’t own this cottage. It was like trying to fit a round peg into a square hole; he simply didn’t fit.
‘Perhaps you’ll be able to think of an answer to my question while I go and get the wine,’ he told her mockingly as they stood together in the doorway for several seconds.
Several seconds too long for Meg’s comfort, her awareness of this man becoming more acute with every minute that passed. Which would never do. Despite what this man might think to the contrary, because she had Scott, she did not get involved in brief, meaningless affairs. Even with attractive men she met in snowstorms.
Neither did she have an acceptable answer to his question, she admitted with dismay. And his slightly mocking smile before he disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen seemed to say that he already knew she didn’t.
Well, she did have an answer, but it wasn’t one she could give without being unkind to her parents, and she didn’t think they deserved that. It wouldn’t have been easy for them to accept their daughter turning up on their doorstep with their illegitimate grandchild. Not that she ever had.
‘Here we are.’ Jed came back with two glasses and an opened bottle of red wine. ‘Thought of an answer yet?’ he taunted as he poured the wine into the two glasses before handing one to Meg. ‘Why don’t we sit down, hmm?’
If he was trying to put her at her ease, then he wasn’t succeeding.
Although after one glance at his face, at those mockingly raised brows, she realized that perhaps he wasn’t trying to do any such thing, that he was a man who rarely, if ever, tried to make things easy for other people. In fact, as Meg was quickly learning, he wasn’t a man it was easy to relax around at all. And it didn’t help that he was so sure of himself, that he wore his obviously expensive clothing with a complete disregard for their worth—or that he was so rakishly attractive.
Admit it, Meg, she mocked herself, it was the latter about him that bothered her the most. She was alone here, with only the sleeping Scott for chaperon, with a man it was impossible not to be completely physically aware of.
‘Still trying to think of an answer?’
And who also happened to be purposefully blunt to the point of rudeness.
‘We aren’t usually this—inquisitive, into other people’s personal lives, in this country.’ She eyed him sternly, a look usually guaranteed to subdue Scott, but which only succeeded in making this somewhat older man smile.
He shrugged those broad shoulders unapologetically. ‘These aren’t usual circumstances.’
No, they weren’t, were they? Because in the normal course of things single mothers like Meg wouldn’t even be noticed by a man who was probably more at