Single Dads Collection. Lynne Marshall
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she mouthed silently.
In no time, Ella wriggled from her father’s arms and had seized her stocking, squealing in delight as she extracted her bounty.
In less than ten minutes, the rest of the family had joined them, Verity carrying Holly. With nothing to do but to watch and enjoy, Nicola sat back and took it all in, soaked up the joy and awe of the children, the warmth and affection of the adults and the promised magic of the day.
‘You okay?’ Cade asked, plonking himself beside her on the sofa, one of his hands resting briefly on her knee.
‘Yes, of course. I …’
To her horror, she found her eyes prickling with tears. Cade’s expression sharpened in a heartbeat. He moved towards her but she shook her head, gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed ‘excitement’ to him. He grinned then and she was grateful she witnessed it through a sheen of tears or it might well have slayed her where she sat.
When she was sure she could speak without disgracing herself, she said, ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before except on the telly. I’ve never experienced this much … un-adulterated joy.’
His eyes softened, those amazing blue eyes that could look as hard as the sky or as soft as a breeze, depending on their mood. ‘Nic—’
‘No, no.’ She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. ‘It’s wonderful.’ She beamed at him. ‘I want to thank you for letting me be a part of it.’
She couldn’t explain to him what a privilege she found it … or what a revelation. In Melbourne she’d developed a veneer of cynicism about Christmas to protect herself from disappointment and inevitable letdown. She realised now how self-defeating that had become. She made a vow to dispense with that cynicism for good. Christmas should never be a chore or something to run away from. It should be celebrated and cherished.
Cade tried to keep his attention on the children—on their merriment, their wide-eyed delight and their comical glee with their presents—but the smell of strawberry jam filled his senses and he found his eyes returning to Nicola again and again.
Her eyes shone with as much delight as the children’s. A soft smile curved her lips. He found it particularly hard to drag his gaze from those soft, plump, kissable, strawberry-jam-scented curves. If he could have just one Christmas wish, it would be for another taste of those lips. Not a quick brush of his lips against hers, but a thorough and devastating rediscovery of their shape and texture, of their give and take, of their taste and the way her body with its killer curves melted into his when—
‘Daddy?’ A tug on his shirtsleeve brought him back with a start. A glance at Nicola’s pink-tinged cheeks told him his hungry survey hadn’t gone unobserved.
Friends! He’d promised they’d be friends. Nothing more.
He swiped a forearm across his brow. He had to get these darn hormones back under wraps before they flared out of control and brought him undone. But, damn it, they dodged and weaved and bucked his restraint with greater ferocity than the brumbies he’d been breaking in these last few weeks.
‘Daddy?’ Another tug.
‘What, princess?’
‘When can we open the presents under the tree?’
The presents under the tree were from the family members to each other.
Ella hopped from one foot to the other. ‘I have five presents under there!’
He understood the lure and excitement of presents—he’d admit to a certain amount of curiosity about the present under there with his name on the gift tag, written in Nicola’s neat schoolteacher’s hand—but he didn’t want his daughter growing up to think that was all Christmas was about.
‘Not until after Grandma reads us the Christmas story after breakfast. Then we’ll all take turns to say what we’re grateful for. That was a tradition from his own childhood.
Ella leaned in close. ‘I’m grapeful for lots and lots of things, Daddy.’ She climbed up onto his knee and snuggled in close. ‘I’m very grapeful that Santa came, that he didn’t forget. And I’m grapeful that you’re here and Holly and Grandma and Nic and Harry and Auntie Dee and Uncle Keith and Simon and Jamie … and that it’s like a big party.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Aren’t you grapeful for that?’
His chest expanded until he thought it might explode. He had to swallow before he could speak, infected by all that darn female emotion that had been flying around no doubt. ‘You bet.’
But as Ella slid off his knee with a final squeeze, he knew he couldn’t blame anyone else for the prickle of heat that threatened his eyes and his heart. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to—he’d given his daughters the Christmas they deserved. It filled him up and made him breathe easier. He would never neglect Christmas again. Never. It was too important. In a world that could be cold and brutal, it was too … necessary.
He glanced at Nicola. His children’s infuriatingly delightful nanny had helped him make this day a reality, just like she’d promised she would. He wondered if she realised that was because of who she innately was, though, rather than some artificial taking part that she’d felt obliged to perform.
He closed his eyes for a moment when he recalled Ella’s heartbreaking question about her mother the previous night. He was grateful now—so grateful—that Nicola had answered the way she had. There might be tears over Fran before the day was through, but Nicola was right—he could only control those things that lay in his power. Fran did not come under that particular banner. He could rest safe in the knowledge that he’d done everything he could to give his girls the Christmas they deserved. But rather than Ella or Holly, his gaze returned constantly to Nicola.
Nicola, Dee and Verity laughed in unison when they unwrapped their gifts from each other—they’d bought one another silk scarves, admired together from the same website. The children all momentarily glanced up from the Amazing Facts picture books and activity packs that Nicola had bought for them, but they quickly went back to oohing and ahhing over their pictures. Cade shot Harry a surreptitious glance to find she was grinning too, and sporting her Wonder Woman apron—again, one of Nicola’s gifts—with pride.
He stretched his legs out, leaned back and savoured the moment. Then he seized two presents from beneath the tree and placed them into Nicola’s lap.
She glanced up at him with a shy smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Now open them.’
She tore the wrapping paper from the first, grinned and rolled her eyes. ‘What are you trying to do to my waistline?’ she demanded, holding up the biggest jar of chocolate-coated sultanas he’d been able to find.
‘A little indulgence is good for the soul,’ he countered, and then had to drag his gaze from her mouth. That wasn’t the kind of indulgence he’d meant.
He watched as she unwrapped the second gift. Her soft ‘Oh!’ and wide eyes were the only thanks he needed.
‘What did you get?’ Dee demanded.
Nicola held up her bounty. ‘Novels,’ she said, and her eyes shone. ‘Romance novels.’
‘Ooh, that looks like a good story,’ Dee said, ‘and I love that author.’
‘Let me see,’ Verity said. ‘Oh, I’ve read that one. It’s fabulous!’
But Nicola wasn’t looking at Dee or Verity, who were admiring the cache of books. She was staring straight at him with an expression that made him push his shoulders back.
‘You remembered.’
‘I did.’ It occurred to him that, as far as Nicola went, there’d be very little he’d ever forget. Her eyes and her smile told him he’d given her the perfect present. It hadn’t been much, but her true delight in the gift moved him far more than he’d expected. It made him suddenly awkward.