Page 61 of Prognosis Christmas Baby

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The music coming fromthe band on the stage pulsed around the darkened ballroom and Maggie watched with envy as a crowd of party-goers, including Nash, let their hair down on the dance floor.

The tables were decorated with floating red candles, silver tinsel, red linen serviettes and lush green holly. The flames flickered and twinkled in the array of wineglasses cluttering the table and shimmered in the tinsel.

There was plenty to keep her mind off the dance floor, however. She’d reached minor celebrity status, being inundated in the early part of the evening by colleagues coming up to ask how she was and chat about the incident of the previous night. It had obviously rocketed around the grapevine and while she appreciated people’s concern, between them and Nash she was about ready to scream.

Her gaze flicked back to the dancers. Nash was up there with Zoe from A and E. If it was at all possible, he looked even sexier than he had when he’d been standing on her doorstep, which only increased her bad mood.

He’d wasted no time in modifying the tux, undoing the jacket buttons so the lapels gaped as he boogied exposing an expanse of chest clad in a classic white shirt. He’d untied the bow-tie so it hung casually down from the confines of the collar. The top two buttons of his shirt had been relieved of their duty.

With his hair all mussed from dancing, he looked like a movie star at an Oscars after-party. And he’d been wildly popular despite his initial reluctance to leave her side. But she’d bitten down hard on her jealousy and urged him to go and dance.

Anything to get some relief from his polite attentiveness and his damn aftershave. She’d thought it would help.

But it hadn’t. She was miserable.

It was some weird kind of self-inflicted torture, forcing herself to watch him with a string of other women. To face the reality of her life. Oh, sure, she knew there was nothing sexual about it, that Nash was just being a gentleman. But the truth was that he was going to London and there were going to be other women.

She might as well get used to it.

The song came to an end and Nash returned to the table and threw himself into the seat beside her. He’d much rather be dancing with Maggie but the lure of her bare back and fudge-brownie eyes were lethal and at least on the dance floor he was removed from the temptation.

‘Man, it’s hot out there,’ he said, taking a swig of his frosty beer. ‘How are you? Okay? Is your head aching?’

Maggie sighed. ‘I’m fine, Nash.’

‘Are you tired? We can leave any time.’

Maggie glared at him now, tired of being treated like a fragile piece of blown glass. ‘I swear to God, Nash, if you ask me one more time, I’m going to pour that beer over your head.’

Nash chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, okay.’

A woman Maggie recognised from X-ray tapped Nash on the shoulder and he smiled at her. Maggie wanted to scratch her eyes out.

Nash stood to go with her but took a moment to bend down so his mouth was close to Maggie’s ear. ‘We’re leaving soon whether you like it or not.’

Maggie tracked his progress through the people milling around the edge of the dance floor, guiding his partner through the crush like a true gentleman, enjoying the back view as much as the front. How had she ever let herself fall in love with him?

Her chest felt tight and her head gave a throb.

‘So. You and Nash, huh?’

Maggie turned to Linda, who’d finally returned from the dance floor after what seemed like hours.

‘Yes. Me and Nash.’ She hoped she didn’t sound as depressed as she felt.

‘You kept that quiet.’

Maggie shrugged. ‘It wasn’t anything, really. Just a fling.’

‘Friends with privileges?’

Maggie nodded, looking down at the starched white tablecloth. ‘Something like that.’

‘Except...’

‘Yes. Except.’ Their fling had yielded some pretty serious consequences.

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