Snowbound - Harlequin.com

186 SNOWBOUND
or the depth of communication in a smile, hear laughter
and a note of intimacy in their voices, and he might as
well have been outside in the cold peering through the
window, so apart did he feel.
He didn’t tell Fiona that, of course. He’d revealed
enough to her. She’d seen him stagger when his leg
failed. He’d made a fool enough of himself when he’d
tackled her during that flashback.
He was getting desperate enough to wonder whether
he could tolerate staying with his parents or sister if he
went down to see her, when she gave him the idea.
She wrote,
I love getting your e-mails, but I miss you anyway. I
imagine us sitting in front of the fire talking—of
course, if there are guests they’re closeted in their
rooms where they belong.
The smile was in her voice, even writing.
Or perhaps we’re hiding in the laundry room. I
confess, I think about the laundry room often.
His fingers seemed to type of their own volition.
Your Christmas break is coming up. You must have
at least a couple of weeks off. Spend them at the
lodge with me.
His heart was thudding after he hit Send. He sat and
stared at the screen as if he expected an instant reply.
Damn. How was he going to wait days? Even one day?