Read Online Christmas With Her Ex by Fiona McArthur - Free Book Online Page A

large amount of time to kill with nothing better to do. Then they would really be over.
    A sardonic voice inside enquired if he was sure of that…
    When he climbed down the steps she was sweeping up and down the platform like a ghost was after her and he had an idea his younger self may have been that illusion she was escaping from.
    Well, he needed to banish that phantom too if he was going to win this little battle. He wasn’t quite sure when it had become a war but he was in no doubt that he was planning one.
    He’d walked the other way so that she was almostready to board again before he approached her, and he saw her eyes widen as he came near.
    ‘Kelsie. Just one minute.’ And he smiled. Very friendly. Slightly rueful. ‘Can I apologise again?’
    She raised those truly quite delightful eyebrows and he admired the view as he waited for her to speak. ‘For what?’
    They both watched Wolfgang polish the fingermarks off the handrail with his white gloves as he stood beside the steps.
    He lowered his voice. ‘My lack of manners. I’m sorry. I was less than gracious earlier and of course I accept your apology for not marrying me.’ He smiled again.
    It seemed she wasn’t ready to board now, but maybe the impact would be greater if he chose to leave, so he inclined his head and climbed the steps, leaving her alone again. He could feel her eyes on him as he disappeared inside and he chewed his lip to stop laughing out loud.
    He felt like that blasted nineteen-year-old again as he went in search of his gran.
    The bar car was crowded when Kelsie moved through the doorway to join the pre-dinner throng and her long black gown clung lovingly to her breasts and thighs. At least it wasn’t falling off.
    She’d missed the first ten minutes of pre-dinner drinks when one of the gold-linked straps holding up the bodice had snapped and she’d needed an urgent repair.
    One-handed, she’d called for Wolfgang, who’dswooped to the rescue with a tiny pair of pliers on request.
    She’d decided that taking the extra time to check and squeeze each link could be an investment in preventing her future embarrassment. Even with the repairs the bodice of the gown dived a little lower into her cleavage than she remembered but not as low as it would if the strap broke. The last thing she needed was Connor coming to her rescue from a wardrobe malfunction. He’d done that in the past too.
    The bar wasn’t full, but her aunt had been right about formal dress. Wow!
    The pianist was in a velvet brocade jacket that would have done justice to a very swish couch cover and his music soaked the car with waves of pleasure like the scenery outside—sometimes soaring, sometimes gentle, always melodic and accompanying the sound of the rails below.
    Scattered on small tables and along the curved bar were bowls of nuts,
petits fours
and canapés, and all the while through the windows she could see white-capped mountains and white houses with Christmas lights and church spires and tumbling mountain streams.
    And inside, just as grand, the men were in dinner suits with bow ties. The maître d’ wore black tails and the waiters wore formal white.
    The same young man was still at the bar, a little less steady, and he leered when he saw her.
    ‘You look beautiful, madam.’
    Kelsie smiled back at him carefully, and decided he was too young for her, and a bit too effusive.
    ‘Doesn’t she?’
    She had no idea where Connor had come from but he was by her side as he smiled at the man. His shoulders looked very impressive in his black dinner suit and the young man suddenly seemed insignificant. ‘Would you like to introduce me to your friend, Kelsie?’
    What on earth was Connor doing? ‘If only I could,’ she said, and held out her hand to the man. ‘I’m Kelsie.’
    The bar fly was happy to take her fingers. ‘Winston Albert the Third.’ He shook her hand and they both looked at Connor.
    ‘Connor Black.’ He glanced down the carriage as more