Page 35 of Christmas at the Home Farm Vets (Hartfell Village #2)

‘Don’t push it, Sterling, or you might be spending your last few days cleaning out kennels.’

They took their seats and introduced themselves to everyone else on their table, a few Oli had met before.

Imogen and Alex’s friends and family welcomed them, and Erin found it lovely to laugh with Oli beside her, as though they really were a couple, and she eventually gave up trying to refute that they weren’t.

Dinner was outstanding: prime rib of beef and roasted stuffed cauliflower served with hasselback roast potatoes, caramelised shallots, and sprouts with baby carrots.

Dessert was mini hot toddy pavlovas, meringues flavoured with whisky, pears and spices.

Afterwards Imogen and Alex were first on the dance floor, and Oli pushed back his chair and stood up.

‘Shall we?’ He offered a hand to Erin, a smile on his lips. ‘I’ve waited a long time to dance with you wearing a dress like that.’

It was impossible to say no; she too had longed for this moment. Champagne had been flowing, but it wasn’t that heightening every sense, it was his eyes and the way he’d been looking at her all evening. Her hand was in his as they walked onto the dance floor, Erin dizzyingly aware of every touch.

Oli’s right hand went to her back and hers was on his left shoulder, resting on his black tailored jacket as the opening notes of Nat King Cole’s ‘Christmas Song’ filled the room.

Everyone but Oli was a blur, his fingers splayed across the laces on her back.

Their feet were following one rhythm as their bodies danced to an entirely different one; with every beat of the music they drew closer until his chest beneath the open jacket was against her breasts.

His fingers slid beneath the corset fastening of her dress and her breath caught.

She was trembling in his arms and even her legs felt unsteady as they danced on.

His hand slid slowly up her back until it reached the knot of curls at the nape of her neck.

‘I love your hair like this.’ His new beard was rough against her cheek as he murmured the words. He gently tugged a curl free and wrapped it around one finger. ‘Let me take it down for you when we’re alone.’

‘Oli, we can’t!’ Erin tried to summon some sense, and her laugh was more of a shocked gasp. ‘We’re really not meant to be doing this.’

‘Actually, I think you’re wrong.’ He pulled back to stare at her, and she was lost all over again at his eyes glittering with desire. ‘I think we’re meant to be doing exactly this.’

There was no reply she could offer and already the song was ending.

Slowly they separated. The DJ switched to classic Christmas party songs but Erin didn’t want to leave the floor, to think about the end of the party on its way.

They carried on dancing, and she was remembering what it was like to let go and have fun, to leave behind their responsibilities for this one magical evening together.

All too soon midnight arrived, and everyone was saying goodbye, promising to see each other again at the wedding.

Oli found his dad and Christina to say goodnight to, and Mike confirmed how much he was looking forward to seeing them again in the morning.

Imogen and Alex were following on in a separate taxi later, not yet ready to end their celebration.

Erin and Oli got into their taxi, and all she could think of was how she was going to manage to share a bed with him after tonight and emerge from the weekend with her professionalism intact.

Back at the house, Oli let them in with the key Imogen had given him, his question deceptively casual. ‘Brew before we go up, to offset all that champagne?’

‘Actually, I think I’ll just go straight to bed.’ Erin hadn’t drunk that much and didn’t think she could spend a minute alone with him until she was wrapped in the duvet and trying to pretend he wasn’t actually there. She tugged her eyes free from his and he nodded.

‘Okay. Give me a shout when you’re done in the bathroom.’

‘I won’t be long.’ It was a terribly flat reply after the evening they’d just shared, and she trailed upstairs.

But it was also the lifeline she needed to pull her back from the brink, to prevent them falling straight into bed together.

Despite the disappointment, she was glad he’d made the decision to wait downstairs because she wasn’t certain she could’ve done.

She was sitting on the bed when he came upstairs after her call, snug winter pyjamas laid out behind her, and trying to focus on the latest Marnie update from Jess.

Erin’s heart was racing when Oli appeared, and she put her phone down.

The black dinner jacket was draped from one shoulder, the bow tie loose.

He’d undone the top two buttons of his white shirt, and her breath caught.

‘Sorry. I thought you’d already be in bed,’ he muttered, halting at the sight of Erin still in her dress, the heels discarded nearby. ‘Do you think Imogen did this on purpose?’

‘Totally.’ She stood up, her fingers trembling. ‘I can’t undo my dress. Could you help me please?’

‘You want me to unfasten your dress?’

‘What else am I meant to do? I don’t want to ruin it,’ she replied helplessly. ‘I wouldn’t ask otherwise.’

‘Okay.’ His voice was very low. ‘Turn around.’

She did, slowly, and his fingers were cool on her warm skin.

She held in a gasp as she felt them slide underneath the crossed straps, working slowly to unfasten the knot she’d managed to tie in her haste to be in bed before him.

His breath was skimming her neck, and she knew from its unevenness that he was finding it as difficult as she was to maintain that everything must stop here.

The moment he’d undone the knot she felt the dress loosen as the straps slackened and she clutched the bodice tightly, not daring to let it fall away.

He inched a finger beneath the strap on her left shoulder and she couldn’t move; even her breath had halted at this exquisite, questioning touch.

He slid the strap from her shoulder to her elbow and she closed her eyes, fighting the impulse to lean her head back.

He repeated the gesture on her right shoulder, this time allowing one finger to follow the path of the strap down her arm.

But her arms holding up the dress were the only barrier between her and scalding embarrassment when she had to face him in front of their colleagues on Monday.

Her pulse was pounding, and she was trying to summon all the reasons why continuing what they’d begun was such a bad idea.

‘It’s undone now.’ His low words were a whisper against her face as he bent his head, both hands resting lightly on the top of her arms.

‘Thanks.’ Whatever she did next would determine the rest of this evening, as well as his last few days in Hartfell, and she longed to continue. She took a deep breath and snatched her pyjamas from the bed, fleeing to the bathroom to change. When she returned Oli was in bed and he offered a smile.

‘Night. Sleep well.’ He turned over, hunching onto his side as she hung up her dress.

‘Thanks. You too.’ Erin got in beside him, wrapped in her winter pyjamas.

She lay still, utterly aware of Oli. She knew the moment he’d fallen asleep when his breathing changed, one arm tucked beneath the pillow.

She lay awake for an hour, staring at her phone and alternating between relief and profound regret.

She eventually dropped off and woke again a couple of hours later, turning over and rearranging the pillow as she tried to settle.

‘What’s the matter?’ he muttered sleepily.

‘I’m too hot,’ she replied irritably. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’ She punched the pillow and turned over again. She definitely couldn’t sleep facing him and she inched across to the very edge of the bed.

‘I’m not surprised. Those pyjamas could probably take you on a polar expedition.’

‘I didn’t know we’d be staying in a boiling new-build and not some draughty old manor house,’ she shot back, trying to keep her voice down lest they wake Imogen and Alex in the next room.

She’d heard them return about half an hour after Oli had fallen asleep.

‘I was expecting freezing temperatures and high ceilings, not underfloor heating.’

‘Imogen can’t stand the cold, she always has the heating turned up to tropical.’ Oli sat up. ‘Can’t you change into something else?’

‘Like what? I only packed enough stuff for one night and I need my clothes for tomorrow.’

‘You can have my T-shirt. I’m too warm anyway.’

‘Oli, no!’ She flipped over in time to see him yank it over his head and he dropped it on the duvet between them. ‘Sharing a bed with you is bad enough, how you do expect me to sleep if you’re…’

‘I’m not naked,’ he muttered. ‘I’m wearing shorts.’

‘No, but you’re…’ She’d rarely seen him like this, so close, and not since the incident back in the cottage with the peelings when he’d been heading to the shower. Years of rugby and surfing had kept him fit and he’d retained those muscles, his arms, shoulders and chest perfectly defined. ‘Almost.’

‘Do you want the T-shirt or not?’ He picked it up, dangling it through the darkness.

‘Okay,’ she replied steadily. ‘But only because I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep otherwise. Please can you turn away?’

Erin sat up and she felt the mattress sink as Oli turned over.

She undid her pyjamas with clumsy fingers, remembering his own, deft and sure, on her dress earlier.

Her pulse was beating to that dangerous rhythm again as she wriggled out of her top and snatched up his T-shirt, tugging it hurriedly over her head.

It was still warm and smelled of him, that same vanilla and bourbon scent that lingered whenever he was near.

She lay back, as tense and taut as before.

It was tricky to get the bottom half of her pyjamas off lying down under the duvet, but she managed it, and they hit the floor too.

She breathed out a calming sigh now the heavy cotton was no longer covering her body.

In truth it wasn’t just the house making her overheat, but trying to feign indifference to Oli beside her.

Erin closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.