Free Christmas With Her Ex by Fiona McArthur

the alcohol content in her blood was running at since boarding this darned train and whether it was interfering with her usual caution.
    Conversation flowed remarkably easily until the gong went for dinner. The bar car had filled up, men and women flashed their jewels and fabulous clothes, stilted conversations merged into introductions as strangers tried to make conversation as they waited to be allocated their tables.
    Kelsie felt the heat in her cheeks as Connor stood attentively beside her. People dodged the champagne buckets and others milled and chatted in the small space as they waited.
    Finally the loudspeaker encouraged the patrons to go through to dinner, first in English and then in French, as the waiters checked off names. Kelsie stood with Connor and walked through to the next car and their table.
    Connor beat the waiter to her chair and pulled it out for her, helping her to move it back in when she was seated, and she looked down at the table, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He’d always had such beautiful manners. It had been one of the lovely aspects of spending time with Connor away from home. He’d always treated her like a princess.
    The table was crowded with crystal glasses—four sizes each and all engraved with the VSOE insignia—three sets of silver cutlery, fine china with the crest again and crested doilies under everything to stop anyhint of slippage from the motion of the train. She marvelled at the thought of the relaying of the tables for the next sitting.
    Their waiter arrived, carrying Connor’s champagne bucket, and he skilfully topped their glasses despite the sudden jolts. They both smiled at his dexterity.
    Connor broke the silence between them. ‘So my grandmother has been at work again.’ Connor settled back into his chair and smiled. ‘Can you stand another meal with me or would you like me to ask to be moved?’
    ‘Of course not.’ There wasn’t a lot she could do about it now and it could have been a whole lot worse. She might have had to keep the bar fly under control. Instead, she had a handsome man who had once been her lifeline. ‘I’ll be able to handle it for one more meal. I think breakfast is in bed tomorrow morning so I’m safe.’
    ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ His mouth curved, smiling and sexy, a deadly combination that encapsulated her in their private joke, and the room seemed suddenly a little too warm again.
    ‘Even your grandmother couldn’t arrange that,’ she said dryly, and he smiled again. She almost wished he wouldn’t do that. It was a devastating smile and if her shoes hadn’t been so tight her toes might have curled.
    He glanced down at the menu and then back at her. ‘So, what are you having?’
    She looked down, scanning the options you could purchase before she looked at the meal that was included, and gasped. ‘I think I’d rather buy a coat at Harrods than a serving of Beluga caviar.’
    He glanced at the price of the optional entrée andwinced. ‘We could both buy a coat.’ He grinned at the à la carte menu for those too fussy to have what the chef de cuisine suggested. ‘Shall we have the Christmas dinner menu, then?’
    She nodded vigorously. ‘Indeed. I’ll have the traditional roast turkey with chestnut stuffing and dessert of a classic plum duff with
crème Anglaise
and brandy butter.’
    ‘Good choice. I’m not a turbot fan myself.’
    She laughed. He was funny. It was easy. They were conversing as if all the tense conversations of the day had been swept away and she could feel the stiffness in her neck begin to subside. The feeling of relief was heady. And he was charming. She might just have to watch that.
    ‘The fellow at the bar was right, you know.’ His gaze rested on her face.
    ‘What?’
    ‘You look very beautiful in that dress. In fact, you’ve looked beautiful all day.’ He wasn’t looking at the dress. He was watching her face and she felt the warmth steal into her cheeks. ‘You look even more