Читать книгу The Billionaire's Christmas Baby - Marion Lennox, Marion Lennox - Страница 3

Phoebe was still awake, nestled in his arms, gazing upward as if trying to make sense of this man who was holding her.

This man sitting beside Sunny.

They were sitting at the end of the pew, in case Phoebe decided to roar and they had to take her out.

Anyone looking at her and at Max might think...

Don’t go there, Sunny thought. This was a fantasy. There’d never been time or space for her to think of a love life.

She gazed down at her hands, at the lines and calluses formed by years of hard work, at the absence of rings. She stretched them out and suddenly, astonishingly, Max’s fingers were closing over hers.

‘Good hands,’ he said in an undervoice. ‘Honourable hands.’

She should... She didn’t know what she should do. Had he known what she was thinking? How many hands had this man seen that looked like hers? None.

She should tug her hand back and the contact would be over. That was the sensible course, the only course, but she couldn’t quite manage it. His clasp was warm and strong. Good.

Fantasy enveloped her again for a moment, insidious in its sweetness. To keep sitting here, to feel the peace of this moment, this place, this man...