By the time she’d managed to find her credit card, hidden by Cal in an attempt to stop them spending any more money until the overdraft was cleared, it had been almost half past two. Eventually, after ransacking the place, Gemma had found it inside the dusty grand piano in the drawing room that they never used. Elated, she’d booked Seagull Cottage straight away and then, carried away on a riptide of excitement, she’d ordered a deluxe food hamper, a Jo Malone goody basket and Christmas dinner at the St Moritz Hotel. She’d almost booked them into the spa too, but managed to restrain herself just in time; after all, they’d have the gorgeous roll-top bath to play with, wouldn’t they? Once her Barclaycard had taken a serious hammering, Gemma had tucked it carefully back into the piano strings, returned upstairs and curled up next to Cal.“Jaysus, you’re cold,” he’d muttered, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her, which had been the last thing she’d remembered until the sun had crept under the curtains and tiptoed across her pillow.
