Carole Mortimer - Snowbound with the Billionaire

It’s that time of year again!

Christmas is a special time, for family and for friends, and my own family is no different. All our sons come home for the holidays, and my parents come to stay, too, and for days the house is full of warmth and love and laughter.

I hope that my love of Christmas is shared with all of you when you read my Christmas stories.

Happy Christmas!

Carole Mortimer

Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Cover

Letter to Reader

Title Page Snowbound with the Billionaire Carole Mortimer www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CARO’S SEARCHING GAZE swept over the sea of happy faces as she left the baggage area at Heathrow Airport, looking for her brother Gavin. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and there were dozens of people waiting expectantly for family and friends to arrive for the holidays. Caro wasn’t in the least surprised when Gavin didn’t appear to be one of them; her absent-minded brother had probably forgotten she was arriving today!

‘I’ll take it from here, thanks.’

Caro froze the second she heard that arrogantly forceful voice behind her, the colour fading from her cheeks, the blood in her veins turning to ice, and her excitement at being back in England again turning to cold dread.

No!

It couldn’t be…

Not here. Not now!

She had been in Majorca for over a year—

‘Have a good Christmas!’ called out the man, who had very kindly offered to push Caro’s luggage trolley through for her, happily as he hastened away to be greeted by a pretty blonde woman and two young children.

‘Could you get a move on, Caro?’ rasped that all-too-familiar voice. ‘We’re holding everyone up.’

Caro turned sharply, eyes wide, feeling numb with disbelief as she looked up at the man who had now taken charge of the trolley and her luggage. It really was Jake! She took in everything about his face in that single glance. Aged in his mid-thirties, Jake had dark hair, green eyes—angrily accusing!—high cheekbones either side of an arrogant slash of a nose, and sculptured lips that at the moment were thinned with displeasure. His firm jaw was tightly clenched.

Jake Montgomery.

Caro’s estranged husband…

Jake gave Caro a steely look—long enough to register the fact that, at ten years his junior, she was as beautiful as ever—before turning his hungry gaze to the baby she carried in her arms.

The baby’s hair was the same red-gold as Caro’s, but eyes the same emerald-green as his own stared back at him with guileless curiosity. The nose was small and snub, and the mouth a perfect bow in a chubby face warmly golden from the Majorcan sun.

Magdalena. His six-month-old daughter that Jake hadn’t even known existed until a few hours ago.

The six-month-old daughter who had absolutely no idea that Jake was her father! Jake’s instinct—need—was to snatch the baby from Caro and hold her in his arms for the very first time. To bury his face in the baby’s silky red-gold curls. To breathe in the essence of her. To feel the solidness of her very existence.

That was Jake’s instinct. Logic told him he couldn’t do that—that he was a stranger to Magdalena and she would probably scream the place down if he were to try and take her from the comfort and safety of her mother’s arms.

Jake’s mouth thinned grimly as he thought of Caro’s year-long deception that had made him a stranger to his own daughter, and he clenched his fingers tightly about the handle of the trolley to stop himself from giving in to the temptation to reach out and shake Caro where she stood.

‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you, Jake!’ Caro’s sky-blue eyes glittered with determination, her cheeks aflame with colour now as she stood her ground with her arms protectively about the baby.

‘Oh, yes, Caro, you most certainly are,’ Jake contradicted her, his long-held patience finally at breaking point. ‘Unless, that is, you would prefer to stand here in front of all these people and tell me the reason you didn’t inform me of the existence of my own daughter?’ he added with pointed challenge.

What Caro wanted to do was to sit down and cry. Or scream and shout. But most of all she wanted Jake to just disappear. To not be here at all. ‘We have nothing to discuss,’ she told him firmly, unhappily aware that he easily towered over her five-feet-four-inch height as she attempted to take charge of the trolley herself.

And failed miserably.

‘I really don’t advise that we have this conversation here, Caro,’ Jake reiterated before he strode off, pushing the trolley in front of him.

Leaving Caro no choice but to follow him. All of Magdalena’s food, clothes and other baby needs were in that trolley—as was the suitcase she had packed for their week-long seasonal stay.

Caro almost had to run to keep up with Jake’s much longer strides as he headed towards one of the exits, and she was not in the least surprised when people moved aside to make a path before him—like Moses parting the Red Sea!

What was Jake doing here? How could he possibly have known Caro would be on that particular flight from Majorca?

Gavin!

She ground her teeth in exasperation. Her totally brilliant but equally impossible and absent-minded younger brother was noticeably absent!

Caro hadn’t even wanted to make this trip to England, but Gavin had talked her into it with the claim that with their parents both dead they were now the only family each of them had, and that Christmas was a time for families to be together.

Maybe all with the intention of Jake being the one to meet her at the airport instead of her brother…?

No, Gavin was absent-minded—rarely knew what time it was, let alone which day of the week—but still Caro didn’t believe he would have deliberately put her in this awkward position.

‘Where’s Gavin?’ Caro asked as she unwillingly followed Jake outside into the icily cold wind.

Snow had been forecast in England for Christmas, and Caro had dressed both Magdalena and herself accordingly, the two of them wearing jeans and heavy sweaters beneath their warm coats. Nevertheless, she pulled up the hood of Magdalena’s pink coat to keep off most of the biting chill.

Jake turned to look at his wife and daughter, a fist clenching in his chest as he was once again hit with the likeness between them.

Caro’s long hair was that same unusual shade of red-gold, her skin tanned with the same golden hue, her nose slightly upturned, her mouth a full pouting bow, and her chin small and stubbornly pointed. But her eyes were a clear sky-blue, and surrounded by the thickest, darkest lashes Jake had ever seen. Caro was undeniably still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.