more champagne than she should have. She’d burned that off shopping. On Boxing Day, the family would take its annual ski trip. Or Graham and the kids would ski while she made use of the spa. Now she had a pair of gorgeous new boots to pack along with some lingerie that would warm Graham up nicely after his time on the slopes.
She glanced around at the other homes, the holiday decorations. Really lovely, she thought—no tacky inflatable Santas allowed in Lakeview Terrace—by order of the homeowners’ association.
But, no point being modest, their home outshined the rest. Graham gave her carte blanche on Christmas decorating, and she used it wisely and well.
The white lights would sparkle when dusk rolled in, she thought. Outlining the perfect lines of the house, twining around the potted firs on the front veranda. Gleaming inside the twin wreaths with their trailing red and silver ribbons on the double doors.
And of course the living room tree—all twelve feet—white lights, silver and red star ornaments. The great room tree, the same color scheme, but with angels. Of course the mantels, the formal dining table, all tasteful and perfect.
And new every year. No need to box and store when you could arrange for the rental company to come sweep it all away afterward.
She’d never understood her parents’ and Emily’s delight in digging out ancient glass balls or tacky wooden Santas. They could have all that with their visit to the old house and Emily. Eliza would host them all for Christmas dinner, of course. Then, thank God, they’d head back to Savannah and their retirement.
Emily was their favorite, she thought as she hit the remote for the garage door. No question there.
It gave her a jolt to see Graham’s car already in the garage, and she checked her watch. Let out a breath of relief. She wasn’t late; he was home early.
Delighted, especially since someone else had the car pool, she pulled in beside her husband’s car, gathered her shopping bags.
She went through the mudroom, hung her coat, folded her scarf, removed her boots before sliding into the black Prada flats she wore around the house.
When she stepped into the kitchen, Graham, still in his suit and tie, stood at the center island.
“You’re home early!” After setting her bags on the wet bar, she moved quickly to him, kissed him lightly.
He smelled, lightly like the kiss, of Eau Sauvage—her favorite.
“Where were you?”
“Oh, I had that holiday lunch with Miranda and Jody, remember?” She gestured vaguely toward the family calendar in the activity nook. “We topped it off with a little shopping.”
As she spoke, she walked to the refrigerator for a bottle of Perrier. “I can’t believe how many people are still shopping for Christmas. Jody included,” she said, adding a scoop of ice from the ice machine, pouring the sparkling water over it. “Honestly, Graham, she just never seems to get organized about—”
“Do you think I give a damn about Jody?”
His voice, calm, smooth, almost pleasant, set off alarm bells.
“Of course not, my darling. I’m just babbling.” She kept the smile on her face, but her eyes turned wary. “Why don’t you sit down and relax? I’ll freshen your drink, and we’ll—”
He heaved the glass, smashing the crystal at her feet. A shard dug a shallow slice across her ankle with an added sting as scotch splattered over it.
The Baccarat, she thought with a little frisson of heat.
“Freshen that!” No longer calm and smooth, not nearly pleasant, the words slapped out at her. “I spend my day with my hands inside a human being, saving lives, and come home to an empty house?”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Sorry?” He grabbed her arm, twisting as he slammed her back against the counter. “You’re sorry you couldn’t be bothered to be home? Sorry you frittered away the day, and my money, having lunch, shopping, gossiping with those idiot bitches while I spend six hours in the OR?”
Her breath began to hitch, her heart to pound. “I didn’t know you’d be home early. If you’d called me, I would’ve come straight home.”
“Now I have to report to you?”
She barely heard the rest of the words that hammered at her. Ungrateful, respect, duty. But she knew that look, that avenging angel look. The dark blond hair, perfectly groomed, the smooth, handsome face suffused with angry color. The rage in those bright blue eyes so cold, so cold.
The frisson of heat became electric snaps.
“It was on the calendar!” Her voice rose in pitch. “I told you