Her Holiday Prince Charming Read online

  Her child ate up the attention her mentor so generously bestowed while she put cranberry muffins into the oven to have with breakfast and cleared their dishes. By the time she’d finished cleaning up the kitchen and removed the muffins from the oven twenty minutes later, it was nearing Tyler’s bedtime, and she didn’t want to impose on Erik any further.

  “It’s time to put the boat away,” she finally told him. “Say good-night to Erik now, okay? And go brush your teeth. I’ll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in.”

  She’d thought he would do as she’d asked and simply say good-night. Instead, with his toy under one arm, he walked to where Erik stood by the island and wrapped his free arm around the man’s thigh. “’Night, Erik,” he said.

  She wasn’t sure who was caught more off guard by the unexpected hug—her or the man who went completely still a moment before his big hand settled on Tyler’s head.

  “’Night, sport,” he murmured back. “Thanks for showing me your boat.”

  Tyler tipped back his head, gave him a smile. “You’re welcome.”

  Her conversation with her former mother-in-law already had Rory’s maternal instincts on high alert. Torn between allowing the draw her child obviously felt toward someone who would be out of their lives in a matter of months and the need to protect him from it, she took him by his little shoulders and eased him back.

  “Teeth,” she reminded him, and turned him around to get him headed in the right direction.

  “Can I read?” he asked on his way.

  “Until I get there,” she called after him.

  “’Kay,” he called back and disappeared up the stairs.

  “He’s a neat kid.” The admission came almost reluctantly, as if he hadn’t wanted to be as impressed—or touched—as he was by a five-year-old. “I don’t know how long it’s been since he lost his dad, but you seem to be doing a great job with him.”

  It had been fourteen months that sometimes felt like mere weeks. Sometimes, strangely, as if it had been years.

  “It was a year ago in October. And thank you,” she offered at the compliment. “Thank you for being so nice to him, too. I’m sure you had other things to do tonight, but you just made his week. He’s not around men very often,” she said, compelled to explain why her son had monopolized his evening. “And he really misses his dad.”

  “I imagine he does.” The agreement brought a frown. “What about relatives? Grandfathers? Uncles?”

  She shrugged. “My parents are in Colorado.” This month, anyway. Heaven only knew where they’d be this time next year. “I’m an only child. So were my parents. So that’s it for my side. Curt’s family is in Seattle, but his parents aren’t...available.” Pushing her fingers through her hair, she could practically feel the hurt building in her chest. Even with Tyler out of earshot, her voice sank at the heartlessness of what had been said. “Actually,” she conceded, “they don’t want anything to do with him.”

  He took a step closer, his brow dropping right along with his voice. “Why wouldn’t they want to see their grandson?”

  The need to restrain her resentment pushed hard. The hurt pushed back. It was Erik’s expression, though, the unquestioning disapproval in it, that urged her on.

  “Until a few hours ago, I’d thought it was just because of me,” she admitted, pride biting the dust. “I don’t care about having a relationship with Curt’s parents for myself. I gave up wanting their acceptance a long time ago. But they’re family. Tyler’s, anyway,” she clarified, reminded again of how succinctly her change in status had been pointed out to Audrey’s friends. “For his sake, I did want him to have a relationship with them. I wanted him to have traditions.

  “Especially this time of year,” she hurried on. “Curt and I barely had time to start our own and my parents never had any.” None that counted, anyway. None she wanted to pass on. “But as much as anything, I’d hoped he’d have a sense of being part of more than just him and me.”

  This wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned traditions to him. The last time he’d been there, she’d made learning those his grandparents had maintained over the years a huge priority. But discovering why she apparently lacked those bits of history herself—and, if he had to guess, the sense of belonging that came with sharing them—would have to wait. He was far more interested in what had her looking agitated enough to pace the walls.

  Until a few hours ago, she’d said.

  “Does this have something to do with that call from his grandmother when you dropped me off last week?”

  It had everything to do with it. It also surprised her that he remembered it.

  “I finally talked to her this afternoon. I already knew she didn’t want me to be part of their Christmas Day,” she told him, hating how she’d even let that matter to her. “But I’d hoped I could stop by for an hour or so with Tyler on Christmas Eve so he could spend some time with them. Audrey hadn’t sounded thrilled with the idea when I first asked,” she admitted, understating considerably, “but she’d said she’d get back to me. She called while I was on my way from the lawyer’s to pick up Tyler at school.”

  Rory would be forever grateful that Tyler hadn’t been in the car at the time. She had known for years that the senior Linfields hadn’t approved of her. She’d just had no idea until that call how little they’d cared about the child their son had so dearly loved. “She and Curt’s father decided it best that there be no further contact between us. She said it was just too painful for them to see me or ‘the boy.’”

  The hurt she felt for her son shadowed her eyes, filled her hushed voice as slights of past years could no longer be ignored.

  “I should have seen this coming.” She turned toward the rack of muffins cooling on the counter. Turned right back. “Nothing about this ever came up while Curt was alive, but since his death they haven’t wanted to spend any time with Tyler at all.” Twice she had arranged to meet them. Once for Curt’s father’s birthday so Tyler could give him the present he’d made for him, a collage of photos of Tyler and his dad. Once for a trip to the zoo. Both had been canceled by last-minute calls from Audrey. “I’m just glad I hadn’t told him we’d be seeing them at Christmas. It’s so much easier on him to not get his hopes up at all than to have him be disappointed all over again.”

  She turned back to the muffins, brushed a couple of crumbs from the counter into her palm, took two steps to the sink.

  “What are you going to tell him if he asks about seeing them?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to figure that out.”

  “Maybe they’ll change their minds.”

  With a glance toward him, the crumbs landed on white porcelain.

  “Only if you believe in hell freezing over.”

  The rush of water in pipes told her the child under discussion remained occupied in the upstairs bathroom. Still, her voice grew quieter as agitation had her turning away, turning back once more.

  “Audrey said that they feel no bond with him.” She spoke bluntly, as Audrey had. “That they never have. She said they tried while Curt was alive, for Curt’s sake, but with him gone, there was no need to keep up the pretense. He’s not their son’s blood, so they want nothing to do with him. Apparently, they already amended their will to delete Curt’s ‘legal offspring.’ Heaven forbid ‘the boy’ should get a penny of their precious money.”

  Caution crossed the hard angles of Erik’s face.

  “Not their son’s blood.” He repeated her words slowly, as if to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood. “He’s not Curt’s child?”

  As upset as she was, as insulted and offended as she was for her son, that caution barely registered. “Not biologically. We adopted him. We’ve had him since he was two days old,” she explained, going with the bonds that really mattered. To her, anyway. “We didn’t know until after
a year of trying that Curt couldn’t have children. It wasn’t anything we ever discussed with anyone,” she added in a rush. “We just said that the opportunity to adopt came up and we couldn’t say no. After nearly four years and no other children, I’m sure his parents figured the problem was with me.

  “Not that it matters,” she muttered, hugging her arms around her waist. “And not that I’ll ever tell them otherwise. They hadn’t liked me the minute they found out I was Curt’s secretary and not a lawyer myself. You could actually see them withdraw when they found that out. It got even worse when they found out my ‘people’ weren’t the right pedigree. But Tyler’s a child,” she insisted, only to forget whatever else she’d been about to say when she realized all that she’d said already.

  Erik looked as if he wasn’t about to interrupt her. Though one dark eyebrow had arched significantly, at which detail she couldn’t be sure, he was clearly waiting for her to continue.

  Appalled by the scope of personal detail she’d just dumped at his feet, she closed her eyes and turned away. Rubbing her forehead, she muttered, “I cannot believe I just told you that.”

  His hand curved over her shoulder. The comforting weight of it barely registered before he turned her back around.

  “Which part?”

  “About Curt’s...”

  “Inability to father a child?” he asked when her voice drifted off.

  She gave a nod, not at all sure how she felt having divulged something that, until moments ago, had been only between her, her husband and their fertility doctor. She felt just as uncertain about the odd sense of loss that came as Erik’s hand slid away. “And about how his parents felt about me.”

  He didn’t seem terribly interested in that. “Curt was a lawyer?”

  Of all the questions he could have asked, he’d gone straight for what had been so hugely important to the Linfield family status. “Corporate. His father’s a litigator.”

  “His mother?”

  “She’s into charities.”

  “What about brothers, sisters?”

  “A brother. He took after their dad. His life is the firm and his wife is from money. She and Audrey adore each other.”

  “So they had a problem with you not being equal, or whatever the hell it was?”

  Among other things, she thought, though she wasn’t about to get into everything she’d overheard in that bathroom stall before she’d opened the door and watched Audrey’s friends go pale.

  She’d said more than enough already.

  “Seems so,” came her embarrassed agreement.

  Quick, assessing, his glance swept her face. As if looking for where the problem might lie, apparently finding nothing in what he knew of her, utter certainty entered the low tones of his voice.

  “Then this is their loss. Not yours.” Lifting his hand as she lowered her head, he caught her chin with one finger, tipped her head back up. “And for what it’s worth, everything you’ve said stays right here.” He brushed the back of his finger along the curve of her cheek, only to catch himself and still the motion scant seconds later. Drawing back, he settled both hands on his hips. “All of it.”

  At the gentleness in his touch, her shoulders had risen with her indrawn breath. They now fell with a soft “Thank you” that had as much to do with his unexpected defense of her as his assurance that her secrets were safe with him.

  She couldn’t deny how good his support felt. She was also rather horrified by how badly she wished he would stop looking at her as if he wanted to touch her again, and just do it. She felt terrible for her child. Totally powerless to give him the family he’d once had, imperfect as parts of it had been. Knowing what she knew now, she didn’t want him around the Linfields anyway. Yet what made her ache the most just then was what Erik had so inadvertently done.

  Simply by touching her, he’d reminded her again of how long it had been since she’d been held. There had been brief hugs at Curt’s funeral, many of them awkward, most of them part of the blur that awful time had become. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt any measure of comfort from a man’s touch. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been in Curt’s arms. Or the last time they’d made love. She could easily recall the last kiss Curt had given her, though. She’d played it over a thousand times in her head. As rushed and preoccupied with work as he’d been in the mornings, it had been little more than his customary peck on her cheek on his way out the door.

  After what she’d overheard, she couldn’t think of that kiss without wondering if it hadn’t been tolerance more than preoccupation underlying those absentminded goodbyes. But the awful possibility that the man she’d adored had merely endured living with her had existed since the day she’d buried him.

  She shoved back the memories, fought the threatening ache.

  “This is so not what you signed on for, Erik.” She shook her head again, tried to smile. “Thank you for listening. And for your help. And for the shelves. I still can’t believe you did that. Just tell me what I owe you.” She’d add it to what she owed him for the oil. “And thank you for having dinner with my son,” she hurried on, because that had been huge. “I’m sure you’ll think twice about sticking around for a meal in the future, but if you do happen to stay, I’ll make a point of not burdening you with my baggage.”

  Despite her attempt to brush off the pain of what she’d shared, she looked as fragile to Erik as the thin silver chain resting below the hollow of her throat. He didn’t want her thanks or her money. What he wanted was more detail, not less. He especially wanted to know what she felt about the man whose privacy she still protected. He didn’t question why that mattered to him, or ask anything about Curt now. He was too busy hating how the man’s family had rejected her and the child she clearly cherished.

  He’d never have guessed Tyler was not biologically her own. He’d just figured the boy had come by his fairer coloring from his father.

  “What I signed on for was to make sure you can make a success of the business. I’ll do what I have to do to make that happen. I’m not taking your money, Rory. The shelves are just part of the service.”

  He could see her protest forming even as he lifted his hand to her cheek once more. It was as apparent as her disquiet that she didn’t want to feel more obligated to him than she already did. Yet that protest died as he curved his fingers beneath her jaw and touched his thumb to the corner of her mouth.

  “As for your son, he doesn’t need people in his life who don’t appreciate him.” Having made her go still, he drew his fingers toward her chin. “And you have too much else to do to waste any more energy on people who don’t appreciate you, either. Got that?”

  She swallowed, gave him a small nod. Other than that questionable agreement she simply stood there, looking very much as if she was afraid to move for fear that he would.

  He’d been physically aware of her since the moment they’d met. Knowing she wanted his touch made that awareness tug hard. She looked very much as if she needed to be held. Needed to be kissed. It was that stark vulnerability that drew him as his hand cupped the side of her face.

  Lowering his head, he brushed his lips over the soft part of her mouth.

  He heard her breath catch, felt it ease out, the warmth of it trembling against his cheek.

  Rory wanted to believe it was just anxiety catching up with her as she slowly leaned toward him. Longing curled through her, a subtle yearning to simply sink into the incredible gentleness in his touch and let it take away the ache in her chest.

  But that ache only grew.

  So did the need for him to make it go away.

  She leaned closer, drawn by that need, by him. As she did, his fingers eased through her hair, tipping her head and causing her to cling a little more tightly, to kiss him back a little more deeply.

  It was
kissing him back that turned the ache to something less definable. Shattering sweetness gave way to confusion. She craved the feel of this man’s arms, his strength, his self-possession. She just hated how needy she felt, and how badly she wanted him to make all the hurts and the doubts go away.

  The pressure of her nails pressing into her palm suddenly registered. So did the realization that all that kept them from cutting into her flesh was the fabric wadded in her fists.

  Beneath his own hands, Erik felt tension tightening the slender muscles of her entire enticing body. Before he could ease back himself, she’d released her death grip on his sweater and ducked her head.

  Her quiet “I’m sorry” sounded like an apology for everything from the desperation he’d felt building in her to the way she’d bunched the front of his pullover. To remove any possible wrinkle she might have left, she hurriedly smoothed the fabric with the palm of her hand.

  As if suddenly conscious of her palm on his chest, or possibly the heavy beat of his heart, she jerked back her hand and stepped away.

  Erik moved with her, canceling that negligible distance. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d just added to the chaos of all she was struggling with. That hadn’t been his intent at all. Not totally sure what his intention had been, feeling a little conflicted himself, he lifted her face to his.

  “Hey. It was just a kiss,” he murmured, attempting to absolve them both. Just a kiss that had done a number on his nervous system, he qualified, but her decidedly physical effect on him was beside the point. “No apology necessary. Okay?”

  Unlike her unease, her nod was barely perceptible.

  “I’ll call you in a couple of days.” Aware of how she barely met his eyes, he consciously lowered his hand. He shouldn’t be touching her at all. “Can you finish the inventory by Friday afternoon?”