Читать книгу Chistmas In Manhattan Collection - Алисон Робертс - Страница 14
ОглавлениеIF IT HADN’T been for her small entourage of two little boys and one large, fluffy dog, Grace might have felt like she was doing something wrong, stepping into Charles Davenport’s private life like this.
How weird was it that just a few hours of one’s lifetime, over a decade ago, could have had such an impact that it could make her feel like...like some kind of stalker?
It was her own fault. She had allowed herself to remember those hours. Enshrine them, almost, so that they had become a comfort zone that she had relied on, especially in the early days of coming to terms with what had felt like a broken and very lonely life. In those sleepless hours when things always seemed so much worse, she had imagined herself back in Charles’s arms. Being held as though she was something precious.
Being made love to, as if she was the only woman in the world that Charles had wanted to be with.
She could have had a faceless fantasy to tap into but it had seemed perfectly safe to use Charles because she had never expected to see him again. And it had made it all seem so much more believable, because it had happened.
Once...
And, somewhere along the way, she had allowed herself to wonder about all the things she didn’t know about him. What kind of house he lived in, for example. What his favourite food was. Whether he was married now and had a bunch of gorgeous kids.
She probably could have found out with a quick internet search but she never allowed those secret thoughts any head space in daylight hours. And, as soon as she’d started considering working at Manhattan Mercy, she had shut down even the familiar fantasy. It was no more than a very personal secret—a rather embarrassing one now.
But...entering his private domain like this was...
Satisfying?
Exciting?
Astonishing, certainly.
For some reason, she had expected it to be like the apartment she was living in on the ground floor of this wonderful, old building with its high ceilings and period features like original fireplaces and polished wooden floors. She had also expected the slightly overwhelming aura of wealth and style that Stefan and Jerome had created with their bespoke furniture and expertly displayed artworks.
The framework of the apartment with the floors and ceilings was no surprise but Grace’s breath was taken away the moment she stepped through the door to face floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto a terrace looking directly over Central Park. The polished floors didn’t have huge Persian rugs like hers and the furniture looked like it had once been in a house out in the country somewhere. A big, old rambling farmhouse, maybe.
The couch was enormous and so well used that the leather looked crinkled and soft. There were picture books scattered over the rustic coffee table, along with crayons and paper and even the curling crust of an abandoned sandwich. There were toys all over the place, too—building bricks and brightly coloured cars, soft toy animals and half-done jigsaw puzzles.
It looked like...home...
The kind of home that was as much of a fantasy for Grace as being held—and loved—by someone totally genuine.
She had to swallow a huge lump in her throat.
And then she had to laugh, because Houston made a beeline for the coffee table and scoffed the old sandwich crust.
‘I’m hungry,’ Cameron announced, as he spotted the dog licking its lips.
‘Me, too.’ Max nodded.
Cameron upended his pumpkin bucket of candy onto the coffee table. Grace gave Houston a stern look that warned him to keep his nose out. Then she extracted the handfuls of candy from Cameron’s fists.
‘You can choose one thing,’ she told him. ‘But you can’t eat it until after your dinner, okay?’
Cameron scowled at her. ‘But I’m hungry.’
‘I know.’ Grace was putting the candy back into the bucket. ‘Show me where the kitchen is and I’ll make you some dinner. You’d better show me where the bathroom is, too.’
The twins led her into a spacious kitchen with a walk-in pantry.
‘I’ll show you,’ Max offered.
He climbed onto a small step and wobbled precariously as he reached for something on a shelf. Grace caught him as he, and the packet he had triumphantly caught the edge of, fell off the step. For a moment, she stood there with the small, warm body in its fluffy monkey suit in her arms. She could smell the soft scent of something that was distinctly child-like. Baby shampoo, maybe?
Max giggled at the pleasure of being caught and, without thinking, Grace planted a kiss on his forehead.
‘Down you go,’ she said. ‘And keep those monkey paws on the floor, where they’re safe.’
She stooped to pick up the packet as she set him down.
‘Mac and cheese? Is that what you guys want to eat?’
‘Yes...yes...mac and cheese. For Horse, too...’
Houston waved his plume of a tail, clearly in agreement with the plan, but Grace was more dubious. She eyed the fruit bowl on the table in the kitchen and then the big fridge freezer. Could she tempt them to something healthier first—like an apple or a carrot? Were there some vegetables they might like in the freezer to go with the cheese and pasta? And packet pasta? Really? If she could find the ingredients, it wouldn’t be hard to throw a fresh version in the oven. Cooking—and baking—were splinter skills she had enjoyed honing over the years.
The twins—and Horse—crowded around as she checked out what she might have to work with. There wasn’t much in the way of fresh vegetables but the freezer looked well stocked.
‘What’s this?’ The long cylindrical object was unfamiliar.
‘Cookie dough,’ Cameron told her. ‘Maria makes us cookies.’
‘Can you make cookies, Gace?’ Max leaned forward so that he could turn his head to look up at her as she crouched. ‘I like cookies.’ Again, she had to catch him before he lost his balance and toppled into the freezer drawer.
‘I don’t see why not,’ she decided. ‘You can help. But only if you both eat an apple while I’m getting things ready. And we won’t use the frozen sort. If there’s some flour in the pantry and butter in the fridge, we’ll make our own. From scratch.’
Over an hour later, Grace realised that the grand plan might have been ill-advised. This huge kitchen with its granite and stainless-steel work surfaces looked like a food bomb had been detonated and the sink was stacked with dirty pots and bowls. A fine snowstorm of flour had settled everywhere along with shreds of grated cheese and dribbles of chocolate icing. Houston had done his best to help and there wasn’t a single crumb to be found on the floor, but he wasn’t so keen on raw flour.
Whose idea had it been to make Halloween spider cookies?
The boys were sitting on the bench right now, on either side of the tray of cookies that had come out of the oven a short time ago. They had to be so tired by now, but they both had their hands clasped firmly in front of them, their eyes huge with excitement as they waited patiently for Grace to tell them it was safe to touch the hot cookies. It was so cute, she had to get her phone out and take a photo. Then she took a close-up of the cookies. The pale dough had made a perfect canvas for the iced chocolate spiders that had M&M eyes. She’d used a plastic bag to make a piping tool and had done her best to guide three-year-old hands to position spider legs but the results were haphazard. One spider appeared to be holding its eyes on the ends of a very fat leg.
Should she send one of the photos to Charles?
A closer glance at the image of his sons made her decide not to. Still in their monkey suits, the boys now had chocolate smears on their faces and the curls of Max’s hair that had escaped his hood had something that looked like cheese sauce in it. Her own hair had somehow escaped its fastenings recently and she was fairly sure that she would find a surprise or two when she tried to brush it later.
Hopefully, she would have time to clean up before their father got home but the children and the kitchen would have to take priority. Not wanting to look a wreck in front of Charles was no excuse to worry about her own appearance. She was still in her work scrubs, for heaven’s sake—what did it matter?
She prodded one of the cookies.
‘Still too hot, guys,’ she said. ‘But our mac and cheese has cooled down. You can have some of that and then the cookies will be ready for dessert.’
She lifted one twin and then the other off the bench. ‘Do you want to take your monkey suits off now?’
‘No. We want to be George.’
‘And watch George,’ Max added, nodding his agreement.
‘Okay. Do you eat your dinner at the table?’
‘Our table,’ Cameron told her. ‘With TV.’
‘Hmm. Let’s wash those monkey paws.’
Grace wasn’t sure that eating in front of the television was really the norm but, hey...they were all tired now and it was a birthday, after all. She served bowls of the homemade pasta bake on the top of a small, bright yellow table that Cameron and Max dragged to be right in front of the widescreen television. The chairs were different primary shades and had the boys’ names painted on the back. Fortunately, it was easy to see how to use the DVD player and an episode of Curious George was already loaded.
The smell of the mac and cheese made Grace realise how hungry she was herself. She knew she should tackle the mess in the kitchen but it wouldn’t hurt to curl up on the couch with a bowl of food for a few minutes, would it?
The yellow table, and the bowls, were suspiciously clean when Grace came in later with the platter of cookies and Houston had an innocent air that looked well practised. She had to press her lips together not to laugh out loud. She needed some practice of her own, perhaps, in good parenting?
The thought caught her unawares. She’d been enjoying this time so much it hadn’t occurred to her to realise that she was living a fantasy. But that was good, wasn’t it? That day at the park, she had wanted to able to embrace a special moment for what it was and not ruin it by remembering old pain. She had done that with bells on with this unexpected babysitting job.
The laughter had evaporated, though. And her smile felt distinctly wobbly. It was just as well that Cameron turned his head to notice what she was carrying.
‘Cookies...’
Max’s chair fell over backwards in his haste to get up and Houston barked his approval of the new game as they all rushed at Grace. She sat on the couch with a bump and held the platter too high to be reached by all those small fingers.
‘One each,’ she commanded. ‘And none for Horse, okay?’
They ended up having two each but they weren’t overly big cookies. And the crumbs didn’t really matter because a leather couch would be easy enough to clean. Not that Grace wanted to move just yet. She had two small boys nestled on either side of her and they were all mesmerised by what Curious George was up to on the screen.
‘He’s a very naughty monkey, isn’t he? Look at all that paint he’s spilling everywhere!’
The boys thought it was hilarious but she could feel their warm bodies getting heavier and heavier against her own. Houston was sound asleep with his head pillowed on her feet and Grace could feel her own eyes drooping. Full of comfort food and suddenly exhausted by throwing herself so enthusiastically into what would undoubtedly become an emotionally charged memory, it was impossible not to let herself slip into a moment of putting off the inevitable return to reality.
She wouldn’t let herself fall asleep, of course. She would just close her eyes and sink into this group cuddle for a minute or two longer...
* * *
It was the last thing Charles had expected to see when he let himself quietly into his apartment late that evening.
He knew his boys would have crashed hours ago and he had assumed they would be tucked up in their shared bedroom, in the racing car beds that had been last year’s extravagant gift from their grandparents.
They were, indeed, fast asleep when he arrived home after his hectic troubleshooting in a stretched emergency department, but they weren’t in their own beds. Or even in their pyjamas. Still encased in their little monkey suits, Cameron and Max were curled up like puppies on either side of Grace, who was also apparently sound asleep on the couch. Houston had woken at the scratch of the key in the lock, of course, but he wasn’t about to abandon the humans he was protecting. He didn’t budge from where he was lying across Grace’s feet but he seemed to be smiling up at Charles and his tail was twitching in a muted wag.
It might have been a totally unexpected sight, but it was also the cutest thing Charles had ever seen. He gazed at the angelic, sleeping faces of his sons and could feel his heart expanding with love so much it felt like it was in danger of bursting. They were both tucked under a protective arm. Grace had managed to stay sitting upright in her sleep but her head was tilted to one side. He had never seen her face in slumber and she looked far younger than the thirty-six years he knew she shared with him. Far more vulnerable than she ever looked when she was awake.
Maybe it was because she was a single unit with his boys at the moment that she was automatically included in this soft wash of feeling so protective.
So...blessed?
But then Charles stepped closer. What was that in Grace’s hair? And smeared on her cheek?
Chocolate?
A closer glance at the twins revealed unexplained substances in odd places as well. Charles could feel his face crease into a deep frown. What on earth had been going on here? Walking quietly, he went through the sitting room towards the kitchen and it wasn’t long before he stopped in his tracks, utterly stunned.
He’d never seen a mess like this.
Ever...
His feet were leaving prints in the layer of flour on the floor. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. There was a deep dish half-full of what looked like mac and cheese and a wire rack that was covered with cookies. Cookies that were decorated with...good grief...what were those strange blobs and squiggles with chocolate candies poked amongst them?
Ah...there was one with a recognisable shape.
A spider...
And then it hit Charles. Grace had been making Halloween cookies with the boys and clearly she had let them do most of the decorating themselves.
Suddenly, the appalling mess in the kitchen ceased to matter because Charles had glimpsed a much bigger picture. One that caught his heart in a very different way to seeing his boys sleeping so contentedly.
This was a kind of scene that he had never envisaged in the lives of his precious little family. Because it was a dimension that only a woman would think of including?
A mother?
Somehow, it wrapped itself into the whole idea of a home. Of a kitchen being the heart of the house. Of putting up with unnecessary mess because that was how children learned important things. Not just about how to make cookies but about...about home.
About being safe. And loved.
For a moment, the feeling was overwhelming enough to bring a lump to his throat and a prickle to the back of his eyes that brought all sorts of other sensations in their wake.
Feelings of loss.
And longing...
He had to cradle his forehead between his thumb and finger and rub hard at his temples to stop himself falling into a complete wreck.
It was too much. On top of such an emotionally charged day riding that roller-coaster between remembered grief and the very real celebration of his boys’ lives, topped off with an exhausting few hours of high-powered management of a potentially dangerous situation, it was no wonder this was overwhelming.
It was too much.
But it was also kind of perfect.
* * *
It was the gentle extraction of a small body from beneath her arm that woke Grace.
For a moment, she blinked sleepily up at Charles, thinking that she was dreaming.
That smile...
She had never seen anything quite so tender.
He was smiling at her as if he loved her as much as she knew he loved his children.
Yep. Definitely a dream.
But then Max gave a tiny whimper in his sleep as he was lifted. And the warm weight on her feet shifted as Houston got up and then it all came rushing back to Grace.
‘Oh, my God...’ she whispered. ‘I fell asleep. Oh, Charles, I’m so sorry...’
‘Don’t be.’
‘But the mess. I was going to clean it all up before you got home.’
‘Shh...’ Charles was turning away, a still sleeping Max cradled in his arms. ‘I’ll put Max down and then come back for Cameron. Don’t move, or you might wake him up.’
That gave Grace all the time she needed to remember exactly what state she’d left this beautiful apartment in. It was bad enough in here, with the television still going, scattered toys and dinner dishes where they’d been left, but the kitchen...
Oh, help... She’d been given total responsibility and she had created a complete disaster.
But Charles didn’t seem to mind. He lifted Cameron with a gentleness that took her breath away. Maybe because his hands brushed her own body as he slid them into place and she could feel just how much care he was taking not to wake his son. His gaze caught hers as she lifted her arm to make his task easier and, amazingly, he was still smiling.
As if he didn’t actually care about the mess.
Grace cared. She got to her feet and any residual fuzziness from being woken from a deep sleep evaporated instantly as she went back to the kitchen.
It was even worse than she’d remembered.
Should she start with that pile of unwashed dishes or find a broom and start sweeping the floor?
Reaching out, she touched a puddle of chocolate icing on the granite surface of the work bench. It had hardened enough that it would need a lot more than a cloth to wipe it clean. Where were the cleaning supplies kept? Grace pushed her hair back from her face as she looked around and, to her horror, she found a hard lump that had glued a large clump of hair together. Hard enough to suggest it was more chocolate icing.
She was still standing there, mortified, when Charles came to find her.
For a long moment, she couldn’t think of anything to say that could encompass how embarrassed she was. Finally, she had to risk making eye contact. He had to be furious, surely, even if he’d been doing a superb job of hiding it so far.
He caught her gaze and held it firmly. Grace couldn’t look away.
Yes...there was something stern enough there to let her know he knew exactly how major the clean-up job would be. That he knew how carried away she’d been in her attempt to keep the twins entertained. That she’d surprised him, to say the very least.
But there was something else there as well.
A...twinkle...
Of amusement, laced with something else.
Appreciation maybe.
No...it was deeper than that. Something she couldn’t identify.
‘What?’ she heard herself whisper. ‘What are you thinking? That you’ll never leave me in charge of your kids again?’
One corner of his mouth lifted into a smile that could only be described as poignant.
‘I’m thinking,’ he said quietly. ‘That I’ve spent the last three years trying to be both a father and a mother to my kids and keep their lives as predictable and safe as I can and then someone comes in and, in the space of a few hours, wrecks my house and shows me exactly what I didn’t realise was missing.’
Grace’s brain had fixed on the comment about wrecking his house.
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.
Charles’s gaze shifted a fraction. Oh, help...was he staring at the lump of chocolate icing in her hair?
‘I’ve never even thought of making cookies with the boys,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start. I know Maria makes them sometimes, but all that’s involved there is slicing up a frozen roll and sticking them in the oven. I’m surprised you even found a bag of flour in the pantry. Not only that, you let them draw spiders on the top.’
‘Oh...’ Grace could feel her lips curve with pleasure. ‘You could tell what they were, then?’
‘Only after I spotted one that you probably did. Some of them seem to have eyes on their legs.’
‘Helps to see round corners,’ Grace suggested. Her smile widened.
Charles was smiling back at her and that twinkle in his eyes had changed into something else.
Something that was giving her a very distinctive shaft of sensation deep in her belly.
Attraction, that’s what it was.
A very physical and very definite attraction.
Maybe Charles was feeling it, too. Maybe that was why he lifted his hand to touch her hair.
‘Chocolate,’ he told her.
‘I know...’ Grace made a face. ‘You might find you need to wash the boys’ hair in the morning as well.’
‘It’s not a problem.’ Charles was touching her cheek now, his finger feather-light. ‘You’ve got some here, too.’
Grace couldn’t say anything. She was shocked by the touch and the electricity of the current it was producing that flashed through her body like a lightning bolt to join the pool of sensation lower down.
The smile on Charles’s face was fading fast. For another one of those endless moments, they stared at each other again.
Fragments of unformed thoughts bombarded Grace. Memories of another time when they’d looked at each other just like this. Before Charles had kissed her for the very first time. Snatches of the conversation they’d just had. What had he meant when he’d said that she’d shown him what he hadn’t realised was missing in his life?
Surely he didn’t mean her?
Part of her really wanted that to have been the meaning.
The part that held his gaze, willing him to make the first move...
He was still touching her cheek but his finger moved past any smear of chocolate, tracing the edge of her nose and then out to the corner of her mouth and along her bottom lip.
And then he shut his eyes as he bent his head, taking his finger away just before his lips took its place.
Another shock wave of unbearably exquisite pleasure shot through Grace’s body and she had to close her own eyes as she fell into it.
Dear Lord...she had relived a kiss from this man so many times in her imagination but somehow the reality had been muted over the years.
Nobody else had ever kissed her like this.
Ever...
It was impossible not to respond. To welcome the deepening of that kiss. To press herself closer to the remembered planes of that hard, lean body. It wasn’t until his hand shifted from her back to slide under her ribs and up onto her breast that Grace was suddenly blindsided by reality.
By what Charles was about to touch.
She could feel the adrenaline flood her body now, her muscles tensing instantly in a classic fight-or-flight reflex, in the same moment that she jerked herself back.
Charles dropped his hand instantly. Stepped back from the kiss just as swiftly.
And this time there was a note of bewilderment in his eyes. Of horror, even...
They both looked away.
‘Um...’ Grace struggled to find her voice. And a reason to escape. ‘I...I really need to take Houston downstairs. He must be a bit desperate to get out by now.’
‘Of course.’ Was it her imagination or did Charles seem grateful for an excuse to ignore what had just happened? ‘He needs his garden.’
‘I can’t leave you with this mess, though.’
‘My cleaner’s due in the morning. It really isn’t a problem.’
No. Grace swallowed hard. They had another problem now, though, didn’t they?
But she could feel the distance between them accelerating. She wasn’t the only one who needed to escape, was she?
They hadn’t just crossed a barrier here. They had smashed through it with no consideration of any repercussions.
And maybe they were just as big for Charles as they were for herself.
But Grace couldn’t afford to feel any empathy right now. The need to protect herself was too overwhelming.
With no more than a nod to acknowledge her being excused from cleaning up the mess she had created, Grace took her leave and fled downstairs with Houston.
She had no mental space to feel guilty about escaping.
Besides, Charles had created a bit of a mess himself, hadn’t he? By kissing her like that.
That was more than enough to deal with for the moment.
