Читать книгу The Naughty List Bundle with The Night Before Christmas & Yule Be Mine - Fern Michaels - Страница 13

They’d been working practically side by side for several hours. She had a rolling rack full of cheerful, frosted cupcakes to show for their efforts, each decorated with a festive holiday touch. It was past midnight, and there was still an hour or two of work left, providing he stayed. Melody wondered why he had. But she hadn’t asked. In fact, from the time he’d so abruptly changed the subject to the work at hand, that had been the only thing they’d talked about. Most of the time, they’d worked in total silence.

It should have been awkward. It had been a very…unusual evening between them. But it hadn’t been awkward at all. Far from it. She wouldn’t go so far as to say it had been comfortable; his nearness was far too disconcerting for that. But they’d found a good working rhythm almost effortlessly. He’d been right about having a natural sense for working with his hands, working with food.

She’d noticed that despite the strength in his big, scarred, callused hands, he could be quite gentle, precise even. As the night wore on, she’d given him more of the intricate work, short of the actual details he simply wouldn’t know how to do without a great deal of practice. He’d turned out to be far more help than she’d expected him to be.

Still, as distractions went, he was a mammoth one. Not in terms of getting work done…but certainly in terms of his effect on her.

Griffin Gallagher wasn’t someone who could traipse into, then back out of, her life without leaving an indelible mark. Even after one night spent together, she’d remember him in exquisite, unforgettable detail. Eyes like his could haunt, that accent would certainly resonate inside her thoughts and memories…and his kiss—she couldn’t think about it if she had any hope of completing the highly stylized decorating she was attempting.

The man she’d begun to know, the few layers she’d peeled back, had been tantalizing to her. There was depth, and thoughtfulness, and a great sense of purpose. And a background he was clearly ill at ease talking about. There was a roughness and a refinement to him. She’d bet the former had come first, which meant he’d had to work hard to achieve the latter. He was complicated and complex, and he intrigued the hell out of her. The chemistry made him that much harder to ignore.

So, what should she do when the bubble burst, and they were forced to return to the real world, and the very real people in it? They were on opposing sides. Granted, she saw his side far more clearly…but the insight hadn’t changed her opinion on his proposed changes to her home.

“Should I bring the larger cake over now?” he asked, as he gracefully took the tray of cupcakes she’d finished detailing and slid them onto the last storage rack. “Is the fondant soft enough for rolling?”

She smiled at that. “Listen to you, sounding like a pastry chef.”

He shrugged, but smiled. “Not me. Growing up, I never fancied making desserts. Was always far more attracted to chopping things up, I suppose.”

“Well, you’d have made a good baker. You’ve got the hands for it.”

He laughed outright. The sound of it was rich, melodious, and surprisingly infectious, much like his voice. “These hams?” He held them up, the latex gloves he was wearing stretching tightly over his knuckles.

“You’re surprisingly graceful with them,” she said, her tone as dry as her smile. But she’d been sincere with the compliment. “If you ever decide to give up your burgeoning empire and the need to make the world over, I could use them here. A little bit of time and training, and I daresay you’d soon be challenging me as lead baker.” She cocked her head. “Goodness knows what kind of innovative things your mind could come up with. We could put Cups & Cakes on the map.”

She’d been teasing, but hadn’t expected his expression to change like it did. She’d expected, maybe, some double entendre about her needing his hands, had—maybe—said something along those lines for that very reason. She just…was mixed up and turned on and tired out.

She wasn’t prepared at all for the way his expression grew serious, or the way he took her shoulders in his big hands and turned her gently but firmly so he could trap her between him and the table.

She didn’t reject the invasion of privacy. Hell, her body was all but throwing a welcome party. If she were being honest, she’d wanted his hands on her again since the damn oven beeper had gone off hours ago. But the look in his eyes wasn’t sensual, or even predatory, though it felt like both to her. He was just…serious.

“You need to know something, Melody.”

“What?” she said faintly. Her thoughts were all jumbled up with the riotous reactions his touch was setting off. She wished she could be more collected, more cool, but the simple truth was that despite the very civilized couple of hours they’d spent together, she was feeling anything but cool with him. No matter how well she got to know him, the civilized him, she’d bet there would always be that less-than-civilized element between them. Beneath all the refinement, he was still rough. In all the ways that appealed to every primal instinct she had. “Wh-what is it?”

“About the town, about…”

That jerked her thoughts back to some semblance of sanity. “Hamilton? What—what are you talking about?”

“You need to know, should know, but—dammit.” He broke off, looked down, but didn’t release her.

“Griffin?”

He lifted his gaze to hers. She’d never seen him so serious. She remembered his earlier comment after she’d asked him what the big rush was to change Hamilton into some resort town. The alarm she’d felt then was nothing compared to the sudden, sick squeeze that knotted her stomach.

“I know we’ve danced a lot around the idea of trust,” she began, “but if you think this affects my life here, my future—”

“I don’t think,” he said quietly. “I know.”

“So—”

“So, you’re right. We’ve talked about trust. I need to know I have yours, Melody. To allow me to handle this my own way, on my timetable. I realize now”—he stopped, then started again before she could say anything—“we want to fix things, and we will. But explaining everything would cause panic, fear. This way—”

“Who is we?”

“Lionel.”

“And you.” She’d made it a statement.

He nodded. “Yes. He had things that needed working out, solutions that he wasn’t finding. Then I came along and—”

“Offered him those solutions.”

“Basically, yes.”

“Because Hamilton Industries is in trouble.”

He simply held her gaze.

The knot of dread returned. “Does it have something to do with you being Trudy’s grandson? There’s been talk of Lionel using a chunk of the Haversham fortune to save Hamilton Industries. He came into all of Trudy’s money eventually. Money that would have rightfully been—”

“That was a long time ago. And no, I’m not trying to swindle the old man out of his empire. I was happy building my own. I came here to understand where I came from.”

To his credit, he didn’t get angry or insulted at the question, but simply answered it directly. She liked that. He wasn’t hotheaded or overly sensitive. She’d thought, given the scars, that he might be. She liked that he had himself under control. But just barely. Yes, she admitted, she liked that part, too.

“What has Lionel offered you?”

“That’s just it, Melody. Everyone thinks I popped up out of nowhere, the lost grandson of an heiress, come to claim his fortune. And that Lionel is an old man with no heirs of his own, at least none who are willing to take on what he spent a lifetime sustaining and building. It’s a huge burden, the one he was handed. Don’t get me wrong, I know it was a challenge he relished. He’s made life tough on Trevor for not being willing to take on what he sees as Trevor’s rightful duties. Duties Trevor walked away from. The way Lionel sees it, Trevor essentially thumbed his nose not only at the family fortune but the family itself. Seems he wasn’t too keen on playing Lionel’s game.”

“Are you?”

“I like knowing I’ve made a difference. And yes, I bloody well like to succeed. If success brings along creature comforts, I’m not going to play martyr or live like a monk. I worked hard for what I have. But ’tis no’ the gain that motivates me, Melody.”

“It does Lionel.”

“Aye, it does seem so. He doesn’t understand a man like Trevor.”

“Do you? How well do you know him?”

“We’ve spent time together. I met with him before meeting Lionel. To answer your question, yes, I do. I respect his desire to live life on his own terms.”

Melody’s gaze sharpened then. “You’re a lot alike, the two of you, aren’t you? Only your terms are more in line with Lionel’s than Trevor’s.”

He nodded, a glint of respect in his eyes. “’Tis true. Thank you for no’ sayin’ that as if it’s something to be ashamed of.”

“I haven’t had any reason to think ill of you. I might not agree with your goals, because I don’t see them as a good fit for Hamilton. But that doesn’t mean I don’t respect what you do, or have done.”

“Fair enough. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So…back to Lionel. What was it like, meeting with him the first time? What is it he wanted from you? Or for you?”

“He wanted my help.”

“He knew about you a year ago, so why wait until—”

“We’ve been working on this for a long time—it didn’t just come together since I got here, Melody.”

“I—I didn’t really think about it that way. I guess”—she trailed off, laughed a little at herself—“I guess I didn’t think about a lot of this. So, you’re going to step in for him, then? When…you know, when the time comes? Is this all overwhelming for you?”

“I’ve had some time to come to terms with it. And”—he paused, then went on—“finding out about my real heritage has forced me to go through a lot of things I thought I’d left behind for good. I thought, until tonight anyway, that it was best to leave them there.”

“What changed your mind tonight?” she asked, truly surprised to hear him say that.

He peeled off his gloves and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “Good memories. I’d somehow forgotten there were some of those, sprinkled in.”

“I’m sorry I made you go back. I am,” she went on, when he would have silenced her. “I didn’t know. I mean, I suspected it wasn’t good, your childhood, but then you said something about your grandmother’s place and I guess I just wanted to understand you better. I thought if I got a sense of where you came from, I’d be able to figure out who you are now.”

“Why does that matter?” He pressed a finger across her lips, and the touch made her shudder with renewed awareness. “Because it will help you figure out how to fight me?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly. “At least, that would be the intellectual answer.”

“There’s a different one?”

“There’s more to it than that—now. It matters, Griffin.” She touched his face and was stunned by the way his eyes instantly darkened. His reaction to her gentle touch was…visceral. “I don’t know why. We’ve only just met. But…it matters. That I know you. I didn’t just want to know more. I needed to know. Not because I’m scared of losing the hometown I love to some re-imagined resort vision of yours. I’d have sworn to that before. But now…”

“Now?” he prodded.

“You’re surprising me.” She cupped his cheek, held his face, looked at him directly. “I don’t know what this is, but it’s not about Hamilton—the town or the company. And it’s not about Lionel, or why you came here. Not this part. This part…is about me. I’m…you’re—” She broke off.

“What are we, Melody?” he asked quietly.

“We’re not like anything I’ve experienced. You’re—different. From what I thought. From what I know. I’m drawn to you.” She smiled a little. “And it’s not just the accent, and not just because I wanted to taste you.”

His fingers tightened on her, and she could feel him all but vibrating beneath her touch. Or maybe it was her. “You, the man…you intrigue the hell out of me. And…I want more. I want to know…everything. I wish to God you were here for any other reason, because I want what I want…and that includes keeping Hamilton the way it is.”

“That’s no’ going to happen,” he said gently. “No matter if the town as a whole rises up. We’re going forward with the resort, the hotel, the golf courses, all of it.” He braced her face. “We’ve no choice, Melody.”

“Then why not tell me the whole of it?” she asked, just as fervently. “If I can’t change it—”

“You can make it a lot harder than it has to be.”

“So tell me why I shouldn’t bother. Tell me, Griffin. I know your loyalty is to Lionel in this, but it’s my home. I deserve to know. We all do.”

He held her gaze for another interminable minute. “Lionel…has made some mistakes. Some bad ones. The decisions on how to fix it—they’ve been made, Melody. The money has been invested. We will go forward, and we must succeed. We’ll need your help, the help of all of you, to make it the best success possible, and the swiftest, which is to everyone’s advantage. But it will go forward regardless. Or you won’t have a hometown.” He pulled her in closer. “Without this change in direction, Hamilton Industries will collapse.” He tugged her into his arms, and, stunned, she let him. “Lionel didn’t offer me anything”—he whispered in her ear—“because he didn’t have anything to offer. But if I save this…then what I save will be mine to build on.” He kissed her temple, then nudged her until she looked at him again.

She knew her eyes were swimming with tears. Tears of loss, tears of shock, tears of grief.

“I take care of what’s mine, Melody. I always have. And I always will.”