Читать книгу Desire Collection: October 2017 Books 1 - 4 - Джанис Мейнард, Maureen Child - Страница 14

Five

A man knew when he was being an ass. Dani walked out on him without another word. Nathaniel was fully cognizant that he was exhibiting every characteristic of a bad host. The stupid Christmas tree was charming. And festive. Even Peaches cooed when she saw it. So why had he deliberately downplayed Dani’s efforts?

Why were the aromas wafting from the kitchen both tantalizing and unsettling? He didn’t want his condo to smell like Christmas. He didn’t want a tree. He didn’t want Dani.

What a liar you are. His libido was more honest than he.

In barely twenty-four hours, Dani had transformed Nathaniel’s hideout from the world into a warm, holiday-scented, incredibly appealing home. How she had done it so quickly and so well, he couldn’t exactly say. It was more than the groceries and the tree, though he couldn’t put his finger on what was so different with her here.

Maybe it was the baby. Everyone knew that babies were precious and cute. Perhaps little Peaches was bachelor kryptonite. He sniffed her hair, wondering for the millionth time if he was her biological father. Shouldn’t he be able to tell instinctively? Wasn’t there some sort of parental bonding moment when all became clear?

If there was, he hadn’t experienced it yet.

Dani didn’t bother calling him to dinner. His phone dinged with a blunt, unemotional text. It’s ready...

Standing up with a sigh, he took the baby to the tree. “Do you like it?” he asked softly. “It’s supposed to have ornaments, but I don’t have a single one.”

The baby reached out to grab the lights. She’d probably chew the cord in two if he let her. Those bottom teeth had to be poking through soon. “No touching,” he warned, nuzzling the top of her head with his chin. “We’d better go wash up for dinner before Dani loses patience with us.”

The kitchen was filled with steam, delightful smells and a woman who resembled his efficient executive assistant, but in this setting looked more like a wife. The knot in his stomach grew.

Dani glared at him, clearly upset that he hadn’t appreciated her efforts with the tree.

“Smells wonderful,” he said, hoping to win a few points with genuine appreciation for her culinary efforts.

“We’re eating in the dining room,” she said, her tone frosty. “We may as well serve our plates in here. That way things won’t get cold. I took the liberty of opening a bottle of wine. Let me have the baby. After you fix your plate, I’ll do mine. There’s plenty, but save room for dessert.”

The solid meat-and-potatoes meal reminded him of something his grandmother might have prepared. His mother had grown up in her aunt’s home, an orphan by the age of eight. But Nathaniel had substantial memories of his paternal grandmother. She had come over from Italy and spoke heavily accented English. Her cooking had been sublime.

He piled food onto his plate unapologetically. After his marathon trip in the snow today, a few extra calories were neither here nor there. Once he had set his plate in the dining room, he took the baby back. “Your turn, Madam Chef,” he said lightly. To his surprise, Dani disappeared and came back lugging the Fraser fir—stand, lights and all.

“That’s the advantage of a small tree,” she said smugly. “They’re sort of portable.”

She plugged in the lights and sat down. At the last moment, she took her phone from her pocket and cued up Christmas music. Soon, they were eating in silence, save for the holiday tunes playing softly in the background.

With every bite Nathaniel took, his stomach tightened. The food was spectacular. The baby behaved. It was something else, something powerful and dangerous that stole his appetite and tightened his throat.

In this room, here and now, was everything he had never had, everything he told himself he didn’t need. Family time. Cozy holidays. A beautiful, capable woman willing to work at his side to create a home.

He forced himself to clear his plate in deference to Dani’s efforts on his behalf. Two glasses of wine didn’t still his unease. They chatted lazily during the meal about the weather and the bowl games and whether the thaw would start Monday or wait until Tuesday.

Eventually, the baby fell asleep in Dani’s arms. The two females were flushed and beautiful, Madonna and child.

“I feel terrible about this,” Dani said suddenly, her expression troubled.

“About what?” There was no way she could have read his mind.

“About Peaches’s first Christmas. She should have a stocking and leave cookies for Santa. That’s how it’s done, or so I’m told. Her mother’s selfish behavior is robbing her of a special occasion.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “As far as that baby’s concerned, today might as well be April Fools’. The kid doesn’t know the difference.”

“I know,” Dani said stubbornly.

“There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“If this was Little House on the Prairie, I’d make her a pinafore out of a flour sack, and you’d carve her a toy train with your pocketknife.”

Even in the midst of his turmoil, he was amused. “I don’t own a pocketknife.”

“Well, I should have bought you one for Christmas.”

An awkward silence fell. Nathaniel wished he was holding the baby. Peaches was a helpful decoy and a place to focus his attention.

In a few hours, it would be Christmas Day. If this was how Dani did Christmas Eve, what did she have up her sleeve for the following morning?

For the briefest of moments, he caught a flash of the two of them in bed, laughing, the baby between them. At the table eating breakfast. In front of the tree, opening presents. Panic shot through him with the force of an erupting geyser.

“This isn’t real,” he said, concealing his desperation beneath a veneer of calm.

Dani looked at him with a frown. “What’s not real? The food? The baby? The tree? I’m confused.”

He stood up to pace, tossing his napkin on the table. “We need to talk, Dani.”

Her face went white, and she clutched the baby closer. “Go right ahead. Say what you have to say.”

“None of this is real,” he said doggedly. “We’re not a family. This isn’t a Norman Rockwell Christmas Eve. You and I are business associates. Peaches being with me is a big misunderstanding.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Dani said quietly. She watched him with big blue eyes that saw far more than he wanted her to see.

Seeking to temper his anxiety and his distress, he sucked in a huge breath and turned his back for a moment on the sight of Dani and the baby sitting at his elegant mahogany table. The blizzard was to blame for all of this. All he had to do was remember that life would get back to normal soon.

He swung back around and sighed. “My father lost his company in his midfifties.”

Dani blinked. “He did?”

Nathaniel nodded jerkily. “I told you my mother was not diagnosed until I was in high school. The episode that triggered her hospitalization was so severe she suffered a massive break from reality.”

“That must have been terrifying for you and your dad.”

“My father protected her as best he could all those years, but now she was institutionalized with little hope of returning home. It crushed him. He couldn’t or wouldn’t confide in me. Maybe he thought I was too young. The stress affected his health. Eventually, he found solace in the arms of a woman who worked for him. It didn’t last long. Still, the damage was done. The employee filed a sexual harassment lawsuit, including charges for mental pain and anguish. A court awarded her a huge settlement, and my father had to liquidate the company to meet his obligations.”

Nathaniel expected some response from Dani, any response. She stared at him blankly, as if nothing he had said made sense.

The silence grew—with it, the certainty he had ripped apart something fragile and wonderful. Dani’s long-lashed blue eyes shone with tears. To her credit, she blinked them back successfully.

She bit her lip, her pallor marked. “Let me be sure I understand. This lecture you’re giving me is because I cooked dinner and dared to acknowledge that tonight is Christmas Eve? Based on that, you’re afraid I’m going to sue you and take away your livelihood? Have I got it, Nathaniel? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“You’re making me sound like a lunatic,” he said sullenly.

Dani jumped to her feet, glaring at him, and headed for the door. Her chin wobbled ever so slightly. “No,” she said, her voice tight with hurt. “You’re doing a fine job of that all on your own. The thing is, Nathaniel, you’re not a Scrooge at all. You’re something far worse. Scrooge had a change of heart in his life. You don’t have a heart at all. You’re a machine. A cardboard figure of a man, a coward. I hope you choke on your pie.”

If she had stormed out of the room, he might have found the energy to fight back. Instead, her icy, dignified departure warned him to let her go. It was Christmas Eve. The woman who had helped him with his baby crisis and done her best to create a bit of holiday joy in the midst of a snowstorm was insulted and pained beyond words, and it was his fault.

He should have handled things better. Nothing he said was a lie. But what he had failed to mention was how much it hurt to see what his life might have been like if he hadn’t learned from his father’s weakness.

Nathaniel didn’t want to be weak. He didn’t want the responsibility of a spouse and children. His life had been rumbling along just fine. Why in the devil had he let himself fall prey to feelings that were nothing more than syrupy commercialism?

Holiday music and Christmas lights and good food were nothing more than a Band-Aid covering the world’s ills. Come Monday, everyone’s life would be as good or as bad as it ever was. Nathaniel was guided by reason and pragmatism. Those qualities in his leadership style had helped make New Century Tech prosper.

Doggedly, he ignored the sick lump of dread in his stomach. He went to the kitchen, cut a piece of the beautiful pecan pie, topped it with a swirl of whipped cream and returned to the dining room to eat his dessert in solitary splendor. After several minutes, he placed his fork on the empty plate and rested his elbows on the table, head in his hands.

Damn it, the pie was good. Downright amazing. The pecans had a crunchy glaze and the filling was sweet but not too sweet. If you wanted to know what happiness and love tasted like, this was it.

The condo was as quiet as a winter snowfall. Nathaniel had spent at least half a dozen December 24ths alone during his adult life, maybe a few more. But tonight—this very moment—was the first time he had ever noticed something was missing on Christmas Eve.

His outburst drained him. Dani’s stricken response excoriated him. He felt raw, his emotions exposed for all the world to see. It wouldn’t have mattered so much except that he valued Dani’s good opinion.

Moving quietly, he cleared the table and set about cleaning up the kitchen. It was only fair. He hadn’t helped with meal preparations. Truthfully, though, the reason for his efforts was more about delaying consequences than it was having a tidy home.

His brain whirred, jumping from thought to thought like a hound dog chasing butterflies in a meadow. What had he done? For that matter, what was he doing now? If Peaches were really his daughter, what did the future hold for him?

In forty-five minutes, every pot and pan and plate and bowl was out of sight. Countertops gleamed. It was easy enough to restore a kitchen to its original state. Unfortunately, the harsh words he had served Dani were far more difficult to put back in the box.

First things first. He picked up his phone and sent a text.

It’s late. I’m coming to your room to get Peaches.

Dani’s response was quick and terse.

No. She’s asleep. You had her last night. My turn.

Nathaniel sent two more texts insisting that he be the one to deal with the baby, but there was no response at all. Either Dani had turned off her phone, or she was ignoring him. He couldn’t bring himself to knock on her door. She deserved her privacy.

After half-heartedly watching TV for a couple of hours, he headed to his own room, intending to read. He’d bought the latest medical thriller by an author he admired. That should distract him from his jumbled thoughts.

Unfortunately, all he could focus on was the image of Dani. By now he had memorized everything about her. The low, husky music of her laugh. The way her blue eyes changed from light and sparkly to navy and mysterious. The graceful way she moved.

As the night waned, he dozed only in snatches. The silence in the house became oppressive. Was Dani okay? Was Peaches? Were both females sound asleep? He’d never experienced the wakefulness of being responsible for another human being.

Actually, that wasn’t true. Long ago, during a time he tried to forget, this same stomach-curling worry had been his from time to time. Whenever his father had gone out of town on business, he always reminded Nathaniel to keep an eye on your mother.

Nathaniel had never really understood what he was watching out for. He only knew that his mother was not like his friends’ moms. Those women baked cookies and sat on the bleachers at T-ball games. Nathaniel’s mother mostly ignored him. When she did focus on his hapless self, her tendency was to smother him with adoration that held a marked tinge of frantic desperation and mania.

As much as he had craved her attention as a boy, he learned early on that it was better for the family dynamic when she didn’t notice him.

His thoughts drifted back to Dani. She was warm and nurturing and so completely natural with Peaches. Not one echo of disapproval or reluctance marked the way she related to the baby. Even if she thought Nathaniel was a cold bastard for ignoring his own child up until now, she never voiced her concern. He had no idea if she believed him or not when he said the infant wasn’t his.

What if he were wrong?

The mental struggles kept on coming. In the wee hours of Christmas morning, Nathaniel faced an unpalatable truth—the real reason he had created such an unfortunate scene at dinner.

For months now, he had been deeply attracted to his executive assistant. The only way he had been able to manage his unfortunate response to her was to pretend she was part of the office furnishings. Maintaining the status quo meant he was the boss and Dani an extremely valued employee.

The blizzard, along with Ophelia’s dramatic stunt, had upset the balance in Nathaniel’s life. At this point, he doubted whether the tide could be turned again. Dani was funny, compassionate...a real, breathing woman living beneath his roof. He liked her scent and the messy knot she fashioned to keep her hair out of her face. He loved the way her generous curves filled out his boring dress shirts.

Seeing her in his clothes was gut-level sexy. Like a film star in a magazine caught on camera in her own backyard, Dani was just Dani. No artifice. No mask to hide behind. No attempt to impress.

Nathaniel was very much afraid he was infatuated with her, maybe worse.

As he lay there in the dark, battling emotions he had kept locked away for so long, his chest ached and his eyes burned. Damn Ophelia. Damn the storm. If things hadn’t gotten all jacked up, perhaps he could gradually have tested the waters with Dani.

Instead, here they were, thrust together in a faux environment. His sex hardened and his breathing grew ragged. What would it be like to take her here in his bed? Did she even have a boyfriend?

It stunned him to realize he didn’t know the answer to that question. In the midst of his fantasies lay the grim realization he was probably the last person on the planet to whom Dani Meadows would turn for a relationship.

In little more than a week, they would both be back at New Century Tech, hard at work, each easing into familiar roles. Could he bear it? After having her here, just down the hall, would he be able to treat her like an employee again?

At 3:00 a.m., he climbed out of bed. He was only torturing himself by trying to sleep. In his sock feet, he tiptoed down the hall and listened at the guest room door. Not a sound emanated from within, though a tiny strip of light showed underneath the door.

He tapped quietly. “Dani. Are you awake?”

No answer. Any one of a number of possibilities came to mind. Dani might have fallen asleep exhausted and left a light on unintentionally. Or perhaps it was on so she could check the baby easily.

He shouldn’t open the door. Every rule or law of hospitality expressly forbade it. Not to mention the fact that he and Dani had parted on angry terms.

Nathaniel turned the knob anyway.

The room was empty.

He stood there in the middle of the expensive plush carpet with his mouth agape. The bathroom door was open. No sense peering in there. Dani would have been talking to the baby if they were in residence. He liked how she communicated with the kid as if Peaches could understand every word.

Clearly, Dani had managed to slip quietly past Nathaniel’s bedroom without him hearing a single thing.

Undaunted in his quest, he did an about-face and headed for the den. There he found a scene that gripped his heart and wouldn’t let go.

Somehow, maybe while the baby slept, Dani had retrieved the small tree from the dining room and returned it to the place of honor beside the dancing orange and yellow flames. A simple cotton afghan was spread at the base of the tree. The baby slept peacefully on her tummy, one fist curled against her cheek.

Dani wasn’t asleep at all. She sat on the stone hearth, elbows on her knees, fingers steepled beneath her chin. Wearing only his shirt that reached almost to her knees, she was barelegged and gorgeous. The misery on her face made his chest hurt.

He took the end of the sofa nearest the fireplace and leaned forward to face her. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, you’re not.” Dani’s cold certainty was worse than her anger. “You meant every word you said. The only reason you have any regrets now is because we’re stuck with each other for at least another thirty-six hours, maybe more.”

“Will you cut me some slack?” he pleaded.

“Why? Why should I?”

Who knew that blue eyes could freeze a man? He swallowed. “I don’t know if I can explain.”

“Try me.” Perhaps she wasn’t completely calm. She jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around her waist, standing beside their small, fragrant Christmas tree and staring at it intently as if it had the power to provide answers to difficult questions.

She was so beautiful and yet so far away. He had put that emotional distance between them. Because he was scared. “Look at me, Dani.” He stood as well, but he didn’t pace. This was too important.

Slowly, she turned to face him. He couldn’t read her expression. The woman who was usually open and without artifice had locked her emotions in a deep freeze. “You’re the boss,” she quipped, her tone deliberately inflammatory.

“This isn’t easy for me,” he said. The words felt like sand in his throat.

That chin wobble thing happened again. Dani’s jaw worked as if she were trying not to cry. “Today is the worst Christmas I’ve ever had,” she whispered. “And that’s counting the one when my mom was in the hospital with pneumonia and my father burned the turkey. So don’t talk to me about easy.”

He bowed his head, tormented by guilt, wracked by indecision. No bolt of divine intervention came to save him. With a deep ragged breath, he managed to look at her straight on without flinching. “I’m becoming obsessed with you, Dani...and that scares the hell out of me. I don’t know what to do.”

“You probably ate too much,” she taunted. “Indigestion passes. Grab an antacid. You’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be flip,” he growled. “I’m serious. All I can think about is kissing you to see where it takes us.”

As it had earlier in the dining room, every scrap of color drained from Dani’s face, leaving her pale. “You don’t want to kiss me, not really. You think I’ll ruin your life.”

“Of course I want to kiss you, but that won’t be the end of it. You’re in my head, damn it. And in my gut. I can’t sleep.” He paused, his forehead damp and his hands clammy. In desperation, he said the one thing that a woman like Dani might respond to favorably. “I need you, Dani. Badly.”

Almost in slow motion, he reached out and took her hand in his. She looked at him with an expression that was three parts fear and one part the same burning curiosity tearing him apart. If she had shown the slightest resistance, he would have stopped instantly.

Instead, she took a step toward him. “Nathaniel.” The way she said his name, husky and sweet, was his undoing. He dragged her against his chest and held her so tightly she laughed softly.

“I have to breathe,” she said.

Releasing her a millimeter, he sighed. “I’ll breathe for both of us.” He rested his chin on top of her head, feeling the silky, caramel-taffy waves tickle his middle-of-the-night beard. “Tell me to stop,” he pleaded hoarsely.

“I won’t.” She licked the pulse beating at the base of his throat. “But I won’t be accused of seduction, though. If we do this, it’s all on you, Mr. Winston. Maybe you should think long and hard before you do something you’ll regret.”

Her schoolmarmish admonishment only made him more desperate. How could she stand there and be so cool? “I’m already long and hard,” he complained. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

* * *

Dani felt ill. For months and months, she had wondered what it would be like to have Nathaniel look at her the way a man looks at a woman he desires. Well, now she knew. And it wasn’t good.

Her boss didn’t want to want her. Somehow that was a thousand times worse than the strict professionalism he showed her in their working relationship.

It took everything she had to pull away from him and back up when all she wanted to do was rip off his clothes. “I’m serious, Nathaniel. Do we have a physical spark—yes, but you’re giving me mixed signals. Heaven knows that might be the understatement of the year. I’m a grown woman. I have needs, too. We’re snowed in together with nothing to distract us. It stands to reason we might feel something. That doesn’t mean we have to act on it.”

“I said I was sorry for earlier.” His gaze was stormy and hot with male intent.

“Sorry, maybe. But you spoke the truth. What could possibly induce me to do something so reckless and self-destructive?”

Reeling her in for a second time, he smoothed stray hairs from her cheek and tucked them behind her ear, his smile lopsided. The touch of his fingertips on her hot skin undid her. Like a foolish Victorian maiden made to swoon by pretty words and innocent caresses, she melted into his embrace.

As kisses went, it was world-class. Despite his professed conflicted emotions, Nathaniel was now totally in control, completely confident. He held her without a sign of awkwardness, as though the two of them had been intimate for weeks and months.

To his credit, he coaxed rather than insisted. The first kiss was soft and warm and exploratory. His taste was sinful and decadent. Dani’s hands clung to his shoulders as if she were about to go down with the Titanic. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears, she wondered if he noticed.

One of his arms held her firmly against his chest. The other hand tangled in her hair and loosened the rubber band that was her only claim to style. Now her hair tumbled onto her shoulders. She had washed it at bedtime. It was still damp.

Nathaniel shuddered and buried his face in the curve of her neck. “You smell like apple pie,” he muttered.

“It’s the shampoo in your guest bathroom,” she said primly. One part of her brain couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Please tell me I’m not making a fool of myself, Dani.”

She shook her head, finally brave enough to stroke the silky hair at the back of his neck. “You’re a lot of things, Nathaniel Winston. But never a fool.”

He pulled back and stared into her eyes. “Do you want me? Do you want this? Be honest, please.”

Taking his face between her hands, she managed a smile. “I’ve never wanted anything more.” She paused, biting her lip.

“What?” he asked sharply.

His frown alarmed her. “I’m on the Pill, but I need you to wear protection.”

“Of course.”

A dark red flush spread from his throat to his hairline. She had either embarrassed him or angered him. “I’m not the kind of woman who takes chances,” she said, “all evidence to the contrary.”

“Of course not,” he said. “But you need to believe me when I say I took no chances with Ophelia. It might have been a one-night stand, but I’m not suicidal. I used condoms. If Peaches is mine, it was conception that defied the odds.”

The baby in question slept peacefully at their feet, the lights on the little tree casting colored shadows on her small body.

Dani sighed. “I believe you. Accidents happen, though.”

He gripped her wrist, forcing her attention away from the child and back to him. “I’ll get condoms,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Nodding jerkily, she forced a smile. “Hurry.”

When she was alone again, Dani blinked and sank to her knees on the rug. “Oh, Peaches. What have I done?”