Emeralds, Rubies, and Camouflage

by Olivia Jaymes

  “Amelia, is that how we greet people?” she said, giving her daughter a pointed look that usually had the desired effect. Amelia had met Fiona and Bart, her husband, as they’d moved their possessions into the house but she hadn’t yet met her mother’s new employer.

  Myra had already warned her daughter about Holt Winslow’s scars and had given her a short lecture about how mentioning it out loud would be rude and hurtful. Hopefully her young daughter had listened.

  The little girl extended her hand in greeting. “I’m Amelia Burke.”

  Thinking he might be annoyed at their interruption, Myra was shocked to see his expression soften and his lips turn up in a smile. He shook her hand with a solemnity that warmed Myra’s heart.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Holt. Do you like horses?”

  Amelia nodded and pointed to the horse Mr. Winslow had been feeding, its coat a shiny, sooty black. “I like this one. He’s pretty. What’s his name?”

  “His name is Midnight Thunder,” he replied, stroking the nose and getting an affectionate head butt in return. “He’s my personal horse. He’s very picky about his friends but he seems to like you.”

  Indeed, Midnight Thunder had stretched out his neck so he could snuffle Amelia’s hair and neck. Giggling, she patted the enormous horse without a whit of fear.

  “I like him too. Can I ride him?”

  “Amelia,” Myra interrupted sharply before her new boss could answer, “it’s not polite to put someone on the spot like that.”

  “I want to learn to ride.” Instead of petulant, which Myra handled easily, her daughter looked determined which was much more difficult to deal with.

  “We all want things,” Myra reminded gently. “But that doesn’t mean that we get them. You simply cannot have everything you want.”

  That lower lip was stuck out again. As a mother Myra wanted to give her child everything but she wasn’t stupid enough to do it. She’d managed to keep Amelia from turning into a spoiled brat and that wasn’t going to change just because their life had been thrown into chaos.

  “I bet Daddy would let me learn to ride.”

  Myra slowly counted to ten, hating that this was being played out in front of her new boss. Amelia knew well that her father wouldn’t get her riding lessons. Even in the days when they’d all been a happy family Bobby hadn’t been what anyone would call an involved parent or an indulgent one either. But Amelia wasn’t above using her father to try and manipulate situations to her own advantage. Myra had fallen for it a few times in the beginning but not anymore.

  “Not with your attitude he wouldn’t. I think you owe Mr. Winslow an apology.”

  Long seconds ticked by while Amelia stayed defiant. When she finally figured out she wasn’t going to win this one with emotional blackmail or sheer muleheadedness, she turned back to the tall man who was watching the exchange with obvious interest.

  “I’m sorry.” There was a tone of wistfulness in Amelia’s voice. “Are you mad?”

  A real smile bloomed on Holt Winslow’s face and it almost took Myra’s breath away. It transformed his normally handsome features into something far more, making her stomach flutter and her heart pound so hard she was sure he must be able to hear.

  “I am not mad,” he assured her. “You asked an honest question and that’s something I could never be angry about. Now, do you want to meet all the horses?”

  Amelia nodded eagerly and her new boss patiently introduced her to each and every horse in the barn. She was allowed to pet their velvety noses and even Myra joined in stroking their necks and feeding them pieces of carrot. By the time they had met all six Amelia had made a few new friends and was completely won over to her new home.

  “I bet Fiona has some home baked cookies in the kitchen. Do you like cookies, Amelia?” Holt asked.

  “Are they chocolate?” Her daughter loved her chocolate. Just like Mommy.

  “Probably. Chocolate chip is my favorite.”

  “Mine too.” Amelia’s soft voice was solemn. “It’s the best cookie. They’re Mommy’s favorite too.”

  Holt’s gaze flickered back to Myra. “She has good taste. Why don’t you run up to the house and we’ll be right behind you?”

  Amelia immediately looked to her mother for permission and Myra nodded her head, a ball of trepidation beginning to grow in her abdomen. She had a feeling she might be in for a stern lecture from her new employer about keeping Amelia as contained as possible. Not a small feat when you had a young child.

  Amelia skipped out of the barn and toward the house, her retreating figure growing smaller until she reached her destination. Even from this distance Myra could see Fiona greeting Amelia at the door.

  “You don’t need to worry. Fiona and Bart will keep a close eye on your daughter as if she was their own and we don’t let strangers roam the property.”

  He must have some sort of ESP or maybe her worry was clearly drawn on her face. “They seem like wonderful people but I doubt I’ll ever stop worrying about her. I guess it comes with the territory. My mother still worries about me.”

  “My mom and dad do as well although I think I’m a fairly responsible person. It’s a parent’s lot to be concerned.” He took a few steps closer and then leaned against one of the horse stalls, the tension between them building as he moved closer. “I didn’t want to mention this in front of Amelia but I’d be happy to teach her to ride. I’d choose a suitable mount of course, one that’s very gentle.”

  Myra sighed with relief, the nerves jumping under her skin beginning to calm. “That’s very sweet of you. I’ll think about it. If I give in to her about this she might think she can railroad me into doing anything she wants. I actually thought I might be in trouble bringing her out here. I’ve been trying to keep her in our rooms today so she isn’t underfoot.”

  Holt frowned and an emotion she didn’t recognize flitted across his features but was quickly gone as if it had never happened. This man would make a fortune playing poker.

  “Let’s be clear here. She has the run of the place as do you. If you want to use the pool or the exercise room or anything else, please go right ahead. I want you to think of this as your home. Believe me, having you live in is for my convenience, not yours. If I’m caught at the office all day or in court I’ll need to us to do work in the evenings and weekends.”

  He’d explained that when he’d offered her the job but he was also giving her maximum flexibility to spend time with Amelia.

  “Thank you.” Myra looked around the impressive structure and smiled, trying to calm her swiftly beating heart. This physical reaction every time he was near was something she desperately needed to get under control. “But I’ll be frank—the house and this barn are a far cry from any of the homes I’ve ever lived in. I’m more of a two-bedroom condo kind of gal.”

  “I hope you and Amelia will be happy here.” The smiling man was gone and in its place was a mask of seriousness. “As I said when I offered you the job, when I hire someone I’m looking for it to be long term. My last PA was with me three years.”

  Lily had told Myra about the assistant running off to get married and join a band. Holt certainly wouldn’t have to worry about that happening. Men had become more trouble than they were worth. At least the men she’d been with had been.

  “That’s what I was looking for as well. What time would you like me to start tomorrow? I can drop Amelia off at her new preschool as early as six-thirty.”

  “I work out every morning from six to seven, then I shower and grab some breakfast which I usually eat at my desk. That’s if I don’t have to go into the office or be in court. And you won’t need to take Amelia to school. Bart can easily do that although I’m sure you’ll want to take her the first day. He can pick her up too.”

  “I’m sure Bart’s very busy–” she began.

  “It’s not a problem,” Holt insisted. “Bart runs all the errands for the household so he’s always out and about. He can combine that trip with s
omething else.”

  This man was a veritable steamroller when it came to getting his way. Obviously rich men were used to getting whatever they wanted. She’d have to pick her battles carefully and to be honest, this wasn’t one to fight. She knew there would be more.

  “I do want to take her tomorrow.” Myra didn’t mention any of the days after that.

  Holt took another few steps so he was standing right in front of her, heat emanating from his massive frame and making her want to reach out and place her palms on his wide chest.

  “I like kids, so please don’t try and make her be quiet or anything like that. I wouldn’t have hired you if something like this bugged me.”

  His eyes were dark and warm as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The simple gesture made her stomach twist and tumble and her heart skip a few beats.

  “Why did you hire me?” Myra wanted to snatch back the words as soon as they were out of her mouth but it was far too late.

  “You were the best person for the job. Now how about we head to the house and get some of those cookies?”

  His expression was completely earnest and a part of her almost believed him. She let him take her by the elbow and lead her out of the barn, her skin burning where his fingers touched.

  Far too attractive and add in that he was good with children… Holt Winslow appeared to be every woman’s dream. Myra could only wonder what was wrong with him. No one could be this perfect.

  Once she found his Achilles’ heel it would make it easier to keep her feelings strictly professional. She was done with love and romance.

  *

  Holt watched from the window of his upstairs bedroom as Myra and her daughter Amelia splashed in the backyard pool after dinner. Both of them were smiling and laughing, clearly having a ball. Earlier Myra had been instructing her daughter on how to float on her back but now they were simply having silly fun.

  A part of him longed to throw on a swimsuit and join the revelry. He could easily teach Amelia to swim or ride a horse. An adorable miniature of her mother, Amelia had won him over with her sharp intelligence and direct mode of communication. When she wanted something she just said it. Put it right out there.

  But he didn’t go. He stayed rooted to the spot, unwilling to risk Myra’s reaction to his less than perfect body. She’d seen the scars on his neck and arms but seeing all of them was something very different. He’d grown almost used to seeing himself in the mirror but to ask that of someone else…

  He couldn’t do it.

  Holt socialized rarely. He didn’t enjoy the way strangers’ eyes would land on his scars and linger there. He hated seeing the revulsion – or even worse – the pity in their expressions. It was easier to stay home and keep to himself.

  He sure as hell didn’t want to see that look in Myra’s eyes. She hadn’t even been in his life twenty-four hours and already he was taken with her. She was beautiful but it was more than that. Watching her as a mother had weakened his normally strong powers of resistance. Warm and loving to Amelia, she reminded him that this wasn’t the life he’d planned on living.

  But he was damn grateful to be alive. It felt wrong to want more but he couldn’t help feeling a little sad every now and then when he thought of what might have been. He’d wanted a wife, kids, a dog playing in the yard. Everything his friend Dane Braxton had. But now none of that was going to happen. Holt would be living out the rest of his life alone.

  He’d known that for a long time but for some reason it felt lonelier today when he was surrounded by happiness and love.

  There was no happily ever after for him. Not anymore.

  Chapter Four

  ‡

  “I think Fiona has some of that roasted chicken left from last night’s dinner. Could you please ask her to make each of us a sandwich for lunch? She knows my usual but you’ll need to tell her how you want yours.”

  Holt didn’t even look up from his laptop as he directed Myra to order lunch. She’d been here five days and so far things were going well. Although he wasn’t around all that much, he was a good boss that appreciated her efforts. Rather remote and a little cold at times, he didn’t smile much, didn’t make small talk, and didn’t suffer fools gladly. She’d seen that up close and personal when he’d spoken to a contractor that had submitted a bid to build the additional garage on the grounds. That man probably now wished he’d been a little more honest and much less slimy. Holt had seen right through him and hadn’t minced words.

  He did however say please and thank you whenever he asked her to do a task and always said something nice about her work each and every day. All in all, he was a good boss and he certainly didn’t overwork her like her last job where she’d barely had time for a trip to the bathroom. Holt was all about balancing work and life.

  Every day at noon they’d both head into the kitchen and join Fiona and her husband Bart at the large marble island in the beautifully appointed gourmet kitchen. Sometimes lunch was leftovers from the day before or sandwiches, but they’d spend the next half hour or so chatting about the morning. It was at those times Holt seemed the most relaxed and friendly, especially with Bart who shared Holt’s love of all things with tires and an engine.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Myra stood and hurried toward the door but Holt calling her name made her stop and turn back.

  “Yes, sir?”

  Holt’s lips turned up into an almost smile. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’, Myra, or even Mr. Winslow. Holt will do.”

  Fiona and Bart called him Holt but Myra felt uncomfortable with it. As handsome as she found her new boss, it had been a relief to keep him at a distance with the formality.

  “Of course…Holt.”

  Turning on the high heel of the black pumps Lily had insisted on buying for her Myra fled the office, breathless at the mere sight of Holt’s firm, masculine lips curved up. She needed to get a grip.

  Fiona was in the kitchen chopping up fruit and singing along to the radio. “Hi, Fiona. Holt would like sandwiches from the roast chicken last night. He said you knew how he liked it.”

  Laughter bubbled from the older woman’s lips, her green eyes sparkling with joy. Fiona was always happy and smiling, especially in the kitchen. They were all the lucky recipients of her enthusiasm and skill.

  “You can tell him that I’m way ahead as usual. We’re having roast chicken sandwiches, fruit salad, and brownies for dessert. It will all be ready in about fifteen minutes. I just need to know what you want on your sandwich.”

  “Lettuce and some of that spicy and sweet mustard, please.”

  Fiona scooped up the cut-up sections of orange and dropped them into a bowl already filled with pineapples, bananas, and apple. The smell of chocolate hung in the air and Myra’s stomach growled loudly.

  “Oops! Sorry. I guess I’m hungrier than I thought.” Myra pressed a hand against her stomach. “It sounds delicious. You’re an amazing chef. If I’m not careful I’ll need a whole new wardrobe of larger sizes.”

  She was already carrying around an extra fifteen pounds as Bobby had so often reminded her. Every weekend she promised herself that on Monday she’d start a diet and begin to exercise and every Monday morning she groaned and rolled over in her bed, going back to sleep.

  “Holt is a real foodie,” Fiona chuckled. “You should have seen him when he got out of the hospital. Thin and gray. I’ve been feeding him up. Of course with the way he works out he burns off almost every single calorie he ingests. I consider it a personal challenge to keep him well fed.”

  There wasn’t any spare flesh on Holt’s lean, muscular body, although she’d never seen him work out. When she’d been given a tour of the house he had shown her the exercise room that any gym would have been proud of. He’d said she was welcome to use it at any time but so far she’d avoided most areas of the house except the office, kitchen, and her own suite of rooms. She hadn’t wanted to intrude on Holt’s life.

  “I’m sure Holt is
appreciative. You even managed to get Amelia to eat asparagus last night. I’ve never had any luck with green vegetables.”

  “The secret is cheese and butter.” Fiona waved a spoon in the air and grinned. “You put enough of those two ingredients on food and it becomes something else. As your daughter gets older you can back off a little until eventually she’s eating her vegetables without a lot of toppings. My daughter was the same way and I wasn’t above a little kitchen trickery to get her to eat better. Now that she’s in college she’ll eat most everything.”

  “You must be talking about me, Fiona, because I’ll eat anything you make.”

  That statement came from a deep voice right behind Myra and she whirled around to see a tall, handsome man in a beautifully cut, dark blue business suit right behind her. Fiona came around the island and gave the man a big hug.

  “Beck, when did you get back? It seems like you’ve been gone forever.”

  The man gave Fiona a peck on the cheek. “A couple of days. Is my brother hiding in the office again?”

  “I’d hardly call it hiding. I was working when I heard you stomping into the house.” Holt joined them in the kitchen, slapping Beck on the shoulder. “I thought you were still in London. You could text me once in awhile.”

  Beck grimaced and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, tossing it on the island. “You know I hate these things. Give me old-fashioned snail mail any day of the week. How does a man woo a beautiful woman with texts or emails?”

  Myra could see the resemblance now although Beck’s hair was a lighter shade of brown than Holt’s, almost caramel color. Both of the men had light blue eyes, square jaws, and imposing builds, easily over six feet tall. Beck, however, appeared younger and happier. His skin was also not scarred or mottled which might explain why Holt looked older.

  “I wasn’t asking you to romance me,” Holt retorted. “I was simply saying you could check in every now and then. Are you staying for lunch?”