Finally, when he could stall no longer, he turned onto his parents’ street and slowed to a crawl. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Of course. I’m excited.”
He bugged his eyes at her. “How could you possibly be excited about seeing my boring childhood home?”
“That’s just it.” She cast about for the correct words. “You have a childhood home whereas we moved a zillion times. It’s such a foreign concept to me, returning to one’s roots. I always wanted—Never mind.”
She’d stopped herself so abruptly, Eric did a double take. “Always wanted what?”
“Nothing. It’s not important. The point is, Counselor, you let me pick the day’s activities, and right now, I just want to see how the other half lived. Case closed.”
Someday, he’d find out more about how she grew up. “Fine, you win. The other half lived in suburban dullness,” he said, pulling into his parents’ driveway. “Voila. This is it. Can we leave now?”
She studied the house with such raw yearning on her face, it tugged at his heart. He wanted desperately to pull her into his arms.
“No way. We’re here.” She hiked her shoulders and let them drop. “We might as well go all the way.”
He leered. “Is this a veiled reference to my childhood bedroom again?”
“Cut it out, Nelson. Cut. Get it? That was a reference to the fact that it’s now a categorically unromantic scrapbooking room,” she said, her words laced with laughter. “I want an inside view of the Nelson family enclave. I do not want to defile your mother’s crafting space. Friends, remember?”
“Another dream dashed.” He cut the engine. “And christen is the word you’re thinking of, I believe. Not defile.”
Her eyes widened with disbelief, but he could tell she was teasing. “You mean you’ve never had sneaky sex in your childhood bedroom?”
“You’re a nut job,” he said. “No. I’m not that sly. I would’ve been busted immediately.”
“That’s what makes it fun. The risk.”
“Well, who knew, Delaney? I’m learning something new about you every moment.”
“Be quiet. Come on. Let’s go in.”
He glanced toward the house with mock dread and remorse. “You asked for this, so here we go.”
“I’m ready. Can’t wait.” She rubbed her palms together, then reached for the door handle.
“Why do you have such a problem with your family?”
“You know all this, Coll—”
“Tell me again. It’s been a while.”
“It’s not that I don’t love them. But they’re…exhausting. They debate, they one-up each other, they embarrass me at every opportunity. I don’t know, they’re…”
“Family, Eric. They’re family. And you’re not like them, but that’s okay. They’re still your family.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
He touched her arm. “Hang on. You do realize, the simple act of bringing you here is going to set off a heat rash of rumors within the ‘Nelson family enclave,’ as you put it. Prepared for that?”
She blinked. “You mean they’ll think we’re dating?”
“Uh, yep.”
She seemed to consider that, but only briefly. “I’m sure you’ll disabuse them of the notion in short order. Let’s go inside.”
“You’re the boss.” Eric followed Colleen up the winding slate path to the house thinking, perhaps, he wouldn’t be so quick to disabuse his family of any notions they might concoct. The idea of being associated with Colleen in people’s minds grew more appealing by the minute, no matter how far from the truth it may be.
With a deep breath and a small prayer for strength, Eric leaned in and rang the doorbell.
Chapter Seven
As the sound of footsteps approached from far off within the house, Eric spun toward her. “Rules of thumb, trust me on this. Don’t let my mom corner you alone, try not to engage if they force you into a debate of any kind, and feel free not to answer questions that make you uncomfortable.”
Colleen grinned and bounced on her heels. “Wow, I’ve never seen you lose your cool like this, Nelson. This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
“You have to understand. My family—”
The door swung open.
Colleen watched him whip back to face the shapely, fiftysomething woman who’d appeared, blinking with surprise, in the doorway. She had the same dark blond hair and chocolate-brown eyes as Eric, but her heart-shaped face and slightly tilted eyes lent a softer, more elfin note to her overall appearance. Eric must’ve gotten the rugged bone structure from dear ol’ dad, Colleen mused.
“Why, Eric! What a lovely surprise.”
“Mom, hey.” He aimed a thumb over his shoulder at his car. “We can leave if we’re interrupting—”
“Are you kidding? Not at all. It’s so nice to see you outside the Forcible Friday Feast, since we rarely do,” she said wryly, driving home the subtle mom-guilt point as she reached out a fine-boned hand toward Colleen’s. Once she’d grasped it, she smiled at Colleen, gently pulling her over the threshold into the house. “Hello to you, too, dear,” she said, drawing out her words. “Eric never mentioned a lady friend. And you are?”
Wow, Eric had a point. Sweet as Mrs. Nelson was, this did sort of feel like being sucked into a vortex. Colleen hardly had time to take in the decor, but she could smell woodsmoke and something baking. Possibly cookies. The vortex seemed friendly enough. “I’m Colleen Delaney, Mrs. Nelson. Eric and I are…we, uh—”
“We went to law school together,” Eric interjected, from behind her, saving her the awkwardness of explaining their inexplicable relationship. “And we happened to run into each other recently.”
“I see, and you somehow wound up in Schaumburg at the Nelson homestead. Hmm,” Mrs. Nelson said, humming her curiosity with a heavy dose of innuendo. She pulled Colleen closer, tucking her arm into Colleen’s elbow. “So you’re an attorney as well?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How lovely. Do the two of you work together?”
“No,” Colleen and Eric said, in unison. Colleen glanced at him, then added, “Different firms.”
“Ah. The legal community’s a small world, I suppose. Even Melody—” she tapped Colleen’s forearm “—our daughter-in-law, married to Eric’s youngest brother, Brian—”
“She knows, Mom,” Eric said.
One of Mrs. Nelson’s well-groomed brows rose with interest. “Yes, well, Melody works as a receptionist in a law firm and runs a legal gossip blog on the side, although that’s a big secret.”
Colleen blinked at her. “Oh, my gosh, is it that gossip site?” Colleen had to admit, reading the snarky Web site was a guilty pleasure.
“CaughtInYourBriefs.com. That’s the one. But—” the older woman laid one index finger across her lips “—mum’s the word. Melody’s anonymous for a reason.”
“My lips are sealed,” Colleen said. She threw Eric a you never told me that glance, which he answered with a sheepish shrug. It was her fault as much as his, really. She could’ve asked him the name of the site when he’d mentioned his sister-in-law ran a gossip blog, but she’d been too focused on the Jones case.
“Well, come in, come in, take your coats off. Dad and Brian are watching the Huskies game in the family room, Eric,” she said, referring to Northern Illinois University’s team, “so you go on in and join them. Melody and I were chatting in the kitchen. I’ll just take Colleen and—”
“No, that’s okay,” Eric said. “I don’t feel like watching the game. I’ll come with you.”
Colleen had to admit, relief spiraled through her. Especially knowing that Melody ran that site. Every attorney she knew both read and denounced the thing. It was more alluring than the biggest celebrity scandal rags, but no one wanted to be on it.
Mrs. Nelson stopped, lowered her chin, scrutinized her son. “You don’t feel like watching the Huskies? That’s a first.”
&nbs
p; “First time for everything,” Eric said, in a level tone.
“Hmm.” His mother pierced him with a measuring stare that actually made Colleen gulp, then leaned in toward Colleen and resumed the path toward the kitchen. “Boys. Who can figure them out?”
“Not me.”
“He must not want to leave your side. So cute.” And then a bit louder, in a singsong tone, “Never knew you were such a romantic, Eric, dear. He’s never brought a woman home, you know. So I guess there is a first time for everything.”
Colleen stifled a laugh and flashed a sympathetic glance over her shoulder toward Eric, who really did appear grim. Poor guy. He hadn’t been kidding about the assumptions and innuendos. They didn’t detract from the warmth of his mother’s welcome, however, in which Colleen reveled.
Once they were seated around the vast, granite island in the bright, warm kitchen, coffee and cookies in front of them, young Melody leaned toward Colleen with a gleam in her eye.
“So you have to tell us. How long have you and Eric been dating? I mean, this is big news in the Nelson circle. Freaking huge news. I can hardly keep from texting the other brothers right this very minute.”
Colleen’s nape prickled and her mouth fell open. She had to remember who she was speaking to and never drop her guard. She shot a glance toward Eric to find him wearing a similar expression. Thankfully, he recovered more quickly than she did.
“Leave the woman alone, Mel,” Eric chastised. “Mom, you, too. I didn’t bring Colleen here for you to interrogate her, for Pete’s sake.”
Colleen reached out and laid her hand on Eric’s forearm. “It’s okay. Really.”
“We’re not interrogating, Eric,” Melody said.
“Whatever. Stop probing. You’ll scare her away,” Eric continued, his face reddened.
“Scare her!” his mom exclaimed.
“We’re not scary, we’re family,” Melody said. “Colleen, are we scary?”
After a moment of breath holding, Colleen released a nervous laugh on a whoosh. “Not scary exactly. But I come from a very, very small family. In fact, it’s just Mom and me.” She crinkled her nose. “So maybe a tad different from what I’m used to.”
“See?” Eric said, spreading his arms wide. “It’s like being hit with a steamroller walking into this joint. And you wonder why I don’t bring women home.”
Unbidden, Colleen’s stomach soured. She didn’t really know much about Eric Nelson, come to think of it. Was he dating someone? Several someones? Ugh. She couldn’t dwell on it. “It’s okay,” Colleen said in a rush, curling her hands around the warm coffee mug. “I like it. You have a very welcoming family and home, Mrs. Nelson.”
The older woman waved her delicate hand. “Oh, enough of the formalities. Call me Emily, for goodness’ sake. You make me feel ninety years old with that Mrs. Nelson stuff.”
“Emily it is,” Colleen said, with a nod.
Eric stood. “Emily,” he said pointedly. “Mel? I’m going to show Colleen around the house for a bit so you can have time to sharpen your fangs and talons.”
Emily hiked an eyebrow. Melody picked up a warm cookie from the cooling rack and bonked it off his forehead.
Miraculously, he caught it, winked, took a bite. “Nice throw, sis.”
“Oh, be quiet,” Melody said, the affection peeking through her pout. “We will get all the info on your relationship one way or another, so deal with it.”
Alarm sirens wailed in Colleen’s head. Family or not, Colleen couldn’t risk ending up on Melody’s Web site. She grabbed her own cookie and tried to smooth over Eric’s snarky tone by bestowing her most blazing smile on the Nelson matriarch. “Thank you so much for letting me just drop in,” she gushed. Wow, she was totally out of her attorney element here. “Eric’s told me all about your scrapbooking room. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Hmm, you know, that used to be Eric’s bedroom.” Emily tapped her chin with one finger, feigning disapproval, but a sparkle in her eyes told Colleen she was teasing—mostly to antagonize her son. “Years ago, I wouldn’t allow any of my darling boys to take girls into their bedrooms unsupervised. I don’t know…”
“Bye, Mom,” Eric said, with the utmost sarcastic patience. “See you in a few.”
He grabbed Colleen’s hand which, admittedly, felt perfect to her, and perfectly natural. They walked in silence through the neat, suburban home, and Colleen soaked it in. Most of the decor hadn’t been updated for a decade or more. The kitchen had obviously been redone, but the rest of the house seemed like your average, middle-class, American family home.
Neat, but lived-in. Old, but loved.
Framed photos angling up the stairway chronicled the lives of the Nelson boys, and the black-and-white wedding photo of Emily and Mr. Nelson stopped Colleen in her tracks. So young. So hopeful. So in love. Had she ever looked like that?
“Mom was a hottie back then, huh?”
“Mmm. Beautiful,” Colleen said.
“Who knew she’d mature into such a meddling old—”
“Eric!” But she had to laugh. Eric’s affection for his mother, meddler or not, showed in his eyes as they stood side by side studying the wedding photo. Before she had a chance to think it through, she blurted, “Are you dating anyone?”
He did a double take. “Are you asking me out? I thought this was just a friend thing.”
She rolled her eyes, but realized belatedly that asking Eric about his private life while looking at a wedding photo of his parents probably hadn’t been the wisest of moves. “No. It’s just…your mom said you didn’t bring women home, and then you said…Never mind.”
“No, Coll, I’m not dating anyone,” he said lightly. “How about you?”
She scoffed. “Please.” Time for a subject change. She turned and observed the lower level from their vantage point on the stairs, and it tugged at her heart.
Wonderfully normal. She loved it.
She’d spent her childhood moving from ratty apartment to slightly nicer apartment—when a man came along for Mom—and back to ratty apartment again. New areas, different schools. She’d never had a bedroom that felt the least bit permanent, and she’d always longed for a house exactly like this one. She’d dreamt about knowing all the neighbors, and who’d lived in their houses before them. About going to school, kindergarten through senior year, with the same group of kids. About taping her Goo Goo Dolls and Duran Duran posters onto bedroom walls she knew were hers forever.
But that hadn’t happened. The corners of her posters got ripped farther and farther inward each time she had to tear them from one generic wall and move them to another. She sighed, hating how the depressing memories clung to her like lint on her man-tailored, black wool suit.
Eric looked at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I just…I really love it here.”
He pulled his chin back. “Oh, come on, Coll. I know the Gold Coast. You probably live in a glitzy high-rise with a view of the water from several rooms. Probably floor-to-ceiling windows. You can’t possibly compare that with a circa 1960, middle America suburban split-level.”
“As a matter of fact, I do live in a lake-view high-rise, but that’s not the point,” she said, as they climbed the rest of the stairs that creaked every now and then. He probably knew every creak, having lived within these walls for decades. One of her heartstrings panged and snapped.
“So what’s the point?”
At the top of the stairs, she dropped his hand and faced him, spread her arms wide. “This. All of it. You walk in, and it probably smells just like home. The house you grew up in. Right?”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaving it askew. “Well, sure, but—”
“Don’t take that for granted, Eric. Some of us never had it. I don’t have a childhood home to return to. Or a loud, raucous family who annoys me but always welcomes me in with warmth and food.”
“Now, I beg to differ.” He held up a finger. “You did, in fact, once mention that your moth
er annoys you.”
“Well, yes, but—” She bit her bottom lip, suddenly flooded with emotion she couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Eric dipped down and cupped her elbows, peering into her eyes which most certainly looked watery. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No.” She gulped. “You didn’t.”
“Then, what’s wrong?”
She cleared her throat, then shook her hair back to regain her composure. “Nothing. Or everything. I’m not sure. All I know is, you have everything here I ever wanted growing up, and you can’t even stand coming home once a week.” She sniffed, realizing how stupid she sounded. “I’m sorry. It could be the nightmare this case is turning into that’s fraying on my nerves. I really appreciate you bringing me here.”
“Okay,” he said, still studying her with uncertainty.
“Your family is great, if a little pushy.”
He broke a smile.
“Seriously, thank you.” The air around them seemed to change, and she couldn’t look away from his melted chocolate gaze. Her mouth went dry, and she moistened her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and then she knew.
She knew, and she wanted it.
Eric Nelson was going to kiss her, right on the upper stair landing of his childhood home. She lifted her chin and leaned in. Eric moved closer, hesitated. He searched her eyes, then pulled her toward him. Her eyelids closed. She felt his warm breath on her face before lips touched hers, and when they did, it felt like a lightning strike. It had even looked like a lightning strike—a sudden bright flash in the sky.
“Ha!” came Melody’s voice.
Eric and Colleen wrenched apart and stared in horror at young Melody waggling her bedazzled camera phone.
“I have the evidence, right here. Eric Nelson and Colleen Delaney locking lips on the staircase. This is so going on the blog.”
Colleen’s stomach collapsed, heavy upon legs that suddenly felt cemented to the floor. Oh, no.
Her Favorite Holiday Gift Page 7
