by Robyn Grady
How long had she slept?
Was Damon still here?
She watched the baby for a few more minutes before dotting a soft kiss on her brow and tiptoeing out of the room. She found Damon quietly packing the dishwasher. A fresh pot of delicious smelling coffee was on. That should have been enough to win him bonus points. But there was more. Way more.
He’d lit a fire in the sitting room next door. With the air snuggly warm, Damon had stripped off his sweater. The top of his light-blue button down was undone, leaving a vee of neck and edible chest visible. As he rotated from counter to dishwasher, impressive biceps flexed beneath the sleeves, muscles in his shoulders worked. His back was so broad and obviously strong. Emma imagined the steamy heat beneath a gliding palm…the tang of salt from his skin on her lips.
She crossed her arms for a contemplative moment, and finally grinned.
No harm in looking.
He noticed her and straightened. His lopsided smile lit the room. Not a shadow in sight.
“How’s the patient?” he asked, grabbing a kitchen towel to dry his large, capable hands.
Emma let her gaze linger on the stubble shadowing his jaw before ambling over. “Still pushing out z’ds. Sorry I crashed, too.”
“I caught twenty winks on the sofa myself.” He poured two cups from the percolator. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black, no sugar.”
“Huh. Me, too.”
He set both cups on the kitchen table while she cut some Christmas cake. After these hours spent together, pulling up a chair beside him, blowing steam off the top of their cups…it all seemed ridiculously normal. Sparks still crackled and zapped beneath the surface, but she wasn’t stressed. Not the least bit anxious. In fact, this was the most relaxed she’d felt in years.
“Do you have other sisters or brothers?” Damon asked, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He’d let it grow. Emma liked the way its length licked his collar and that stubborn lock curled over his brow.
“Krystal and I are the only Bagwell kids,” she replied. “The only Bagwells left, actually. Our parents were in an accident a few years back.”
She tried never to dwell on the car-wreck, or the ranting mood her father had been in before he and Emma’s mother had set off that day.
“I’m one of four brothers,” Damon said, “and three sisters, all older than me.”
“You’re an uncle then?”
“Oh, yeah. Christmas is always a big deal for the Knight clan. Everyone gets together. No excuses.” His eyes smiled into hers. “It’ll be a family Christmas for you too this year.”
“I imagine Krystal and Shelley will spend the day with her father.” She shrugged, hurried on. “I usually get together with Olivia Angel at Christmas anyway.” Olivia was a good friend and owner of local Angel’s Boutique.
“She and Max Devlin make a great couple.”
“Olivia is an amazing woman,” Emma said. “I’m so happy for her. Everyone is. She was on her own for so long.”
“Better late than never.”
They exchanged a loaded look before Emma’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She hurried to pull it out. She liked speaking with Damon about his family and their friends. But she didn’t want the conversation getting too personal. His ‘better late than never’ comment wasn’t meant to solely cover Max and Olivia’s situation.
Then Emma recognized the number on her cell’s display and couldn’t connect fast enough.
“How’s Shelley?” Krystal asked down the line. “I miss her soooo much.”
“She had a bit of temperature this morning.”
“What? She was fine when I left.”
“It’s okay.” Emma flicked Damon a smile. “A local doctor made a house call. She’s sleeping now. Totally content.” Emma held the phone closer to her ear. “How are things going with her dad?”
“It’s…tricky.”
When silence echoed down the line, Emma prodded. “Krystal?”
“Em, I hate to ask, but can you have Shelley overnight?”
Emma felt her eyes go wide. Anxiety seeped in, a tingling ‘can-I-do-that?’ current ripping through her veins.
“O-overnight?”
“Rick was stoked to see me. But I haven’t told him about Shelley yet. We’re getting on so well again. I don’t want to blow it.”
Emma grit her teeth. Boy, did she have an opinion on this one. “If telling him he has a beautiful daughter makes him run, he’s not worth it.”
“I don’t think he’ll run. It’s just nice being back together, you know?”
“What about Shelley?” The little person who should be you one and only priority.
“One night. Please, Em? She’s already sleeping through.” Her voice dipped. “I thought you’d like having her a bit longer.”
Emma didn’t like manipulation. It made her wonder what else was going on she didn’t know about. Krys had gone to tell the guy he was a father, so tell him!
But her sister was right about one thing. Aunt Emma would enjoy having her baby niece a while longer. As long as was needed.
“Em? You there?”
Emma exhaled. “I’ll hear from you in the morning then.”
“Awesome! In the morning. See you then.”
As she disconnected, Damon downed the last of his coffee and pulled his cake plate near.
“Your own recipe,” he asked, breaking off a corner and popping it into his mouth.
“Bought at the store,” Emma replied, distracted.
He chewed, swallowed. Broke off some more. “That’s the trouble with cake. One bite is never enough.” He pressed his finger tip on the plate to pick up some crumbs. “Guess your sister and Shelley’s dad are getting on then.”
“Which is a good thing.”
His mouth hooked into a patient smile. “You think she’ll tell him tomorrow?”
“Well, she has to tell him sometime. Right?”
He nodded. “Right.”
She bit her lip and confessed. “Krystal’s a charmer from way back. Always getting out of things. Once, Santa brought us both a puppy for Christmas. I think she fed and walked him twice.”
“I know whose bed he slept on though.”
That was the payoff. Her and Buddy had become inseparable. And she’d simply accepted that her sister always had an excuse. Emma couldn’t count the times Krystal had pleaded with her on a Sunday night to help with already overdue assignments.
But that was a long time ago, and Shelley was not a puppy or a piece of homework. She was an adorable dependent who needed her mother, and father, if Rick Whoever wanted to man up.
What father could turn his back on his flesh and blood?
Emma’s father hadn’t been perfect, but at least he’d been there, even if there were times when Emma had wished he hadn’t been.
Damon rubbed his hands together, changed the subject. “Dinner. I vote Chinese.”
“You don’t have to stay,” Emma said, purposefully pushing thoughts of her father, and his temper, out of her head. “Shelley and I will be fine.”
“I know you will be. But, after today, I thought you and I would classify as friends. Friends get take-out.”
He looked so sincere. So appealing and physically near irresistible.
Friends?
Emma relaxed the muscles locking her shoulders.
She could do that.
“I like Chow Mein,” she said.
“Dumplings do it for me.”
He pulled out his phone to order as Emma slipped in, “Don’t forget the fortune cookies.”
“You believe in that stuff?” he asked, putting the cell to his ear.
“For the fun value.”
“Fun is good.”
His sultry smile spread all the way to her heart before a baby’s cry drifted out from the bedroom.
“Diapers aren’t much fun,” he said.
Emma sprang to her feet. She wasn’t unhappy Shelley was awake. She’d missed her, ev
en if she were only in the next room.
But as she left the kitchen, a knock sounded on the front door. Emma froze, tried to think. “Who could that be?”
“You look after the baby.” Damon had disconnected his call and was on his way down the hallway. “I’ll get the door.”
As Emma headed for the bedroom and the baby cried louder, she couldn’t quell the sinking feeling in her stomach.
She thought of her father, of that accident, and sent up a prayer.
Please keep everyone safe.
Damon found Judd on the porch. The older man’s face fell when he recognized the person who had opened the door. Arching a spidery brow, he peered over Damon’s shoulder, into the house.
“Hey, Judd.” Damon leaned against the door. “Whatsup?”
Judd studied Damon’s chest minus its sweater. “Is Emma about?”
“She’s looking after a surprise guest. I’m helping out.”
Judd’s pale eyes sharpened at the same time Emma appeared with the wide awake baby in her arms. Judd frowned between the three of them as if he were calculating dates.
“The baby belongs to my sister, Judd,” Emma said.
Judd’s slash of a mouth swung to one side then he leaned closer for a better look. A smile spread from ear to ear.
“She’s a cunnin’ one. Your eyes. Pretty blue.”
Cunnin’ was a compliment round these parts.
Judd straightened his fishing cap. Onto business. “Saw the ‘closed’ sign on the realty office door. Wanted to drop by, make sure you were fine.” Then he spoke to Damon. “I let myself into your place, too. There’s a problem.”
Damon straightened. “What kind of problem?”
“House is flooded. I turned off the water but…ayuh.” Judd sucked air in between his dentures. “Hope you got insurance.”
Arriving at his address ten minutes later, Damon found Max Devlin’s SUV parked in the driveway. Striding up the path, expecting the worst, he spotted his friend waiting at the front door.
“I was about to call,” Max said. “We still on for tonight?”
Damon shoved the key into the lock. “On for what?”
“Our weekly pool night at Cue On Dan’s is what. Our last for the year. Scott and Nick have got a Secret Santa lined up.”
Scott and Nick were great guys, but, “I don’t need any more surprises.”
As Damon swept inside his house, Max’s puzzled voice followed. “Hey…you look like you want to punch a hole in a wall.”
Flicking on the lights, Damon conveyed the story while both made their way to the tiled kitchen area that led to a laundry room and its busted pipe.
His feet sloshing through the wet, Damon dragged a hand through his hair. “Just what I need.” Max was already in recovery mode, wading toward the laundry broom closet.
“We need mops, buckets,” he said, “old towels.”
Damon groaned. “What I need is to get out of this place.”
Then he thought of Emma and Shelley and looked around again. Yesterday, this would’ve been one more reason to leave Point St. Claire far behind. Now…
Well, he had a few weeks left yet.
He and Max worked together. Adequate overflow floor drainage had already taken care of the worst of it.
Finally finished, they flopped down onto a couple of kitchen tools. Damon exhaled heavily, gripped his friend’s arm.
“I’m in your debt.”
“If that effort doesn’t deserve a drink with the boys, I don’t know what does.”
“You go on without me.”
Max turned to him. “What’s wrong? Aside from the flash flood, I mean.”
Damon relayed what had transpired over the previous thirty-six hours, starting with his visit to Emma’s realty office and finding her upset, to leaving her and the baby to clean up this mess.
Max had retrieved a couple of beers from the refrigerator. “Forever the shining knight,” he said, handing a beer over.
“From what I’ve seen, her sister’s not the most responsible type. She’s supposed to be back tomorrow but…I just don’t know.”
About to tip back his beer, Max froze. “Hold on. You think she might leave the baby with Em permanently?”
“I only know that Emma would sell her soul to make sure that baby is well cared for.”
“And you?”
Damon opened his beer. “What about me?”
“Where do you fit into the equation?”
“I don’t. I’ve resigned, remember? That position in L.A. is locked in.”
“And your family’s expecting you Christmas Day.”
He always had a great time with family. Being with Emma and Shelley held a different enjoyment factor. But…
He thought, and then knocked back a mouthful of beer.
Nah.
“Emma wouldn’t want me hanging around Christmas Day.”
“Sounds like you two are getting on though.” Max swirled his beer. “Attraction is a weird and wonderful thing.”
“You and Olivia… You never forgot her, did you?”
“Not in the all years I was away from the Point. Best thing I ever did was come back. As my grown-up son likes to tell me, it was meant to be.”
Damon thought of Kyrstal showing up early at Emma’s place. If she’d arrived on Christmas Eve as scheduled, he’d have been gone.
Meant to be…
“Have you spoken to her?” Max asked.
“Emma knows how I feel.”
“Where women are concerned, never assume.”
“On the flip side, she let me know point blank. She doesn’t want to get involved.”
“So, guess you’ll ride off into the sunset alone.”
That was the plan.
Damon checked the time. “I wonder how the baby’s doing?”
“Why don’t you go find out? Emma can only tell you to back off.” Max grinned over his beer. “But I’ll bet Rudolph his red nose that she won’t.”
Wednesday, December 22
When Damon knocked softly on Emma’s door the next morning, she greeted him with a smile that exuded quiet confidence. Deep-seated contentment. She was literally glowing.
“Shelley’s asleep,” she said softly, stepping aside to let him in.
“You got my message?”
“Uh-huh. Great that Max was there to help with all that water. You’ll miss him when you’re gone.”
“We’ll keep in touch.”
She tacked her smile back up. “Absolutely.”
Heading for the lounge room, so warm after the freshly fallen snow outside, he rubbed his bare hands close to the fire’s reviving flames. “The center called this morning. They’ve hired my replacement.”
She frowned. “I thought they might’ve asked you to stay.”
“They did.” He kept rubbing. “This is a great town. Wonderful people.” He’d tell her straight. “But I don’t feel a part of it.”
She dropped her gaze. “I didn’t help.”
“That’s past history.” He joined her. “We’re over that, right?”
“Are we?”
She looked as if she wanted to say more. But then, breaking the moment, she gestured toward the fireplace. He hadn’t noticed. A mini Christmas tree sat to one side of the mantle.
“Thought I’d make an effort,” she said, walking over, “for Shelley.”
“You don’t usually decorate?”
“No point. It’s just me.”
He rotated to face her. A reflection from the fire sent a light show dancing over her red pants and Christmas themed sweater. She’d put on lipstick…red, too. Her lips looked so moist and kissable and…off limits?
“Now you’ve made a start,” he said, referring to the mini tree, “you ought to keep going.”
“Suggestions?”
“A wreath on the door.”
“Doable.”
“A blow-up Santa on the lawn.”
She grinned. “Too much.”
; He edged closer, focused on her lips. “Mistletoe.”
He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. “I can look into that.”
“I can help.”
“I bet you can.”
“Just say the word.”
“What word is that?”
“Any word,’ he leaned in closer, “but preferably yes.”
So many times since that day, he’d wanted to hold her again. He’d never got the chance. Never thought he ever would. But now she was peering into his eyes and the message was clear. She wanted him to hold her. Never more than at that moment, he wanted that, too.
His palms slid up the slender column of her throat until he cupped her jaw and cheeks. Then he took a deep steadying breath before his lips brushed over hers. When she trembled, pressed closer, he angled his head and his mouth gently covered hers. Her palms slid up and over his shoulders.
The deeper he kissed her, the harder she clung.
When he finally drew away, his mouth stayed close to hers while liquid fire flowed sweet and blistering-hot through his veins. Every cell in his body was revved up, aching to go.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he murmured and grazed his lips over hers again.
“Different to six months ago.”
“I’d go with better.” He hummed through a hungry smile. “Which, frankly, I thought was impossible.”
When he moved to kiss her again, Emma stiffened and he drew away. Had he got something wrong?
“Em? I got the impression you liked it, too.”
“I like it the first time,” she said. “That doesn’t change how I feel.”
“You mean about getting involved.” When she nodded, he joked, “Commitment is usually a man’s hang up.”
“The twenty-first century, remember?”
“If you want to know, this minute, I can barely remember my own name.”
And this was about now, about him bundling her closer and letting bone-melting attraction speak for itself. But her eyes were sparkling like he’d never seen before. In a way that let him know she needed to get something off her chest.
He took her hand and led her to the sofa. As they sat side by side, she flicked a hesitant glance toward the baby’s bedroom.
