A Mommy for Christmas

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  As if on cue, both the teachers in question joined them. The preschool director and Delilah Porter, a stunning blonde features reporter they both recognized from her constant appearances on the local news, was there, too. “Why don’t you step into my office?” the director asked everyone.

  She led the way, the reporter following close behind. Travis stepped back to let Holly precede him into the room. The educators followed.

  After introductions were made, the director turned to Travis and Holly. “You both signed a release allowing your children to be filmed for a human interest story on kids and the holidays.”

  Holly and Travis nodded in acknowledgment.

  It was obvious the features reporter was supremely excited about what had transpired—to the point she could hardly contain herself. “The students were filmed singing the songs from their December music program,” she said, “and then interviewed about what they thought they would be doing for the holidays. Interestingly enough, Tucker, Tristan, Mia and Sophie all had the same goal.”

  She switched on the portable TV monitor. “We figured you would want to see this yourself.” Delilah fast-forwarded through her taped intro to the news segment, and the singing. Then returned to normal speed when she reached the portion featuring the kids gathered in a semicircle, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Santa Claus” was seated in the middle. The sweetly familiar voice of Travis’s daughter filled the room as she spoke to the bearded, snowy-haired gentleman in the fur-trimmed red suit.

  “We were going to ask you to get us a mommy for Christmas,” Sophie was explaining to Santa, with such grown-up seriousness it nearly brought tears to Holly’s eyes. “But then Daddy said that you couldn’t do that. He has to find a wife first, and get married to her, and then we’ll get a mommy.”

  Oh, no, Holly thought as the others chuckled uneasily.

  “Yeah,” Mia agreed, on screen.

  “And we’re going to help them,” Tucker promised, gung ho as usual.

  Tristan nodded, equally exuberant. “Because Sophie and Mia are our very bestest friends.”

  “Only we don’t know where to look for a wife,” Sophie told the deadpan Santa.

  “So can you tell us?” Mia persisted. “So Daddy can have a wife and we can have a mommy?”

  Santa stroked his beard. “Well, no, actually, I can’t,” he replied thoughtfully. “But maybe this is something you should discuss with your daddy again.”

  “They can’t do that,” Tucker interjected.

  Tristan held up his palms on either side of his head. “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise!”

  Mia agreed. “And Christmas presents are s’posed to be a su’prise.”

  Delilah Porter stopped the footage. “I’ll take it from here,” she informed the faculty. The director and two teachers filed out.

  “Tell me the news station isn’t going to run that,” Travis said, mortified.

  “Of course we are!” she exclaimed. “It’s the kind of story that touches the heart and is perfect for Christmas.” She leaned forward eagerly. “I’d like the two of you to be part of it, too.”

  Holly held up her hand, already backing away. “Uh, no. And for the record, I’m against running that little bit with our kids, too.”

  “Lucky for me, then, isn’t it,” the reporter said, “that you’ve both signed a release, giving the station permission to air any and all footage.”

  Silence fell.

  “But, that said, we still have time to let you respond to what your little girls asked Santa,” Delilah Porter told Travis. She leaned out the door and waved to a cameraman, then turned back to him. “You’re a widower, right?”

  “If you have any conscience,” Travis told the stunning blonde, “you’ll do the right thing and cut my kids from the piece.” He exited the room.

  Holly stayed. “Travis is right. Running that story as is would hurt the kids.”

  Delilah peered out the door at Travis’s tall, masculine figure as he stalked out of the building. “Or it could help that sexy single dad find a wife just in time for Christmas,” she speculated.

  Holly supposed that was true. If all the single women in Fort Worth thought a catch like Travis was ready to marry again, it wouldn’t matter if he was or not. They’d be beating a path to his door, attempting to be The One for him. Holly hated to think what havoc that would bring to both their lives.

  Delilah eyed her closely. “You’re his next-door neighbor, right?”

  Holly grasped her handbag tightly. “What does that have to do with anything?” she asked, wishing she’d left with Travis.

  The cameraman was at the door, blocking her exit, ready to film.

  Holly held up a hand. “I haven’t signed a release,” she reminded him sternly.

  The reporter motioned for her crew to back off. “Your kids seem awfully close,” she noted.

  Holly shrugged. “We live next to each other and they play together all the time,” she stated casually.

  Delilah gave her a look meant to inspire confidence. “Would you like to be interviewed? Perhaps shed some light on this situation?”

  Holly shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t.” And following Travis’s lead, she exited the room.

  BY THE TIME HOLLY REACHED the parking lot, Travis’s SUV was gone. Which was funny. She would have figured he’d wait for her. But then, maybe he hadn’t wanted to risk another run-in with Delilah Porter.

  Holly got in her car and put the key in the ignition.

  Her cell phone rang. She smiled at the name flashing on the caller ID and picked up. There was no need for preliminaries. “Where are you?” she demanded.

  “Where Delilah Porter can’t find me.” Travis’s husky voice rippled through her.

  Holly relaxed when she realized some of his usual good humor had returned.

  “Meet me at the Shipley Do-Nuts one mile south of the preschool?” Travis asked.

  “Right away,” she promised, glad they were going to have the chance to figure this out together. It always helped when she didn’t feel alone.

  Travis had parked around back, so Holly did, too. Her pulse rising in anticipation, she walked into the small, heavenly smelling shop. He was already seated, with two cups of hot coffee and two of their fresh-baked potato-flour doughnuts on the table in front of him.

  “You read my mind,” Holly said, as he passed her a doughnut and coffee.

  Frosted vanilla-nut was her favorite type of yeast doughnut from the famed Texas bakery—as he well knew, since they often took the kids here for a special weekend treat.

  Travis had opted for a chocolate frosted yeast doughnut. “I figured we should indulge ourselves, given what we just heard. Although it’s not as bad for you as it is for me,” he acknowledged with a rueful twist of his oh-so-kissable lips.

  Holly stirred two creams and one sugar into her coffee. Briskly, she brought him up to date. “For the record, I asked Delilah Porter not to run the piece.”

  “And?” Briefly, hope shone in his eyes.

  Holly sighed. “She refused, and tried to interview me instead.”

  Travis kicked back in his chair, his knee brushing hers under the table as he tried to get his large body situated comfortably in a too-small space. “And just when I thought this Christmas season could not get any more difficult,” he lamented.

  Sensing he needed comforting, as any friend in this situation would, Holly reached across the table and took his hand. The warmth of his palm felt as good as a cozy blanket on a frigid winter evening. “Look,” she said, as she gazed into his eyes. “I know this is embarrassing….”

  His fingers melded to hers. “You think?”

  Holly responded with the levelheaded approach to the problem he needed to hear. “But the segment will air, and people will probably chuckle at the naïveté of your little girls and feel empathy for their desire for a mommy. And then they’ll go back to their own holiday plans, and that will be that.”

  Travis sighed. “I know th
e embarrassment will pass. My kids’ Christmas wish may not. Obviously, they still really want a mommy.”

  He turned his hand over, so their palms were pressed together. The feel of that was oddly intimate. The contact reminded Holly of the kisses they’d shared, and the intensely physical longing that welled deep inside her whenever they were alone lately. Again she forced herself to deny what she wanted, and instead, gave him what he needed—comfort and advice.

  “And one day you’ll fall in love and marry again and they’ll have one. In the meantime,” Holly counseled softly, “they have Mrs. Ruley.”

  Travis studied her, still making no effort to release her hand. “And you.”

  “And me,” Holly murmured.

  Silence fell between them. Holly looked deep into his eyes, wishing for the first time that the two of them hadn’t met at such a tumultuous time in their lives, become such devoted friends. She wished there was still some mystery left, that they could test the growing physical chemistry between them in a way that was as romantic, unexpected and complication-free as they both deserved. But to go down that road—to risk the passion not working out—might be to risk their friendship. And where would either of them be without that? Holly wondered.

  Abruptly, Travis seemed to be thinking the same thing.

  He flashed a wan smile and disengaged his hand from hers. “You really think we’ll both fall in love and marry again?” he asked her finally, meeting her gaze once again.

  Holly hadn’t thought so—until now. “Yes,” she said, meaning it with all her heart. Her little boys might not be asking for one, but they needed a father, and would one day realize that, too. Whether that would be Cliff—because he had finally come to his senses and realized what he had given up—or someone else, was a question for another day.

  “But in the interim,” she continued, appreciating Travis’s steady male presence, “we still have each other.”

  Contentment lit his eyes. “You’re right about that,” he said, picking up his cup.

  “So in regards to the reporter?” Holly asked.

  Travis downed the rest of his coffee and vowed, “Delilah Porter has already got all the story she’s going to get from me.”

  UNFORTUNATELY, TRAVIS SOON realized, wanting a situation to be over did not necessarily make it end.

  The TV piece on his and Holly’s four kids’ determination to find him a wife for Christmas, so his little girls would have a mommy, hit a chord with viewers. The station ran the piece again and again, and posted it on their Web site for viewers who still couldn’t get enough.

  Reporter Delilah Porter dug into his background and learned about his wife’s tragic death, his thriving business and his devotion to not only his little girls, but also to his attractive next-door neighbor’s twin sons. And she did a story on all that. It didn’t matter that Ms. Porter did not have their cooperation; she managed to get photos of all parties involved and cute anecdotes about what wonderful single-parent families they were from multiple other sources. That story, too, was aired many times.

  Other reporters—not to be outdone—called repeatedly, asking him to comment. As did one of the New York City based morning news programs.

  Travis refused all invitations. As did Holly.

  On Wednesday, the Fort Worth and Dallas newspapers asked him to comment. Again, he refused…so they ran their own versions of the story, and received an abundance of reader mail.

  On Thursday, the local radio stations got into the act. Thinking it might end the cacophony if he said something, Travis finally consented to a brief five-minute interview with a local radio host. Travis explained his situation and reiterated his belief that his children would let this idea of theirs go, if everyone else did the same. Listeners were enthralled.

  Fan mail started pouring in.

  Women were calling the office, calling his home, leaving messages, offering to solve his problems…and fulfill his little girls’ dreams.

  And that was nothing compared to the nonstop ribbing he got from the construction crews at One Trinity River Place….

  By the time they all arrived at Grady and Alexis McCabe’s for the annual potluck slash kid pajama party early Saturday evening, Travis had had enough unwanted attention to last him a lifetime.

  “Do you want to be the one to tell him?” Grady asked his wife, after the four preschoolers were settled in with the other kids in attendance. “Or should I?”

  Knowing Alexis worked for a professional matchmaking agency made Travis almost afraid to ask what he was talking about.

  “Foreverlove.com has been getting a lot of calls wanting to know if you’re one of our clients, and if not, how come,” Alexis said with a smile.

  Holly stiffened. Although why that should bother her, Travis didn’t know. She had laughed off all the mail he was getting. As well as the occasional letter she received, advising her either to snag him for herself, or be a real friend and get out of the way, so he could find a suitable mate.

  “But not to worry, Travis.” Alexis held up a reassuring palm. “I told them you’re not in the market just yet.”

  This observation made Holly even tenser, Travis noted.

  He watched her retreat into the adjacent family room, where the kids were all gathered around the big-screen TV, giggling at a movie about a little boy who had a Christmas calamity every five seconds, it seemed. She paused to talk to Dan’s eldest daughter, seventeen-year-old Ava.

  Travis turned to his four best male friends, all of whom were lounging around the kitchen, helping themselves to the collection of dips, chips, and hot and cold appetizers set out. “If anyone has any idea how I can get my daughters and Holly’s twins off this tangent, I’d like to hear it.”

  “Actually get married again?” Dan suggested, as the pregnant Emily Stayton took her place beside him.

  Although the two hadn’t set a wedding date yet, everyone in the group knew it wouldn’t be long before they did.

  “Travis doesn’t need to get married,” the devoted bachelor in the group, Nate Hutchinson, said. He angled his head at Holly. “Travis has all he needs in his best pal, living right next door, without the complications of wedded bliss.”

  Except sex, Travis thought. Ironically, he was so busy working and taking care of the kids he hadn’t had time to miss it—until he and Holly kissed. Now it was all he could think about.

  Alexis gave her husband a pointed look. “I think you fellas should back off,” she told Grady.

  “Travis should know how many eligible women want to be matched with him,” Grady retorted.

  “Unless some lady already has his heart,” Jack observed in amusement.

  Not again, Travis thought. “Et tu, Brute?” he said.

  Jack shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.” He grinned.

  Holly ambled back in.

  Travis gave everyone a look advising them to find something else to discuss, lest she be upset again. They complied, and the rest of the evening passed pleasantly.

  At eleven, the evening was winding down. Dan’s two teenagers had left several hours before and all the younger kids were sleeping soundly in kid-size bedrolls on the family room floor.

  Correctly reading Holly’s and Jack’s hesitation about leaving their kids for the night, Grady grinned. “They’re going to be fine, you know.”

  “You can come over and get them as soon as they wake up,” Dan said, with the experience of a father who had much older kids, and had been through all this before.

  Travis knew what Holly was thinking—that their kids had never slept over at anyone else’s home before, except each other’s.

  “They’ll be fine,” Alexis reiterated. “Grady and I are going to sleep on the pullout sofa. If anyone wakes up in the middle of the night, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Reluctantly, Holly tore herself away. Feeling oddly bereft himself, Travis followed her out to the car. “A portent of the future, hmm?” he murmured.

  “In my case—if Cl
iff prevails—maybe sooner than either of us realize,” Holly said glumly.

  Travis knew that suddenly dealing with the prospect of an emerging custody fight with her ex-husband had to be incredibly hard for Holly. Struggling for the right words, he saw her safely inside, then circled around the SUV and climbed behind the wheel. “Have you heard anything more from your ex?” he finally asked.

  Holly shook her head. “Just a note from his attorney, advising me that Cliff plans to bring some Christmas gifts for the kids, when he sees them.”

  Travis studied the sober lines of her mouth. “And you think that’s a bad sign?”

  Holly clamped her arms in front of her as if warding off a sudden chill. “I don’t know what it means,” she replied carefully. “I guess I’ll find out next week.”

  Travis turned up the temperature on the automatic thermostat. As a new blast of warmer air shot out of the vents, Holly shifted toward him, the shoulder harness pressed into the soft, womanly curves of her breast.

  Travis schooled himself not to notice the fact that she was chilled, even as he felt the blood pool low in his body.

  Holly raked her teeth across her bottom lip. “Do you think I should be worried?” she asked.

  Travis had an uneasy feeling, too, which was why he’d gone outside his own comfort zone, where his and Holly’s relationship was concerned, and surreptitiously asked private investigator Laura Tillman to find out what she could about the situation. Travis knew self-centered guys like Cliff usually didn’t act unless there was something in it for them. The question was what. If Cliff had gotten an ego boost from having sired two sons, Travis figured that Holly’s ex would have come around long before now. He could want Holly back…and Travis could certainly understand that. What he couldn’t fathom was how Cliff had ever let a woman as spectacular as Holly go in the first place. If she had been his wife…But she wasn’t—she was his best friend—and he needed to remember that.

  Aware the P.I. had promised to get back to him with results before this weekend was over, Travis turned into his driveway, cut the motor and reached over to squeeze Holly’s hand. He wished he could be honest with her now, but until there was something definitive to report, he was not going to worry Holly further. She had enough on her plate as it was just dealing with Christmas and the children.