by Jane Porter
It was Whitney’s first time meeting Trey but he was Troy’s twin and easy to recognize.
She shook hands with him and handed over Daisy, asking him to please take good care of her and make sure she stayed warm and had a good lunch, too. “She’s never done a lot of sledding,” Whitney cautioned him, “so maybe go with her the first couple of times, until she’s ready to sled on her own?”
Trey laughed. “You sound just like Cormac. He said the exact same thing, except he insisted I sled with her every time and not to let her go on her own.”
“She’s loved.”
“Yes, she is,” Trey agreed, putting his hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “And don’t worry. Nothing will happen to her. Not on my watch.”
*
Despite the heavy snow, which had closed local schools and delayed opening of many businesses, the Graff was a hub of activity as the lobby prepared for the Marietta Stroll’s annual gingerbread house competition. Long tables were set up around the Christmas tree and covered with dark green banquet cloths and then after lunch the first of the elaborate gingerbread houses began to arrive.
It was only December fourth, but it was already beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.
While waiting for Daisy to return, Whitney wandered around the lobby, admiring the gingerbread houses on display. She was inspecting a gingerbread house when Kris entered the hotel with his customary jingle walk.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted her. “Where is our girl?”
“Sledding with her uncle and aunt and cousin. She should be back soon, though.”
“I have something for you,” he said.
“A joke?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy cane and presented it to her. “Would you rather have a joke?”
She took the candy cane. “Can’t I have both?”
He chuckled. “What do you call a kid who doesn’t believe in Santa?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, tugging the cellophane from the candy.
“A rebel without a Claus.”
She laughed. “I like that one. I think it’s my favorite so far.”
“I have plenty more.”
“I don’t doubt it.” She fell into step, walking with him across the lobby to where he sat in his big gold chair with the backdrop of a dark red velvet curtain. “Can I ask you something, Kris?”
“I’ll answer if I can.”
“What does Daisy want for Christmas? What has she told you?”
He peered at her over the rim of his gold wire glasses. “Have you asked her?”
“Yes. And she said it’s a secret surprise.”
“Then I can’t say.”
“But Kris, if we don’t know what it is, how can we make sure we have it under the tree for her?”
“Well, maybe you can’t put it under the tree.”
“But you’ve promised her—”
“I didn’t promise her. I said I would help. There’s a difference.”
“I’m not sure a four-year-old understands the difference.”
He adjusted his big belt, settling it more comfortably over his broad middle and then tugged on each sleeve, making sure his red plush coat fit just so. “I think four-year-olds understand better than anyone that it takes faith. We talked about this before. Nothing good happens in this world without faith, hope, and love.”
And then his teenage helper elf in the green velvet coat with the green and white striped leggings appeared and he sat down in his chair.
Whitney walked away, not at all satisfied. She liked Kris, she did, but his answer was incredibly unsettling. She could see why Cormac was worried. She was worried now, too.
Chapter Thirteen
‡
Cormac still couldn’t return and Whitney stayed with Daisy again Friday night. They went to bed aware that tomorrow’s Marietta Stroll was in danger of being cancelled, something that had only happened once or twice in the fifty years, but when they woke, the sun was shining and late morning snow plows started clearing streets. By noon, all the shop owners on Main Street had shoveled the sidewalks in front of their stores.
It looked as if the Marietta Stroll was going to happen after all.
“Is Daddy ever coming back?” Daisy asked.
“Yes,” Whitney answered firmly, because of course Cormac would return. She was just hoping for Daisy’s sake he’d return tonight so he could do the Marietta Stroll, as Daisy couldn’t imagine Cormac not being there for tonight’s holiday festivities.
Cormac didn’t disappoint. He landed at the Bozeman airport late afternoon and reached the hotel just as it started to grow dark and all the colorful lights on Main Street turned on.
Whitney had Daisy already bundled up to go explore and they waited in the lobby, checking out the winners of the gingerbread competition while Cormac went upstairs to change and put on warmer clothes.
That night it felt like they walked miles, up and down Main Street more than once, checking out all the shops with their decorated windows, listening to carolers, getting a cup of cocoa from Copper Mountain Chocolates before heading to the courthouse so Daisy could go on the wagon ride with Trey and TJ. McKenna was off taking pictures tonight, the official photographer for tonight’s stroll and Cormac was happy to let Daisy go with Trey and TJ on the wagon.
“How was it in LA?” Whitney asked as the wagon pulled away.
“Interesting.” He hesitated. “Do you know who I met with in LA?”
She shook her head.
“Hartag Media,” he said.
She arched her eyebrows. That was interesting. She’d recommended he acquire Hartag Media a couple years ago but the price was too steep. “And?” she prodded.
“Something may happen.”
Her brows rose higher. “That’s good.”
“Can’t run something like that from here, though. And I can’t live there. I won’t live in LA. Or New York. I want Daisy raised here. Where else can you get all this?” he asked, gesturing to the colored lights of Main Street.
She opened her mouth then closed it. It wasn’t her business. It was his.
When the horse drawn wagon returned, Daisy jumped into Cormac’s arms and told him she was hungry.
“She didn’t eat much earlier,” Whitney said. “I think she was too excited.”
“Let’s eat then,” he said. He glanced at Whitney. “You’re coming.”
“Is that an invitation or a demand?”
“An invitation.”
“I accept. I’m starving.”
They crossed the street and entered the diner, which was quiet since everyone else in Marietta seemed to be out strolling up and down Main Street.
Cormac led the way to one of the booths lining the wall, and after peeling off his coat, he reached for hers and hung them both on a hook. “This is a good idea,” he said, sitting down next to Daisy. “I think all I’ve had today is coffee.”
The waitress came by with menus.
“Any specials?” Cormac asked hopefully.
“We had a lot of prime rib left over from last night so the cook’s been making huge French dips.”
“I’ll have one of those,” Cormac said, closing his menu.
“Me, too,” Whitney said, handing her menu over.
Daisy looked up at the waitress. “I want mac and cheese.”
“Got it.” The waitress wrote it all down and walked away.
Cormac leaned back in the booth and put his arm around Daisy, bringing her against his side. She snuggled in even closer. As he stroked her hair he looked across at Whitney. “Aren’t you a vegan?”
“A vegan? Me?” And then Whitney saw Cormac’s expression and groaned. “Oh, I see. You’re trying to make a joke.”
“Trying? You mean, succeeding.”
“Huh.” But she was smiling.
“I’m funny.”
“No.”
“I used to be.”
“Hmm,” she teased. “Maybe. But that was a long time ago.�
��
“Not that long ago. Because you just laughed.” His gray-green gaze met hers and held. “Twice.”
The warmth in his eyes made her go hot and then cold, and she was glad she was sitting. Her belly flip-flopped and her legs felt kind of weak.
Crazy that just looking at him could make her feel breathless. Crazy that even now he could still make her feel so much.
Whitney reached for her ice water and took a big gulp. “So,” she said.
“So,” he echoed.
Something in his voice caught her attention and she looked up, her eyes locking with his. He was looking at her hard, looking so closely that she felt naked, all of her wishes and dreams exposed. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. For a moment the past was gone, and they were here and the future spread before them where anything was possible.
“Thank you for taking such good care of Daisy,” he said, his voice deep, sincere.
“I loved it.” She glanced at Daisy who was struggling to stay awake. “She’s an amazing little girl.”
“She is,” he agreed. “But you’re pretty amazing, too. You make a pretty good pair.”
She struggled to smile. “I will miss her when I leave.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I do.”
“Because of your boyfriend?”
She grimaced, uncomfortable with her exaggeration. It felt like a fib in hindsight. She needed to be honest or else she’d feel guilty forever. “It’s not that serious between us,” she said lightly. “I shouldn’t have called him my boyfriend. Jason’s a friend and we’ve had a couple dates.”
Cormac’s expression eased. He was clearly amused by her confession. “But you told me—”
“I know what I told you. I think he would even like to be my boyfriend—”
“I am sure he would. You’re a great catch.”
“Thanks, boss.”
He laughed. “We do have a really odd relationship.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’d rather you tell me about your boyfriend that’s not a boyfriend. What’s his name?”
“Jason, and we’re not going to discuss him.”
Daisy was fast asleep now and Cormac peeled off his sweater, turning it into a pillow for her head.
Whitney tried not to stare at Cormac in fitted, thin T-shirt. His muscles popped everywhere. He looked good. Really good.
He glanced up suddenly, and he smiled that very lazy, sexy way he had of smiling while looking deep into her eyes, making her feel as if he’d just read her mind. “I see you, Alder.”
The air caught in her lungs. Her heart beat so hard it hurt, as if it were a freight train thundering in her chest. “I see you, too, Sheenan,” she said huskily, realizing in that moment she still loved him.
Then despairing in the next that she probably always would.
Somehow they got through dinner without Whitney having a heart attack. But it wasn’t easy eating when her body hummed and tingled.
This felt like a date. It wasn’t a date. They weren’t a couple. They couldn’t be a couple. She wasn’t staying. He only wanted her in Marietta because it’d be good for Daisy. And Sheenan Media. Cormac only wanted her because it was in his best interests, not because he loved her.
She had to remember that.
She also had to remember that Cormac was a man. He might send out a desire signal but his desire signal was about lust, not love. He’d be satisfied with a good, hot, sweaty session in bed, but hooking up with him would destroy her. She loved him too much for a hook-up. She loved him too much to even contemplate messing around…making love.
“So dare I ask how it’s going with the house?” She tried to distract herself with conversation while they waited for the dinner bill, needing relief from the intense physical energy arcing between them.
His expression darkened. “No.”
“That bad?”
“It’s not working out, no.” Even his tone was grim. “What have you heard?”
“Bits and pieces. Enough to know that it’s not quite gelling.”
“An understatement.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know if it’s the group dynamics or I’m just a complete ass, but we’re definitely having communication problems. Heath and I do fine, but Josie is not on the same wavelength, and things aren’t getting done and I’m incredibly frustrated.”
“Snapping at her isn’t going to help.”
“She doesn’t return my calls.”
“Probably because she’s afraid you’ll snap at her.”
“She needs to toughen up. She’s a professional. This is a job. I just want to get it done so Daisy can have Christmas in her new home.”
“From what I understand, Josie is scared to make a decision you won’t like. But you aren’t giving her enough direction so she understands what you do like.”
He growled his frustration, even as he took the bill from the waitress and handed the bill back along with a credit card. “I’m not a designer,” he said, turning his attention back to Whitney. “I’m trying to explain what I want, but she doesn’t get it.”
“So you’re getting short with her, which makes Heath short with you,” Whitney summed up.
“Pretty much.”
“So what are you trying to do?”
“It’s a big log cabin house. Everything is on a grand scale—I think you know I bought it before Daisy—and it needed to be made a little more kid friendly. But even with the basic safety fixes, it’s not right for Daisy. I thought with some design magic it could work—”
“And I’m sure it could.”
“But Josie is stuck and we’re running out of time.”
“But the house will be right for Daisy when you’re there. You are what make it home.” She smiled at him. “Don’t overthink it. Just give her some Daisy spaces…her own room…a pint size rocking chair in the family room…a cozy nook in the kitchen or somewhere close to your desk where she can curl up with her books and dolls and play while you work.”
“You make it sound easy. But I question every single decision Josie puts before me. Now I’m second-guessing myself and changing my mind and Heath says that we have pretty much run out of time. Heath said this morning it’s unlikely we’ll be in the house for Christmas now.”
“But you will get in there. It’ll happen.”
“I know.” He put his hand on the top of sleeping Daisy’s head, his expression gentling. “She’s just had so much change in her life and I really wanted to give her a true Montana Christmas, which means Christmas at home. The storybook girl, Madeline, might like Christmas at the Plaza, but I’d just as soon my little girl have Christmas in a real house. Our house.”
Cormac was doing a great job of tugging on her heart and making her care. It was dangerous to care too much, though. It was dangerous to become part of their plans.
She opened her mouth and then closed it. Don’t get involved, she told herself. Don’t. This was none of her business. Cormac had access to a great design team. Heath and Josie were really good. Cormac just had to let go and allow Heath and Josie to do their thing. But Cormac was a perfectionist and when it came to Daisy…
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, as Cormac stood and carefully picked up Daisy so she wouldn’t conk her head on the booth.
Whitney kicked herself even as the words came out of her mouth. She shouldn’t be offering, shouldn’t be inserting herself into Cormac’s personal life, but she was here in Marietta, and she had nine years’ experience in design and she had free time in the evenings and on weekends. “Tell me no. I won’t be offended—”
“Sure. Hand me her coat.”
She stood and together they eased Daisy’s coat back on and then Whitney held out Cormac’s jacket and helped him slide his arms in, one at a time.
“And yes,” he said. “Please. I could use your help on the house. Thank you. And since Bella is coming tomorrow to take Daisy to
a birthday party, why don’t I show you the place while Daisy is at the party?”
“I will under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You give me full control over the project.” She lifted a hand to stop him. “I’m not Josie and I’m not going to run everything by you and get your permission. I’m not going to fight with you and I most definitely won’t give you the chance to derail the plans—”
“Okay.”
“No. You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that now, but later you’ll change your mind and assert control—”
“Not this time.” His gaze locked with hers. “I want you. And I trust you. Christmas will be here in nineteen days and I’ve fired Josie and pissed Heath off. You are all I have but that’s all I need, because there is no one else I’d rather have on my team than you.”
Heat rushed through her making her cheeks burn. “You are really turning on the charm, aren’t you?”
“That’s not charm. Those are facts. But I can turn on the charm—”
“Not necessary. Just want to be clear on how this would work.”
“I’m clear. You’re the boss. I’m not. Even though it’s my house.” He caught her eye and gave her his crooked, sexy smile. “I give you my word, baby.”
Baby.
Her heart turned over and she had to gulp air to keep her focus. He’d used to call her baby, spearing his strong fingers through her hair and whispering the word against her lips, his green-gray eyes so intent and achingly sincere before his lips would cover hers. Just hearing that word on his lips sent a wave of longing through her. She missed him intensely and it was impossible to sit here, so close, and not feel desire…and hope. And yet in the next moment, she ruthlessly stamped both down. She couldn’t lose focus. She had to keep her priorities.
“What time should we plan on for tomorrow?” she asked, wishing she didn’t sound quite so breathless.
“I’ll pick you up at noon.”
Chapter Fourteen
