Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: The Maverick's Thanksgiving BabyA Celebration ChristmasDr. Daddy's Perfect Christmas

by Brenda Harlen

  The sad thing was, her heart still wanted Cullen.

  She might have made a conscious decision to live with her eyes wide-open, but mending her heart would be a long, slow process. That was fine because once the kids were placed in a permanent home and she went back to her regular teaching job, she would have all the time in the world to put herself back together again.

  She feared, though, that all the parts might not fit back together the way they were before she met Cullen and the kids.

  Then again, she wasn’t the same person she was before meeting them.

  “Who wants to play Santa?” she asked in her cheeriest voice. All four kids raised their hands. “How about this? How about if each one of you gets to deliver a round of presents?”

  Megan stood. “And I get to go first because I’m the oldest.”

  Cullen set down his mug of coffee. “Actually before going by age, I think I’m the oldest. So I’ll go first.”

  Megan groaned, but she sat back down with her brother and sisters.

  Lily was glad that Cullen was giving out presents first.

  If he hadn’t gotten her anything, it would be less awkward for her to give him his present later.

  She didn’t give presents to get them. But they were in such flux right now that she wasn’t sure what she should do. She loved giving gifts. Actually she liked giving them even more than she enjoyed receiving them. So she had purchased the decanter and she’d wrapped it with the same love and care that she’d wrapped the other packages.

  Really, it was fine if he hadn’t gotten her anything.

  “I have a special present for everyone,” he said. “And I mean everyone.”

  The kids clapped their hands, giddy with anticipation.

  “How about if we start with Franklin?”

  “Huh?” George couldn’t hide his surprise. “Even Franklin gets a present?”

  The dog, who was lying next to Hannah, lifted his shaggy head at the sound of his name.

  “Yes,” said Cullen. “Even Franklin. His is outside in the backyard. Shall we go see it?”

  The kids, who were clad in their flannel Christmas pajamas—another gift from Lily—got to their feet and ran toward the back door.

  “Put your shoes and coats on,” Lily insisted. “It’s cold outside.”

  “Yes,” Cullen agreed. “Listen to Lily, please. It’s cold out there.”

  He even managed a nervous-looking smile.

  Good. The elephant wouldn’t be in the way today.

  That would be the best Christmas present.

  Once everyone had donned their coats, scarves and shoes, Cullen led the way out into the backyard, where a doghouse with a big red bow on it sat in the side yard.

  “Look what you got, Franklin,” cried Hannah. “It’s a house just for you.”

  It was nice, but it was an odd gift given the circumstances. But if Cullen had been able to transport it from the pet store or wherever he’d gotten it, then the kids would be able to transport it to their new home so Franklin could use it wherever they ended up.

  The thought made Lily sad, but she reframed her thoughts and decided that maybe it would be as though they were taking a piece of this home with them to their new home.

  “Okay, who should be next?” he asked, tapping his finger on his chin, pretending to put a lot of thought into the decision.

  The kids loved it. They jumped up and down, raising their hands and shouting, “Me! Me! Me!”

  “All of you can all go next,” he said. “But you have to follow me.”

  He marched them around to the other side of the house, where a large blue tarp covered a surprise.

  “And now if my lovely assistant, Lily, would be so gracious as to help me with the unveiling?”

  Lovely?

  At least he was playing nice. More than nice, actually. He was treating the kids quite wonderfully, and her heart swelled as it had gotten into the habit of doing whenever Cullen simply acted like himself.

  If he could only see himself through her eyes, he would see what a great father he would be.

  Once again, she reframed her thoughts. “I would be happy to help you, good sir.”

  The kids laughed at her exaggerated assistant impression.

  She went to the other end of the tarp and lifted the edge, just as Cullen was doing on his end.

  “On the count of three, please,” he said. “One, two, three!”

  Together they lifted the tarp with as much flourish as they could manage and revealed the six bicycles, complete with helmets, hidden underneath.

  Bicycles? He’d gotten them bicycles.

  And he’d gotten one for himself and her, too?

  There was more hooting and hollering from the kids as they scrambled over to choose their bikes.

  After the excitement settled, and all the kids were astride their respective bikes, George asked, “Will we be able to take our bikes and Franklin’s new house with us when we move in with our new family?”

  “Oh, George, buddy, I don’t think you should take the bikes anywhere else,” Cullen said.

  It broke Lily’s heart to watch the kids’ faces fall.

  Really? Couldn’t he have gotten them something a little less expensive or a little more portable than bikes if he didn’t want them to take them when they left?

  Rather than reframing, she chewed on this one for a moment, deciding that she would argue the case for the kids to take the bikes. What was he going to do with six bikes?

  Cullen must have noticed how fast the fun barometer had fallen, because he quickly added, “There’s a reason for that, and it’s the best Christmas present of all. Are you ready for it?”

  The kids found their smiles again, but they looked a little hesitant, still probably stuck on the part about not taking the bikes anywhere else.

  “Everybody gather around,” he said, motioning them toward him. “Come on. You can get back on the bikes later. This is important. So come on.”

  The kids complied, giving wistful looks to the bicycles as they dismounted and joined Cullen’s huddle. Lily hung back watching the bittersweet scene.

  “Is everyone here?” Cullen asked. He made a show of counting heads. “One, two, three, four, five. We’re missing someone. Who are we missing?”

  “Lily!” the kids shouted.

  “Lily,” Cullen repeated. “Lily, huddle up.”

  The way he smiled at her made her heart break all over again. Even so, she complied.

  Cullen made room for her in the circle next to him. He put his arm around her and pulled her in.

  She refused to think about how perfectly their bodies fit together, even at something playful like this.

  “Are you ready?” Cullen asked once everyone was present and accounted for. “I have fabulous news. I found a family for you, right here in Celebration.”

  The kids’ eyes grew large.

  “And we can all stay together?” Megan asked, concern clouding her blue eyes.

  “Absolutely,” said Cullen. “Because you are all going to stay right here. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

  The kids jumped up and down and clapped their hands, cheering even louder than before.

  Lily gasped and clapped and cheered right along with them.

  When? What? When had he decided to do a complete one-eighty? The last time they’d talked about it... Well, he wouldn’t even talk about it. But it didn’t matter; she was so happy for him and the kids. She tried not to let herself dwell on what it meant for the two of them and their relationship. Still, she couldn’t help wondering.

  After the excitement died down, and they managed to drag the kids away from the cold and from their new bikes, with the promise of an after-dinner bike ride, a completely diff
erent thought struck Lily.

  Before they reconvened around the Christmas tree, Lily said, “I’m so happy for you and the kids. Have you given any thought about where they’ll go to school? If you send them to Brighton Academy, I’d be happy to help you take them to and from school. But I just need to make sure that you realize I’m going back to work after the first of the year. I can’t be your full-time nanny.”

  Cullen reached out and ran a finger over her bottom lip. “I don’t want you to be the nanny. I want you to be my wife.”

  Lily blinked once. Then twice. Unsure if she’d heard him right. “Cullen?”

  “I realize this is sudden and I’m hoping you don’t think I got carried away. I probably should’ve talked to you about this before telling the kids—”

  “No,” she said. “This is the most wonderful Christmas present you could’ve given them. You’ve given them a home, Cullen.”

  Her eyes welled with tears from the beauty of it all.

  “I love you, Lily. You and the kids are the only real family I’ve ever known. It took a while for me to realize it, but I can’t imagine living another day without you.”

  He told her about the call he’d gotten from Cameron Brady. “After talking to him and facing the prospect of splitting the kids up and them not getting the chance to grow up together, I just couldn’t do it. It all became crystal clear. The kids had to stay with me. And there’s one more thing.”

  He took her hand and led her into the living room, where the kids were gathered around the Christmas tree.

  “Lily gets the next present,” he said. He reached down and pulled a small box from under the tree skirt. Holding her hand, he got down on one knee and presented the box to her.

  “Lily Palmer, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  “Please say yes,” said Bridget. “Then you can be our mommy rather than our nanny.”

  Lily was so overcome with emotion, she was stunned speechless. Cullen must’ve mistaken the look on her face for hesitation because he said, “Kids, why don’t you go out and look at your new bikes for a few moments? Then after you come back in, we’ll finish opening presents.”

  The kids ran to the back door.

  Lily finally found her voice. “You didn’t have to send them outside.”

  “Yes, I did. I need you to know that I love you. I want to marry you because I want a life with you, not just because you would be a convenient nanny for the kids. However, when I decided to adopt them, I made the decision to commit fully to them, too.

  “I wanted to make a big gesture so that you know how much you mean to me. I’m willing to fight for you to make you stay. But I didn’t realize how daunting this all must be for you. If you need time to think about it, I understand.”

  “Cullen, are you trying to talk me into marrying you or are you trying to talk me out of it?”

  “No. Neither. I mean, yes. I would be the happiest man in the world if you would marry me.”

  “Yes. My answer is yes. Because I can’t imagine living a day without you, either. All of you.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless.

  “Let’s go get the kids,” he said.

  When they were all together around the tree, he got down on one knee again and took her hand. “I want this to be right. So, I’m going to ask again. Will you do me the great honor of being my wife?”

  “Yes! That would make me the happiest woman in the world.”

  Cullen took the ring from the box—a gorgeous round solitaire that winked in the light of the Christmas tree—and slipped it on her finger. It fit perfectly. Just like her new family.

  Before Cullen could get to his feet, George sneaked up between him and Lily and held a piece of mistletoe between them.

  “Now you have to kiss,” Megan said, jumping up and down, clapping her hands. “If you don’t, you’ll be breaking the rules of Christmas.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from SANTA’S PLAYBOOK by Karen Templeton

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  Chapter One

  Today would have been his sixteenth anniversary.

  Only half hearing the kids’ thudding and slamming and yelling from downstairs, Ethan Noble glanced out his bedroom window, where a pair of chattering squirrels chased each other through an oak tree, the bare branches thickly webbed against a pale November sky. It’d been cold and windy that day, too, the mottled clouds occasionally spitting on everybody’s windshields as they made their way to All Saints.

  But nobody’d cared. About the weather, about the indisputable fact that Merri’s stomach bulged a little underneath her high-waisted wedding dress. So things’d happened slightly out of order. Since it’d all worked out like they’d always planned anyway, what difference did it make—?

  His cell buzzed—an incoming text message. Only one person who’d call this early. And for only one reason. Ethan scooped the phone off his nightstand.

  Thinking of you.

  If anyone would understand what he was feeling today it’d be the man who’d adopted Ethan when he was a toddler. Also a widower for some years now, Preston Noble had set an example of strength and loyalty and fairness that Ethan could only hope to emulate, especially as a parent. And his father had adored Merri....

  God, she’d been beautiful. And so fricking happy. Same as he’d been, even if Juliette’s precipitous appearance hadn’t been in the playbook. Merri, though... She’d been a part of his playbook since they were fifteen.

  Juliette’s age, he thought as his daughter appeared in the doorway, her wavy, warm brown hair streaked with some god-awful color. At least it was only chalk, it washed out, but still. Lime-green?

  “Um...the others had breakfast, sorta. Cereal, anyway. So...I’m ready to go—?”

  “Sure,” Ethan said, smiling. “We’re good.”

  Jules came over, standing on tiptoe to give him a hug, a peck on his scratchy cheek. Shaving was strictly optional on the weekends. Then she released him, eyes full of concern, and Ethan’s stung. He didn’t make an issue of the anniversary, so the younger kids were oblivious. But Jules... She knew. In fact, she already had her eye on Merri’s wedding dress, packed up safe in the special heirloom box in Ethan’s closet. Never mind she was already three inches taller than her mother.

  “You know, I don’t have to go—”

  “It’s only another Saturday, honey. So get outta here,” he said in an exaggerated Jersey accent. “Do your mom proud, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, and started off, only to spin around at the door. “I’ll do a real breakfast when I get back. How’s that?”

  “Whatever,” Ethan said, loving her so much it hurt. And not only because she was the spitting image of Merri, except for her eyes, more green-blue than purple-blue. But because he’d look at her and think, How’d I luck out to get one this good?

  Unlike the twins, he thought on a brief chuckle as the boys bellowed downstairs. Then Isabella had arrived, a surprise after a six-year dry spell, to more than outshine her brothers in the Tasmanian devil department—

  Briefly, rese
ntment stabbed that his youngest daughter would never know her mother.

  But like always, he shrugged off the memories, the self-pity and anger and—even after all this time—the disbelief as he slowly descended the stairs, his palm lightly raking the dark wood banister’s numerous dings and gouges that long preceded his and Merri’s buying the house four blocks from the high school, right after the twins were born. At the bottom he flexed his knee, willing the ache to subside: coaching peewee football was a lot more physical than high school varsity.

  He’d no sooner reached the kitchen than the three remaining kids accosted him about a dozen things needing his immediate attention—hell, even the dog whined to go outside. But Ethan found the bombardment comforting, even reassuring, in its life-as-usual normalcy. So, as he let out the dog and returned the kids’ verbal volleys and poured more milk for Bella and double-checked the schedule on the fridge so they wouldn’t be late for the twins’ game, he gave silent thanks for the day-to-day craziness that kept him sane.

  That kept him focused, not on what he’d lost, but on what he still had.

  Even when his gaze caught, prominently displayed on the family room wall twenty feet beyond the kitchen, the wedding portrait of those two crazy-in-love twenty-two-year-olds, grinning like they had all the time in the world to figure life out.

  Happy anniversary, babe, he silently wished the only woman he’d ever loved.

  * * *

  Ancient floorboards creaked underfoot in the overheated Queen Anne as Claire Jacobs methodically assessed the leavings from someone’s life. She yanked off her heavy knit hat, shaking her curls free. Poodle hair, her mother had called it. Smiling, Claire lifted a lovely cut-glass bowl to check the price. Only to nearly drop it. This was an estate sale, for cripes’ sake. Not Sotheby’s.

  As if reading her mind, some prissy old dude in a tweed jacket squinted at her from several feet away. Ignoring him, Claire replaced the bowl and glanced around at the jumble of furniture and accessories and tchotchkes, all moping like rejected props from Mad Men. And for this she’d dragged her butt out of bed on one of the few mornings she could actually sleep in—?