Earbuds forgotten, Olivia’s hand snaked to Jill’s.
Grateful for the child’s touch, Olivia whispered in a voice far beyond her years, “It’s hard to lose someone we love.”
Edith greeted them in the foyer, the smell of roasted turkey clinging to her. “Jillian. I’m so glad you’re here. Come and help me with the plum sauce. I’m not doing something right.”
“You’re making plum sauce?” Jill’s eyes rimmed with tears again, and she blinked hard.
Edith’s hand flew to her mouth. “Isn’t that what you usually have, dear? I’m just sure that’s what Olivia read.”
“Now where would Liv read anything like that?” Gavin asked, his voice muffled from hanging up coats in the mudroom.
Edith eyed her son. “Where indeed?”
Jill swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Yes, that’s right. My mother made plum sauce every year until she died. After that, Anna and I kept the tradition going.”
Edith slid her arm through Jill’s. “Well, I’ve never made the dish before. Can you give me a hand? Maybe you can show me what I’m doing wrong.”
The kitchen exploded with the heady smell of cranberries, scalloped corn, sautéed onions with sage and garlic, and the unmistakable sweetness of a freshly baked apple pie.
“Did you run the plums through a food processor?” Jill asked. “I don’t use a recipe anymore but the ones I’ve seen never divulge that little trick. Makes a world of difference. And a touch of sweet sherry vinegar.”
“Wonderful, and now that you’re here,” Edith said, tying an apron around Jill’s waist, “you can give me a hand chopping the shallots. We always give Cook Thanksgiving off. She has a large family and I do love cooking at Thanksgiving.”
Baines appeared in the doorway. “My apologies for interrupting, madam.” He inclined his head. “Has the little miss been in here?”
Olivia burst into the kitchen behind Baines, shrieking, “He wasn’t supposed to start without me.”
Jill noted Olivi’s hot little face registered wounded indignation and tears trickled down her cheeks.
Baines made a decorous turn and held out his hand. “Perhaps you would allow me to stand in, just until Master Steven is finished with your father?”
Olivia wilted.
Baines picked her up and carried her out of the kitchen, the little girl’s head resting against the Baines’ massive shoulder.
Jill looked at Edith aware of how focused Olivia was on Master Steven. “Who is this mysterious Master Steven I’ve been hearing about?”
Edith leaned in and waved her hand over the plum sauce. “That smells wonderful, dear, and I can see the difference in consistency. I’m afraid I wouldn’t have gotten it right without you.” She untied Jill’s apron. “We’re just about done here. Why don’t you go and find Gavin—he’s in the music hall. He prefers to introduce you to Steven.”
Curiosity and dread warred within her, hen Edith called her back.
“Oh, by the way, dear.” The skin around the older woman’s eyes crinkled. “Did you know my son reads to Olivia from your children’s series every night? We’ve all enjoyed them so much.”
Jill didn’t know what to say. Tears pricked her eyes again. It was to be expected, she supposed. The first one since” she forced herself to break off the thought.
Edith waved a hand. “Yes, in fact, he’s got quite a collection of all your publications. That’s how Olivia knew about your Thanksgiving plum sauce tradition. Mention is on the back of one of the jacket covers.” She untied her apron and shook it out. “You go on and find Gavin now. We’ll be eating soon.”
Although it was only moments, Jill felt as though it took her forever to walk from the kitchen to the music hall.
As she entered, she saw a thin, red-haired young man sat at the concert grand. Gavin leaned over him wearing a crisp light blue shirt with the cuffs folded up over his elbows, and dark gray trousers.
Head bent over the music, Gavin pointed. “Yes, I can see why you took that approach but it doesn't work. A good effort, though, Steven. I'm glad to see you taking risks.” He stabbed at his hair, smoothing the stray hair away from his temple. “Now, about this other piece,” he continued, flattening another sheet of music in front of the younger man. “What you’ve done is a start but I think you can take it further. The piece is a little—predictable.”
Gavin straightened, caught her eye and stepped forward, smoothing down his sleeves and buttoning his cuffs. He offered a sweeping smile. “Jillian, I'd like you to meet Steven Graywulf. Steven is here from Scotland, completing his internship with me. Over the years, I've tutored a number of graduate students but Steven here, is by far the most promising. Steven, this is Dr. Jillian Cole, the leading researcher in the field of traumatic brain injury.”
Steven slid off the piano bench. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Cole.”
Jill alternated her gaze between Gavin, whose amused smile annoyed her, and Steven, whose high color hinted he appreciated the break from Gavin’s relentless critique.
She extended her hand. “Call me Jill, won’t you? I hope your studies are going well.”
Steven glanced at Gavin. “If we’re done here, I’ll go and find Liv. If I’m not careful, she’ll beat me to the next level. Then where will I be?” He grinned at them both and made a hasty exit.
Jill raised an inquiring eyebrow. “The next level?”
Gavin smiled, heavy-lidded. “Computer games. I couldn’t explain more than that, even if I tried.” He reached for her. “Come here, you. I’ve missed you.”
Jill wrapped her arms around his neck. He smelled familiar, musky, and sexy as hell. Still processing the fact Olivia was actually playing computer games with Steven, she murmured, “Master Steven is an intern, not a music tutor.”
Gavin nuzzled the side of her face. “I thought we covered this. And he’s not a master. Just Steven.”
“Why does Olivia call him Master Steven?”
“She’s got things a little confused. In Scotland, he’s Lord Graywulf’s heir, and so is known there as Master of Graywulf. Liv got it in her head that ‘master’ is part of his first name. I can’t seem to shake her of the habit.”
Jill looked into his eyes. “And she refers to him as her music tutor because…?”
Gavin shook his head. “That one I can’t answer. Want to join Olivia and Steven? They’ll be deep into one of their video games by now. Something about defeating an evil creature and his minions.”
“He’s patient with her?”
Gavin gathered up music and closed the top of the concert grand. “Very. And he claims she’s faster at the game than he is.”
How did that make any sense? Jill frowned. “That’s hard to believe, given her challenges.”
“I thought so, too but you should hear him howl when she beats him.” Gavin wrapped his arms around her and walked her over to the window, his thumbs stroked the outside curve of her breasts. “Don’t go all psychologist on me, Jillian, because I have a better idea. And the psychologist isn’t invited.”
From the doorway, Baines cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir. Dinner is served.”
Gavin nodded. “Thank you, Baines.” When the butler had gone, he turned her around and brushed his lips across hers. “I can think of something I’m hungrier for than food, but I guess that will have to wait. You’re quite beautiful today.”
Jill’s heart swelled, her knees weakened and she considered stepping back into the circle of his arms. She could almost hear herself saying, “dinner can wait.” Instead she smiled, and slid her hand into his. “Coming?”
Laden with exquisite food, the table offered the perfect place to enjoy easy banter full of inside jokes, mouthwatering tastes, and the joy of being included in a family whose love for one another triumphed over unimaginable misfortune. At times, she couldn’t distinguish Gavin’s laughter from his father’s, especially as they attempted to out-best each other’s stories.
“I
have one,” Olivia piped up. “There was this princess, and she could do amazing things for her age. But an evil queen gave her a pill. The next day, she woke up and couldn’t remember how to do anything.”
Jaw tight, Gavin set down his fork.
Jill swallowed hard, unable to tear her gaze from Gavin’s stricken expression.
Olivia continued, “She couldn’t even remember who she was.”
The imposing, mother-of-pearl faced grandfather clock that stood in the corner, chimed the hour. Other than that, a tense silence reigned as all gazes converged on Olivia.
“It made her sad. She used to sit at the piano and play and play and play. Instead of feeling better, she’d just get sadder because she couldn’t remember.” Olivia gulped and shouted, “She couldn’t remember.” She hopped off her chair and ran from the room screaming, “She couldn’t remember.”
Before Gavin could react, Steven leaped up and ran after her.
Gavin pushed back his chair.
Jill marveled at the way Edith, ever in control, reached over and patted his hand. “Let Steven go after her. In a few minutes, they’ll be playing video games and the upset will all be in the past.”
After dinner, Gavin suggested they take a walk, and led her upstairs, down the hall, and into his suite. “I’ve wanted to peel that dress off of you all day.”
She repressed the sudden thrill that swirled in her abdomen, sat down on one of the small sofas and leisurely crossed her legs. “This is not like any walk I’ve ever taken.”
He sat next to her and murmured, “I have a thing for buttons, you know.”
A feeling of expansiveness washed over her. “Is it the same thing you have for zippers, snaps, ties, and Velcro? And by ‘thing’ I assume you mean fetish?”
His gaze softened. “You know what I’m talking about?”
She tilted her head and nodded. “You enjoy unfastening clothing.”
“That’s it,” he agreed. “Can you help me, doc?”
She pushed him away with languid movements stifling a secret giggle and stretched her arms out along the back of the sofa, recrossing her legs. “I find often the patient already knows the answer. What do you think? Is there any hope for you?”
He leaned in close, but stopped short. “I think not,” he whispered “And, I’m also not convinced you’re wearing panties.”
Wide-eyed in anticipation of him exploring her body she asked, “Why would you say that?”
He ran his hand over her hip. “No panty line. Did you forget something this morning, Jillian?” His smile singed her skin.
“Why, Mr. Fairfield. Do you think I’d attend a family dinner with no panties?”
“Did you?” he asked, his hands resting on the curve of her hip.
She chuckled, but said nothing.
He straddled her, his face inches from hers. The warmth of his breath skated across her face as he spoke. “Shall I find out?”
She gripped the back of the sofa, her body a conflagration of sparks, waiting to feel his marauder-like hands.
He brushed her hair from her face, and spread it out across the top of the sofa. His tongue tasted her lips but when she opened for his kiss, he pulled away, inching her neckline lower. He kissed the valley between her breasts and softly hickeyied her shoulder.
“I don’t wear my panties there,” she informed him.
He chuckled. “You aren’t wearing much of a bra, either.” he said, as he caught the edge of her bra with his teeth and sucked her breast into his mouth, working her nipple. He released her nipple with a popping sound, grinned, tucked her back into her bra, smoothed her neckline into place, and straightened. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”
She shivered, her breath hitching in her throat.
He took one of her arms and slid up the long knit sleeve. He kissed the inside of her elbow, feeding on her skin as he followed her arm down, and sucked on her middle finger.
“Kiss me,” she invited, her body contorting in pleasure.
“I am kissing you.”
With her free hand, she touched her lips. “Here.”
He smiled, but continued to bite her fingers. Moments later, he released her fingers and knelt down by her feet to remove her high heels. He kissed her toes, her instep, and the backs of her ankles, working his way up to the inside of her knees. He stopped and stood, staring down at her. What was he contemplating? Her breath grew uneven as his gaze raked over her.
He pulled her to her feet and walked her over to the mirror. Standing behind her, he unclasped her top button and bared her shoulder. “God, you’re beautiful.” He loosened the next button and the next, and hooked his fingers through her bra straps, smoothing both shoulders bare.
She shivered, her body demanded more.
His hands moved to the buttons over her belly, unbuttoning them until he reached the hem. He spread her dress open, and smiled, pointing at her thong. “So this is why you have no panty lines.” He clapped her backside soundly and tugged. The skimpy thong gave way.
She gasped, then giggled.
“I rather liked the idea of you naked underneath, but a thong works, too.” He smoothed the soft mound between her legs and wiggled his eyebrows. “What a naughty, clever little minx you are,” he said, sliding his thumb beneath the protective lips of her sex. “You took advantage of the full-service pedicure, I see. You never cease to disappoint, love.” His eyes heated. “I approve.”
He spread her legs and looked without touching.
Under his stare, her body convulsed.
She stood naked, watching him stare at her in the mirror. Her nipples hardened, her stomach contracted. His gaze raked across her body leaving her more ready for him than she’d ever been.
His hands kneaded her neck, stroked her arms, and rested between her legs.
Heart pounding, her body writhed with the need to have him make love to her.
Instead, he picked her up and carried her to the bed where he stripped out of his clothes, tucked her up against his chest and rocked her, sliding his length back and forth between her legs.
After several moments, he stopped rocking and flipped over on top of her body. “In the Bentley when I said Thanksgiving is a time for family, and that you’re a part of ours, I’m not sure you understood what I meant. I’m in love with you, Jillian.”
He loved her! He brought his lips over hers and kissed her. His hard body found its way inside and his hands locked onto her backside, gripping her against him as he furrowed deeper, making her moan.
“I love you,” he said again, moving inside her for emphasis until he rowed them both over the edge like a waterfall pouring out into the river, far below…and beyond.
Chapter Twenty-Two
December came hard. The snows were heavy and the temperature dipped below zero more times than not. Jill’s fourth-floor office overlooked a charming, well-lit skating rink ever popular with skaters, no matter the temperature. She watched the skaters glide and twirl, run to the fire pit to warm themselves, and take long pulls from mugs of mulled wine, basking in the knowledge she had someone to skate with, too. Several times that month, she and Gavin skated while Olivia, whose balance issues made managing ice skates impossible, clapped from the sidelines.
Only a half-mile away, Jill spotted the lights of orchestra hall. Gavin had three concerts there that month. She’d been to each one. Caught up in the whirlwind of romance and new love, and working on arrangements for the fund-raiser gala with Edith, time passed quickly. Then, a few days before the holiday break, Olivia’s team brought to her attention some disturbing changes with Olivia who was beginning to demonstrate signs of deep frustration. But, they were unable to determine the source. They consulted Gavin, who reported surprise.
Over dinner, Jill followed up with him. “No clue as to why Olivia is experiencing a set back?”
“Are you sure it’s a set back? Could it be temporary? She often fluctuates.”
“Very true. Let’s keep an eye on her over the br
eak,” Jill suggested.
Gavin held her close. “You’re so good to us. Would you do this for your other students?”
Jill gave an inward sigh. The complications of becoming involved. Of course she was hyper-sensitive. She brushed her hair away from her face and silently vowed to relax—to stop borrowing trouble. “Well, if they were at a critical juncture, we’d keep a team member on watch, yes.”
“Do you think Liv’s at a critical juncture?”
“Hard to say. These things can be so elusive at times.”
“You’re on break. Liv’s on break.” He kissed her and looked into her eyes. “Let’s all enjoy the time off.”
When the doorbell rang Christmas Eve, Gavin entered without waiting for her to answer.
Jill glanced into the mirror. Tall boots, slim winter white skirt, snug-fitting leather vest, and hair down to her waist. She pointed to four suitcases.
With a shake of his head, he grinned and circled his arms around her. “I’m not falling for this again.”
She tried not to grin. “No? Come on. Which one?”
“None if you don’t get a move on.”
“Just one guess.”
“This is like a shell game. Which case will Jillian take?” He studied her and then swiveled his glance to the waiting luggage. “Okay, let me play armchair psychologist for a minute. Humans have a tendency to be creatures of habit, so I’m choosing the same one as last time.” He reached for the case, surprise streaking across his face when it flew up into the air.
She chuckled. “You would accuse me of being a creature of habit?”
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t just take this one and you can do without,” he muttered.
By the time they reached the Fairfield estate, dusk set in and snow fell in fat, wet clumps, clinging to everything. White-shaded candle lights dressed the long driveway in a warm, hospitable welcome, and suggested to all who approached that something very special was going on inside the house. Golden-white Christmas lights outlined the house and surrounding trees, and a giant star of the same golden-white lights hung suspended over the gently lit water garden, which must be heated just enough to keep it from freezing over.
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