The Christmas Baby Bonus

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “Perhaps I can do that for you,” she said, still avoiding taking the baby.

  “It’s easier if I do it. I know exactly where it is and how to operate it. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

  “Fine,” she said, her irritation clear in her tone. “Be quick.”

  Piers watched as she nestled the baby against her, her movements sure and hinting of a physical memory that intrigued him. He liked seeing this side of her, even though she was so reluctant to display it.

  It didn’t take long to check the generator, which was housed in a small shed at the back of the house. Getting it going, however, took a little longer. In the end he’d had to pull his gloves off to get the job done. His fingers were turning white in reaction to the cold by the time he wrestled the shed door closed and reentered the house.

  He’d expected the house to be blazing with light and sound when he got back in but instead all he could hear was a gentle humming coming from the kitchen. He followed the sound and discovered Faye in the kitchen with the baby, one-handedly making up a bottle of formula for Casey while humming a little tune that seemed to hold the baby transfixed. The humming stopped the instant she saw him.

  “I thought you were going to be quick. Problems?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He glanced out into the main room. “No tree lights?”

  “I thought it best not to draw too much on the generator if we could avoid it,” Faye replied, ducking her head.

  He suspected her decision may have more to do with her unexplained and very obvious disdain of the festive season than with any need to conserve power. His backup generator could keep a small factory running, but he wasn’t about to argue.

  “Where were you planning to have Casey sleep tonight?” she asked, her back turned to him.

  “I hadn’t actually thought that far. I guess in the bed with me. He’ll be warmer that way, won’t he?”

  “There’s a lot of data against co-sleeping with a baby. To be honest, I think you’d do better to make him up a type of crib out of one of your dresser drawers or even a large cardboard box. You’ll need to fold up a blanket or several towels to make a firm mattress base and he’ll probably be okay with his knitted baby blanket over him. Your room should be warm enough with the central heat.”

  Piers couldn’t help it, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. She could have been quoting a baby care manual. How did she know this stuff?

  “Okay, I’ll get on it right away, but before I go I have to ask. How do you know these things?”

  She shrugged her slender shoulders beneath the overlarge sweater he’d given her. “It’s just common sense, really. By the way, I’ll make up an extra bottle for Casey in case he needs a night feeding. It’ll be in the fridge here.”

  “A night feeding?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “You really know absolutely nothing about babies, do you?”

  “Guilty as charged. They haven’t really been on my radar until now. Do you think it’s safe for me to look after him on my own tonight? Don’t you think it would be better if you—”

  “Oh, no, don’t involve me. I’m already doing more than I wanted to. Here.” She passed him the baby. “You feed him. I’ll go make up a bed for him in your room.”

  And before he could stop her, she did just that. Piers looked down at the solemn little boy in his arms.

  “We’re going to get to the bottom of it eventually, Casey, my boy. One way or another, I’m going to get through those layers she’s got built up around her.”

  Five

  The sun was barely up when Faye gave up all pretense of trying to sleep. All night her mind had raced over ways she could get out of this situation. By 3:00 a.m. she’d decided that, no matter the dent in her savings, she’d call a helicopter to come rescue her if necessary. Anything to get out of there. In the literally cold light of day that didn’t appear to be such a rational solution to her dilemma. After all, it wasn’t as if she was in an emergency situation.

  At least the storm had passed, she noted as she shoved her heavy drapes aside to expose a clear sky and a landscape blanketed in white. There was a tranquil stillness about it that had a calming effect on her weary nerves, right up until she heard the excited squawk of an infant followed by the low rumble that was Piers’s response.

  She had to admit that he’d stepped up to the plate pretty well last night. By the time she’d made up the makeshift crib in Piers’s room and returned downstairs, he’d competently fed and changed the baby. And later, when she’d instructed him on how to bathe Casey, he’d handled the slippery wee man with confidence and ease and no small amount of laughter. For the briefest moment she’d forgotten why she was even at the lodge and had caught herself on the verge of laughing with them. But she didn’t deserve that kind of happiness. Not after what she’d done to her own family.

  It was true, people said the crash hadn’t been her fault. But she had to live every day with her choices, which included pestering her beloved stepdad to let her drive home that Christmas Eve. Her mom had expressed her concern but Ellis had agreed with Faye, telling her mother the girl needed the experience on the icy roads. And now they were all gone. Her mom. Ellis. And her adorable baby brother.

  Tears burned at the backs of Faye’s eyes and she looked up at the ceiling, refusing to allow them to fall. She’d grieved. Oh, how she’d grieved. And she’d borne her punishment stoically these past years. Rising with each new dawn, putting one foot in front of the other. Doing what had to be done. And never letting anyone close.

  She turned from the window and her memories and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Thankfully, she’d be able to wear her own clothing today, but as she passed Piers’s neatly folded sweater on top of her dresser she couldn’t help but wistfully stroke the outline of the crooked snowman on its front.

  “What’s the matter with you, woman?” she said out loud. “You hate Christmas and you’re not in the least bit interested in Piers that way.”

  Liar.

  Her fingertips automatically rose to her lips as she remembered that kiss, but then she rubbed her fingers hard across them, as if by doing so she could somehow wipe away the physical recall her body seemed determined to hold on to. She turned on the shower and stripped off the T-shirt Piers had given her to sleep in. Hoping against hope that the symbolic action of peeling the last thing of his off her body would also remove any lingering ideas said body had about her boss at the same time.

  Now that the storm was gone, with any luck she’d be able to get away from there, and Piers and Casey, before she fell any deeper under their spell. But even the best laid plans seemed fated to go awry.

  As she crunched down the snow-covered private road to her car she was forced to accept that even in broad daylight the road remained impassable. In fact, she was darn lucky she’d escaped without serious injury, or worse.

  The tree could have struck her vehicle. She could have swerved off the driveway and down into the steep gully on the other side. The realization was sobering and left her shivering with more than just the cold as she opened the trunk of the SUV and pulled out her suitcase before trekking back up to the house.

  “I was beginning to think you’d decided to hike cross-country to get away from us,” Piers remarked laconically when she returned.

  “I thought about it,” she admitted. “I see we have cell phone reception now.”

  “Yes, I’ve called the authorities and requested assistance in removing the tree and getting your car towed. There are a few others in more extreme circumstances needing attention before us.”

  “And the police? Did you call them about Casey?”

  “I did. Again, not much anyone can do until they can get up to the house. I also called my lawyer to see where I stand legally with custody of Casey. Under the circumstances of his a
bandonment, they’re drawing up temporary guardianship papers.”

  “You’re not wasting any time,” Faye commented, not entirely sure how she felt about this version of her boss. “What if his mom changes her mind? It’s only been a day.”

  “I’ll cross that bridge if that happens.”

  * * *

  Over the next couple of days, if she wanted to get away from Piers’s interminable holiday spirit, she had to tuck herself away in her room to read or watch movies. Otherwise she’d find herself sticking around downstairs and watching Piers interact with the baby. It was enough to soften the hardest shell and, shred by shred, her carefully wrapped emotions were beginning to be exposed and she could feel herself actually wanting to spend time with the two males.

  Watching Piers fall in love with the baby was a wonder in itself. Sometimes she found it hard to believe that this was the same man who usually wore bespoke suits and steered a multibillion-dollar corporation to new successes and achievements each and every year. It was as if the world had shrunk and closed in around them—putting them in a cocoon where nothing and no one could interrupt.

  Piers’s comment a few days ago about heading away cross-country should be beginning to hold appeal. She’d kept her feelings wrapped up so tight for so long that the thought of being vulnerable to anyone was enough to make her hunt out a pair of snowshoes and find her way down the mountain. Except as each day passed, she found her desperation to get away growing less and less.

  One night, three days after the storm, Faye was preparing dinner when Piers joined her in the kitchen.

  “A glass of wine while you work?” he asked.

  “Sure, that would be nice,” she admitted.

  She’d avoided having anything to drink these past few days because she didn’t trust herself not to lower her barriers, or her inhibitions, should Piers try to kiss her again, but since that first night he hadn’t so much as laid a hand on her shoulder again.

  Piers poured them each a glass of red wine in tall, stemmed glasses and put hers next to her on the countertop.

  “Thank you,” she acknowledged and reached for the glass to take a sip.

  “What can I do to help you?”

  Piers leaned one hip against the counter and raised his glass to his lips. Faye found herself mesmerized by the action, his nearness making her feel as though she ought to back away. And yet she didn’t. Instead her eyes fixed on his mouth, on the faint glisten of moisture on his lips. That darn mistletoe was just to the right of him. All she had to do was to rise up on her toes and kiss him and that would be—

  Absolutely insanely stupid, she silently growled at herself as she reached for a knife to chop the vegetables she’d taken from the refrigerator earlier.

  “Nothing,” she snapped. “I’ve got this.”

  Piers’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You okay?”

  “Just cabin fever, I guess. Looking forward to getting out of here.”

  Even as she said the words she knew she was lying. Truth was, she had begun to enjoy this enforced idyll just a little too much. She had to get away before she lost all reason.

  “Look, why don’t you sit down? Let me finish making dinner. You sound a bit stressed.”

  “Stressed? You think I’m stressed? It’s all this doing nothing that’s driving me crazy,” Faye said on a strangled laugh. “Seriously, I don’t need you to pander to me.”

  “Everyone needs someone to pander to them from time to time.”

  “Not me,” she said resolutely and started to chop a carrot with more vigor than finesse.

  She stiffened as gentle hands closed over hers, as the warmth of Piers’s body surrounded her from behind.

  “Everyone,” he said firmly. “Now, go. Sit. Tell me what needs to be done and just watch me to make sure I don’t mess anything up, okay?”

  He picked up her wine, pushed the glass into her hand and steered her to a stool on the other side of the kitchen island.

  “So I’m guessing these need to be diced?” he asked, gesturing with the knife to the irregularly sized chunks of carrot.

  She nodded in surrender and took another sip of her wine.

  He followed her instructions to the letter and soon their meal was simmering on the stove top. Piers topped up their glasses, took a seat beside her and swiveled to face her.

  “Now, tell me what’s really bothering you. Why do you hate it here so much? Most people would give their right arm to be stranded with two gorgeous males for a few days.”

  “I’m not most people,” she said bluntly.

  “I noticed. Is there someone waiting for you at home? Is that what it is?”

  “No, there’s no one waiting for me at home.”

  No one. Not a pet. Not even a plant since she’d managed to kill off the maidenhair fern and the ficus she’d been given by one of her colleagues who’d jokingly said she needed something less inanimate than four walls to come home to each day.

  “Then what is it?”

  “This.” She gestured widely with one hand. “It just isn’t me, okay? I like California. I like sunshine. The beach. Dry roads.”

  “It’s always good to have some contrast in your life,” he commented, his face suddenly serious. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s Casey.”

  Faye let her shoulders slump. “I don’t hate him,” she said defensively.

  “But you don’t want anything to do with him.”

  “Look, even you, if you had the chance, would have run a mile from a baby a few days ago.”

  “True.” Piers nodded. “But I’m enjoying this time with him and with you more than I ever would have expected. C’mon, you have to admit it. Even you’ve enjoyed some of our time together.”

  She felt as if he’d backed her up against a corner and she had nowhere to go. “Look, this is an unusual situation for us both. Once you’re back in Santa Monica you’ll be back to your usual whirl of work, travel and women—no doubt in that order—and Casey will be tucked away to be someone else’s problem.”

  * * *

  “Wow, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Piers said, feeling a wave of defensiveness swell through his whole body.

  Her blunt assessment of his priorities angered him, he admitted, but he couldn’t deny she’d hit the nail very squarely on the head.

  “So you don’t think I’ll be a suitable parent to Casey?” he pressed, fighting to hold on to his temper.

  “To be honest, I think it would be a huge leap for you to learn to balance your existing lifestyle with caring for a child. Of course, it all seems so easy when you’re here. There’s nothing else for you to do all day other than look after him. But what about when you’re in negotiations in your next takeover and you’re working eighteen-hour days and he’s had his immunizations and he’s running a low fever and he wants you? What about when you’re attending a theater premiere in New York and he wakes with colic or he’s teething and grumpy and inconsolable? What about—”

  “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. I’m going to need help.”

  “You really haven’t thought this through, Piers. It’s going to take more than help,” Faye argued, putting air quotes around the last word. “There’s more to raising a child than feeding it and changing a diaper, and you can’t just expect to be there when it suits you and leave him to others when it doesn’t. It’s just not right or fair.”

  Piers wanted to argue with her, to shout her accusations down. But there was a ring of truth in her words that pricked his conscience and reminded him that the very upbringing he’d endured was likely the kind of upbringing he’d end up giving to Casey.

  For all that he wanted to raise Quin’s son as his own, and give him all the love that he and his brother had missed out on growing up, how could he continue to do what he d
id—live the life he led—and still give Casey the nurturing he would need? The little boy was only three and a half months old. There was a lifetime of commitment ahead. Could he really do that? Be the person Casey needed? Be everything his own parents had never been?

  His mom and dad had loved the attention that being parents of twins had brought them, but they’d left the basics of child rearing to a team of nannies and staff, and as soon as he and his brother were old enough they’d been shipped to boarding school. At least they’d always had each other. Who would Casey have?

  Piers felt a massive leaden weight of responsibility settle heavily on his shoulders. “You’re right.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, you’re right.” He turned the stem of his wineglass between his fingers and watched the ruby liquid inside the bowl spin around the sides of the glass. “I haven’t thought this through.”

  “What will you do then? Surrender Casey to child services?”

  “Absolutely not. He’s my responsibility. I will make sure he doesn’t want for anything and if I make a few mistakes along the way then I’m sure you’ll be there to remind me how things should be done.”

  “Me?” she squeaked.

  “Yes, you. You’re not planning to leave my employ anytime soon are you?”

  The question hung on the air between them.

  “Leave? No, why should I? But I’m not a nanny. I’m your assistant.”

  “And as such you can guide me in making sure I don’t work longer than I ought to and you can help me ensure that I employ the right people to help me care for Casey.”

  He looked into Faye’s blue-gray eyes, noticing for the first time the tiny silver striations that marked her irises. Realizing, too, that the thick black fringe of her eyelashes were her own and not the product of artifice created by some cosmetic manufacturer.

  Tension built in his gut. He needed her and it was daunting to admit it. She’d become such an integral part of his working life that he now found it difficult to imagine his days without her keeping his course running smooth. She did such an incredible job in the office, the idea of having her extend her reach even deeper into his personal sphere, as well, was enticing. But could he convince her to do it? Could he show her that he was serious about being a suitable parent for Casey and that he was equally serious about her, too?