Baby Under the Christmas Tree

by Teresa Carpenter

  “Shouldn’t that be my decision?”

  “Not when it’s my baggage that will hurt you. I won’t be responsible for putting you in Amber’s crosshairs. Or causing trouble for your career.”

  Feeling exposed and rejected, she pulled into herself. “Then there’s nothing more to say.”

  Holding on to her pride, she silently pleaded with him to go, her fingers crumpling the cardboard box where she gripped it, her hold on the box as tight as her hold on her slippery control.

  “Except goodbye.” He gruffly cleared his throat. “I can’t not say goodbye. Not with you.”

  “Max.”

  “I came for this.” He reached for her over the box, cupped her face and laid his lips on hers.

  The kiss was exquisitely tender with a little heat and a lot of promise. The kind of kiss you didn’t want to end because you liked where you were. And then it turned a little rough, a whole lot desperate.

  Finally he lifted his head and they both fought for air.

  He hadn’t released her and she felt the struggle in him, the way his body jerked as he fought his instincts when it came to her.

  She couldn’t look at him, wouldn’t watch him leave.

  “Goodbye.” He pressed a kiss to her bent head. And then he was gone.

  * * *

  “There. I think that does it.” Elle stepped back from the Christmas tree and gave it a once-over. Decked out in glittery snowflakes, hundreds of multicolored miniature lights and playful hockey ornaments, it shimmered in festive glory. “Perfect.”

  “Oh, my,” Deb declared with a laugh. “What fun. I’ve never thought of doing a themed tree. Where did you find all the little hockey players?”

  “From the gift shop at the arena,” Elle confessed. “And the plastic pucks and sticks, too. I printed the team pennants on my printer. They add a nice bit of color to the silver and purple bulbs.”

  “The Thunder colors,” Deb observed. “Very clever. Max is going to love it. He doesn’t do it for himself, but the year he was with us, he helped me with all the holiday decorating. Oh, he’d complain about being dragged into girl’s work, but I could tell he liked the hominess of it.”

  She turned to take in the rest of the house. Gesturing to the staircase draped in white lights, she said, “You’ve made the place festive with simple, elegant touches. The use of his team colors is different and brilliant.”

  Deb spun to Troy.

  “What do you think, Troy? Isn’t it pretty?”

  The boy sat playing in the portable crib they’d placed right in the middle of the living room so he could be a part of the decorating. At the sound of his name he stood and came to the side of the crib.

  “Ismas tee,” he said, his eyes as bright as the twinkling lights encircling the tree. “Pretty.”

  He held his arms up to Elle. Now they were finished decorating, she lifted him out, kissed his cheek. He was the reason she was here. She set him on his feet, and he immediately made for the tree.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” She swept him up again, settled him on her hip. She smiled at Deb. “From what Max told me, yours was the first place he was in that felt like home.”

  Deb dropped a box of purple bulbs, causing them to roll all over. “He told you that?” she asked from her knees.

  “He really does treasure you.” Elle bent to help gather balls and Troy wiggled free and chased after rolling ornaments. She didn’t really want to talk about Max but he was Deb’s favorite topic.

  “Oh dear, I know. I’m surprised he told you. He’s a very private man.”

  “Tell me about it. Getting him to agree to participate in team events is next to impossible. I knew he was a loner, thought it was mostly ego. I was shocked to see how humble he is.” She told Deb about the trip to the zoo.

  “He’s a good man.” Deb held the box out for Elle to put her bulbs in. “You should have seen him when he first came to us. He’d been on his own and on the streets for nearly a year. He was closed-mouthed and self-contained, but he soaked up the attention we gave him like sand absorbs water in the desert. It helped that he was the only child with us at the time.”

  Troy wandered over, took a bulb out of the box so he held one in each hand. Elle ruffled his hair.

  “I get the feeling his time on the streets was particularly ugly. He said that’s where he learned to fight.”

  “Yes.” Deb nodded. “I channeled all that anger into hockey. It was a perfect fit. I also introduced him to music. He lit up at the piano.”

  “I’ve heard him play. He’s lucky to have you in his life.”

  “And I’m lucky to have him in my life. He told me his foundation bought my ranch.”

  Elle froze. “He has a foundation?”

  “Yes, Safe Streets for Kids. He started it when he came back to San Diego. He’s planning to build some kind of sports facility. He hasn’t gone into any details yet. I’m just thrilled to see the ranch being used for a vital purpose again.”

  “He really is a special man, isn’t he?” Elle had misjudged him right from the beginning. Now she found it all too easy to believe he did everything he could to save kids from the mistakes he’d made. And how like him to keep it all hidden.

  Deb took Elle’s hands. “And it sounds like he’s found someone special in you. I’m so happy for you both.”

  “No. No, no,” Elle quickly corrected her. “We aren’t together.”

  “Oh. That’s a shame.” Deb squeezed her hands and considered Elle with wise eyes. “You should be.”

  * * *

  The Beast Hurt Me And Took My Baby

  The headline, along with a picture of a battered Amber, glared out of Elle’s laptop.

  Sick to her stomach with disgust, she copied the offensive shot and sent it off to Ray and Max, with the tag: the ugly has hit the fan.

  Then she dumped the rest of her cereal and raced to get ready for work. Forty minutes later she walked into headquarters and went straight to Ray’s office, then diverted to the conference room when she saw that was where the men were gathered.

  Hank and Jaden and several other players lingered in the hall outside the conference room. Obviously news had spread quickly.

  “Elle.” Hank stepped forward. “Tell Max we’ve got his back.”

  She nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat, touched by the team’s support of Max. He was so sure he was all alone. And he was so wrong.

  She hesitated for a heartbeat when she saw Max sitting there fresh from a winning series on the road. He’d chosen the game over her, but she realized it only made her more determined. Turning the knob, she stepped inside.

  All eyes swung to her.

  “Elle,” Ray spoke first. “I appreciated the early tag this morning, but you were removed from this case.”

  “I’ve been involved from the beginning. I can help.” Without waiting for permission, she walked around the table and took the only open seat. Right next to Max.

  The owner of the team, Carl Carpenter, stood at the front of the room with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

  “All assistance is welcome,” Carl boomed out in a powerful voice. “Tell me, Ms. Austin, what is your take on the situation?”

  “Amber has obviously invented a fraudulent beating to force Max’s hand in the custody issue of his son.”

  Carl pointed to the tabloid resting in the middle of the table. “So you don’t think this is real?”

  “Someone
may have hit her. It wasn’t Max.”

  “You sound very sure.”

  “I am. Max reserves his violence for the ice rink.”

  “Max—” Carl switched his attention to her left “—is that true?”

  Max shrugged. “I’ve already told you how we should handle this.”

  “We are not accepting your resignation.” Coach pounded the table. “Get that out of your head. We’re finally winning again. I need you. The fans need you. We’ve been getting positive feedback all week since the article on you and Troy came out in the Union Tribune.”

  “That was before Amber’s latest stunt. I knew this would get ugly, but I never conceived of her manufacturing a beating. I’m hurting the team by staying.”

  “Not you,” Elle corrected. “Amber. Has she contacted you?”

  “If you count the police on my doorstep at seven this morning as contact, then yeah, I’ve heard from her.” He didn’t look at Elle.

  She glanced at Ray. “No charges have been made yet.”

  “And they won’t,” Coach declared. “Max was in Los Angeles with the team.”

  “Amber contends he came to her house the night before last, threatened her to leave Troy alone and hit her when she defied him.” Ray outlined the official position against Max.

  “But the team didn’t get back from Los Angeles until last night.”

  “Exactly,” Coach punctuated Elle’s protest.

  “And we all know he could have driven down after the game and been back in L.A. in a matter of hours.” Ray exposed the obvious hole in that defense.

  “That’s not what happened,” Max stated. “So they won’t be able to prove it.”

  Knowing how he disliked explaining himself, Elle fought the urge to show sympathy. She was here for the team, and his resignation was not the answer.

  She clasped her hands together, her elbow brushing his suit sleeve.

  “We’re rehashing information.” Carl redirected the conversation. “Our focus needs to be public opinion. We’re here to decide what the team can do to help Max.”

  “I can have a press conference pulled together in two hours,” Ray put in. “I think we take the approach that Max was traveling with the team at the time of the alleged assault. That obviously Amber Williams is a disturbed individual, that she was known to leave the child in the care of others for extended periods of time and Max was right to remove his child from her care.”

  Elle wrote as he spoke, automatically making adjustments as she went.

  “Good, but not quite there.” Carl began to pace. “Motherhood is a sacred institution. We have to watch our step there. Women, especially single mothers, will identify with her.”

  “How about this,” Elle said then began to read. “‘The San Diego Thunder hockey association solidly stands behind their interim captain, Max Beasley, who was traveling with the team at the time of the alleged assault. Max recently learned Ms. Williams was leaving their child in the care of others for extended periods of time and, in the child’s best interest, exercised his court-appointed right to assume custody of his son. The team fully expects Max to be cleared of all allegations and supports his decision to protect his child to the best of his ability.’”

  “Excellent.” Ray nodded at Carl, who nodded back.

  “Sir.” Elle pushed her luck. “The players want to show their support, too. Perhaps we can have them standing behind Max during the press conference as a show of team solidarity?”

  Carl glanced up to the picture windows opening onto the hallway full of Thunder players. He nodded. “Outstanding idea, Elle. Anyone who wants to can participate.”

  For a brief instant Max squeezed her hand and then released her. She glanced at him, but he was focused on Ray.

  “We have a lot of public support, too. Most of what’s coming into our social-networking accounts is positive. We want to get our statement out while public opinion is on our side,” Ray directed. “Elle, you still need to stay away.”

  Carl’s phone rang and the room went silent as he answered. Elle crossed her fingers.

  Carl Carpenter’s stoic expression never changed. The call consisted mostly of long silences followed by acknowledging grunts. Finally he thanked the caller and disconnected.

  She was aware of Max straightening in his seat, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, ready for the news. Instinctively, she turned to look at him.

  “Breathe,” he said, even though his attention appeared to be totally on the owner.

  “That was my contact at the police department. It’s not final, but it’s doubtful charges will be brought against Max. They’ve been unable to find any record of him renting a car on the night in question, and security at the hotel has him going into his room at 11:08 p.m. and not coming out until 8:15 a.m. Plus you signed for room service at 7:37 a.m. The consideration is that your alibi stands up.”

  A hum of relief went through the room before Ray hopped into action.

  “Okay, let’s get the statement out to the press and set up the press conference as soon as possible. I want our support of Max known now. Hopefully it’ll offset negative speculation. I’ll prep Max.”

  “Thanks for your help, everyone,” Carl stated. “Now let’s put this one behind us so we can go back to winning games.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  YESTERDAY HAD BEEN Max’s idea of hell.

  Waking up to the police. The meeting at team headquarters with the owner. His life put on display and talked about. Defending himself to the media, to the world.

  How he hated being in the limelight.

  Most of all he hated Amber. She’d gone too far this time. Faking a beating, bringing him up on assault charges, was unforgivable. He wanted her out of his life. More, he wanted her out of Troy’s life.

  Well, it ended here. Ended now.

  Finding the address he sought, he parked and walked into the building. The colorful decorations and blooming poinsettia plants made him think of Elle. She’d turned his house into a glittering winter wonderland complete with a hockey-themed Christmas tree.

  Being on his own, he’d never bothered to get a tree. This was his first. Decorated specifically for him. Sentimental sap that he was, he loved it.

  He liked all the festive touches throughout the entire house. And when he’d found out Elle was responsible for most of it, he liked it even more.

  Until that moment, his house had simply been the place he currently lived in. Elle’s personal touches of Christmas magic gave him the best present ever. She’d given him a home.

  He came to a sudden stop in the middle of the lobby.

  It wasn’t the tree at all. He loved Elle.

  Life immediately shifted into place. Hope rose in him as the general sense of dissatisfaction he’d been living under disappeared. The past few days had been a revelation to him. The way the team supported him in the face of Amber’s lies, the players standing up with him as he addressed the public, hearing Donna take his side over her daughter’s on the TV news had all been powerful moments.

  The biggest thrill came from hearing Elle champion him. Her show of faith in him moved him to his core. That was love.

  Acknowledging the emotion made him realize she was the real reason he was here. His home wouldn’t be complete until she shared it with him.

  He moved forward with purpose.

  Moments later he was face-to-face with his nemesis. Amber sat back in a blac
k leather barrel chair flirting with his investigator, Kit Peters. Any evidence of her supposed assault was hidden behind an artful makeup job and oversize sunglasses.

  Just the sight of her turned his stomach.

  “Hey, lover.” Satisfaction dripped from her drawled greeting. “Ready to talk to me now?”

  Max ignored her. His attorney Harold Jones stood by the window. Max nodded to him before addressing Kit. “Are you taping?”

  “Yes. Have a seat and we’ll get started.”

  Max shook his head. He preferred to stand.

  “Taping?” Amber straightened in her seat, suddenly a little less blasé. “There will be no taping.”

  “I told you to bring your attorney.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “Right. More likely he dumped you after your allegations against me were proven false.”

  “I warned you I would fight for Troy.”

  “You don’t want him. You just want the income that comes with him.”

  “I deserve it. It’s hard work raising a kid.”

  “Except Donna has been the one raising him. You know how I know? He’s asked about Donna and spoken to her every day. He hasn’t asked for you.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It means everything to me. And if you’d been successful in getting me convicted of assault, I’d be in jail and you’d be gallivanting around again. Troy would have no one. I’m never going to let that happen.

  “This meeting is a bust.” Max glanced at Kit and Harold. “Thanks. Sorry to waste your time.” He turned to leave.

  “Hey,” she protested. “You can’t leave. We just got started.”

  “You’re a liar, a cheat and a fraud. No taping. No lawyer. No discussion. Kit, give the photos to the police.”

  “Wait.” Amber jumped to her feet. “What photos?”

  Max kept going.

  “I said wait.” She followed him to the door. But he wasn’t playing. “Okay, you can tape the conversation.”