Harlequin Superromance November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Christmas at the Cove\Navy Christmas\Until She Met Daniel (3 page)

The train shrieked to a stop and the gray evening light turned dark under the shadow of the platform’s metal lattice overhang. Passengers stood to retrieve cases and bags, but Carrie remained stock-still in her seat.

It was six days before Christmas. She’d find Scott, tell him about Belle and if he reacted in any way she couldn’t handle, she’d get the first possible train out of there. Everything would be fine. It was nothing more than a case of ripping off the Band-Aid and exposing her open wound to the air so it could start to heal over. Yes, she’d been selfish in her decision-making as far as Scott was concerned, and even though Gerard’s sudden death had rocked her soul and broken her heart, she was stronger than ever before. She knew her heart and mind, made her own decisions and molded her own destiny. The first step was making this the last Christmas she kept her secret hidden.

The New Year would be a different year for her, and possibly Scott.

Carrie shook off her melancholy and pushed to her feet, forcing her chin high. She heaved her case from the rack and purposefully headed toward the nearest exit.

She was in Templeton, but this time she was all grown up, her naivety well and truly quashed. The woman Scott had known was gone and now the mother of his child stood in her place. There would be no racing heart and pumping blood upon sight of him. No instantaneous need to have him touch her, kiss her and take her under again and again until she couldn’t breathe.

This time, she’d be entirely in control.

* * *

S
COTT
W
ALKER
SNATCHED
a rag from the engine of the car and wiped his grease-smothered hands. He stared toward the open double doors of his garage and wandered closer. The sleet came down harder than when he’d disappeared under the car’s hood half an hour before. He grimaced.

Less than a week to Christmas and he had yet to buy a single present for his mum and three younger sisters. If he didn’t sort something out soon, they’d undoubtedly team together and strip him naked before working him into the ass of the Christmas Day turkey.

Then there were the women he’d taken out over the last few weeks...

Damn. He was stuffing whichever way he looked at it. To men, a few dates meant a nice time and a little kissing and flirting. To women, a few dates often meant a hell of a lot more. Guilt slithered over his shoulders and he steadfastly shook it off. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Honesty was his steadfast priority and he’d been careful his entire life not to promise a woman something he couldn’t deliver.

He’d never cheated nor left a woman’s bed without a kiss and his number, should she ever need to call. He enjoyed a busy social life and worked on plenty of cars that belonged to the women he’d dated after they amicably went their separate ways. He might be considered a bit of a rogue around town...but he wasn’t a liar, and the women he dated knew that. Scott clenched his jaw. Or at least, most of them did.

Wandering back to the car, he shook off the niggling irritation over the split with one particular ex and stuffed the oily rag in his back pocket. He planted his hands on his hips, surveying his completed handiwork. The car was now running like a dream and he’d cleaned it all down as well as topped off the oil and water.

Slamming the hood closed, he strolled around the other two cars waiting to be serviced before ascending a set of iron steps to his office. He closed the door and headed for the small fridge. He pulled out a beer and snapped off the top. Taking a long slug, he strode to his desk, collapsed into the chair and lifted his booted feet onto the desktop, crossing them at the ankles.

The cold beer slid welcome down his throat as thoughts of what he had planned for the next year filtered into his mind. He’d worked long and hard, bought the garage and made it enough of a success he would be bidding on an auction for garage number two in the New Year. He smiled. He was on his way.

Financially stable and continuing to provide for his family, he found life was good and settled, just as he planned. He took another drink. Even though he was nothing like his AWOL father, he couldn’t deny the thought of relationships, marriage and babies sent him running for cover.

That didn’t mean he would up and leave his family anytime soon. He was just fine and dandy living his life single and on his terms. Ignoring the ache in his chest, Scott took another pull on his beer.

The fact remained he still avoided serious relationships like his life depended on it. He couldn’t go there even if he found a woman he wanted. Not until he was ready to be a father and a provider and, by God, he wasn’t ready for either yet. There had been one woman that made him think he’d risk everything he held dear to be with her forever.

Forever lasted less than a few days before she disappeared out of his life again.

Scott took another drink. So he’d done his duty and continued to focus on looking after his mother and sisters as he had for the seven years before that fantastic week. He couldn’t deny his blood pumped with adrenaline, pulsed with a need for excitement and adventure...even some good old-fashioned romance from time to time, but he wouldn’t do that to himself, or a woman, until he was sure they’d both be around for the long haul.

The tension that knotted in his gut when he considered a committed relationship told him all too clearly he was nowhere near ready.

Scott hefted his feet from the desk and approached the office window. His Benelli motorbike was parked near the entrance of the garage, ready and waiting, primed to within an inch of her metallic life. Every time he revved her up, it was as though the bike urged him to just get the hell out of Templeton and onto the open road.

“No can do, sweetheart. No can do.” The weight of his familial obligations pressed down on his chest and Scott drained his beer.

He tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin and whipped his leather jacket from the back of his chair. He shrugged it on, snatched his keys from inside the top drawer of his desk and strode toward the door. He locked it behind him and hurried down the steps, eagerly approaching his bike.

His heart pumped with anticipation for the freedom he felt whenever he rode her. He kicked the machine off its stand and wheeled it into the yard. He narrowed his eyes to look at the jet-black sky. Rain spattered his face. The gathering clouds would soon cover any stars that dared to appear when the mid-December temperatures slowly edged toward freezing.

He took his helmet from the box at the rear of his bike, pulled it on and straddled his favorite female. He gunned the engine and satisfaction roared through him as the powerful bike ignited his adrenaline and need for speed. Snapping down his helmet’s black visor, he accelerated onto the road toward Templeton’s town center.

He eased off the gas as he merged with the chaotic holiday traffic crawling along High Street. Colored fairy lights danced across his vision and he glanced toward the decorated shops on either side of him. The bustling summer season felt like an imagined memory. The Templeton shop owners were nothing if not resourceful, and each year the shops that kept the tourists happy with little pails and shovels in summer kept the residents happy at Christmastime with an array of gifts, original artwork and knickknacks only a woman needed.

Knowing he had to do something in the way of appeasing his coven of female relations, Scott reluctantly pulled into a parking space outside one of the shops. Cutting the engine, he slid off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair. He glanced toward a latticed window donning a particularly festive display and grimaced. Christmas was about time with family, laughing and joking, while consuming far too much food and beer. It wasn’t about sparkly red baubles, dancing reindeer or plastic Santas clutching their juddering bellies.

Get your ass in there and get this done, Walker.
He swung off the bike and stowed his helmet.

Pocketing his keys, he took a deep breath and purposefully marched toward the shop. He raised his hand to push the door when it swung abruptly open. Upon sight of the woman’s long blond hair and hourglass figure trussed up in a fur-collared winter coat, he stepped back and waved his hand to the side in a theatrical gesture of gallantry. She barely glanced at him as she continued to coo and chatter into the cell phone glued to her ear, but he saw enough of her pretty features to cause his entire body to freeze and his grin to vanish.

Her soft floral scent whispered beneath his nostrils and her mumbled “thank you” seeped into his ears, burrowing deep into his mind. She hurried away along the street. Scott stared after her, his heart a granite rock in the center of his chest. That hair. That figure.

He swallowed. The short length of her coat showcased stocking-covered, shapely calves that he’d never forgotten. He couldn’t be mistaken. It was her.

He released his held breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Not now. Not after all this time...

CHAPTER TWO

T
HE
C
HRISTIE
H
OTEL
was wonderfully, quintessentially English. As a lifelong lover of all things Agatha Christie, Carrie had fallen in love the moment she walked into the Art Deco lobby earlier that evening. Unable to resist her producer’s habit of people-watching, she’d happily taken the key from the receptionist, dumped her case—after a little squeal of nostalgic satisfaction at the bedroom’s decor—and hurried back downstairs.

Now, as she stood in the hotel’s lobby, she released her held breath on an appreciative sigh. A gorgeous ruby-red carpet stretched out in front of her, leading to the closed beveled-glass, creamy-white doors of the bar at the far end. On either side of her, dual chairs were placed around low tables where people sat and chatted over a glass of wine or brandy. Plinths holding huge floral cascades of every imaginable color boosted the décor, the gilded mirrors reflecting the light in prisms around the vast space.

When her gaze travelled the height and breadth of the gloriously lit Christmas tree in the very center of the lobby, all thoughts of the dreaded task of tracking down Scott momentarily vanished. As she wandered closer, Carrie delighted in the exquisite 1930s ornaments and trinkets overflowing from its branches. She smiled, wishing for a sleek satin evening gown, and strolled toward the bar.

Despite being a habitual single-bottle-of-beer kind of girl, tonight she’d order a dry martini, just for the hell of it.

She slid onto a vacant barstool. The bartender, dressed in a black tuxedo, white dress shirt and bow tie, was young, good-looking and currently serving an elderly couple at the end of the bar. Carrie couldn’t wipe her smile as she stared around the room. The subtle light emanating from old-fashioned lanterns cast the intimate space in a soft amber glow; the dark wood paneling, bar and stools added warmth and security. The open-topped, pristine-white piano in the far corner was the cherry to her visual cake. Heavenly.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

The bartender’s gaze darted in quick time from her face to the V of her sweater, but Carrie shook off the threat of annoyance, determined to wallow in the beauty surrounding her awhile longer. She forced a friendly smile. “Hi. Could I have a dry martini, please?”

His green eyes glinted with flirtation. “Coming right up.”

While he mixed her drink, Carrie swiveled around on her seat, her imagination on perpetual overdrive. Each and every person relaxing in the bar served as a potential character in a future TV project.

“One martini, as requested.”

She dragged her gaze from a man nearing eighty, and the woman on his arm who looked barely out of college, to face the bartender. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned and the glint in his eyes grew brighter.

Carrie lifted the elegant cocktail glass and took a delicate sip. “Mmm...that’s lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So...” He planted his hands on the bar and leaned closer. “Are you in the Cove visiting family for the holidays?”

She slowly replaced her glass on its coaster as wariness skittered over her skin. The less people knew about her, the easier her escape from Templeton would be. She cleared her throat and concentrated on the olive in her drink. “I’m hoping to catch up with an acquaintance. I don’t plan on being here for Christmas.”

“I see.”

She met his eyes and he lifted an eyebrow, his intense gaze roaming over her face. “Does this acquaintance know you’re here?”

She shook her head. “It’s a surprise.”

“A man, by any chance?”

Is that really any of your business?
Carrie nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Disappointment flickered across his face. “Damn, that’s my hopes dashed, then.”

Carrie laughed and wiggled her left hand, showing him her wedding band, hoping the bartender would change the subject. No such luck.

“Ah, okay. Is the person you’re visiting anyone I might know?”

The lighter tone of his voice indicated his cooling flirtation as he wandered a few feet away and took some discarded glasses from the bar to stack in the washer. Feeling suddenly indecisive, Carrie studied his profile as he concentrated on his task. Her intention had been to spend an hour soaking up the nostalgic atmosphere and then head to bed so she was as refreshed as possible in the morning to start her task of finding Scott. However, putting out feelers on who he was today could prove useful.

Deciding this was too good an opportunity to waste, she sipped her drink and contemplated her next move. She guessed the bartender to be in his early twenties, probably five or six years younger than Scott. The likelihood they hung out in the same bar or place was highly probable. She hesitated. Of course, there could be trouble if the bartender saw Scott before Carrie did. Scott’s knowing she was in town and asking questions about him could easily start things off on completely the wrong foot.

She inhaled a long breath and took a leap of faith. “His name’s Scott.”

“Scott who?”

“Walker.”

Interest piqued in his gaze and he gave a slow, knowing smile. “Right.”

A flash of irritation rippled through her and Carrie quickly quashed it. How could she get mad at the implication she was a woman chasing after a past lover if in reality that’s exactly what she was? She lowered her glass. “Do you know him?”

He slammed the washer door and flicked a switch. The muted rush of running water flowed between them. He smiled and stood directly in front of her. “You know, there isn’t a woman this side of Templeton who doesn’t keep tabs on Scott. You’ll have to fight to get to the front of the queue. Not that I’ve known the guy to ever get involved with a married woman.”

Carrie glared. “And neither would I have an affair.”

The barman at least had the decency to blush. “Right. Sorry.”

“I assume you’re telling me our mutual friend likes the ladies...as long as they’re single, right?”

He grinned. “I think it’s more of a case of the ladies liking Scott, but the guy’s only human and he doesn’t turn down a good time.”

Carrie fought a scowl as her stomach knotted with unmistakable disappointment. So Scott was the man she really hoped he wouldn’t be...a man who loved them and left them. A man who most likely hadn’t lingered over their week together as she had. How could she have thought anything other than sex was on his mind during the passionate, frenzied, entirely erotic time they spent together? How could she have been so stupid to even contemplate the possibility there could have been more between them?

She swallowed. “How well do you know him?”

He shrugged. “Well enough.”

“So his reputation precedes him?”

“Something like that.”

Irritation hummed through Carrie as she took another fortifying sip of her martini. So the man who fathered her child was a player. Perfect. Despite giving herself to him on a plate three years ago, a small part of her still wanted to believe she had Scott all wrong and their time together was as much a life-changing moment for him as it was her.

Had she imagined the soft fascination she’d seen in his eyes when he looked at her? Had she really been wrong in assuming there was nowhere else he’d rather be than with her...just as she had felt about him?

Shame infused her and Carrie inhaled a deep breath, dragging up her unending tenacity. Everything would work out for the best. Belle’s beautiful face filled her mind’s eye. It had to.

She studied the bartender as he moved back and forth behind the bar, and narrowed her eyes. She cleared her throat. “So, Scott is still in Templeton?”

He came toward her and planted his hands on the bar. “If we’re talking about Scott Walker with dark hair, works out, has a smile that makes women weak at the damn knees because he’s got that whole miserable, broody thing going on...”

Carrie smiled. “Yep, that sounds like him.”

The bartender grinned. “So, you go in for misery rather than mirth, huh?”

“I’m not in for either right now. I’m in town for a few days, so I thought I’d look him up.” Carrie struggled to retain an aloof facade as her knee bounced out of control against the bar. “It’s been a while since I last saw him.”

He whipped a cloth from the waistband of his trousers and slapped it onto the bar. “Well, I might be reading things wrong here, but from where I’m standing, Scott Walker’s the only guy around here confident enough to let a woman as beautiful as you slip through his fingers, that’s for sure.”

She lowered her eyes. “Maybe.”

“Hey.”

She looked up. “What?”

The bartender’s teasing expression softened. “He’s a good guy. Scott’s just not interested in settling down, and he makes sure he doesn’t ever lead a woman on to think otherwise. He’s one of the good guys.”

Carrie nodded, fighting the urge to spit feathers. This guy actually sounded in awe of a bona fide womanizer.

“Nope. Despite his reluctance to get involved, I’ve never seen Scott treat women with anything but kindness and respect.” He winked. “If it makes you feel better, I’m sure he’ll be more than pleased to see you. I haven’t seen him with a woman for a while. He must be getting kind of lonely.”

The ill-disguised innuendo in his tone set Carrie’s teeth on edge. “Didn’t I just show you my wedding band?”

“Sure, but who wouldn’t want you turning up the week before Christmas, looking pretty enough to decorate their tree?”

Carrie glared. “I’m not here for some grandiose idea of an illicit affair. He’s...a work associate, that’s all.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

She held his gaze. “Really.”

He studied her for a moment longer before he shrugged. “If you say so.”

Frustration and the need to stick the guy in the eye with a needle hummed through her, so Carrie took a deep breath and glanced around the bar. “So...do you know where I can find the town’s Casanova, by any chance?”

“Where he always is. He’ll be working at the shop tomorrow. I suspect he’ll be there right up to Christmas Eve. He’s a hardworking guy.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “But if he’s a work associate, shouldn’t you already know that?”

Carrie glowered. “Fine, I lied. So, what’s the shop?”

“The garage on Stiller Street. It’s his. He owns it.” He moved along the bar to serve a businessman scowling at a bottle of Scotch behind the bar like it was a mirage in the middle of the desert. “Yes, sir. What can I get you?”

Carrie studied the bartender through narrowed lids. Decorate his tree? Pleased to see me? Well, no doubt she’d soon obliterate Scott Walker’s love-’em-and-leave-’em lifestyle the minute she told him about Belle. It seemed her daughter’s biological father was about as ready to be a daddy as Santa Claus was to go on a diet.

Picking up her glass, Carrie finished the martini in a single gulp and winced against the rush of liquor. The need to flee home pulsed through her but she tamped it down. She had to find Scott or else the perpetual cloak of guilt she wore for keeping Belle a secret from him would never be discarded. How could she face Belle’s inevitable questions about her father in the future without knowing she’d done her utmost to involve him in her life?

At least the bartender’s words had lessened her fear of being as attracted to Scott today as she was when they met. Time and experience had changed Carrie in the last three years and there was little chance of her to succumbing again to a pair of deep blue eyes and a body like brick.

She stood. She’d go to bed and pray for Scott’s disinterest in both her and Belle. That would be the best Christmas present she could ask for. Tomorrow, she’d track down his garage on Stiller Street and face Scott head on. Tell him about Belle and if his attitude was as vile as she suspected it would be, she wouldn’t even have to suggest they find a mutually satisfying way of taking their parenting forward. Belle was her priority and Carrie had no interest in exposing her to some Lothario who had zero interest in being a daddy.

If he didn’t want anything to do with Belle, so be it. She hadn’t returned to Templeton on a witch-hunt.

She placed some cash from her purse onto the bar and left, renewed determination echoing in every click of her high-heeled boots against marble.

* * *

T
HE
FOLLOWING
MORNING
, Scott winced as the wrench he held slipped from his grasp and scraped roughly across the knuckles of his other hand, splitting his skin wide open. “Goddamn it.”

The metal tool clattered to the darkened pit floor and he kicked it against the wall in frustration. It was barely lunchtime and his concentration was shot. Snatching a rag from the car’s engine, he wrapped it around the wound and glared at the underside of the car suspended above him. How the hell was he supposed to get any work done when nothing but a blond-haired woman with the sexiest figure known to man circled his damn mind?

Just like the first time he’d seen Carrie years before, the same lightning struck him immobile. He had no idea what it was about her, or why, but Carrie’s allure was too strong to ignore. All he cared about was his family, yet this woman had the ability to make him think about the life he led before and after her. It was as though she was a pivotal part of his very existence...and he hated it.

If it was her he saw last night, then what? He had plans. Plans that didn’t involve a woman who took his damn heart and then tossed it aside.

Scowling, he braced his good hand on the top of the pit and heaved himself out onto the garage floor. She’d taken his heart, yet he couldn’t ignore the fact his reluctance to get involved meant he hadn’t made any attempt to find Carrie, either. He was equally as guilty of tossing her heart aside...if there was any chance she felt the same way he did.

Yanking open the buttons on his overalls, he shrugged them down to his waist and stalked over to the sink. He removed the rag and washed his injured hand, memories rising in his conscience. He was all too aware of his reputation as a womanizer around town and he’d done little to correct the gossip, not caring what people thought...but now, with the potential that Carrie could be back, the rumors worried him.