'Tis the Season (11 page)

She turned to see Charles, still in his black suit, gray dress shirt, and striped tie, crouching down to hug his kids. Smiling brightly, looking from one child to the next as they all babbled at him at the same time, Charles laughed and tried to make sense of the commotion.

Something pinged in Lisette's heart at the sight. He was always so handsome. It wasn't fair. The only thing more attractive than a gorgeous man in a gorgeous suit was said gorgeousness being openly affectionate with his kids.

Charles looked up at her from his crouch, flashing a friendly grin as he straightened up. “Good evening, Lisette. How were things today?”

His deep, smooth voice set off butterflies in her belly. Between that sexy tone and his blue, blue eyes boring into her, her insides went all liquid and wobbly. “Fine,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Nothing unusual to report. School, gymnastics, swimming.” She glanced at the kids and said, “All three of you need to go upstairs for quick showers. Take turns; go fast. You can do it.”

All three of them whined and moaned in protest.

“Come on now,” Charles said. He ruffled Myles's hair. “Ick. Chlorine hair. You need a shower, and you know it!”

“But I'm starving!” Myles whined.

“I know you're all hungry,” she said to them. “But make them fast showers, get dressed even faster, and dinner will be ready and on the table when you come down, I promise. You know the routine. Go on.”

“Last one up's a rotten egg!” Thomas yelled, taking off like a shot. Myles and Ava shrieked and ran after him, the three of them racing up the stairs and down their hallway.

Charles turned to Lisette, chuckling. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way she adored. “Dinner is actually ready now, but I didn't want to step on your routine. And they really needed showers. His hair felt disgusting!”

Lisette only smiled and went to hang up her coat and scarf, and the kids' coats, in the front closet. Just being near Charles had her hormones soaring. She had to stop this. She had to control this somehow.

With a deep breath, she went back down the hall and saw Charles was waiting for her. “Is there something else?” she asked.

He said quietly, “You're talking to me. Even looking at me. You barely have in three days. This is progress.”

She felt the blush rise in her face. “I—I hadn't thought about it.”

“Good. That's how it
should
be.” He shot her a lopsided grin. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and it made her heart flutter. “Tina made tilapia with a pecan crust for dinner. Steamed broccoli, red potatoes. It all looks delicious. I think I'm going to open a bottle of wine to go with it. Would you like a glass?”

She blinked, the question surprising her. “Um, no. No, thank you. I never drink when I'm with the children.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes on her face. “And I appreciate that. But surely half a glass here at home wouldn't be a problem, if you wanted? I'm here, after all. You don't have to handle them all by yourself.”

“I'd rather not,” she said. “Not while I'm working. But thank you anyway.”

“Sure.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he said, “Come, let's have dinner.” His brows lifted as he leaned in and said pointedly, “
All
of us, together, in the dining room. Don't you dare take your plate to the kitchen to eat by yourself again. It's not acceptable.”

“But Charles—”

“Stop. Every night, you eat with the kids. Right?”

“Yes. But that's because you're rarely here. When you are, I shouldn't be—”

“Stop.”
He took a step closer, his stare pinning her. “I'm asking you to join us. Just have dinner with us. That's all.”

Her throat felt thick, and her chest got tight. His presence engulfed her, overwhelmed her. He was so close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and it made her want to melt into him. But she said firmly, “Charles. I work for you.”

“I'm well aware of that. I hired you.”

“But I'm not . . . It's like . . .” She groped for the right words, wanting to make her point, but not offend him. “Charles, it's like you're acting as if we're all like a—a
family.
All having meals together, doing things together . . . I just don't know that it's appropriate. Or that it sends the right message to the kids.” She shook her head and stared back, lifting her hands, then dropping them in resignation.

“Lisette,” Charles said, “you started here when Myles had just turned four. He was so young, and his mother was gone, and several other nannies had come and gone. He absolutely adores you. All the kids have become attached to you. And you're a lovely person, so I'm okay with that.” His head cocked sideways as he studied her. “Didn't you tell me that you became a nanny in the first place to experience something akin to family life?”

Her breath caught. “That's . . . that's not . . .” Her heart raced. “You've hired me to play a mother, but I'm not their mother.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I didn't say you were.”

“It sounds like it. It feels like it.” Her hands fluttered at her sides as she pressed, “I'm not family. I'm hired help. And we'd all do better to remember that and not cross any lines that shouldn't be crossed. I wouldn't ever want them to be confused or hurt.”

“Me neither,” he agreed. “Of course not. But I can tell that you love them. And Lisette, they love you. I can see it. And you're allowed to have feelings!”

She didn't know what to say. Her breath felt stuck in her lungs.

“I'm trying to tell you . . .” He scrubbed his hands over his jaw. She'd rarely seen him fumble for words. “I'm saying that your place in their life matters, and I respect it. I respect
you
.”

It felt hard to breathe. She rubbed her sternum in tiny circles. God, did he have any idea what he was saying? How it all affected her? She doubted it.

“More important,” he continued, taking another step closer, “I don't think anyone who works for me is beneath me somehow. Not my house staff, not my office staff, no one. Why do you?” His tone turned inquisitive, almost pleading. “Have I ever done anything to make you feel that way? If I have, I'm sorry, because I don't.”

“You haven't. But you're not getting it,” she whispered miserably, her gaze falling away.

He gripped her chin with his fingertips, soft but insistent, making her look into his eyes again and her breath catch and stick in her throat. In a low murmur, his face only inches from hers, he said, “I understand what you're trying to get across. But I don't agree. I think you're . . . maybe overreacting a bit, because of what happened between us.”

“Really?” she whispered, not breaking their gaze. “You ever talk to Tina or Eileen this way? Insist that they share meals with you? Touch them, at all, much less like you're touching me right now? Look at them like you want to take them to bed?”

As if jolted by a slap, he released her and stepped back, eyes wide.

“Then added to the fact that you're my boss how very wealthy and powerful you are,” she choked out. “We are
not
on the same level. Totally different worlds. You do have power over me.”

“I don't want to have power over you.”

“That's nice. But it doesn't make it any less true.”

His blue gaze intensified. “Lisette. I'm just a man. A human being. That's all.”

Her heart panged for him. His earnestness was palpable. But she said, “You just turned forty, you're feeling your mortality, and you're lonely. And I'm right here, in the house. How convenient.”

His eyes flashed. “This is not about convenience,” he insisted, but his voice lowered to a hot whisper. “It's not about that at all. It's . . . more than that.”

“Is it?” Her heart pounded in her chest. “Since when have you thought of me as anything but the nanny? Tell the truth.”

“I've always thought of you fondly . . .”

She stared at him. “
Fondly?
Charles, for once, don't talk and act like the damned crown prince. Just
talk
to me.”

He blinked, apparently stunned, then huffed out a frustrated breath. “Fine. Okay. I've always liked you. Always thought you were really pretty, but didn't let it take over or anything. We're both adults, both professionals. But, yes, since that night . . .” His stare heated to an all-out smolder, making her knees wobble and her stomach flutter. “Yes, okay, now I think of you differently. And what's more, I think of you often. And it's not platonic. All my money and power doesn't change the fact that I'm just a normal man who's lusting like hell after you. When you're on my mind, I'm not thinking about my billions, or your assets . . . only your God-given assets.”

Alarms tripped off in her head. The way he was looking at her . . . God, it was absolutely carnal. And hell yes, she wanted him again too. But if she went down this road with him, it couldn't possibly end well. He stepped closer again, and her mouth went dry as her blood raced through her veins.

“I want to kiss you again, touch you again, and I can't,” he whispered. “I want to get you out of my head . . . and I can't.”

“You have to try harder,” she said, even as her heart pounded against her ribs.

“Believe me, I've been trying.”

He was so close now that if she leaned in only a few inches, they'd be kissing.

“Dinner,” she said. “The kids are waiting. It's dinnertime.”

He just stared at her, and the air around them crackled with electricity.

“That one night can't change everything here,” she insisted in a desperate whisper. “It
can't
, Charles.”

His eyes bore into hers, blazing with heat. “But it already has. And we both know it.”

Chapter Ten

Later that night, Lisette glided soundlessly down the grand staircase. Tina had gone home at seven, the kids had all fallen asleep by ten, and the house was quiet. There was something about the stillness that settled over the mansion at night that Lisette loved. It was such a large and magnificent home; yet with the lights off, somehow the silence wasn't cold or intimidating to her, but peaceful.

Clutching her e-reader to her chest, she headed toward the den. The wide, soft loveseat by the window was a perfect spot to curl up and read, legs wrapped under the chenille throw, with only the light from her e-reader for illumination.

And tonight, she needed that distraction. Her brain had been spinning wildly since Charles had told her he thought of her often, staring at her as if the world were on fire . . . only to have the conversation cut short by the shrieks of the kids as they came thundering down the stairs, ready for dinner. She'd jumped and pulled away from him quick as a flash, busying herself with the children.

She'd had dinner with them, but had been barely able to look Charles in the eye. She'd helped the kids with their homework while Charles disappeared into his study to respond to a few calls and e-mails, then she had brought them up to their rooms. By the time they were in bed, Charles was upstairs too, helping her to tuck each of them in and kiss them good night. He was trying to be a better father, he really was, and it warmed her heart. But the truth was, he didn't have to try very hard. He was sweet with them, attentive and present. His love for them was obvious. All they wanted from him was more of his time.

She paused at the door of the den, peering further down the hallway. The door to the study was open, light pouring out into the corridor. Something in her wanted to tell him that he was doing well at this new stab at fatherhood. Like he'd said earlier, he was just a man, and all men needed assurance once in a while, didn't they? A pat on the back, a “you got this!” affirmation? She chewed on her lip, debating, pulling the sash of her robe tighter around her waist.

Don't lie to yourself
, a voice admonished in her head.
You want more than to talk to him. You want to see him, be near him. You want to just be in his presence.

Yes. Yes, she did. After what he'd admitted to her openly, she could admit that much to herself. Drawing a long, deep breath, she walked to the study.

* * *

Charles leaned back in his leather chair, pulled off his glasses, and rubbed his tired eyes. He'd put out the fires for the evening and wanted nothing more than to have a few sips of scotch and go to bed. He yawned and set his glasses down on the desk.

A soft knock on the doorframe instantly drew his attention, and then his heart skipped a beat. Lisette stood there, wrapped in a dark purple robe. Her hair was still up in its braid, and her dark eyes and olive skin were luminous in the low light. She was so effortlessly beautiful.

With a hesitant smile, she cleared her throat and said, “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled and sat up straighter in his chair. This was a nice surprise. “Come on in.”

She did, stopping in the middle of the room. He watched as her eyes flicked to the infamous couch before coming back to his face, then as she clutched her e-reader to her chest, fingertips skimming along the edges in an endearingly nervous gesture. The plush robe looked soft and flowed down past her knees, but from beneath revealed the bottoms of blue fleece pajama pants and . . . feet tucked into fluffy white slippers that looked like sheep.

He couldn't help but grin. “I like your slippers.”

She glanced down at them as if she'd forgotten what they looked like, and her face flushed deeper. “Oh. Um. Thanks. Eileen got them for me last Christmas. They're silly looking, but they're really warm and cozy, so sometimes . . .”

“They're adorable.” He rose from the chair and moved slowly around the desk, noting how her eyes followed his every move. He'd discarded his jacket and tie before dinner, but still wore his slacks and dress shirt, the top two buttons open and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “So what's up? What brings you here?”

“I, um . . .” She licked her luscious lips before her gaze rose to his, unleashing a warm pull low in his belly. “I came downstairs to read for a while, but I saw the light on and the door open, so I thought I'd . . . Well, I wanted to tell you something.”

He nodded, encouraging her to continue, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I know you said you wanted to be a better father, spend more time with the kids and all.” Her fingertips kept sliding along the edge of her e-reader, slow but steady. “And I just wanted to say—I mean, I really hope this isn't out of line, and I don't mean it to be—but I think you're doing a good job at it. They've seemed happier lately. I mean it. You're great with them, and I think they're really appreciative of it, even if they don't always show it. Even Thomas.
Especially
Thomas.” She flashed a tiny grin. “So, I just wanted to tell you that. Just to affirm that what you're doing is working, if you were unsure. For what it's worth.”

“It's worth a lot, actually.” A warm feeling spread through his chest, and he smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. Especially coming from you. Because you know them better than anyone, so you'd see any subtle nuances or changes.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” she hedged.

“You're too modest,” he said, leaning back casually against his desk. He sat on top and crossed his arms against his chest. “I appreciate your observation, and that you wanted to tell me. I hope you're right.”

She smiled, but said nothing, fidgeting endlessly with the cover of her e-reader.

“I was about to pour myself a glass of scotch,” he said. He held up two fingers, barely an inch apart. “Only about this much, I swear.”

A giggle escaped her lips, and she clamped them together.

“Kids aren't here now.” His eyes met hers and held. “Join me for one drink?”

Her smile fell away. “I don't know if that's appropriate . . .”

“We keep dancing around what's appropriate, don't we?” He pushed off the desk and walked around her to the small wet bar. “I took you right there on that couch, and there was nothing remotely appropriate about it. I don't think having a few sips of scotch with me will push any untoward boundaries that we haven't already smashed.”

As he opened the bottle of Laphroaig 18, he glanced up to gauge her reaction. The blush was quick, spreading from her chest, up her neck, darkening her face right up to her hairline. But she gave a tiny nod and said, “You have a point.” She cleared her throat, and her chin lifted a notch. “Okay. Fine. But just a little.”

“Excellent.” Adrenaline rushed through his limbs. He strove for nonchalance as he poured the scotch into two short, round glasses, but something stirred in him. The last time she'd wandered into his study wearing a robe . . .

“Please, sit down.” He gestured toward the couch with his glass as he handed her the other. She placed her e-reader on the mahogany coffee table before joining him. They sat on the leather sofa, at opposite ends, as much space as possible between them.

He raised his glass to her. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” she murmured back, lifting hers in return before taking a sip. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. It's good stuff.” He grinned before taking a swallow of it, then swirled it around slowly in the glass, watching the dark gold liquid catch the light. She shifted slightly, and he caught a peek of a V-neck top, the same blue as the pajama pants. His fingers itched to touch it, to slide his hands inside the robe and skim them over that top and over her full breasts. He took another slow sip.

“I'm going to ask you a strange, kind of forward question,” he said, “but I'm seriously curious, and I hope you'll be honest with me.”

She stared back. “All right.”

He paused, wondering how to phrase what he wanted to say. After torturing himself with the question countless times in his own mind, suddenly it was hard as hell to verbalize it to her. He ran his free hand across his jaw, feeling the late-day stubble. “When we . . . had sex.” He saw her brow pucker, knowing she was already trying to figure out where he was going with this. Shit, why was this so hard to say out loud? Her dark eyes were locked on him, waiting. “It was really
hot
. For me, anyway. It was intense. And I was kind of wondering if, even though it was crazy and spontaneous and all that . . . if you liked it too. Or am I building this up in my head and it wasn't like that.” He raked his free hand through his hair and hissed out a breath. “Jesus, this is so awkward. Am I making any sense?”

She nodded, gnawing on her bottom lip for a few seconds. Then she said, so quietly he almost couldn't hear her, “It was like that for me too. We were like . . . It was so . . .” Hot pink stained her cheeks, and her eyes fell to her drink as she tried to hide a smile. “I liked it too. You're not imagining it.”

His breath stuck in his chest. “Wow. Okay.”

She laughed softly, then peeked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Yeah, it was wow all right. Why do you think it's been so hard to go back to the way things were? For both of us. If the sex had been bad, we'd both be able to forget what happened. Hell, we'd be dying to, right?” She pressed her lips together to suppress a giggle.

Amused and charmed, he sat back a little to gulp down a swallow of scotch. “Yeah, probably. So . . . thank you. For being brave enough to admit that.”

“Well, you did it first, so . . .” She shrugged and bit down on her lip. The gesture sent blood rushing to his groin.

“We do seem to have some chemistry,” he said. “Don't we?”

She nodded, gazing back at him in wonder. “I thought it was just me.”

“No. No way.” His heart started thumping in heavier beats.

The weight of the mutual admission hung in the air as they stared into each other's eyes, wondering what to say next.

“Well, while we're making bold declarations,” he said, “I need to tell you something else. I think it needs to be addressed. Just once, and that'll be the end of it.”

Her eyes widened a bit, but she only nodded.

“When we . . .” He motioned to the couch, then between them, with the hand that held the glass. “I didn't use any protection. I know you said pregnancy wasn't an issue, but if you were worried about . . . anything else . . . I just wanted to assure you it's not an issue either. That you don't have to worry.”

Her brows puckered in obvious confusion. “I'm sorry. I'm not following you.”

“Diseases,” he said flatly. “I'm clean.”

Her mouth dropped open as the telltale blush flooded her face. “I . . . I never even thought of that. I mean, you're . . . I wouldn't . . . Wow.” Her dark gaze slid away, and she took another sip, a bigger one this time.

“Before that night, I hadn't been with a woman in over a year.” He kept his voice mild and businesslike. “I'd been tested before that, as part of my annual physical. I get a full screening for just about everything. Insurance and all that . . .” He eyed her with a touch of remorse. “I didn't mean to be so blunt. But it had to be said. I didn't want you to have any lingering concerns, if you had any.”

“I hadn't. But thank you,” she murmured. Suddenly her eyes widened again as they lifted to his. “Wait. Are you also wondering if I . . . ?”

He shrugged as casually as possible. “It crossed my mind.”

“Huh. Well.” She lifted the glass to her lips and stole yet another sip before saying, “I'm clean too. Trust me.”

“Because you've been tested?”

“No . . . Because it'd been a very long time. For me. Before that night.” Her voice now sounded strangled in her throat. “And I'd been tested back then, so . . .”

“I'm not trying to embarrass you,” he said quietly. “I'm sorry about this.”

She shrugged and stared down into her glass. She moved as if to take another sip, but apparently thought better of it and lowered the glass back into her lap. One hand gripped the glass, while a fingertip of the other traced slow circles around the rim.

“I'm afraid I have to ask,” he said, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible. “If you haven't been tested recently, how do I know . . . I mean, what do you consider a ‘long time'? A year? Two?”

He'd never seen her face the way it was now. A deep red flush, her eyes wide, her lips pressed into a thin line. She was horrified. Christ, he felt awful for making her feel so uncomfortable. When he'd realized they hadn't used protection and all the other implications, he'd known sooner or later he'd have to ask. But hell, thinking it and actually asking her were much different things, weren't they? “Look, you can tell me. Anything you ever say to me stays between us, Lisette. You have to know that.”

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and her whole body went still. Rigid.

“Three years?” he guessed, trying to help her along.

She snorted out the tiniest laugh and said, “No. More than that.”

Surprise rippled through him. Wow. “Okay. Um . . . five?”

Softly biting down on her bottom lip, she shook her head, then finally whispered, “Eleven.”

Charles's heart stopped in his chest. Hell no. Surely he hadn't heard her right. “Excuse me?”

“Eleven,” she said, her voice soft but sure. She looked directly into his eyes. “Before that night with you, I hadn't slept with a man in about eleven years.”