'Tis the Season (17 page)

She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she heard Myles retching, waking her with a start. Even half-asleep, on instinct she rolled away from the bed to grab the big plastic bowl, but it wasn't there. She opened her eyes and looked up from the floor to see Charles sitting next to Myles, holding the bowl in the boy's lap as he vomited into it.

“Charles.” She sat up and got to her knees. “When did you get home?”

“About fifteen minutes ago.” He rubbed Myles's back with his free hand as the boy heaved twice more. Then Myles wiped his mouth and burst into tears. “I'm sick of being sick!” he wailed.

“Ohh, honey, I know,” Lisette said as she stood.

“It stinks being sick,” Charles said, holding his son close as he cried. “It sure does, buddy.”

“Poor baby,” she said as she took the bowl from his lap. “It's been a rough day. But I'm sure it'll be better tomorrow.” She handed Charles a few tissues. “Have him sip some water,” she told Charles gently, gesturing to the glass on the nightstand before leaving the room to clean out the bowl.

When she returned five minutes later, Charles was still sitting with his son, an arm around him as they stared down together at the tablet in Myles's hands. Her heart squeezed at the sight of this tall, powerful man, dressed in a costly dark gray suit and tie, cuddling his little boy. Charles glanced up at her as she entered the room, shooting her a wry grin as he pushed his black frames up on his nose. “Long day, huh?”

“Yeah. But he's such a good boy.” She ruffled Myles's hair before she sat in the one cushioned chair in the corner. Usually, it had a few of Myles's toys on it, but she'd spent a good part of the day there. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours, I'll bet.” He peered at her, studying her. “You must be wiped out. When I came in, you were out cold on the floor.”

“Why didn't you wake me?”

“Because I knew you must have needed the sleep.”

She lifted her wrist and glanced at the delicate gold watch that had once belonged to her mother. “It's 6:15? Oh my God, I must've been out for about an hour! I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry? You were so exhausted you were sleeping on the floor. I should be apologizing to you, for not having someone else here to help you.”

“Tina did help me,” she asserted. “She made our meals and brought them up here, and she picked the other kids up from school today so I wouldn't have to leave Myles.” She looked down at herself. At her rumpled Boston College pullover sweatshirt and black yoga pants with unidentifiable stains. Her hands flew to her hair; the braid felt loose and lopsided. “I must look frightening,” she said ruefully.

“Not at all. You look like a woman who's been taking care of a sick child all day,” he said. “You're not supposed to look glamorous.”

“Glamorous?” She laughed as she quickly undid her braid. “That's not a word that's ever applied to me.”

Charles smiled at her and opened his mouth to answer, but Myles piped up, “What's ‘glamorous' mean?”

Lisette grinned as she ran her fingers through her hair to loosen it. Charles's eyes were glued to her, watching as she separated parts of it and began to braid her hair again. He seemed entranced by the process.

“Well?” Myles asked, louder.

Charles looked down at his six-year-old. “Um . . . well, it's kind of like being really fancy and pretty at the same time.”

“Like all dressed up with lots of makeup and stuff?” Myles asked, his eyes never leaving the tablet as his fingers continued to play.

“Yes, kind of like that,” Charles said.

“Then nope, Lisette's not glamorous,” Myles said. “'Cause she's not fancy.” Then he looked up and gave her a huge smile. “But she
is
pretty, and that's better. Right?”

Her heart warmed as she smiled back at him. His earnest, innocent compliment made her feel like a queen. With practiced fingers she finished the braid, and as she wrapped the elastic around the end of it, she realized Charles was gazing at her in appreciation. His bright blue eyes, framed by his black-rimmed glasses, seemed to sparkle.

“You're right, Myles,” he said in a low, reverent tone. “She sure is pretty.”

Lisette felt the blush bloom on her cheeks in an instant. She bit down shyly on her lip as she met Charles's eyes. The look on his face and the timbre of his voice sent a shiver over her skin and made her stomach do a wobbly flip. Good God, the effect he had on her. She was in deep trouble, no doubt about it.

Chapter Sixteen

Charles made a point of tucking each of his children into bed Tuesday night, spending a few minutes with each of them. He'd gone on business trips before, all the time. But his ritual was to spend at least ten minutes with each kid at bedtime, so they'd feel his love before he left for a while. He went to Myles last, since Lisette would be with him. By the time he got to his room, the boy was half-asleep.

“I only throwed up three times today, Daddy,” Myles said. “Lisette says maybe tomorrow I won't throw up anymore.”

Charles grinned and hugged his son. “I sure hope so, buddy. I really do. I want you to feel better already.”

“Lisette said the teacher said half of my class is out sick,” Myles said, wide-eyed. “We all caught the same bug!”

“That tends to happen,” Lisette said from the chair in the corner. She didn't seem as rumpled as the day before. A long pink sweater hid her shape, but her gray leggings at least showed off the bottom half of her legs. The sheep slippers were on, and her hair had stayed in its long braid, with only a few tendrils loose. But she did look tired; the hint of dark circles beneath her dark eyes gave her away.

Charles leaned down and kissed Myles's forehead, which was still a little warm. “I'm leaving very early, so I'll be gone when you wake up. But I'll be back a week from tomorrow, okay? The day before Thanksgiving. You can call me or text me whenever you want; Lisette will show you how.”

“I will. I'll miss you, Daddy,” Myles said, curling into his blankets with a yawn. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Charles ran a hand over his son's hair, then his back. “Feel better really soon. Lisette will take good care of you while I'm gone.”

“Yup. She's awesome . . .” The boy yawned again and closed his eyes. “Good night, Set,” he mumbled.

Lisette smiled from her seat. “Good night, honey. Sleep well.”

Myles was asleep in about thirty seconds. Charles rose from the bed and held a hand out to her. “You. Come here.”

She slanted a sideways look at him, but got to her feet and crossed the room.

He took her hand and pulled her in, holding her close. With gentle affection, he wrapped her in his embrace and said against her temple, “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked against his neck. “Doing my job?”

“You go above and beyond just doing your job,” he said. “Every day. And I know it. Thank you for taking such good care of him while he's been sick.”

“You're welcome,” she said. She moved to pull back. “Um . . .”

“I kinda wasn't done hugging you,” he told her, still holding tight. “You feel really good. If that's okay.”

A staggered laugh flew out of her. “Yeah, it's okay.” After a few seconds, she leaned into him more. He felt her body ease and relax against his, felt her let go and let herself be held. They stood that way for a few minutes, quiet and close.

“I think I'm going to miss you when I'm away,” he murmured.

She pulled back enough to look into his face. He saw the glints of surprise and delight in her eyes as she asked, “You are?”

He nodded and pressed his lips to hers. “When I get back, I'd like to spend some time with you. Just you and me. I'll work it out somehow, if you'd like that too . . . ?”

“I can't believe this is happening,” she whispered.

“I want this,” he whispered back. “You said you did too.”

“I do,” she admitted. “Still scared, though.”

“That's fine.” He kissed her again, soft and tender. “As long as it doesn't stop you from trying.”

She stared into his eyes and nodded, almost timidly.

He kissed her once more, then, still holding her hand, led her out of Myles's room. The house was quiet; Tina had gone home; the children were all asleep. He led her down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Follow me. You need something . . .” The side of his mouth curved up as he brought her to his bedroom. She paused at the doorway.

“It's not what you think,” he said with a grin. “I'm not going to just throw you down on my bed, though the thought of that is tempting as hell.” He led her through his enormous bedroom, past his king-sized bed, past the loveseat, armchair, desk, and flat-screen TV, into the adjoining master bathroom. By now, she was looking at him as if he'd gone insane.

“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him.

“Giving you something you need.” He leaned over and turned the faucets in his huge tub, then started the jets. “Think of this as a quickie spa experience. You need some time in here.”

“Because I didn't shower today?” she asked wryly. “Do I stink?”

He laughed. “No, but that just affirms your need to sink into a tub and relax.” He stepped to her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her soundly. “I'm here. If Myles wakes up, I'll go to him. Take a long soak in here, as long as you want. I bet you'll feel like a new woman when you come out.”

She stared at him in wonder. “That's very thoughtful of you, Charles.”

“You deserve it.” He pointed to his navy terry cloth robe hanging from a silver hook on the wall. “Wrap up in that when you're done.” Bending to a low cabinet, he pulled out a plush navy bath towel and set it on a small table beside the tub. Then he went to a different cabinet, rummaged around, and pulled out a glass jar of bath salts, two fat white candles, one smaller blue one, and a lighter. “I thought these were still in here,” he murmured as he set them along the far edge of the tub, where her feet would be. He tossed some of the bath salts into the water. As the candles flickered to life, he went to the switch and dimmed the lights. He'd transformed the room, creating a soothing, tranquil atmosphere in under a minute. “Okay. All yours. Enjoy.”

She flung herself at him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately. Happy and surprised, he kissed her back, drinking in her sudden show of affection as he held her close.

“You're so sweet,” she whispered against his lips. “Thank you for this.”

“You're very welcome.” He kissed her again for a minute, tasting her, losing himself in her. “If we don't stop now,” he said, his voice husky, “you won't make it into that tub. I'll do what I told you I wouldn't instead.”

She held his gaze for a long beat. Good Lord, she was mulling that over. He'd wanted her to relax, to have some downtime, knowing once he left she'd have even less of it. But she was so damn tempting . . . He kissed her quickly and said, “You need this. I'll see you when you come out.” Walking away from her, he stopped at the doorway to turn back and look at her. “And you will only be wearing my robe, so . . .”

She smiled, and a mixture of mischief and lust sparked in her warm brown eyes. “That's true. Okay. See you soon.”

Before he changed his mind, he closed the door to let her be.

* * *

Half an hour later, Lisette opened the bathroom door and peeked out. Charles was lying on his bed, wearing a long-sleeved navy T-shirt and pajama bottoms with varying stripes of blue. His glasses were on, his brow furrowed in concentration as he typed on his laptop. Propped up on the pillows, legs crossed at the ankles, and barefoot, he seemed like a regular guy, not the imposing COO of a billion-dollar company. Appealing, handsome, and solid. Everything she wanted in a man . . . and God help her, she wanted this man. More than she'd ever wanted anyone in her life.

And though she found him irresistibly sexy, right now she wanted to just curl up next to him and sleep for a week. She'd been so tired before the relaxing soak in the tub, and that had felt like heaven. It had been so relaxing that she almost fell asleep, prompting her to end the bath. But she knew he was likely hoping for more than just a snuggle. He looked up as she stepped into the large room, and his eyes lit up. That look sparked a warm pull, low in her belly. God, he was gorgeous. It wasn't right, him just lying there all sexy and dazzling like that. She wasn't making it out of here without action, nope, no way. She wanted him too much.

“How do you feel?” he asked, smiling. “Was it good?”

“It was wonderful,” she said softly. “I did need that. Thank you.”

“I've wanted to do something for you since I found you asleep on the floor yesterday.” He put the laptop aside. “You've been up 'round the clock with Myles. I know you're more tired than you let on. You've got to be.”

“I'll be fine. I'll sleep well when he's better.”

He took off his glasses and let his eyes rake over her. Standing there in nothing but his robe, she suddenly felt self-conscious. She reached for the end of her braid and played with it, curling the damp lock of hair around her fingers.

“You're beautiful,” he said, his voice pitched low and his eyes blazing.

She smiled softly. “Thank you, but I don't feel beautiful right now. I likely look as wrung out as I feel.”

“Nope.” He got up from the bed and went to her. Her heart beat more rapidly as he approached. “No makeup,” he murmured. “Hair up in a braid, pieces coming loose . . .” His thumb lifted to caress the skin beneath her eyes. “Dark circles, the sign of devotion.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Absolutely beautiful.”

She thought she might swoon right there, if women actually swooned anymore.

His nose trailed softly along the side of her face, down to her neck. “You look good . . . You smell good . . .” His mouth landed on the fleshy spot behind her ear, his teeth gently nipping her skin before his warm lips kissed her there, sending a jolt of electricity right to all her sensitive spots. “Mmmm . . . you taste good too.”

She giggled, but when he started kissing, nibbling, and licking her neck, her breath hitched and turned into sighs of pleasure. Her head dropped back, her fingers dug into his hair, and he continued his sensuous ravaging of her neck as his arms slipped around her.

Her body arched to press against his, aching for contact. She whispered his name, and he raised his head to take her mouth in a searing, heady kiss.

“I want you so much,” he said, his voice husky. Her heart pounded as he kissed her again. “But if you're not ready, I understand.”

“My brain is saying, ‘what are you, crazy?'” she admitted. “But my body isn't listening. Charles, I want you too.”

Their mouths met in a consuming kiss as their arms wound tightly around each other. His tongue swept into her mouth as his hands slid down her back, squeezing her bottom before pressing her harder against him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and a soft whimper escaped her mouth.

The cell phone started ringing on his nightstand.

“No,” he spat, kissing her fiercely.

She pulled back, her hands on his chest. “But you're leaving in the morning,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “What if it's important?”

He closed his eyes for a second and swore harshly under his breath, then stalked across the room to answer the phone. “Harrison,” he bit out. His erection was obvious in the cotton pajama pants, and she couldn't help but stare at it. He caught her and quirked a grin. With his free hand he gestured at it, then to her as if to say, “Ta dah!” She snorted a giggle as he said into the phone, “I don't care. The merger is still moving forward.”

“No, it's not,” she said, and put on an exaggerated pout.

A laugh ripped out of him at her joke, and he slapped his finger over the phone to block the sound. His eyes bright, he shook his head and whispered, “I know, and it's a damn shame.” Back into the phone, he said, “No, I'm here. Could you repeat that, please?”

She waited patiently, looking him over, her blood still racing and the throbbing between her legs wreaking havoc. But after a minute that felt like ten, it was clear he couldn't get off the phone.

“I'll be in my room,” she whispered, moving toward the door.

He shook his head no, mouthed “Wait!” and held up a finger, still listening to whomever was speaking on the other end. “I don't care about that,” he said. “You're not hearing me. It's not enough of a concern to hold this up . . . no. No!”

She sighed, gave him an apologetic smile, and waved good-bye.

He scowled and held the phone away. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered to her. “I'll come to you as soon as I'm off this call.”

While he argued with whomever was on the phone, she went back to the bathroom, grabbed her clothes, and quietly left. She could barely think; she was flustered and filled with aching need. When she got to her room, she left the door open the tiniest crack, shed his robe, and went searching through her dresser. Toward the back of a drawer, under her winter pajamas, she found the satiny hot-pink nightshirt Tina had given her last year as a birthday gift. It was the only pretty item she had. She didn't own anything remotely sexy, no lingerie, nothing like that. The satin was smooth and the cut of the long shirt was flattering. It would have to do.

Do I put on panties?
she wondered. Maybe not, since he would want . . . ? Or should she put them on anyway? She rolled her eyes at herself.
I can't even believe I'm thinking these things.
Making the decision to go without, she slipped into her bed, excitement rushing through her. She took some deep breaths to try to calm herself down. Five minutes passed. Her racing blood had slowed, and she kept up the deep breaths . . .

From what seemed like deep in a fog, Lisette felt soft, warm lips kissing her forehead. “I'll miss you,” the voice whispered. She was so tired; her eyes felt weighted shut, and she couldn't even speak. Was she dreaming?