'Tis the Season (18 page)

The alarm went off, and she slammed her hand down to silence it. With a yawn, she opened her eyes. It was 6
A.M.
, her daily wakeup time. The room was still dark; the fall patterns wouldn't bring sunlight for another hour. As she sat up, it all came back to her in a rush. Charles. Oh, God, she'd fallen asleep waiting for him. She groaned and dropped her head into her hands. Why didn't he wake her up? A whisper came back to her:
I'll miss you . . .
His warm mouth on her forehead. Oh, dammit, he'd likely tried to wake her. She'd been dead to the world.

Her cell phone light was blinking, and she checked her text messages.

You look beautiful when you're sleeping
, Charles had written only fifteen minutes before.
I'm so sorry the call took longer than I thought it would. When I got to your room, you were out cold. Knowing how tired you were, I didn't have the heart to wake you. Hope you slept well; you needed it. Will text you later today
.

Her lips lifted in a besotted little smile. God, he was sweet. And he—

There was a quick knock on the door, and Ava stumbled in. She looked pale. “I just threw up all over my bed,” she said.

Wonderful
, Lisette thought, but put her phone down to go to the girl. Ava's head felt warm. “I bet you have whatever Myles had.”

Ava started to cry. “I don't want to be sick like him!”

Lisette sighed and rubbed Ava's back. “I know, honey. I know.”

Chapter Seventeen

Charles's trip was packed. Three days in Los Angeles, four days in San Francisco, scheduled from the time he woke to when he slept with barely a moment to breathe. But every day and night, when he could sneak time for himself, he texted the beautiful brunette back home. He called the kids each night to say hello, but he texted her two or three times a day. He was way past smitten; he was downright hooked. Their text exchanges were good in that she was more relaxed; he could sense it in her playful banter. Talking with her that way, without the immediate temptation or need of physical contact whenever they were alone and near each other, was a little gift.

But while he was out in LaLaLand, she had her hands full at home. Apparently Ava had caught the bug the morning he left, while Myles was on the last day of his being sick. Just like Myles, Ava puked for two days, then stayed home on the third day, as well, until the fever broke. Lisette sounded as if she had it all under control, but he felt bad for her.

Friday night, in the limo on his way to dinner, he texted:
When I get home, I'm getting you a full weekend at a first-class spa, with every bell and whistle
.

That's very generous of you
, she wrote back,
but you don't have to do that
.

You're going to let me do that for you, he texted, and you won't argue with me
.

Yes, sir, Mr. Harrison, sir, she responded. You sure are bossy sometimes
. . .

 

He chuckled and wrote,
Look, you've been up to your elbows in puke for days. I'm totally pulling rank on this one. You're going to the spa, & soon
.

 

Fiiiine, she wrote with a winky face
.
I'll let you pull rank. On one condition
.

 

His brows lifted at that. Intrigued, he wrote,
What condition?

 

You come with me
.

 

An enamored smile crept across his face.
You drive a hard bargain.Terms accepted. Happily. We'll make a long weekend of it. How does 3 days at a spa sound?

 

Like paradise
.

* * *

Saturday morning, he woke at seven and rolled to reach for his phone before his eyes were even open. He planned to catch a quick workout in the hotel gym, then shower, eat something, pack up, and check out at ten. A car would be waiting to take him to the airport; today he'd fly from L.A. to San Francisco. But he saw Lisette had texted him two hours before:
We have a hat trick. Third kid down. Nice of Ava to stop throwing up yesterday so when Thomas started this morning, my hands were free. ;) Just letting you know he's sick. Same bug as other 2. He'll be fine in a few days. Don't worry
.

* * *

Charles groaned. Jesus, those poor kids, and poor Lisette! She hadn't had a break from a sick child in a week, and it looked as though she wouldn't for another few days. He called her cell.

“Hi,” she answered on the second ring, sounding both happy to hear from him and a little ragged.

“I'm so sorry,” he said immediately. “God, three for three, huh?”

“Yup. Be very glad you're not here. It's been some week.”

“Actually, I feel terrible that I'm not there. What a shit-show.”

“Oh, we have plenty of that,” she joked dryly. “And puke, and snot, and every other gross body fluid you can think of.”

“Your Christmas bonus this year will be
huge
,” he said. “Do you want me to buy you a Ferrari? A plane? A small, secluded tropical island?”

She laughed, then said, “You'd actually do one of those things if I asked, wouldn't you?”

“Damn right.” He grinned at her voice sounding a bit lighter. “Are you getting any sleep at all? Do you have backup?”

“Don't worry, Tina helped me all this week, and Eileen's here now; she'll help me all weekend. They both deserve heftier bonuses too.”

“Consider it done.”

“Abby even offered to come over and help, but I wouldn't let her.”

“I'm sure Pierce appreciated that. And so do I. If Abby got sick, I'm sure he'd blame me somehow. He can still be a surly bastard sometimes.”

She chuckled softly. “It's good to hear your voice.”

“Good to hear yours too,” he said. “I miss you, you know.”

Her pause was weighted. Then she said shyly, “I miss you too.”

He smiled and rolled onto his side to stretch out a little. “I'm in a big, big bed, in a fantastic suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel, all by myself. What a waste. We should be having top-notch hotel sex here.”

She giggled, the sound warming him. “I've never had any hotel sex, much less top-notch hotel sex.”

“Oh, Jesus, we're going to have to do something about that.”

Now her laugh was full. “Oh, really?”

“Hell yes. You know, an eleven-year dry spell is a lot to make up for,” he said. “But I'm up to the challenge. You can count on me, Ms. Gardner. I won't let you down.”

She laughed again, pure delight.

He threw the covers aside and got out of bed. “Talking with you like this makes me happy,” he said. He crossed the room and leaned against the wall to stare out the window. Stretched out beyond was a view of palm trees, mountains in the distance, and bright morning sky.

“Me too,” she said. “Why is it easier for me to talk to you through texts and over the phone?” She sighed. “You get in front of me, all handsome and intense with those piercing blue eyes of yours, and I turn into mush. It's pathetic.”

“That's not pathetic; that's adorable. And one of the sweetest things anyone's said to me in a long time.”

“It's the truth,” she said. “But I'm sure . . . if we spend time together, real time, I'll get over that, no problem.” She paused, and he waited. Finally she murmured, “I've just been alone for such a long time that I feel like I don't know what to do, how to act. I know that must sound ridiculous for a thirty-four-year-old woman to say. But I really . . . I'm like a fish out of water here.”

“Don't worry, and don't think so much,” he said. “You don't need to do anything or act a certain way. Just be yourself. That's who I've fallen for.”

“Okay,” she whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear it.

He scrubbed his free hand over his face. The stubble on his jaw needed shaving. Sunlight rippled off the walls as a soft breeze blew outside. He wished she was there, standing in front of him. “We can make this work, you know. I believe that. I wish you did a little more too. I know you're nervous, but . . .” The California landscape was so different from that of New York. It felt good to be far away from the norm, but again he wished she was there, with a pang that made his heart squeeze. “Lisette? You still there?”

“I'm here.”

He heard her draw a long breath and anxiety pricked him. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” she said. “Quite the opposite. You keep saying all the
right
things. Lovely things. Things that make me feel like . . . like I haven't in forever.”

“I mean all of them,” he said quietly. “Because you do the same for me.”

“Oh, Charles,” she whispered. “It's still overwhelming. All of this.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “But it'll be worth it. It already is.”

* * *

Charles walked out of the terminal, Bruck following with his bags. The cold air of New York was like a slap back to reality after a week in sunny California. Sliding into the backseat of the car, Charles scowled as he looked at his watch. It was ten-thirty already. Dammit! He'd planned to be home by dinnertime, so he could spend time with the kids—who were all finally well again—and then have some quality time at last with Lisette. All day, he'd been operating at a low simmer, thinking about seeing her. Every night, thoughts of her had filled his head and taken hold. Sultry, wicked thoughts . . . He was ready to have a damn orgasm with her along for the ride; there was only so much masturbation a man could take before he needed more. Especially when he finally had someone to be with.

But Wednesday morning, it had rained in San Francisco. It fucking rained long and hard, with high winds, and the plane couldn't be cleared for takeoff. By the time it was cleared, they'd been delayed more than four hours.

The next day was Thanksgiving; at least he wouldn't have to go back to the office until Monday. But there would be no real downtime. His kids would all want a piece of him; the big family dinner at his father's estate for the holiday would include fifty people; he had tickets for Saturday afternoon to surprise the kids with the Radio City Christmas show; he'd have to keep checking in with the office, even if he wasn't physically there . . . His time was never his own.

You're never off the clock, Tripp
. His father's voice echoed in his head as Bruck got back in the car and pulled away from the curb at Kennedy. With a frown, Charles let his head fall back against the seat and closed his eyes.

“Good trip, sir?” Bruck asked.

“Fine, thanks,” Charles replied. “Sorry about the delay. I hope it didn't screw up your evening.”

“No worries,” Bruck assured him. “I'm just going to my sister's tomorrow for the holiday; I didn't have any plans tonight.”

“That's good; I'm glad. Thank you.”

“California was nice, though?” Bruck merged onto the parkway.

“It was fine. But I'll be glad to get home.”

“Have you there in half an hour, sir.”

Charles pulled out his phone and scrolled through e-mail while they drove. Tonight, once he got home, he didn't want to think about work at all. Before he knew it, they were in Sandy Point, and the car had turned into the private road that led to his long driveway. At the house, Bruck unloaded Charles's suitcases from the trunk. “I'll bring these inside, sir. You go on, go get some sleep in your own bed.”

“Thank you.” Charles turned to Bruck and held out a hand. “Have a happy Thanksgiving.”

“Thanks.” Bruck smiled as he shook it. “You too.”

“You're taking the weekend off, right?” Charles asked. “It's a holiday.”

“Just tomorrow. I figured—”

“Nope. I don't want to see you back here until I have to go into work Monday morning,” Charles said firmly. “Have a great weekend, Bruck.”

Bruck's nod was begrudging, but his steely eyes glinted with appreciation. “Thank you, sir. You too. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Carrying only his briefcase, Charles made his way up the grand front stairs and through the wide front doors of the mansion. He checked his watch—11:05. The house was quiet, all the lights out. A trickle of disappointment ran through him. Lisette must have gone to bed, and he'd have to wait to see her until morning. No, wait . . . Down the hall, it looked like the light was on in the den. Had she waited up for him? He made his way down the corridor.

* * *

Lisette heard a noise—the front door? Had Charles finally gotten home? She paused in her reading, cradling her e-reader in her lap. She pulled her soft, spa-like robe tighter around her and burrowed into the plush loveseat. A few seconds later, there were footsteps in the hall; then, there stood Charles in the doorway. He wore a dark gray suit and striped tie, and his eyes looked tired behind his glasses, but he was handsome and magnificent and
ohhh
, the way he smiled at her. It made her stomach flip and a spark ignite in her chest, warm and wonderful. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You're back.”

“I am. Finally.” He stepped into the room, gazing at her as if he were drinking her in. “It's good to see you.”

“It's good to see you too.” She smiled.

“I'm glad you're still up.”

“I . . .” She felt her cheeks heat up. “I was waiting for you. I was a little concerned.”

“Concerned? The flight was fine, once we finally took off. Nothing to be concerned about.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers as his blue eyes captured hers. “Is that the only reason you waited up for me?” His voice had turned into a low, seductive rumble that made her insides go all gooey. He was so sexy he stole her breath away.

Do it
, demanded the voice in her head.
He wants you. You want him. Do it.

“No.” She put her e-reader down and got to her feet. “No, that's not the only reason I waited up for you.” She adjusted the sash on her robe as they met in the middle of the room, gazes locked. Her heartbeat roared in her ears. She could barely breathe. “I couldn't wait to see you. And I was hoping for a kiss hello.”

He grinned. “Good. But I'm not kissing you in here, now, because once I start, I'm not going to want to stop.”

“I won't want you to stop either,” she said quietly.

His eyes blazed with carnal desire, and a muscle jumped in his strong jaw. “You're sure? Absolutely sure?”

“Yes.”

He held out his hand and murmured, “Come upstairs with me.”

With a soft, sweet smile, she took a deep breath and slipped her hand into his.