'Tis the Season (6 page)

* * *

Charles stared at Lisette, her head bowed as she cried without a sound. It made his heart twist in his chest. No matter what he said, it only seemed to make things worse.

And she seemed so . . . vulnerable. Sad. Fragile, suddenly. She was always composed, friendly, and light, even though she was quiet. Now he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his embrace, hold her, soothe her, and assure her everything was going to be all right. But was it? He had no idea.

“Lisette,” he murmured. “I'm not trying to upset you or hurt your feelings. I'm trying to tell you I want us to get past this, and I very much want you to stay on here. That's the bottom line. Your job is safe here . . .
You
are safe here.”

She nodded, sniffling. “Thank you. I appreciate all that.” Her head lifted, and she finally met his eyes again as she wiped her cheeks. “I think I'm exhausted, that's all. Dreading this conversation all day took a lot of energy.”

“Well, that's honest. And I understand. I'm pretty exhausted myself.” He sighed and slowly sat back, still watching her. “If it makes you feel any better, I was so hungover it was pathetic.”

Her brow furrowed. “Really? I mean, you were a little tipsy, but not wasted. I didn't think you were . . .”

“Oh, I wasn't,” he said wryly. “Not until after you left the study, and I realized what I'd done. I finished a bottle of scotch as I reprimanded myself.”

Her eyes flew wide. “What?”

“Yeah. I made a bad move and followed it up with a flat-out stupid one.” He snorted and shook his head in self-disgust. “Spent a few hours on the bathroom floor today with my head in the toilet. Know what? Served me right.”

Her eyes went even wider at that. “Oh, no. You poor thing.”

“I was a hot mess,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Eileen had to literally help me up off the floor. I wasn't human again until a few hours ago.”

Lisette groaned in sympathy. It made him grin.

“And the kids were all totally pissed at me,” he added. “I was sick; you were AWOL—we were all supposed to go pumpkin picking today, remember?”

She gasped, eyes rounding again. “Oh, no! I completely forgot!”

“Yeah, me too. They sure didn't, though. So I promised them we'd go tomorrow afternoon, after school. It's supposed to be a nice day, thank God.” He pinned her with his eyes. “Will you please join us?”

She hesitated, taking the moment to sniffle again and wipe her cheeks dry with the wrist of her sweater. “Um . . .”

“Please. The kids want you to. And maybe . . .” One of his shoulders lifted in a half shrug. “Maybe it'll help us get back to a more comfortable place, you know? Just being in each other's presence, having a normal day. So join us. Please.”

She hesitated again, then said quietly, “Of course.”

“Great. Thank you. They'll be happy.” He considered her for a few more seconds. “Are you okay now, I hope? Better, anyway?”

“I'm fine,” she said.

“Good. And . . . are
we
okay?” he asked.

She smiled faintly. “We will be. We're both rational adults. We'll be fine.”

He nodded at that. “Excellent.” He prayed to God she was right. All he wanted was for everything to go back to normal. He was sure she did too. They could put this blip behind them and go on with their routine, back to their lives as before.

Now if he could just stop picturing her naked, remembering how sweet her mouth tasted, and thinking about how unbelievably sexy she was when she was swept away by passion . . . That would be really, really helpful.

Chapter Six

Charles ended the call and made a few notes about it on his laptop while the details were still fresh. Work had been insanely busy that day, more than usual, and the only reason he'd eaten a decent lunch was because it had been a business lunch. He glanced at the time on his monitor; was it really four-thirty already? One good thing about going nonstop was the day had flown by. Another was he hadn't had much chance to think about the weekend.

He stood, needing to stretch his legs, his back. Walking to the windows, he stuffed his hands in his suit pockets and gazed out to the Manhattan skyline. The view was magnificent from his office. He never tired of it. When business had boomed in the 1980s and the Harrison fortune had doubled itself, his father had moved Harrison Enterprises' home office to a grand, sleek, modern building near The New York Public Library. From the offices of the executive members of the company, the views of midtown skyscrapers offset by the splash of nature from Bryant Park were fantastic. A prime location, certainly; it was one thing his father had done that Charles was grateful for.

He mulled over the phone call he'd just had, going over details his chief executive in the Los Angeles office had disclosed . . . but the images came crashing through, without warning, as they had sporadically for the past few days. Lisette beneath him in the dark. The sounds of heavy breathing, her sighs and deep moans . . . the two of them kissing and grabbing at each other like out-of-control teenagers. His dick twitched just thinking about it.

All he wanted was to forget it had happened. But he'd had a taste . . . and now he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Monday afternoon had been interesting. He'd promised the kids he'd take them pumpkin picking, so off they went. No chauffeur; Charles drove, piling his three children and their nanny into his Escalade to drive almost an hour east. The kids bickered at first, then grew silent in the backseat, heads down over their handheld video games. Lisette sat beside him, quiet in the passenger seat, her hands twisting in her lap as he and she both tried to act casual, as if the awkward tension wasn't as thick and suffocating as hell.

All things considered, it had gone nicely enough. Thomas had been surly to him, as usual, but softened a bit as the afternoon went on. They all traipsed through the fields, looking for decent pumpkins amongst what was left. They bought apple cider, apple butter, pumpkin pie, and pumpkin bread. The weather had cooperated, giving them blue skies and mild air. Lisette, as always, was focused on the kids, which gave Charles an opportunity to observe her.

For close to two years, this beautiful woman had lived quietly under his roof, and he'd never noticed many of the things he noticed that day. Like how her hips swayed when she walked. Or the way tendrils of her lustrous dark hair would slip free from her French braid, framing her face adorably. Or how graceful her hands were, even when doing work. Or how she handled his kids with such a perfect balance of discipline and warmth, or how her dark eyes lit with humor and warmth when the kids did things she liked . . .

Warmth. That was it. It hit him like a lightning bolt: it was her warmth that drew him to her so strongly. There had been such a lack of it in his life . . . Between Lisette's warmth and kindness, how good she was at her job, and how beautiful she was, he was suddenly consumed by her. Thinking of her all the time.

This was insanity.

He snatched his cell phone off the desk and hit speed dial. He needed to talk to his younger brother, who was also his best friend and most trusted confidant in the world. Because Charles did need to talk to someone about this, or his head would explode.

“Hey, Chuckles,” came Dane's jovial voice. “How's it going?”

“Are you free tonight, by any chance?” Charles cut right to it. “I need to talk.”

“Sure.” Dane's tone changed from light to serious in a heartbeat. “What's going on? You okay?”

“I'm fine,” Charles assured him, “but . . . I just need to talk to you. Some shit went down this weekend, and I need a trusted ear.”

“Luckily for you, I have two of them,” Dane said. “Why don't you come by the hotel? Get a drink or two, and we'll chat.”

“I'm never drinking again,” Charles said, shuddering. “But yes, I'll meet you there. Somewhere we can talk in private, though. Not the lounge.”

“How about the billiards room?” Dane suggested.

“Perfect. See you at eight.” Charles ended the call, then hit speed dial again.

Lisette answered her cell on the second ring. “Hello?”

Just her soft voice evoked a stirring in his chest. Jesus, this was bad. “Hi, it's Charles. Just wanted to tell you I'll be getting home late tonight. Having a late dinner with my brother. So if you could let the kids know, and tell them I'll see them in the morning before they leave for school, I'd appreciate it.”

“Of course. No problem. Have a nice time.”

“Well, it's Dane, so I'm sure I will.” He paced the office slowly. “Lisette . . . how are you doing? Everything . . . all right?”

“Yes, Charles.” Her voice dipped a little. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“Good. That's good. I'm glad.” He closed his eyes and winced, hating himself for sounding like a babbling idiot. “Okay. See you.”

* * *

Lisette put her phone back in her bag and sighed. Yeah, she was perfectly fine. Sure she was. She still had a job, despite having made a monumental mistake. She still had a place to live and security. She still had everything exactly how it'd been a few days before . . .

Except now that she'd had a sample of that raw passion and heat, gotten to see a glimpse of the real Charles Harrison III, she wanted more. She couldn't stop replaying the events of late Saturday night like a highlight reel in her head. The feel of his weight on top of her, so strong and solid . . . his mouth on hers, hot and hungry . . . the way his hands had slid over her body, greedy, almost frantically . . . the sound of his labored breathing against her ear as he moved inside her . . .

“Lisette?” Ava's voice cut through her reverie, making Lisette jump.

“Sorry, honey. Daydreaming.” She smiled down at the girl. “Did you say something?”

“I can't figure this out,” Ava whined. She sat slumped over the small kitchen table, her science homework spread out before her. Lisette knew Ava liked to do her homework in there to be with her and Tina. Tina Rodriguez was the housekeeper and cook in the mansion from Monday through Friday; Eileen O'Rourke was the weekend shift. In Tina, Lisette had found something rare in her isolated world: a friend. The short, older brunette shot Lisette a glance and a wink now as she stirred sauce in the pot on the stove, knowing the kid's routine.

“Did you
really
try to figure it out on your own first?” Lisette asked, her usual question to make sure Ava wasn't just being lazy and looking for Lisette to do her homework for her.

The girl nodded emphatically. “I tried; I did. But can you help me with this one thing? I just don't see where they talk about photosynthesis in this article other than giving the definition. How am I supposed to ‘impart my thoughts' on that?!”

“Okay, okay. Let me see.” Lisette scooted her chair a little closer to look over the papers Ava thrust at her in frustration.

* * *

A few hours later, after Lisette had picked Thomas and Myles up from soccer practice, and all three kids were playing up in their playroom, Lisette and Tina stole a little time to have a cup of tea together and chat. They sat at the same table where Ava liked to do her homework, tucked into the corner of the large, modern kitchen.

“So spill it,” Tina demanded, munching on one of the chocolate chip cookies she'd made that afternoon.

Lisette's brow furrowed. “Spill what?”

“I'm older, wiser, and I know you,” Tina said, her dark eyes dancing. “You're not yourself today. What's up? I'm here for you, you know.”

Lisette stared at her friend, so grateful to have her in her quiet, lonely life. She darted a glance over her shoulder toward the door, making sure none of the children were nearby. Then, for extra safety, she started to speak in a low tone, slipping into Spanish. She and Tina were both fluent, so they used it when they didn't want any of the Harrisons to know what they were saying.

“I did something so stupid,” Lisette began. “And I can't stop beating myself up for it, even though it's supposed to be okay now.”

“What happened?” Tina set down her cup in its saucer and reached for Lisette's hand.

Lisette's eyes welled up at the small show of support. Her throat thickened, and all she could do was shake her head.

“Shhh, shh, shh. Come here, mama.” Tina reached over to hug her friend.

Lisette gratefully accepted the embrace, clinging to Tina for a minute as tears slipped out of her eyes. Then she pulled back, wiped her cheeks and sniffled hard, and sat up straight. “I'll be fine. Honest.”

“Well, when you're ready to talk about whatever happened, you know I'm here for you.” Tina squeezed Lisette's hands for emphasis. “In the meantime, if you fixed it, and it's behind you, leave it there. Pick up and move on; just keep moving. That's all you can do. Right?”

Lisette nodded and sniffed once more, then pulled her hands from Tina's to cradle her mug. It was nice and warm against her palms, and she lifted it to her mouth for a sip. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you just needed a hug.” Tina smiled kindly.

“Maybe I did.” Lisette smiled back, gratitude welling in her chest.

“I always have a hug for you if you need it. And stop beating yourself up, whatever happened. Let it go. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Set?” Myles's voice rang out. “Liseeeeeette . . .” A few seconds later, he appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Can I have a snack?”

Lisette glanced at her watch. “Now?” Tina pushed the plate of cookies out of Myles's line of vision. “It's a little late, sweetie. You're going to bed soon.”

“But I want to wait up for Daddy,” Myles said.

“You can't tonight,” Lisette said. “He's not going to be home until later, way after the three of you are asleep. I told you that when I picked you up from soccer, remember?”

The boy's mouth folded into a dramatic pout. His big blue eyes, so like his father's, crinkled with added sadness. “But I wanna wait up.”

“But you can't, little man.” Lisette took another sip of tea. “Go on and finish your game, or your TV show, because bedtime is in half an hour.”

“Aww, c'mooooon,” Myles needled.

“This is not up for debate, Myles,” Lisette said, her voice quiet but firm. “Say good night to Tina and go back up now.”

The little boy huffed and kicked his foot against the floor, but said, “Good night, Tina,” and did as he was told.

Tina shook her head, speaking in Spanish. “And he's the easy one. He's a good boy. Always was. But those other two were turning into bratty little shits 'til you came to this house. Amazing what you've done with those kids. Seriously. I see it every day.”

“They're great kids,” Lisette murmured, also slipping back into Spanish. She reached for a cookie and bit into it, then moaned. “Oh my God, this is so good. You're a magician, Tina.”

“So are you,” Tina remarked. “I may work magic with food, but you've worked magic with those kids. I hope Charles Harrison really knows what a treasure he found in you.”

At the mention of his name, Lisette's eyes fell to her teacup. “I actually think he does,” she murmured. She recalled the look of relief on his face when he learned she wasn't going to leave; he truly did appreciate what she did here. Everything would go back to normal eventually, as time passed.

Tina was right. Lisette had to stop dwelling on this and somehow move forward.

* * *

Charles leaned over the table, carefully lining up his shot. He narrowed his eyes, taking his time, then slid the cue through his fingers to make the break. The cue ball smacked the group of balls hard, sending them scattering across the green cloth.

“Nice,” Dane said, eyeing where the balls stopped rolling. He lifted his bottle of dark beer to his lips and stole a sip before moving around to the other side of the table. “So? Talk. You're wound up tight. Worse than usual. I could see it as soon as you walked in.”

Charles just nodded, his gaze canvasing the room. Dane's upscale hotel had a wide, extravagant billiards room with eight tables for guests, but a smaller private room in the back with only one table. Taken by reservation only, it was used for everything from covert meetings of businessmen to private trysts for lovers. Dane had reserved it tonight so they could speak freely.

Charles took a deep breath as he watched Dane take his shot, then blurted out, “I went home after the party on Saturday night, was feeling sorry for myself, and went into my study to have a drink and brood. Lisette found me there. She was just being nice to me; we were talking . . . Next thing I know, I'm on top of her on the couch, and I . . . we . . . Christ, Dane, I fucked her right there, on the couch in my study. I slept with my goddamn kids' nanny. I'm a walking cliché, and a pathetic moron to boot.”

Dane slowly straightened to his full height, his shell-shocked gaze glued to his older brother. “Are you serious?”

“No, I'm making up a horrible story like that,” Charles snapped sarcastically. He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing at his jaw as a muscle below his eye twitched.

“Holy shit.” Dane blew out a long, slow breath. “Um . . . you're sure you don't want a drink?”