'Tis the Season (8 page)

“Whoa, there!” Dane cut him off. “You don't have to defend her assets to me.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “She's lovely and down-to-earth. She
is
great with your kids. And she's gorgeous.” His brows lifted as he summed up, “You're right, Chuckles; she's a pretty fantastic woman. And you haven't dated in
how
long?”

“All right, enough.” Charles couldn't help but think about her warm, chocolate-colored eyes. The feel of her soft olive skin. Her long, thick hair, out of its usual braid, loose and smooth as silk between his fingers. And her hot, sensual mouth—how it tasted, how it felt when she kissed him back with raw hunger . . .

He shot to his feet and strode to where his cue stick stood. “This topic is closed,” he said. “It was a mistake, a fluke. I'll get her out of my head. Things will go back to normal. There won't be a repeat.”

“If you say so,” Dane said lightly.

“I say so,” Charles repeated with firm resolve. And felt something go strangely hollow inside as he said it.

Chapter Seven

Lisette grabbed her keys from the tiny crystal bowl on the front table beside the matching one that usually held Charles's keys. She did a quick last check of her tote bag: plastic bags to hold extra candy, wipes, cell phone, sunglasses, lip balm . . . The other tote with extra clothes was already in the minivan.

“Okay, you guys,” she called. “Everyone ready to go?”

“Yeeeeesssss!!” Myles cried as he flew down the stairs. “Time for trick or treat!”

Ava and Thomas were right behind him, giggling with excitement.

“It's gonna be so fun trick or treating with Uncle Pierce,” Thomas said.

“And Abby and Dylan,” Myles reminded his big brother.

“We'll be a big traveling party,” Lisette said, leaning down to tie Myles's sneaker. “You all look fantastic.” She straightened to survey them in their Halloween costumes. Thomas was a ninja, dressed all in black; Myles was a red Power Ranger; and Ava was the heroine Merida from the movie
Brave
, complete with a long, red curly wig and a plastic bow and arrow. Lisette pulled her phone out of her bag and said, “Let's get a few pictures of you out front by the pumpkins and flowers. I know your dad will want to see how awesome you all look.”

The front door opened, and as if on cue Charles stepped into the foyer.

“Daddy!” Myles and Ava yelped, throwing themselves at him for hugs. Thomas stood and watched. Lisette saw the conflict in the boy's dark eyes: part happy to see his father, part wanting to stay angry at him for all his perceived sins. She touched Thomas's shoulder and smiled down at him, meaning to comfort. Thomas gave her a hint of a grin.

“Hello, Charles,” she said to her employer. She ignored the low burn starting in her belly at the sight of him. Dressed in a navy suit, crisp shirt, and striped tie, Charles looked every bit the urbane COO that he was. He also looked like a cover model, confident, handsome, and sexy . . .
Damn
. She had to stop thinking those thoughts. Clearing her throat, she put on a bright smile. “This is a surprise.”

“A good surprise, I hope?” Charles said, an arm around each child. He looked down at them.

“Yes, yes!” Myles shrieked, bouncing on his toes. “Look at me, Daddy, I'm a Power Ranger!” He struck a pose, intending to be fierce.

“So cool!” Charles said, smiling. “Hey, has anyone seen my daughter? She's got dark brown hair. I don't know who this redheaded warrior princess is . . .”

“Merida,” Ava said proudly. “I'm Merida from
Brave
. I can shoot arrows, and I'm strong, and I'm better than all the boys.”

“That's definitely awesome,” Charles said, fingering one of the long fake curls. “I've always said you're a force to be reckoned with.”

“Why are you here?” Thomas said. Curiosity and annoyance mixed in his tone.

Charles blinked, his smile faltering a bit. “It's Halloween. I wanted to go trick or treating with you all. I thought it'd be fun.”

“We were about to leave,” Thomas said, more surly this time.

“Then I'm glad I caught you,” Charles said, flicking a glance at Lisette. “Where are you going?”

“To Pierce's,” she said. “Their neighborhood has a lot more kids; they said it would be fun. We're meeting him, Abby, and her nephew Dylan at Pierce's place.”

“We'd better get going, then, huh?” Charles said, tweaking Ava's nose playfully.

“You never come trick or treating with us,” Thomas said. “Don't you have work? You
always
have work.”

“I left early.” Charles's eyes narrowed, studying his elder son's face as he stepped to him, and said carefully, “Thomas. Does it bother you that I'm here?”

Thomas didn't answer, but his stare stayed petulant.

Charles sighed as he thought,
Well, at least he didn't say yes
. “I left work early,” he said, “because Halloween is fun, and I wanted to be with my children.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks and looked around at all three of his kids. “I don't see you guys as much as I should. That's
my
fault. So I . . . well, I'm going to make an effort to see you all more. And not to miss things like your concerts and your soccer games . . . and trick or treating on Halloween. Okay?”

Myles banded his arms around his father's leg and hugged tight. “Okay!”

“That would be really nice,” Ava admitted softly.

Charles's heart squeezed, and he reached for her, pulling her into his side and hugging her with his free arm. “I love you,” he said. “All of you. I'm sorry I've been gone so much . . . I'm going to try to be better about that.”

Thomas looked wary, but he nodded. Charles exhaled; maybe he'd gotten through to him a little. It was a start.

Then he looked at Lisette, whose big brown eyes were warm and . . . approving. Well, that was a nice bonus. His gaze quickly traveled over her, drinking her in. Her curves were hidden by a long orange sweater, black yoga pants, and multicolored sneakers. Small, simple gold hoops hung from her ears, the only jewelry she wore besides a thin gold watch. As usual, her dark hair was pulled back in a long French braid and her face was devoid of makeup, except for what looked to be tinted lip balm on her luscious mouth. She didn't need any makeup. Her long lashes were black as night, her smooth olive skin glowed, and that kissable mouth . . . She really was, as Dane had said, a natural beauty.

And Charles enjoyed looking at her, much more than he should. In fact, just looking at her made his heart beat a little faster, made his blood pulse a little hotter, and made him want things that he shouldn't.

He tore his gaze from her and said to the kids, “Give me two minutes to change out of this suit. You all go ahead to the car; I'll be right there.”

* * *

It was almost ten o'clock by the time the kids fell asleep. An afternoon of walking around Edgewater should have worn them out, but the excitement of Halloween—and the sugar rush from the candy they gobbled—had them buzzing way past their normal bedtime.

When the hallway was soundless, and Lisette was sure they were all sleeping, she went down to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea. A hot cup of orange spice tea, along with the new book waiting on her e-reader, after the frenetic noise and energy of the afternoon and evening, was all she wanted. That and quiet, to sit and read until she fell asleep.

The spacious kitchen was dark and empty. She flipped on the lights and hummed to herself as she filled the white teakettle with water. The last song that had been playing in the minivan on the way home was stuck in her head.

“I can't get that damn song out of my head either.”

“Oh!” She whirled around in surprise, sloshing water from the open kettle onto the tiled floor. Charles stood a few feet behind her. Wide-eyed, she clutched a hand to her chest.

“I'm sorry!” he said. “Wow, I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I—I didn't hear you come in.” She turned off the faucet and glanced at the puddle on the floor.

“Here, give me that.” Charles strode to her and took the kettle from her, his fingers brushing hers as he moved away to place it on the stove. “Enough water in here for me to join you? I assume you're making tea.”

“Yes. I mean, yes, there's enough water, and yes, I am.” Still flustered, she hurried to the paper-towel rack, tore off a few, and went back to the puddle, dropping to her knees to wipe it up.

After setting the kettle on the stove and flicking on the gas, Charles watched her, casually leaning against the marble counter of the center island. “You couldn't sleep either, huh?”

“Not yet,” she said, throwing the sopping pile of paper towels into the trash.

“Me either. But it was a nice evening.” Charles smiled warmly and crossed his arms over his chest. “The kids had fun, and it was good to be out with them. Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Tag along?” Lisette frowned at him, puzzled. “They're
your
children.”

“Well, you didn't expect me to show up. I infringed on your plans.”

“What? Charles . . .” She wiped her damp hands on a cloth kitchen towel. “This is your home, your family. You don't ever infringe on plans. You do whatever you want.”

“I know all that. But I know if
I
made a plan and someone popped in at the last minute, it might throw me off a little.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing throws you off. You run a billion-dollar international company. Unflappable, solid as a rock, that's you. Everyone knows that.”

His lips pursed, his jaw tightened, and his gaze intensified. It almost made her squirm. She'd intended it as an offhand compliment, but he looked almost . . . agitated. What had she said wrong? She turned to go to the pantry, then stopped, realizing he intended to stay. “Um . . . what kind of tea would you like?”

To her relief, his features softened. “What are you having?”

“Orange spice. Decaffeinated.”

“Sounds good. I'll have the same.”

As she ducked into the large pantry, she placed a hand to her still pounding heart, closed her eyes, and tried to take a deep breath. God, he'd startled her. And God, he looked gorgeous. She loved how he looked in his expensive custom-tailored suits; that was a given. Few men were as downright dashing in a suit as Charles Harrison III, and the man practically lived in his suits. When he got home from the office, he usually discarded the jacket and pulled off the tie, but stayed in his clothes until he went to his bedroom for the night. Even living in his house, the too-rare glimpses of a casual Charles were delightful.

So, seeing him like he was now—in a tight navy pullover sweater and jeans, hair a little rumpled, and his glasses on, not his contacts—he was deliciously adorable, appealing, and just . . . normal. Well, if movie-star kind of handsome men were normal, other than the whole mega rich, smart, and powerful thing.

She found the box of tea bags and left the pantry. Charles now sat at the small table in the nook, where she usually did homework with Ava or talked with Tina. He flashed her a smile and gestured to the center island. “Got out some mugs.”

She dropped a tea bag in each cup, feeling as though she were being watched. She snuck a glance at Charles from beneath her lashes. He
was
watching her, and when caught, his eyes held, and the grin stayed on his face.

Jesus, was he actually smoldering at her? Or was she just wishing he were? Either way, the warm, wobbly feeling she lately got whenever she looked at him took merciless hold of her insides.

This new dynamic between them had thrown her way off course. She'd never been intimidated by Charles, and she knew some people were, simply because of the immense power he had. Yes, he had a commanding presence and was incredibly smart, but he was not arrogant or condescending. He was reserved in nature, but always extremely courteous, genial, and respectful, to her and to everyone around him. He didn't micromanage her, obviously trusting her abilities enough to hang back and let her do her job. And yes, she'd harbored some feelings for him, but nothing that kept her from doing her job, being around him, or talking to him. It'd just been a crush, really.

But since the night of . . . well,
that night
, it was a whole new ball game. For almost two years, they'd shared an easy coexistence, but that mellow calm in his presence had vanished. Now, the thought of him, the sight of him, even the smell of him got her all worked up and flustered. She'd always thought he was gorgeous, sure; but now she also thought of him as sexy, and amazing in bed—well, on the couch—and tempting, and quietly charismatic, and . . . and she was in big trouble, that's what she was.

The shrill whistle of the teakettle snapped her out of her thoughts. He rose from his seat and went to the stove. “Allow me.”

Biting down on her lip as he took the kettle and poured the boiling water into the cups, she fought to appear calm and collected, as she'd always been before. Now, it was taking everything she had to appear that way. Her skin felt warm, her stomach felt swirly, and she was sure her cheeks were flushed because she felt as if they were burning. She felt like a silly teenager with a secret forbidden crush—and it was
not
okay. Not if she wanted any sort of peace and sanity as she continued to live with him and do her job each day.

Steeling herself, she smiled demurely and thanked him as she took one of the mugs. He wrapped his large hands around his mug as they sat at the table in the kitchen nook. An awkward silence settled over them. Suddenly the kitchen felt too big for just two people sitting in the corner, which made that simple act feel somehow intimate. She stared down into her mug and chewed on her bottom lip.

“Today was nice,” he said amiably. “I think you enjoyed it. I hope?”

His deep, warm voice made her heart twinge. Or maybe something a little lower twinged. Or maybe both. His voice was so sensual, like everything else about him . . . Oh, yeah, this was very, very bad. She cleared her dry throat.

“Yes, I did,” she managed to say. “It was a fun day, and I know the kids loved having you with them.” She lifted her steaming mug to her lips to take a tentative sip. “That was a wonderful surprise for them. You made their day.”

He grinned. “I don't know why I didn't go last year.” Then he frowned slightly as he turned his mug in his hands. “Must have been working, of course . . .”

“Last year, you were on a business trip,” she reminded him. “Tokyo, I think.”