Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: The Maverick's Thanksgiving Baby\A Celebration Christmas\Dr. Daddy's Perfect Christmas (22 page)

“What do you like to eat, George?” Lily asked.

The boy didn't answer. Megan nudged him.

“Ms. Palmer wants to know what you like to eat,” she said.

The boy shrugged, indicating he wasn't the least bit interested in their conversation.

Lily decided not to push him. “You don't have to call me Ms. Palmer. Why don't you call me Lily?”

Hannah leaned back and looked up at her. “Hi, Lily.” She giggled.

“Hi, sweet Hannah,” Lily answered.

Hannah giggled again and twirled one of Lily's curls around her finger.

George spun the car so hard that it sailed off the board and skidded across the floor. It disappeared in the space between the wall and the refrigerator.

“Crap!” George growled.

Hannah and Bridget both clasped their hands over their mouths.

“George!” cried Megan. “You're not supposed to say words like that. If Mom were here, you'd be in so much trouble.”

“Yeah, well, she's not here anymore.” He turned his angry gaze on Lily. “What are you going to do about it,
Lily?
”

* * *

It was nearly ten-thirty when Cullen got home that night. After being called away from the office midday, he'd had a lot to catch up on when he got back. Plus, there had been an emergency he'd had to handle. It had taken him that long to get everything in order.

He put his key in the lock, but before he could open the door, someone opened it for him from the inside. Lily was standing there. Cullen's first thought was
What did they do? Please don't tell me you're leaving.

But Lily simply pressed her finger to her lips in the international sign for
quiet.
She motioned him inside. The door clicked behind him, and for one glorious moment, Cullen stood in the deafening silence. The kids were quiet. The dog wasn't even barking. It was a calm he hadn't heard in days.

Lily walked toward the kitchen and he followed her.

“How in the world did you manage this?” he asked. “Did you slip a tranquilizer into their dinner?”

“No, of course not,” she said. “I told you I would tire them out by keeping them busy.”

He glanced around at the clean kitchen and the tidy family room, surprised not to see a mess.

“They're angels when they sleep, aren't they?” he said. “This place looks great. Did they help you?”

“A little bit,” she said. “We had a good bit of fun, too. In fact, we made Christmas decorations out of some glitter and construction paper I had in my trunk.” She gestured toward the table, where he could see several flat and shiny objects neatly laid out.

“But they cleaned up after themselves,” she said. “We even tackled that blue mess in the upstairs bathroom.”

“The blue potion?” He had forgotten all about it in his rush to get back to work. “You cleaned it up?”

“Potion? Is that what that was?”

She must've had a speck of glitter on her cheek, because something glinted in the kitchen light. Maybe it was pixie dust. Maybe that was her secret. She certainly was as cute as a pixie with her blond hair, laughing green eyes and smooth ivory skin.

“Apparently so,” he said. “You didn't have to clean it up.”

She chuckled and Cullen had to ball his hands into fists to keep from leaning in and brushing the glitter off her cheek.

“If it sat there any longer,” she said, “it was going to either start expanding out into the hall and take over the entire house or dry out on the toilet and tile and stain everything blue. We actually made a game out of it. The kids were great once they got used to the idea that they had to clean up their messes. Are you hungry? Because I'm happy to reheat some pizza for you.”

The non sequitur threw him, but as he made the jump from the blue potion to her offer of food, a feeling of gratitude washed over him.

“No, thanks,” he said. “I'm sure you're exhausted. You need to get home so you can get some rest for tomorrow.”

He wasn't sure that the feeling inside him might not actually be relief. Not only did Lily have the situation firmly under control, but for the first time since the kids had arrived, he was able to take a deep breath and let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to work out. And to think there had been a few shaky days there when he'd convinced himself that he'd gotten in way over his head by taking in the kids, even for a little while.

She walked over to the table and picked up her purse. She shrugged into her coat and fished her keys out of her bag before pulling on a pair of red leather gloves. “Actually before I go, I wanted to ask you if you had a schedule you wanted the kids to follow. We didn't really get a chance to talk about specifics before you left to go back to the hospital earlier today.”

Schedule?
“No. You just keep doing what you're doing. I'll be working late most nights. I won't be around much.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but the sparkle in her eyes seemed to dim a few watts.

“There's a park not too far from here. It's just a short drive. You all could go there. I know it's cold outside, but if you bundle them up they'd be fine. Is your car big enough to transport five?”

Lily frowned. “No. I have a sedan. It seats four. I guess that's a problem. Maybe we could walk to the park.”

Not unless she was an expert at herding cats.

“I'll call around and see about renting an SUV or a minivan for you to use. It's too cold outside to walk anywhere, but I know that you can't stay cooped up inside. Let me see what I can come up with.”

“That would be great,” Lily said. “Hannah was showing me her booster seat today. She's quite proud of it.”

Cullen could imagine the girl doing that. For a surreal nanosecond, he saw a flash of what it might be like to keep the kids permanently, with someone like Lily at his side helping him raise them. The thought was simultaneously inviting and terrifying. He blinked it away.

“You'll need a front-door key,” he said. “Let me get it for you.”

Lily followed him over to a brass key holder that was hanging on the foyer wall just outside the kitchen. He plucked a silver key on a leather key valet.

As he handed it to her, his fingers grazed her soft palm. A tingle of awareness zinged through him and she pulled her hand away a little too fast.

“Feel free to let yourself in,” he said. “No need to knock.”

She nodded.

“I guess I'll see you tomorrow,” she said and turned toward the door. He followed her to lock up after he let her out, feeling a bit like a stray dog trailing along behind a beautiful stranger. She was a good soul who also happened to be a striking woman. A different brand of beautiful that wasn't his usual type. But even if she was, he didn't need to complicate matters by crossing lines that should be clearly drawn.

“Good night,” she said.

“Lily?”

She stopped and turned back to face him. The glitter winked at him. Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out and brushed it away. Her cheek was just as soft and smooth as it looked. It took everything he had not to trace his finger along the edge of her jawline and over that full bottom lip—

But then her fingers flew to her cheek.

“It was a speck of glitter,” he said. “On your cheek. For a moment, I thought it might be some of that pixie dust you used to work your magic on the kids. But I guess it's just your sparkling personality shining through.”

Oh, hell. That was corny.

But she smiled. And blushed. He could even see it in the golden glow of the porch light.

“Thank you,” she said. “But I probably have enough loose glitter in my car to decorate the entire neighborhood.”

Her keys jingled against the metal of the ring as she gave a little wave of her hand. “See you tomorrow.”

He watched her walk away toward her sensible navy blue, four-door sedan and the electricity that had been hanging in the air between them seemed to fade, replaced by the realization that she would be around only until the end of the month.

He felt a little foolish remembering his earlier vision of keeping the kids. She was the one who had set order to the chaos. But she had a job, probably with good benefits, that she would return to after the first of the year. Surely she wasn't interested in being a full-time nanny.

He could ask, but it wasn't likely.

Still, his heart felt heavy when he thought of the huge task of trying to place all four kids in the same family. The attorney, Cameron Brady, had said he would try, but it was a long shot.

What was he going to do if the perfect family didn't materialize?

It would be impossible to try to care for them on his own; that was just a ridiculous thought that had momentarily run away with his senses. It had been a preposterous lapse of reason. He, of all people, knew that kids need two parents. A mother and a father. Not an absentee pseudo-uncle/father who would spend more time at work than at home. But the fantasy had been fun for the fleeting moment it had lasted.

Chapter Three

A
t six o'clock the next morning, Cullen was in the kitchen making himself a cup of coffee when Lily showed up at the front door with her arms full of reusable grocery bags.

“Let me help you with those,” Cullen said, taking the three sacks from her. “What on earth did you bring?”

“I picked up some things for lunch,” she said as she took off her coat and scarf. “And we're going to do some baking today.”

As he set the bags on the island in the kitchen, he peered inside and spied grapes, carrots, peanut butter and a loaf of whole-wheat bread, among other things.

“The baking sounds like fun for the kids, but I was going to leave you some money to order pizza again. Wouldn't that be easier than fixing lunch for four?”

“Cullen, most kids love pizza, but not for every meal. I don't mind cooking for them. Really, it's no problem.”

Her blond hair hung in soft waves around her shoulders, and her cheeks were still pink from the chilly morning air. She wore a red sweater that looked soft and very touchable and blue jeans that he couldn't help noticing hugged her curves in all the right places.

She was dressed casually and everything about her was appropriate, but how was it that yesterday in the midst of the chaos, he hadn't noticed just
how
attractive she was? How could he have missed that and those curves showcased so nicely this morning?

As he reminded himself that her curves were none of his business, he forced his gaze back to her face. She looked remarkably fresh for having left just eight hours ago. For a split second, it crossed his mind to ask her if she would like to move into the guest room for the month that she'd be watching the kids. But then he thought better of it.

She would probably want a little space and some boundaries during her time off. His gaze dropped to that full lower lip. Or maybe
he
was the one who needed the space. He certainly needed to respect the well-drawn boundaries that should be observed in this type of circumstance.

“Please leave me the receipt for the groceries so I can reimburse you for the things you purchased. Did you go to the store this morning?”

She shook her head.

“Last night,” she said and started unpacking the bags, putting things away as if she were completely at home.

He liked her ease and confidence. “You must've gotten home after midnight. Did you get any sleep last night?”

He hadn't.

Even though the house had been quiet and calm, as if everyone had been under Lily's serenity spell, he'd spent a fitful night chasing the squirrels that had raced around his head, making him doubt the realities of taking in four kids—even on a temporary basis. Where had all this doubt come from? Misgivings that had him searching for solutions in the hours when he used to sleep soundly and deeply? Nothing used to disturb him in the few hours he had away from the hospital.

“I'll get used to the new schedule in a few days,” she said. “I'm adaptable. But then again, I'll probably just be getting used to the nanny schedule when I have to go back to school. Isn't that how it always works?”

“Then you might as well stay on here rather than go back to school,” he said.

She stopped what she was doing.

“Does that mean that you're reconsidering adopting out the kids?”

No.
He wasn't. He couldn't. And he had no idea why he'd even suggested she stay on, other than he needed his coffee. “No, I'm still going to find them a home. And I don't mean to make them sound like a litter of animals.”

He flinched and started to clarify what he meant. The words were right on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them when he heard the sound of the kids moving around upstairs.

“And speaking of,” he said.

There was loud stomping and even from a distance it sounded as though they might be arguing about something. The dog started barking, taking someone's side. Cullen couldn't tell whose. All he knew was that the serenity spell Lily had cast over the house the night before was broken. He hoped to God that she could work her magic again today.

“After they come downstairs, I'm going to say good-morning and then I need to get to the hospital.”

Lily pointed to the coffeemaker. “Don't forget your brew.”

“Actually I haven't had time to make it yet. Would you like a cup?”

“If you'll show me how to use that fancy machine, I'll make myself a cup after you get yours,” she said. “I don't want you to be late.”

They walked over to the coffeemaker. She stood so close that he could smell her perfume, a delicate, feminine floral scent that had him breathing in deeper.

He had just measured the coffee grinds and told her, “You need one scoop for every—” when an ear-piercing scream cut him off and had Lily and him racing into the living room to see what had happened.

Hannah was standing at the top of the steps, crying and holding her finger. Megan was yelling at George, who was holding a stick that should've been in the backyard, not upstairs in the bedrooms.

“You hurt her!” Megan said.

Bridget was standing back quietly observing as her older sister continued to let George have it.

“What's going on up there?” Cullen asked from the bottom of the stairs.

Lily had already gone up to the child and was kneeling at the little girl's side, looking at her finger. “You're bleeding, sweetie. What happened?”

“George took away Franklin's fetch stick. I didn't want him to have it because he said he's going to take Franklin outside without a leash. But I don't want him to because Franklin might run away.”

“George, what did you do, buddy?” Cullen asked once he was up there with them.

“He yanked the stick out of her hand,” Megan answered. “That's how she got the splinter.”

Great. A splinter.

“You have to be careful, pal,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice as even as possible. “You're stronger than you realize. I'm sure you didn't mean to do it on purpose, but you hurt your sister. Can you tell her you're sorry?”

All eyes shifted to the boy, whose face had clouded like a thunderhead. “No,” he said. “She's dumb. She's a dumb, crying baby.”

He turned around and walked out of the room.

Suddenly the dirty dishwater that the hospital tried to pass off as coffee sounded better to Cullen than the strong jolt of joe he usually made for himself, because there was nothing he wanted more right now than to leave all this chaos behind and go to work. Even if the hospital's coffee was bad and that place could be a different brand of bedlam sometimes, at least it came with a chaser of quiet in the form of his closed office door. When he needed to think, all he had to do was shut the door, and unless the place was falling down, no one bothered him. Before they did, they had to go through his administrative assistant, Tracy.

“We need to get this splinter out,” Lily said. “Do you have any tweezers? We'll probably need some hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic ointment. A bandage would help, too.”

“It's all in the hall bath,” Cullen said. “The room where you cleaned up the blue foam yesterday.” The place that always seemed to draw the drama—whether it started or ended there.

Cullen motioned Lily and Hannah to follow him. As the three of them squeezed into the hall bathroom, the dog tried to wedge his way in, too.

Lily scooped up Hannah with one arm and petted Franklin with her free hand, keeping him at bay but allowing him to see that the girl was okay.

“Thank you,” Cullen said. Caring for children was infinitely easier with two people. He had no idea how she managed it on her own. Then again, four kids, even kids as spirited as these, must've seemed like a picnic compared to a classroom full. Obviously some people had the gift and others didn't. Lily, he decided as he gathered the supplies, was the child whisperer. He was way out of his league.

He set his cell phone on the counter.

“I'm going to move this over here so it doesn't get splashed,” Lily said, pushing it behind her with her free hand.

“Thank you. At the rate my morning's going, I'd probably end up knocking it in the toilet.”

He and Lily exchanged smiles, and it was...
nice.
It made him feel as if the day wasn't destined to be all bad.

First he had the little girl wash her hands with soap and water. Then as he prepared to swab Hannah's finger with hydrogen peroxide, she pulled her hand away, tears brimming. “Will that hurt?”

“It shouldn't,” Cullen said. “But I'll bet Ms. Palmer will let you squeeze her hand just in case.”

“Her name is Lily,” Hannah said. “Yesterday, she told us that we could call her Lily.”

“Fair enough,” Cullen said. He smiled as his gaze snagged Lily's and he wondered why it was that he'd never noticed until now how green her eyes were. And they were flecked with little veins of gold.
Nice.

“It might be easier for me to get the splinter out if she sits on the counter,” he said as he picked Hannah up and set her on the vanity.

He had just started to grab the tiny sliver of wood when his cell phone sounded the arrival of a text.

“That's probably the hospital. I'm late.” He nodded in the general direction of the phone, still trying to remove the offending particle. “Would you mind texting them back to say that I'll be right there?”

Lily picked up the phone.

“Oh.”

Cullen looked over and met her gaze. “Is there a problem?”

Lily's eyebrows rose and a faint blush colored her cheeks.

“Well, it's not the hospital. It's someone named...Giselle?” Lily cleared her throat. “She says—and I'm paraphrasing here—but she's very eager to see you tonight. It seems she has quite the night planned for you.”

Oh, hell.

Heat warmed his face. He glanced down at Hannah to see if she'd caught on to the situation. But she was studying the finger that was now splinter free.

“Here—never mind.” Cullen held out his hand for the phone. After Lily gave it to him, he shoved it into his pants pocket as if the action could undo Lily having read the message, which was bound to be graphic, knowing Giselle.

He felt like a letch for having subjected her to it. Of course, if he'd known Giselle would pick that precise moment to offer a preview of coming attractions, he wouldn't have asked Lily to pick up the text. In fact, he'd been so busy since the kids arrived that he'd completely forgotten he was supposed to see her.

Was that tonight?

He couldn't bring a woman like her around while Lily and the kids were here. Before he'd taken the kids into his home, he hadn't realized all the ways they might change his life. When had he ever recoiled from a spicy Giselle text or passed up a chance to see her? But given the circumstances, he didn't have a choice but to decline.

“Does your finger feel better, Hannah?” he asked after he'd slathered it with antibiotic ointment and applied a bandage.

She nodded through a one-shoulder shrug. “Sort of. It would feel much better if I had a princess bandage.”

Lily took the little girl down from the vanity, held her good hand and led her out of the bathroom without looking at Cullen. “The next time I go to the store, I'll make sure to get some princess bandages. A princess should always have a special bandage. You're very brave to wear the ordinary one for now.”

Cullen stood alone for a moment, listening as their conversation grew faint. He certainly hadn't thought taking in the kids would throw him into a crisis of conscience. After all, he was single. He and the women he dated were consenting adults and very clear about the no-strings-attached nature of their relationships. He wasn't doing anything wrong.

So why did it feel as though he was?

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that it wouldn't be this way forever. The kids would be living with him only until the end of December. Then he could resume life as he knew it.

* * *

Nothing said
let's be friends
like a big stack of homemade pancakes. After Cullen made his awkward exit, Lily did her best to put the racy contents of the text she wished she'd never read out of her mind.

It wasn't easy to erase the image of Cullen doing the things Giselle had so graphically described in her message. The only problem was her brain kept imagining Cullen doing those things to
her.

Lily wasn't a prude—she'd been engaged and had enjoyed a healthy relationship with her fiancé before everything turned south—but those thoughts were so inappropriate when she was supposed to have her mind on the kids. For God's sake, the thoughts were inappropriate even if she wasn't watching the kids. Cullen Dunlevy was her boss. And even as progressive and open-minded as she fancied herself, she certainly was no Giselle.

She forced the thoughts out of her mind—or at least relegated them to the very back, dark corners of her overactive imagination—and fired up the griddle she'd brought with her. She made cheerful small talk with the kids as she mixed up a batch of pancake batter for them.

She let them flip their own, which the girls loved. George, however, was less than impressed. He slumped on a bar stool at the kitchen island, kept his head down and his attention on his handheld video game while the three girls enjoyed their breakfast and chatted among themselves.

“Come on, George. Will you please put down the game for five minutes so you can make your pancakes?” Lily cajoled. “It'll be fun.”

George didn't answer.

“Just five minutes, George, please? That's all it will take.”

Nothing.

“I'll make a deal with you,” Lily said. “If you'll make your pancakes, I'll let you lick the bowl when we make sugar cookies after breakfast.”