Holiday Serenade, The (2 page)

“What a great idea!” Rhett agreed with his usual aw–shucks ease. “Do you have any of these bells in gold? I don’t always like my poker babes to wear the same outfits.”

Mac snorted alongside Dustin—a truly horrible mannerism they’d picked up from Mac’s employee and close friend, Jill Hale, who was Jill McConnell now that she was married, but no one remembered to call her that. The Hales were still the backbone of the Dare Valley community, and married names didn’t seem to stick.

Abbie shot Dustin a
you’d better stop snorting
look—something that wouldn’t work nearly so well with her brother. Her son stood and patted Rhett on the back.

“You’re on your own, man. Mom may decide not to feed me, and I’m starving.”

“Aren’t you always?” Mac asked, wandering over to the refrigerator to pull out a local brew. “Dustin, let’s go see what Keith is up to. Peggy?”

She took Mac’s hand and gave him an intimate smile, which he returned. It made Abbie’s heart sing to see them so happy after everything they’d been through. But it pleased her less that they were doing everything they could to make it difficult for her to ignore Rhett. Granted, he was one of Mac’s oldest friends, and had been around for years, but now that he’d declared his love for her, she didn’t want him around all the time.

Except when she did.

Call her The Girl Conflicted. It could be an indie film.

The focus of her conflicted thoughts gave her a wry smile as he came around and stood beside her at the kitchen island, his arm brushing hers. Tall, muscular, and as charming as the snake who talked Eve into biting the apple, Rhett knew he had rugged appeal. Sometimes he used it on her. Other times, he simply hung back and waited.

Today he was definitely turning on the charm. Even the brief contact between them was like a match to the kindling—warmth caught from her arm and spread throughout her body.

“It’s nice to be in the US of A for Christmas this year,” he commented. “Last year’s was pretty bad. I was in Monte Carlo playing poker, missing you. I got stinking drunk and went to the hotel’s gift shop to buy you a present I knew I’d never send.” He dug into his back pocket and fished out a thin box wrapped in shiny red paper.

She edged back, her hands going all clammy. Oh, no. Not this. “Rhett, please, I—”

“I figured that I’d give this to you now since I already have another one for this year’s Christmas.” When she didn’t take it, he set it down on the countertop next to the green sugar sprinkles. “You can open it now or whenever you’d like.”

The package might as well have been an airplane’s black box, housing information she desperately wanted to know but was terrified of all the same.

“Later, then,” he said after a tense moment, forcing a smile. Rhett tapped the box before wandering over to the kitchen table.

What to say? Suddenly she felt guilty. He was giving her a present for heaven’s sake, and she couldn’t even say thank you. Why did he do this to her manners?

Her arm locked in place. She simply couldn’t reach for it. “Rhett, you didn’t need to—”

“What else can I help you with?” he asked, cutting off her pitiful statement of gratitude. “Do you need me to glue anything onto those wreaths over there? I can probably manage that if you show me where you want the red flowers and gold bells.”

Her newest craft project lay on the kitchen table. Dustin had told her he was too old to be her Wreath Glue Man. Apparently he had an image to uphold. She didn’t even want to know what that meant. Funny how he hadn’t nixed helping her with the gingerbread houses… She’d see how much he actually ended up doing in the end.

Rhett picked up the fake red amaryllis flowers she’d laid next to the first wreath. The sight of it in his huge hand should have looked silly, but like Dwayne Johnson, The Rock, Rhett combined Alpha male toughness with a softer, playful side. In moments like this, it was easy to imagine them together. Then she would see him playing poker with his poker babes, and she’d remember that his public persona was anathema to her. Even though he was making other modifications designed to show her he was changing his ways, part of her was terrified he’d change on her again, just like Dustin’s father had done.

Inside of her beat the heart of a woman who wanted hearth and home.

But she still wanted to be touched by this man—caressed by him, kissed by him.

He’d told her that he wouldn’t do that again until she asked.

So far, the duct tape she’d metaphorically placed on her mouth was working…even though the sex–starved woman inside her wanted to beg.

“Do you want all your wreaths to look the same or different?” He set the flower aside and picked up the navy and orange glue gun.

“Rhett, I don’t—”

“Just let me help you, Abbie. I won’t say anything. We can turn on some Christmas music and work in silence.”

For someone who pretty much talked all the time, he’d become a master at simply being in the same room with her without saying a thing.

He reminded her of General Patton in the strategy he was using to pursue her: circling her, laying siege, and then doing something like this. Simply pitching his camp close to hers without doing anything more.

Somehow that meant more to her than anything else. She hadn’t expected to find peace with Rhett, but she had. She’d found it in so many ways when they were together—after they’d made love; in the mornings, when she’d wake up first and watch him sleep; at breakfast, when they’d both read the paper. And now this.

She hit the switch to her kitchen radio, and the newest Christmas song from Rhett’s close friend, country singer, Rye Crenshaw, filled the room.

“This song is pretty romantic for Rye. Has he met someone?” she asked, listening to the lyrics.
You’re my Christmas dream come true.

Rhett turned his back to her and busied himself with the green floral wire. She’d be shocked if he knew what to do with it.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he answered, finally taking a seat at the kitchen table, where a sugar plum spice candle flickered. He was silent for a long moment, and then he said, “I don’t mind admitting I’m kinda missing my mama around this time of year, especially with all these things you’ve been busying yourself with. She likes to bake and decorate like you do. And she makes the finest wreaths in Natchez, if I do say so myself.”

She gave the gift box another wary glance, skirted the kitchen island, and walked toward Rhett, watching with something like disbelief as he arranged the flowers and bells on the wreath. Rhett had decided to spend Christmas with her and her family instead of being with his own mother. Mac had insisted they needed to invite him, and because she wasn’t cruel, she’d agreed. He’d be part of their enormous Christmas celebration with the Hale clan, who had become an extension of their family through Peggy, whose brother was married to Meredith Hale.

“How’s this?” Rhett asked, gesturing to his impromptu arrangement.

“Pretty good,” she said, and she meant it. Who knew Rhett Butler Blaylock had hidden wreath–making talents? Somehow he always managed to surprise her. “You’ve never told me much about your mother.”

His golden eyes finally rested on her for more than a few seconds. The pause in their conversation had her plucking at her green cashmere sweater.

“No, I haven’t. When we were
together,
I didn’t get the sense you wanted to talk about anything that personal.”

Her mind hearkened back to the hours of sweaty, passionate lovemaking they’d shared. They’d laughed together, yes. He’d chanted the Ole Miss fight song, “Hotty Toddy,” to her and had given her his Eli Manning jersey to wear to bed. But serious talk had been off limits. Especially since she’d made it clear to him that their secret relationship wasn’t going to be about anything but sex. Her first and only foray into that minefield of pleasure.

The kitchen chair framed her body when she sat down across from him at the table. His voice was edged with nostalgia, and since she wasn’t close to her own mother, she threw him a bone. “Maybe you can tell me about your mom while we work.”

Hope burned in his eyes. “That’s a mighty fine idea. So you already know my mama loves
Gone With The Wind
from my name. But what you don’t know…”

His words took her on a journey to another world. This was Rhett the man, the doting son. She’d seen so many sides to him: poker player, Mac’s friend, Dustin’s idol, lover of women, and then her own lover. But the man? His true essence? Well, she’d seen glimpses that had made her want to see more…

He’d been revealing more of himself to her since he’d returned in July, weakening her resolve, making the same darn hope she’d seen burn in his eyes simmer in her own.

But every time she saw him play poker at The Grand Mountain Hotel, Mac’s hotel, and her place of employment, her resolve strengthened. She could not become the wife of the wild Cowboy–on–Crack poker player, as Peggy used to call him. And he could not become Dustin’s stepdad.

Tonight none of that seemed to matter, though. She listened, enthralled while he told her stories about his childhood Christmases, sticking with the Hallmark Channel version rather than
Oliver Twist,
even though she knew he’d experienced some hard knocks. When he left an hour later, his hands heavy on his hips, the reluctance to leave as plain as day, she murmured her goodbyes as she watched him go.

Then she finally picked up the untouched package from the kitchen island. Everyone was now watching Christmas cartoons with Keith, so she’d have some privacy. When she opened it, her heart stopped. Inside was the most delicate strand of pink pearls she’d ever seen, with a note:

Delicate, beautiful, and elegant, just like you. I miss you. Merry Christmas. Love, RBB

He’d signed it “love” even then? Heavens. Her fingers traced them, a slight tremble in the manicured French tips. She put the necklace on, tucking it under her sweater so no one else would see it.

Rhett had always known what she wanted, what she needed, and given it to her with a generosity that boggled her mind.

What in the world was he planning to give her for Christmas this year?

Part of her couldn’t wait to find out.

Chapter 2

F
or Rhett, curbing wild tendencies had become a new course in the subject of Life. Proving to Abbie that he loved her was harder than winning The World Series of Poker—which was freakin’ hard—but proving he could be a good husband to her and a respectable father to Dustin was probably as difficult as climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, something he hadn’t done yet.

He sighed as his poker babes—so sexist, he knew—strutted into his house and followed him into his home office. Their oversized Coach purses were filled with files on all the players in Mac’s New Year’s Eve tournament at The Grand Mountain Hotel. He knew how Abbie felt about them, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it. They were like the sisters he’d never had, and they’d helped him become a poker powerhouse.

“Hey Rhett,” Raven said, dropping onto the leather sofa—her preferred perch.

“Boss,” Vixen called out, easing onto the matching leather ottoman where he was sitting.

Since moving to Dare Valley with him, they’d agreed that the women would go low profile. Legal names and normal dress in town. Poker babe hair, makeup, dresses,
and
aliases at the hotel. This was a conservative small town, after all, and Rhett wanted to be respectful. He also wanted Raven and Vixen to be comfortable in their day–to–day lives since they were staying for the duration.

With her short brown hair and brown eyes, Raven looked perfectly normal when stripped of her jet black beauty pageant wig and add–ons. And her legal name couldn’t be plainer: Jane Wilcox. She was as skinny as a rail without all the body padding she had to wear. Vixen’s strawberry blond hair and big blue eyes were captivating, and she didn’t need any stuffing to turn a man’s head. Her God–given curves and the Marilyn Monroe–inspired wig she wore made her a bombshell. But her name, Elizabeth Saunders, was a far cry from her fiery persona.

He’d met them at a poker tournament in Atlantic City seven years ago. Roommates at Harvard, they’d just graduated with MBAs and
loved
poker. He’d bought them a drink, thinking they were cute, fresh–faced, and close to his age.

But all they’d wanted to do was talk about poker and other players—an unusual conversation for him to have with a couple of pretty women. They had blown his socks off with their insights, handle on the players, and ability to keep track of everyone’s betting strategies. Being a spontaneous kind of guy, he’d offered them jobs as his scouts on the spot.

They’d agreed, which had kind of surprised him until they’d brought him into the sacred circle of their sisterhood and told them why they were doing it. Jane’s father, a state senator in Connecticut, had been pressuring her to return home and campaign for him with the end goal of her working for him. She’d campaigned for him all her life and couldn’t take it anymore. Elizabeth had a mountain of debt and an ex–boyfriend who wouldn’t leave her alone. Rhett knew there was more to her story, but she’d never told him all the details. For both women, the job had been an escape.

And he’d been happy to help them. Plus there was a reason for the act. Scouting, while totally normal, was best done circumspectly. Plus, Rhett’s fame as a flamboyant ladies’ man had been growing. Making it a part of his shtick had seemed like the best cover.

His poker babes had traveled to the far end of the globe with him, Elizabeth had paid off her college debts, and they’d all made a lot of money in the process. She and Jane never fraternized with the players, and they only played their bombshell roles in public. Everyone had been very clear on that point early on.

While Jane wasn’t prone to much interaction with men, being the more skittish of the two, Elizabeth lived up to her stage name of Vixen, leaving an endless string of broken hearts wherever she went. The women were still best friends, and while they sometimes sighed over the outfits they had to wear for work, they always put their backs into it. Did a man proud.