In From the Cold (13 page)

That afternoon, they dressed in their new clothes, the girls definitely adorable in their matching dresses, and Claire sexy and gorgeous in her black sheath. Her shoes, deep sapphire high heels, matched the ribbon on the girls’ dresses, and I yearned to run my hands down her sides, to feel her warm curves under that slinky velvet. I sighed with pleasure at the thought.

My girls. Sugar and spice and…sexy.

I took a picture of the three in front of our tree, looking forward to the party. I was in a suit, not a tux, and felt more like myself. I wore a sapphire tie, feeling connected to them, like a family. It was heady and exciting and totally, totally wishful thinking. But if you can’t be wishful at Christmas, when can you be?

Still, I was determined to enjoy myself. James picked us up and drove us to the Fritzes’ estate, a cedar post-and-beam mansion situated against the snow-flanked Tetons. Long garlands of roped cedar festooned the porch, and every window sparkled with candles. Two huge matching wreaths with gigantic red bows hung on the entry doors, and an antique sleigh sat off to one side, festooned with more greenery and ribbons and piled high with presents.

Claire was speechless when we pulled up, hesitant to even get out of the limo. I squeezed her hand. I could still remember how intimidating money could be. Having seen, however, how much unhappiness it could also bring, I wasn’t as impressed as I used to be, so had a thicker skin toward it. The girls were oblivious.

“Hey.” I jiggled her hand. “They still look silly in underwear and put their boots on one at a time.”

Claire grimaced, clutching my arm.

“It’s, it’s…” She choked, then wove her fingers through mine.

“What? Tell me,” I demanded.

“Drake, I… Don’t be…” She searched my face, then turned to the window again. She took a deep breath, forcing the words from her lungs. “Disappointed. I’m just a teacher, a nanny, for God’s sake. I couldn’t bear it if… That is, I’m not… Oh hell.”

“I know you’re not and I love you all the more for it.”

Her face whipped back to mine. “What did you say?”

What had I said? Oh. The “L” word. I tested it in my head, in my heart. It felt right and needed repeating.

“I love you all the more for it.”

She stared at me, then grabbed my lapels and pulled me into a hard kiss. I heard the girls giggle, but we didn’t care. I pulled her into me, wrapped my arms around her, slanted my lips across hers. If the girls hadn’t been there, I might have unwrapped my Christmas present right then, every velvet-wrapped inch of her. Unfortunately, I’d have to settle for a kiss. Finally, I pulled away and rubbed my nose against hers.

“Save that thought for later, sweetheart. I’ll definitely take a rain check.” She sighed and snuggled into my chest. I hated to break the moment, really hated it, but the girls were starting to squirm.

“Daddy? Can we go in now?”

“Sure, honey. Let’s go.” I squeezed Claire one more time for courage, opened the car door and lifted my girls out.

A young woman in an elf costume took our coats in the foyer. The three-story great room rose before us, festooned with more swags of cedar, bright plaid ribbons, twinkle lights and gold balls. A twenty-foot Christmas tree stood in the corner, its own herd of willow reindeer grazing around it. A three-piece ensemble played quietly from a musician’s gallery somewhere above us, and a roaring fire burned in the stone fireplace. Tables groaned with food and drink while waiters, also dressed as elves, offered trays of champagne and eggnog. It was festive and warm, but there was nothing and no one more beautiful than my girls.

We made our way over to the Fritzes, who were holding court near the fireplace. Jason was striking—white haired, tall, lean and fit; his wife, Marilyn, dark haired, also tall, lean and fit, in classic black and pearls. She eyed Claire with approval, and the girls? As if she’d like to kidnap them for her own.

“Merry Christmas, Jason, Marilyn. Let me introduce Claire Iverson, my daughter, Suzie, and Sharon and Miles’s daughter, Yvette.”

“Well, how charming! Drake Driscoll, I knew you had a daughter, but three ravishing dolls? Santa has been
very
good to you,” Marilyn purred, then sank eye-level with the girls. “You two are about the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. I must get a picture.” She waved to the photographer who was wandering through the room and took the girls to a tableau set up for holiday pictures.

“She misses our grandchildren.” Jason’s gaze followed Marilyn and the girls. “They can’t be with us this year.”

“That’s too bad.” Guilt lashed me like a whip. When was the last time my parents had seen Suzie? Something else to fix.

I turned and saw Jason eyeing Claire speculatively. He was a bit of a flirt, but also devoted to his wife. I knew he was safe, but I didn’t want Claire uncomfortable.

“Drake, why haven’t you brought this lovely creature with you to the parties? You’ve denied us all the pleasure.” Jason moved into Claire’s space. Possessiveness seized me and my arm shot around her waist. A suppressed grin lurked on Jason’s face, but I didn’t care. I’d made my point. Reluctantly, he stepped back.

“She’s been busy…” I started, but Claire cut me off.

“I’m the nanny. I watch the girls.” Her muscles were tense under my arm, but she raised her chin slightly, as if daring him to comment.

Jason looked amused. “Really? I must congratulate my PA on her excellent choice. I trust you’ve been satisfied?” he asked, turning to me, his double meaning hanging.

I managed to keep my gaze level. “Perfectly.”

“Excellent.” He obviously enjoyed baiting me, but I knew Jason and respected him. I let him have his fun. The moment lingered, until we were thankfully diverted by the return of Marilyn with the girls. Suzie yanked on Claire’s dress.

“Miss Claire? Miss Marilyn says they have a playroom. Can we go see it? Please? Pleeeease?”

Claire looked at Marilyn, who smiled warmly, and some of Claire’s tension seemed to melt.

“Sure. Let’s go see.” She grasped Yvette’s hand and Marilyn took Suzie’s, smiling brilliantly at her husband.

“I’ll be right back.” Marilyn pecked her husband on his cheek, then led the girls off. With a squeeze of her hand, I let Claire go.

I turned back to Jason, thinking this would be a good time to discuss my proposal, when his eyes connected with someone over my shoulder. Then I smelled it, a mixture of heavy perfume and bourbon. Damn. I felt a hand slide across my back, a soft breast pressed against my arm.

Sharon
.

“Merry Christmas, Drake,” she purred in my ear, her hand sliding down my back. My skin contracted. It felt like a snake had slithered across me, and I shifted away. She followed, pressing her breast closer.

“Look what I have.” She dangled something green in my view, annoyingly close to my eyes, and I barely stopped myself from swatting her hand away. “Mistletoe.”

Fuck.

Jason shook his head, bemused, and stepped back too. Her speech was already slurred and the party had just started. She’d clearly had a head start.

“Come on, Drake.” She dragged the mistletoe along my jaw, a holly leaf scratching me.

“Damn it, Sharon. Watch that thing. That’s holly, not mistletoe.” I pressed a handkerchief to my face. Sure enough, I was bleeding.

“Did I hurt you?” she breathed against my cheek. “Let me kiss it and make it better.” She nuzzled my jaw, and I noticed Jason slant his eyes around the room, uncomfortable. Several people turned to watch, the drone of conversation diminishing. She was attracting attention.

Then it became exponentially worse.

“Making a scene as usual, Sharon?” Miles stood behind her, watching us, sipping a large bourbon and water. He sloshed his glass toward us. “Aren’t you getting a bit old for that?”

“Sharon.” I grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and set her two feet away, out of my personal space. “Stop that. You’ve had too much to drink.”

A chain of expressions crossed her face—surprise, anger, and finally, cunning. She glanced at Miles, then started toward me again, but I held her at arm’s length.

“Draaake…” She pouted, trying for kittenish. It wasn’t working.

“No, Sharon. I mean it.”

Her expression shifted again, now angry and glaring daggers at me, then at Miles.

“Fine. Whatever. Merry fucking Christmas to you too.” She stiffened and took a deep breath, then shifted her eyes toward the door where Claire had gone, her lips curled like a snarling bitch. She suddenly looked hideous, an ugly caricature of the beauty she had once been.

“Miss Claire got you all tied up now, Drake? Her leash tied around your balls?” she spat, her voice raised above the murmurs of the other guests. More people turned toward us.

“You’re the one who needs a leash, Sharon.” Miles chuckled in his drink. “Maybe even a cage.”

“Shut the fuck up, Miles!” she all but bellowed. The whole room turned deadly silent.

“Sharon, calm down.” I took her arm, trying to steer her from the room. I needed to find James and send her back to the guesthouse.

But Sharon was only getting started. “You never learn, do you? Is she that good? That young cunt got your cock hard after all these years? After Wanda? Or does she give good head? As I recall that was your fav—”

I squeezed her arm. “Stop it. Stop it right now.” I saw Jason nod to a security guard, who immediately started easing toward us. I leaned in, gripping her arm tighter, making her wince. Good. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I needed her attention.

“You’re making a scene, Sharon, and you need to leave.” I jerked her toward Miles. “Miles, take her somewhere, anywhere, but get her out of here.”

He looked at her, then at me, then back to her. In a voice that carried around the room, he said, “No thanks. I don’t fuck sloppy seconds.”

I would never forget the look on Sharon’s face. Anger and a bone-deep hurt twisted her features. She gasped, then wrenched her arm from my hand and lunged at Miles. He grabbed her arm in mid-swing and she froze, staring at him as if they were the only two people in the room, her face an unbelievable mixture of hate and love such as I’d never seen. Then she drew herself straight, finally noticing Jason and the small crowd watching, and she started laughing, a deep devastated belly laugh, her head back and her eyes shut. Then she lurched away, shoving through the small crowd around us toward the doorway.

Miles, the cold bastard, saluted her back with his glass, drank, then casually walked over to a buffet.

Slowly, conversations buzzed again, while Jason and I remained in a small isolated circle. I was appalled.

“I’m sorry, Jason. I don’t know what to say.”

He clapped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t worry about it. She’s been like that since she got here.”

“I know, but she’s never…” My words trailed off. I wondered for a moment if I should follow her and make sure she was all right.

“Been this bad?” Jason finished my thought. He shook his head, then sipped his champagne. “I’d heard rumors, but nothing like I’ve seen this past week.”

“About Sharon? What kind of rumors?” Was she even more unstable than I thought?

Jason stepped closer, his voice lower. “There are parties where, let us say, certain ‘needs’ are met.” He studied his champagne and then met my eyes levelly. “She was at one in Aspen, another at Kalispell, and at a particularly notorious one in Phoenix. I hear she’s really into it, some pretty over-the-top stuff, and she’s known for, well, not being discreet.”

My skin crawled. Given what I’d seen of Sharon since we’d come to Jackson, I could just imagine how dangerous her behavior might be.

Jason stepped in closer, whispering. “Consent contracts are signed, but if identities leaked out—” Jason paused and scanned the room again. “Careers could be ruined, lives destroyed. So when someone starts losing control?” He leaned in. “They become dangerous—to themselves and others.”

“And you think Sharon is in trouble?” I stared at him, trying to process this new information. If Sharon was in danger, that meant Yvette might be too.

“Possibly. Scenes like tonight’s won’t help. And she’s obviously self-destructing.” Jason set his empty glass on a sideboard, then gazed at me, considering. “The other little girl, the one with your daughter?”

“Yvette.”

“Her daughter?”

I nodded.

He pursed his lips, and I saw his grandfather side come out, full of warmth and concern.

“Get Sharon some help, Drake, before it’s too late.”

“I’ve told Miles. And he obviously saw her tonight.”

“Miles? That asshole?” His lips curled in disgust. “Miles is the last man able to help her and you know it. He’s her trigger, and for all I know, he probably needs as much help as she does.” He gripped my shoulder and gave it a little shake. “For that sweet little girl’s sake, for old friendship’s sake—help her, Drake.”

He squeezed my shoulder again, then turned and walked away.

I was shaken by what he’d told me. How had I become Sharon’s savior? There was my old friendship with Miles to consider, but he had snapped that bond long ago. I owed him nothing. But Yvette? She already felt like my own, and I knew I couldn’t turn my back on her, not if there was anything in my power I could do to help her. Still, I didn’t need this hassle, and I gulped down the last of my champagne, frustrated and out of my depth.

I needed Claire. I felt off balance, my life gone aground, and only she could set it afloat again. But as I strode through the room and out the door into the rest of the house, I realized I already knew what she’d say. Sharon was hurting, and whether I had responsibilities toward her or not, we should help her. Sharon had no one, but I had Claire. Maybe she could help me figure out what to do.

Then I heard voices in the hallway above me, and a different emotion pulsed through me. I knew those voices, and the note of anxiety in one had my fists curled before I reached the top of the stairs, taking three at a time. When I crested the top, I saw Claire pressed against the wall, Miles leaning inches from her lips.

The world turned red.

Chapter Thirteen

Claire

The girls had fallen in love with the playroom, a child’s magical kingdom, complete with murals of castles and green forests, pink elves and black-clad witches, blue dragons and knights. A deep carpet covered the floor, with a child-sized table in the middle. One wall was covered with shelves of toys—Legos, blocks, dolls, dishes, puzzles, puppets—you name it. A huge doll house stood in one corner and a complete child-sized kitchen in another. A Little Tykes castle stood in a window alcove, the mountains rising behind it as a perfect frame. In the far corner was a lovely little library nook, complete with an electric fireplace, comfy chairs and shelves of books. A flat-screen TV was nestled on one shelf, with an impressive collection of children’s DVDs beneath it. I had never seen such a complete playroom in my life, and I was tempted to take a picture to show my niece and nephew back home.

Marilyn noticed my astonished gape and shrugged ruefully. “For my grandchildren,” she murmured. “We don’t get to see them very often.” Her voice faltered and she tried to smile.

“Where do they live?” I asked, my tone light, pretending not to notice her distress. She understood and slipped her hostess manner on again.

“All over really. They live in New York most of the time, but they also stay at their home in Paris a good deal. My daughter-in-law is French.”

“It must be fun to visit.” I watched Suzie and Yvette set the table for a tea party, complete with doll guests.

Marilyn smiled wistfully. “My granddaughter, Anna, just turned four and my grandson, Jake, is seven. I wish they could be here.” Her eyes looked so sad, I guessed there was more to the story, but I didn’t want to pry. I reached over and hugged her.

“Families are like computers sometimes.”

She glanced at me, puzzled.

“They’re great when they work, but hell when they don’t.”

She chuckled. “Indeed.”

The girls had finished setting up their tea party, and I realized they had no food.

“You know, I saw some beautiful treats downstairs, perfect for a tea party. Would you like some?”

“Oh yes, please, Miss Claire.” Both girls hopped up and down on their chairs. Yvette’s happy face especially tugged at my heart.

“Do you mind?” I asked Marilyn, and she simply waved her hand.

“We’ll be fine. You go on.”

I had paid little attention when Marilyn had led us upstairs, and I quickly became disoriented on my way down. I tried to backtrack, but soon had no idea where I was. I poked my head into an empty room, looking for a servant to direct me, but found no one. I was backing out when I bumped into someone behind me. I whirled around and my heart thudded to the floor.

Ski-Slime Miles.

Again.

“Well, hello, Gorgeous. Has Santa already come and left my present?” His words sounded slurred—not completely drunk, but you could see it from here. He looked very handsome in a dark charcoal suit, royal-blue striped shirt and red tie, some golden stubble on his jaws and his blue eyes accentuated by the blue in his shirt. He looked “calculated sexy”, but he made my skin crawl.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lofton.” I stepped sideways, but he stepped in front of me, a replay of his performance the first time I met him.

“Now wait a minute. Don’t scuttle off so fast. I am Yvette’s father, after all. And it
is
Christmas.” He reached out and touched one of my earrings. I glared at him.

“If you’re looking for your daughter, she’s in the playroom with Mrs. Fritz. Why don’t you go check on her? It’s your perfect chance to see her.” I waved down the hall—anywhere away from me. Surely, he would behave around Mrs. Fritz.

I shifted to leave him again, but he slid his hand from my ear down to my throat, running his finger slowly up and down. My breath hitched. He noticed and smiled.

“Maybe I will—” he smiled lazily, “—after I’ve checked on you.” He rubbed his thumb against the side of my neck. Disgusted, I lifted my hand to move his, but he grabbed my wrist.

“Let me go,” I gritted through clenched teeth, exasperated and angry.

He gripped harder. “Not yet.” He smiled, but his eyes turned harder, colder, and I felt my first twinge of anxiety.

I jerked my hand again, but he only tightened his hold. “The food’s downstairs.”

“I’m sure it is.” He leaned in, sniffing my neck, then kissed my collarbone.

“Get off me!” I hissed and shoved him with my other hand. He grabbed that one too, and pulled both my arms above my head, forcing my breasts against him, pressing me into the wall with his hips. His arousal pushed against my abdomen and he rocked into me, eyes blazing.

“You know you want this—since the first time you saw me.” I closed my eyes, panic rising, hearing not his voice, but Jim’s at the restaurant, a brick wall behind me, the stench of garbage in the air. But I was not that Claire anymore.

I raised my heel to stomp on his instep when I heard a noise. Time slowed as I watched Drake roar down the hall and tackle Miles to the floor, pound his face once and then again. Miles struggled, but when he tried to lift his head, Drake threw one more punch, and Miles went limp.

It had all happened so fast, my brain was gasping to catch up. Vaguely, I heard Drake’s ragged breathing, then noticed him kneeling beside me. Somehow I was on the floor, slouched against the wall, my legs limp and useless. Drake put his arm around me, rubbing his hand up and down my bare arm. I heard a faint clicking, and realized I was shaking, my teeth chattering. All I could focus on was Drake’s heat beside me, thawing my frozen senses.

After several—seconds? minutes?—he lifted my chin and searched my eyes.

“Are you all right?” His thumb rubbed along my cheek, and the palm that cradled my face was the sweetest thing I’d ever felt.

“I’ll be okay. I’m just in shock, I guess.” I shuddered and he pulled me tightly to him. I let his scent wash over me, replacing the smell of contamination with comfort. Even as I thought that, though, I knew we had to move. If nothing else, I didn’t want to risk Yvette seeing her father sprawled unconscious on the hall floor. I sat up and nodded toward Miles.

“What should we do with him?” I asked. My voice quavered.

“We could haul him into the park and feed him to the wolves,” Drake growled, and I almost chuckled.

“Tempting, but a bit extreme. I was thinking more along the lines of an empty bed or room.” I had passed several on this floor, and we needed to get him out of the hall.

Drake sighed, then kissed my forehead. “You’re right, but I’d rather leave him in a snowbank and let them dig him out come spring.”

My lips quirked, and I tapped his cheek playfully. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“Can’t happen too soon for me,” he grumbled. We both stood up, and Drake dragged Miles into a bedroom, his head thumping against the floorboards, and left him on the floor. I wondered if Miles would even remember what had happened when he woke up. He was drunk enough that he might think his bruises were from falling when he passed out.

I turned to Drake. He stood next to the bed, his eyes locked on mine. A wave of what might have happened engulfed me, and he must have seen the panic in my eyes. In two steps he had grabbed me to his chest, his mouth on mine, as if he would burn away the mark of Miles on my lips.

“Claire,” he groaned, and in an instant, we were on fire. In deft movements, he twirled me against the bed, hiked up my dress, unzipped his pants and plunged into me. My legs wrapped around his back, my fingers clawing his shoulders, and he claimed me, rode me, possessed me. It was heady, thrilling, overwhelming, and then we were there, there, free-falling off the edge into the gentlest landing of my life.

I loved him.

Oh God, I loved him.

He collapsed on top of me, then after a few moments, slowly raised his head and gazed at me. He rubbed his nose against mine and grinned.

“Better?” he whispered.

“Much.”

“Me too.”

He kissed my lips gently, long and lingering, then stood back, pulling me up with him. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to break the moment. Quick and heady, his fucking seemed to be exactly what I’d needed, our passion gluing me—gluing us—back together again. Who knew?

Amazingly, I wanted to giggle. I must be losing it.

We straightened our clothes, and I went downstairs for the food as he went to join Marilyn and the girls. Altogether, maybe fifteen minutes had passed, but it felt like hours, and I was all right. No hysteria. No shakes now or tears. I poked my emotional wounds, looking for weak spots, but all I could feel was Drake—his scent, his touch, inside and out.

Whether true or not, I felt cherished—and it felt wonderful.

I heaped a plate with goodies, asked a waiter to bring juice to the playroom, and then made my way back upstairs. Drake and Marilyn sat at the table with the girls, pretending to drink from the fragile little cups. My heart tugged, but with pleasure, not pain. I was healed in more ways than I had realized. I had fallen over the cliff again, but this time, I’d landed in paradise. There was no way back, but I would be all right.

Marilyn soon returned to the party, albeit reluctantly, and after another half hour or so, the rest of us went back downstairs too. The room was crowded now, the party in full swing. The girls drew attention everywhere we went; even the most dismissive people seemed to thaw a bit, reminded perhaps that Christmas was all about children. And Drake was wonderful.

He introduced me to everyone, not as his nanny, but as his date. I was taken aback the first time, thinking he’d merely say “This is Claire”, but as I heard him repeat it again and again, I let myself believe a tiny bit. Even if it wasn’t true, for one afternoon and evening, it was nice to think we were greater than the sum of our parts. We almost felt like a family, and I tried to soak it up like a drunk’s first whiskey after a long dry spell.

After Christmas carols by the fire and another plate of fruitcake, cookies, turkey and loads of little wieners (the girls loved those), I could tell they were growing tired, their yawns erupting every few minutes. Drake was talking with an older man near us, and when I went to him, he pulled me very naturally into his side. The man’s eyes flickered over me and gave a little grin. I put my hand possessively on Drake’s abdomen, delighting in the slight hitch I felt shoot through him. He grinned and kissed my hair.

“You rang?” he teased, relaxed and happy.

I patted him, as if I had every right to hold this special guy. “You have some tired little elves ready to go home.”

“And the head elf? Is she ready too?” He cocked his head at me, his smile making my stomach flip-flop and my mouth go dry.

I could only nod.

He must have seen the lust flash in my eyes, because he suddenly looked riveted too.

“Let’s go then,” he said. He shook the man’s hand and started us toward the door. More elves brought our things, and after thanking Jason and Marilyn, we called for James.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go?” I asked, once we were settled in the car. “We’ll be fine if you want to stay.”

He squeezed my knee, leaned back and slipped an arm around all three of us.

“More than ready. It’s Christmas Eve, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be than with my girls.”

He rubbed my earlobe with his fingers, and I rubbed my cheek against his palm.

There was nowhere I’d rather be either.