Secrets to Hide 2: Naughty Little Christmas (11 page)

Curtis stepped around Leo to shake Damien’s hand. “I’m glad you managed to be in town for the little one’s arrival, Son. You know how much it means to Shaw.”

“Of course he does,” Damien’s mom said, joining the sudden flush of Adamses surrounding Damien. The waiting room was crowded with Damien’s family, what with three of Curtis and Miriam’s four children here, several spouses, more than several grandkids, plus Damien’s aunt and Shaw’s husband’s family. An orderly circus—the Adams brood was never disorderly, except for Damien—but a circus nonetheless.

Damien tucked his mother’s fragile frame against his chest, inhaling the scent of cookies and baby powder. It never failed to amaze him that this tiny woman had birthed the four of them. The Adams brothers were stair steps, each one taller than the last, Damien being the youngest and tallest at six feet three. Even Shaw, the only girl, was tall for a woman. Damien’s coloring also made him an outlier, the only dark one among a sea of blonds, so it was not surprising that they’d often teased him about being touched by the devil. His rambunctious, rule-defying personality had only added to the problem. Damien always told his mother she’d picked the wrong name if she wanted him to be a good child like the rest of them.

“How is Shaw?” he asked. He hadn’t expected to be in town for the delivery since the latest Adams grandchild wasn’t due until Christmas Eve.

“Mother and baby are fine,” Curtis said.

“Justin texted us a couple of minutes ago from recovery,” his mom added. “We’ll get to see her as soon as they put her in a permanent room.” Pulling back, she stared into his eyes. “You look tired. You aren’t working too much?”

She always thought he worked too much, though sometimes he wondered if that was her polite euphemism for “partying too much.” His parents never ragged him about the work he’d chosen, not like his brothers, but that they felt club management was beneath him, beneath the dynasty of academicians they’d built, had been clear when he’d told them about buying the property for Once. The MBA had been bad enough compared to Leo’s doctorate in education and Garrett’s professorship in literature studies. Even Shaw’s architecture degree fit, but an MBA? To teach, maybe, but when Damien chose to step out of the rigid family mold and put his business degree to work in the “pleasure industry,” as his family referred to it behind his back, everyone but Shaw had formed strong—and strongly misguided—opinions about what he did for a living. Damien’s favorite sibling couldn’t quite convince the rest of the clan that Damien didn’t sit around all night drinking, watching his customers do drugs, and sleeping with everything that had a vagina. Their opinions had been the driving force behind his success at his chosen career.

He was used to it. He’d spent his childhood losing himself in math and graphs, in lemonade stands where he played music to entertain his “guests,” while his family savored new meanings to words and the latest poem or essay they’d read. Like any normal siblings, his brothers had taunted him with his “otherness”—though not within earshot of his parents, of course. To be different was to be ridiculed, and older brothers were particularly good at it. He hadn’t complained then, and he didn’t complain now. Back then he hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to his odd-man-out status than he had to. Now he just refused to care.

“I’m fine, Mom. I’ve started training a new manager to run Thrice. With her help the charity events are going to be a real hi—”

With a suddenness that pierced his ears, Miriam squealed at the sight of Justin, Shaw’s husband, walking through the door. She rushed toward him, leaving Damien wondering if a baby was what it would take to get equal time basking in his folks’ approval. The thought was foolish anyway—he would always be the “black sheep”—so he held in his sigh and followed the crowd toward the radiant new father.

“Everyone, they’ve moved the baby to the nursery if you’d like to see her.”

Another girl, then, Damien thought as he straggled behind. He pictured Justin and Shaw’s two redheaded, freckled toddlers, the spitting image of their dad, and wondered if this baby might share Shaw’s honey-blonde hair and blue eyes instead.

“Damien!” Justin grabbed his hand for a quick shake. The freckles smattered across his brother-in-law’s nose stood out, stark and startling, against the man’s suddenly pale skin, and Damien worried that his brother-in-law might pass out now that the excitement was pretty much over.

“Whoa, dude! Want a seat?”

Justin laughed and shook his head, though he did grip Damien’s shoulder tight as if to steady himself. “Just one too many surprises tonight, that’s all.”

Some of the tension in Damien’s muscles relaxed under Justin’s hold, so different from the pounding Leo had given him. Affection, not competition. He took a long look at his brother-in-law, making certain Justin was truly steady. “Congratulations, Dad.” Dropping his voice, he asked, “How is she really?”

The bright smile taking over Justin’s face said all Damien needed to hear. “Terrific. She’s terrific.”

Relief washed through him. “Good. Thanks for taking care of her,” he said, his voice huskier than he’d like. But Shaw was special. Only one year apart, they’d always shared a unique bond. Sudden longing twisted in his chest. He wanted to talk to Shaw, tell her about Harley and the way she tied him in knots. But he shoved the idea aside. Any other time, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but right now Shaw had more important things to focus on than Damien’s screwed-up libido.

Justin didn’t seem bothered by Damien’s show of emotion. “Always.” After throwing a quick look over his shoulder, he leaned close and in a conspiratorial whisper out of the side of his mouth said, “Now, I’ve been instructed to give you the room number so you can stop in and see Shaw while the hordes are fogging up the nursery windows. You game?”

The chance to see Shaw before the Adams-family horde descended? “Hell, yeah!” Damien grinned, a gesture Justin matched.

“Good. Our girl really wants to see you.” He jerked his thumb toward the hallway and said, “Room 516. And don’t get caught.” His dark red brows lowered. “I’d be forced to disavow all knowledge of your whereabouts and/or activities should you have the misfortune of revealing yourself to the enemy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He gave Justin’s shoulder a final clap and stepped toward the Pepto Bismol-pink hallway. “You know I’d rat you out in a heartbeat.” At least if Justin found his butt in a sling, he still had Shaw. Damien was on his own.

Pushing the thought away, he jogged down the hall and around a curve, coming to a stop outside room 516. A quick knock on the door and he peeked inside.

“Come in,” a sweet, feminine voice called. Damien walked around the curtain pulled to block sight of the bed from the doorway. There, against clinically white sheets, lay Shaw.

“How’re you doing?” he asked quietly.

“Get over here and stop tiptoeing,” his sister told him, and Damien laughed.

He rounded the bed, sidling up to the metal rail, and leaned over to kiss Shaw’s still-pale cheek. “Ready to kick butt, then?”

“Always,” she said, laughing weakly. She motioned to the metal bar. “Put that thing down and sit here with me.”

Obviously wrung out, Shaw still looked beautiful. Damien tucked her long hair behind her ear as acceptance settled on his shoulders like a warm blanket. With his sister, he never had to worry about being the wrong person; Shaw loved him just as he was.

“You got a little impatient, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Not me! Merry didn’t like being confined,” Shaw told him, one side of her mouth quirked up in an ironic twist. “She’s gonna be a whirlwind, let me tell ya. No patience whatsoever.”

“Merry, huh?” He listened quietly as Shaw chattered on about her new daughter. Even details of the birth didn’t bother him. Not until a brisk knock sounded on the door did his sister stop and blush, apparently realizing just how long she’d been talking.

A nurse in blue scrubs rounded the curtain, pushing a small, clear bassinet in front of her. Inside, a tiny pink bundle caught Damien’s attention. His fingers itched to hold his new niece, but he waited impatiently until bracelets were matched and the nurse had left them alone. Then he glanced at Shaw, who laughed.

“Go ahead, you big idiot. As if I wouldn’t let you hold her first. Jeez.”

With what he knew was a big, sappy grin, he reached carefully into the bassinet and cupped the tiny bundle. There was something extraordinary about the feel of brand-new life that got to him every time. No judgment. No hiding. Just peace.

“She fits,” Shaw said, her voice thick with emotion.

Damien simply nodded. Nothing else could squeeze past the lump in his throat.

“You need children of your own, D. I want to hold your babies the way you’re holding mine.”

He shook his head, denying both her words and the ache in his chest. “What would I do with a baby, huh? I’m barely in one city long enough to sleep.”

“When it’s worth it—and a baby is—you find a way to make it work.”

He opened his mouth to deny her words, to deny even the possibility, but the door whooshed open before the first syllable could escape. Within moments the room was wall-to-wall people. Damien turned to Shaw, leaning close to pass the baby into her arms, and his sister’s stare caught him, refusing to let go. In the depths of her eyes he saw her concern, as if she knew he wasn’t the same man he’d been a month ago when she’d seen him last. With a short shake of his chin, he dropped his gaze to watch as he settled little Merry against Shaw’s chest, and the moment faded along with the feel of the baby nestled in his arms.

* * * *

Harley felt the stiff strings of the bass vibrate beneath her fingertips as the song in her head spun out into the air. The rhythm, the steadiness of the instrument had called to her since she was a young teen, lost in the chaos of her crazy home life. Now it soothed the insecurity that had taken up residence in the five days since she and Damien had come so close to having sex on Marc’s desk in LA.

It wasn’t like they’d been avoiding each other. Saturday had been spent hustling her ass off, though the event’s success made her boss very happy, especially Sunday morning when he’d handed a hefty check over to the O’Connells. Then he and Harley had left immediately for the airport and Denver. From the moment they stepped off the plane, they’d been working. If it weren’t for the speculation in Damien’s eyes every time they met hers, she would’ve thought he’d forgotten the pleasure that exploded between them that night. Those looks assured her otherwise.

Lost in thought, Harley didn’t register the beeping of her phone for several moments. She fished the cell out of her pocket, smiling when Cassie’s name appeared on the screen. “Hey, Cass.”

“Hey, yourself. How’s Denver?”

“Cold.” She shivered a bit in the cool concert space attached to Twice’s original building, despite her sweater and jeans. “And don’t get me started on the altitude.”

Cassie’s snicker crackled through the speaker. “Is that what had you drunk texting me last night?”

“Hey, no one told me being closer to sea level makes it easier to hold your liquor. I swear I’ve never had two Hurricanes knock me on my ass before.” Of course, that might also have been due to the extra Bacardi 151 the bar had used to mix them. There had to be some perks for knowing her liquor, given that she didn’t allow herself to drink often.

“Uh-huh. At least you were in your hotel room and not at work.”

“No kidding.” The bass plinked in reaction to her tightening fingers. Absolutely no drinks at work, not while they were in sky-high Denver.

Last night had not been pretty. She’d actually been mooning, much to her shame. Staring out the window of the hotel watching a light dusting of snow fall, sipping her drinks without realizing how maudlin she was getting until Cassie pointedly told her to go to bed and sleep it off. God, Damien had her tied in knots and not the good kind.

“How’s Klio?” she asked, hoping Cassie wouldn’t call her on the subject change.

“She’s asleep again. Either we’re hitting another growth spurt or she’s coming down with something, because I’ve spent most of yesterday and today waiting for her to wake up.”

Alarm zinged along Harley’s nerves. “Should I come home?”

“And lose this chance? No way. Besides, the day I can’t handle a simple cold is the day you find yourself a new nanny,” she said, sounding slightly affronted.

“As if.” No one could take better care of Klio; Harley knew that. “It’s just hard being away.”

“I know it is. And you know I would call the minute I knew if something was wrong.”

She did, but as much as she loved Cassie and the care her friend lavished on Klio, Harley wanted to be the one to cuddle the baby when she ran a fever or had a stomachache. This last ten days had taught her well to sympathize with other working moms. The divided loyalties sucked rotten eggs.

“Besides,” Cassie continued, unaware of Harley’s train of thought, “this is the perfect opportunity to really get to know Damien. Any luck on that front?”

Oh yeah, she’d gotten to know him real well. How he kissed, what it felt like when he sucked on her neck, how big his erect cock was. Real well. Choking on her reply, she was almost relieved when a faint cry came through the phone.

“I need to go,” Cassie said. “Squirt is awake, and it sounds like she needs a change.” Klio only ever woke up crying when she was wet, a trait she must’ve inherited from Damien, because Sonny, like Harley, had hated waking up, wet or dry.

Heart aching, Harley nodded, then remembered Cass couldn’t see her. “All right. I’ll call you later to talk.”

“Sounds good. And buck up, okay?” Cassie’s normal optimism brightened her words. “We’re over the hump. Just four more days and you can hold her again.”

Four days seems like forever.

As if she’d spoken aloud, Cassie said, “Besides, you have all that rocker hotness surrounding you. Get distracted, why doncha?”

If only
… But Harley laughed obediently before she said good-bye. In the quiet after Cassie hung up, she sat staring at the phone, counting her blessings, then laid it aside. Her fingers had just settled on the next chord when a sound to her left drew her attention.