The Holiday Hoax (6 page)

The room spun and she clutched the kitchen counter for balance. Her mind worked sluggishly to keep up with the information dump. “How do you know this?” she asked dimly.

“I googled him. Right after you started seeing him, I wanted to make sure I could trust him. I didn’t tell you because I figured if it got serious he’d tell you himself. Holy crap, you didn’t know? That bastard! Why is he still pretending to work on a tree farm when he’s one of the richest men in the state?”

Isabella heard her friend droning on with a variety of insults she knew well. Finally, she fought herself back to composure. The silly joy drained out of her body and left an empty void. Her tone was wooden when she managed to speak. “I’ve gotta go, Liz. I’ll be okay. I need to talk to him.”

She pressed the button and ended the call. The past hovered and crashed around her. What game was he playing? My God, had he been leading her on the whole time, slumming with the elementary teacher upstate? Did he plan to return to the gorgeous, poised, city women able to properly handle the heir to an empire? Nausea slammed her stomach and she fought for control. Then slowly walked out to the dining room.

“Well?” Aidan asked. “How bad was the date? Did she—” he trailed off, taking in her expression with concern. “Iz? Are you okay?”

The man she loved had lied to her. She felt horribly exposed in his shirt and bare feet. Isabella wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed. “I guess that’s how you know how to cook so well,” she said quietly. “After all, The Pasta King is known worldwide as the best Italian restaurant chain to surpass Olive Garden.”

The truth hit him full force and was reflected in his face. He rose from the chair and took a step toward her. “Isabella, please sit down. I’ll explain everything.”

“No thank you, I’d rather stand.” Her polite, chilly words hit the mark. Her teacher demeanor wrapped around her like a cloak. “Why don’t you start with who you really are?”

“I am Aidan Hunter. My father built the restaurants, and he’s known as the Pasta King. The stupid name stuck to me when I was born and began training to take over the business.”

She kept her expression neutral. “Funny I didn’t recognize you from your photo. Voted most eligible bachelor by Cosmopolitan magazine. Congratulations.”

He winced. “I hate those damn magazines. I’m the same person I showed you, Izzy. Everything I told you was the truth. I just left out my actual business.”

Her voice hissed. “Truth? You haven’t told me the real truth since we met. What are you doing here? Escaping for a holiday break in the mountains? Bored of your city women so you decided to have a hot affair with a country teacher? Needed to mix things up a bit? You son of a bitch—you knew what happened to me with my ex! And you still kept the truth from me. I feel so stupid!”

She watched him grab at his temper. He raked his fingers through his hair, then clenched his fists. “Don’t you dare say that. You’re more than a holiday affair and everything you said isn’t true. I was drowning. I’ve been unhappy and feeling overwhelmed by life. I needed a break, so I took a month to stay in our upstate cabin so I could figure out what I really want. I took some odd jobs on the side to fill the time and give me an opportunity to meet new people.”

“Was I some kind of experiment?” she asked bitterly, pacing back and forth. Ice prickled her spine as humiliation settled over her. “I get it. I’m good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to bring home to daddy. Right?”

“Don’t.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her into his arms. Isabella fought him but he held her in an implacable grip as his mouth took hers. Her body betrayed her, opening under his carved lips, meeting each thrust of his tongue in an intimate battle. Her breasts swelled and peaked, demanding his attention. She grew wet, and Isabella dug her nails fiercely into his shoulders, giving him back all of her rage and lust and need.

He tore his mouth from her, breathing hard. “You’re not some half assed affair, Isabella,” he said softly. “You’re the woman I fell in love with.”

Silence shattered the room. Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she stared at him. Her voice tore out in a ragged whisper. “Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not. I know it’s only been a short time but I know. I just want to be with you.”

She shook her head hard. “No, you’re running away from a life you don’t want anymore. And I don’t want to be that excuse. You’re a millionaire with a family legacy and your photo in celebrity magazines. You live a different life, and you just can’t throw it away because things get rough.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Are you sure?” She tilted her head up and locked her gaze with his. “You were looking for a distraction because you’re not happy. I come along and suddenly you seem to have the answers. But you don’t.” Her heart splintered in her chest and the pain buried in deep. She ached to believe he loved her and they could make it work. But he was running away, and until he realized what he wanted in life, she would always wonder if she was enough. “You didn’t tell me for a reason, Aidan. Because you don’t know what you want yet. “

He gripped her hands. “Izzy, since I met you I realized I was missing a piece of myself. Damnit, I was going to tell you the truth tonight—I told you I needed to talk. I don’t want to go back to the city. I want to stay here with you.”

“I won’t let you.” She dropped his hands and moved away. “I’m sorry, Aidan. You need to figure things out on your own. Some part of you didn’t trust me not to walk away once I knew the truth. And you were right. Because you’re not ready yet. I can’t be an excuse to leave an empire behind on a whim. I need more than that.”

“I’ll work it out.”

She paused in the hallway. “I promised I’d never put myself in a position where I felt lacking. If you stay now, I’ll always wonder when I’ve stopped being good enough.”

“That won’t happen.”

She shook her head. “Go back home, Aidan. Find out what you want.”

Isabella kept her hands steady as she put on her clothes, grabbed her purse and walked out the door. He said her name once. The sweet sound caressed her ears, and she hung on to it, knowing it would be the last time she heard his voice.

Then she turned the knob and left him standing in the middle of the cabin, alone.

****

She’d left him.

Aidan stared at the closed door in shock. The truth of her words hit hard, and he stumbled to the liquor cabinet to pour two fingers of Scotch. His fingers trembled around the glass but the liquid burned hot in his tightening throat.

What had he done?

His mind grasped for answers. Aidan assumed once he explained the truth about his identity, she’d understand. That they’d work out a plan. But he began to realize the responsibility wasn’t Isabella’s. She knew who she was. She knew what she wanted.

He didn’t have a clue.

His gut twisted with his own lies. No, that wasn’t true. His father knew what he wanted his son to be: a clone. He wanted him to rule New York City and their restaurants on his terms. But Aidan had other ideas—ideas that pulsed deep inside but ones he was too afraid to fight for—too afraid to admit he wanted.

Aidan thought the hoax was a way to protect himself and find what he really wanted.

It had worked. He’d found Isabella Summers. But the same hoax had caused him to lose her.

Aidan gazed at the closed door and wondered what the hell he was going to do.

****

Isabella propped her slipper-clad feet on the tabletop and reached for another handful of popcorn. Jimmy Stewart slid through the snow-slick streets in
It’s A Wonderful Life,
screaming Mary’s name. She’d already cried a few times though she knew the movie by heart. Of course, since Aidan had left two weeks ago, she’d been weepy all the time.

Izzy sighed and her gaze flickered to Charlie Brown. The lights flickered cheerily in memory of the man she’d met over a month ago on a Christmas tree farm. The Pasta King. The richest, most eligible bachelor in the city. Interested in a small town elementary school teacher.

What a joke.

The inner taunting voice couldn’t seem to shake her belief their time together hadn’t been a lie. When Aidan kissed her and looked in her eyes, she knew the man he was. He’d shared stories of his family, his upbringing, and she could see how he’d screened carefully to keep his identity hidden. Still, something told her he’d revealed more to her than he had with women before him.

Not that it mattered. She’d discovered he returned to New York without a word. Probably would forget about her as soon as New Years hit, surrounded by gorgeous society women who catered to his every need.

Jerk.

She stuffed another handful of popcorn in her mouth when the doorbell rang.

Isabella looked down at her ratty robe, bunny slippers and old T-shirt with sweatpants. Who could that be? Liz would be out on a hot date—her family was all gathering for Christmas dinner tomorrow. She went to the door and peered out the curtain.

Aidan Hunter stood on her doorstep.

Izzy wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her robe, raked her fingers through her knotted hair, and groaned. Oh for God’s sake, what was he doing here on Christmas Eve? The bell rang again and she knew he’d spotted her. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

“Aidan.”

His gaze raked over her evening attire. Amusement gleamed within golden eyes, and his mouth curved upward in that sexy grin that made her want to rip his clothes off. “Can I come in?”

She motioned him in and wondered if she could escape to put on some make-up. Then pulled back her feminine instincts, reminding herself a relationship could never work between them.

“My favorite movie.” He pointed to the television. “Wouldn’t everyone want the opportunity to have a do over?”

“Aidan, what do you want? It’s Christmas Eve. Did you drive up from the city?”

“I needed to ask you an important question,” he said.

“You could have called.”

“Not with this question.”

Isabella squirmed in her bunny slippers, wishing she had on a sexy cocktail dress with heels. She stalked back over to the couch and sat down stubbornly, refusing to stand in front of him. “Fine. Ask your question, then.”

“Now that you know I’m the Pasta King, does it change your feelings for me?”

Her mouth fell open like a guppy. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You didn’t answer the question. I lied to you because I was afraid. And you were right—I didn’t know what I wanted. But now I figured things out. But do you know what you want?”

“I didn’t pretend to be someone I wasn’t.”

“Yes, but are you willing to love someone even if he doesn’t fit your perfect image?” Aidan paced back and forth, seeming to seek the right words. “I’m not a small town dentist, Izzy. The papers write messy articles and reporters sometimes hound me. I love my father, but he’s domineering and sometimes controlling, so I’m always standing up to him to be my own man. All this time I was so afraid I’d find a woman who wouldn’t see me for who I really was. I thought she’d want my money, my image, my family. I never imagined she wouldn’t want me. I assumed, like an ass, that I was the prize. Until you. Now I’m terrified I’m not good enough to be in your life.”

He paused in front of her, his face naked and vulnerable as he spoke. “I fell for you the moment you saved that damn Charlie Brown tree. I love this small town. And I do love the restaurant business. That’s what I’ve been missing. I spoke with my father and told him the truth. I’m moving out of the city. I’m going to open up my own Pasta King restaurant right here in Poughkeepsie. I’m branching out for myself and cutting the ties with my father. I want to do the work I love but in a place I can make a home for myself.” He paused. “I love you, Isabella Summers. And I want to make a home with you. If you want me.”

Isabella stared up at the man before her. A low humming rang in her ears. Slowly, she rose from the couch and walked toward him. Her hands cupped his beloved face and her heart squeezed, then bloomed to monstrous proportions, threatening to compete with the Grinch after the Christmas spirit invaded his soul.

Her voice came out husky with emotion. “You had me the moment you haggled over the price of that tree. I don’t care if you’re rich or poor and I don’t care what anyone calls you. Because you’re the man I love. I can deal with nosy reporters and a dynamic father-in-law as long as I have you.” She leaned her forehead against his and caressed a stray golden curl off his brow. “I needed to know I was what you really wanted.”

His mouth came down on hers, claiming her with possessive, long thrusts of his tongue. She buried her fingers in his hair, her hips arching upward to meet his, the delicious taste of hot male hunger swamping her senses. “I never knew bunny slippers could be so damn sexy,” he murmured, lifting her high in his arms and pressing her deep into the couch cushions.

Isabella laughed and worked on the buttons of his shirt, tugging off the fabric. She bit the slope of his shoulder in gentle punishment and felt his answering shudder. “I’m glad you like them. The matching robe is on my Christmas list.”

“I may never recover.” His lips traced down the sensitive curve of her neck to her breasts. Her breath came in short, choppy gasps. “I think this is the best Christmas present I’ve ever unwrapped. You taste so sweet.”

Clothes dropped away and he held her tight. His lean, muscled body pressed against every lush curve. “Aidan.” His name broke from her lips and he took her mouth with possession as he claimed her. The night grew darker and the twinkling tree lights cast shadows over the wall. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, baby.”

And Isabella knew it would be a very good year.

A word about the author...

Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years of age. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.