The Value of Vulnerability (25 page)

“I’m very fond of ghee.”

He poked her ribs. “It doesn’t show.”

“I go to the gym as punishment for my appetites.”

“Not all of them, I hope,” he murmured, turning to push her back on the mattress.

She pushed back and he let her top him, chuckling as she straddled him.

“You don’t have to leave?” she asked.

He shook his head, his hands reaching to grasp fistfuls of her hair, pulling it forward to drape it over her breasts. “You’re so beautiful, Erin.”

She flushed, pleased with the compliment but knowing he had likely said that to other women, ones that really
were
beautiful. No false modesty here—she knew she was a pretty girl, but she had seen pictures of Ford’s women. “Thank you. You are too.”

He grinned, that sudden and uncalculated sort of grin. “You didn’t just say that.”

“Sometimes it hurts to look at you,” she whispered in confirmation, bending to kiss him.

Grasping her nape, he pulled her back to subject her to a penetrating look. She met his eyes, her own wide and sincere. She smoothed back his dishevelled hair before stroking a tender caress down his cheek, feeling the start of bristle. As he relaxed his hold on her, she kissed him again, her lips teasing his apart, her tongue probing.

“Erin, sweetheart,” he muttered. Taking it as a request for more, she deepened the kiss.

Crushing her to him, he responded while still allowing her the control that he normally would have taken from her, and she revelled in the generosity. He started to turn her, but she resisted, breaking the kiss with a firm shake of her head.

“Staying there?” he asked unevenly.

“Any objection?”

“None at all.” He grinned wolfishly.

She reached for a condom. “Hold on,” she said, meaning to tease, but it came out more as uneasy warning.

Ford laughed with all that boyish charm so rarely shown the world, and Erin melted.

The last rush of shoppers filled the streets as the limo moved through the city, and Ford thought of Erin. She would be en route to her parents’ for Christmas Eve festivities, to which she had invited him, but as he was heading to India, it was easy to decline. He had been tempted to talk her into going to Mumbai with him, but she was strangely impervious to his methods of persuasion.

Granted, putting effort into persuasion was rarely needed, so perhaps his skills were rusty.

“We’ll celebrate Christmas together when you come home,” she had said.

How was Christmas celebrated? Turkey dinner and the exchange of poorly chosen gifts?

He hit the intercom. “Stop. I’m getting out.”

Moments later, he found himself in a jewellery store. And did not
know what he was doing.

“May I help you, sir?”

He turned to the salesman. “I require a gift.”

“For a young lady?”

“Yes.”

The man made a vague gesture at a display c
ase of rings.

“No,” Ford said, half strangled and half amused.

“Perhaps something in a necklace,” the man backtracked. “What were you looking to spend?”

“
Price is incidental.”

Eyes lit up and another
case indicated. “Emeralds? Rubies? Diamonds?”

God, this was brutal. He dug for his phone, planning on calling Ms. Leung, who was the official handler
with a proven track record. Diane had always cooed over Ms. Leung’s choices. Erin had liked the gloves.

Time was a factor, however. Apparently the stores were closing soon—though with all the people out shopping, it made little business sense.

He looked at the array of necklaces, ranging from delicate pendants to heavily encrusted collars. He could imagine Erin in any one of them . . . and nothing else. Fingering a diamond collar, he pictured her naked, striking a pose, the diamonds glittering at her throat.

It’s not a thoughtful gift.

Did that matter?

He looked around the store
, and his mouth curved. “That,” he pointed, and put down a credit card. “I’ll need it engraved.”

“I’m afraid our engraver has left for the day.
Just a few minutes ago, sir. You and the young lady can return after Christmas and have it engraved then.”

Ford tossed a wad of cash on the display case. “Call him back. I’ll wait.”

Later, walking out of the store to the limo that had been circling for over an hour, it struck Ford that he had never before bought a gift for anyone. That the experience had been surprisingly pleasurable. And that he did not want to wait until he came home for her to have it.

Things were becoming—as Erin would say—downright weird.

***

Crunching on a candy cane, Erin dug through the presents under the tree and came up with one for her mother, kneeling up to hand it to her. “Merry Christmas, Mom. It’s from a Secret Admirer.”

“Not him again!” Mrs. Russell mocked a suspicious glare at her husband.

“Stalker,” Dr. Russell agreed.

The floor of the Parents Russell’s living room was obliterated by piles of crumpled wrapping paper, Erin and Liana sitting in the mess in front of the Christmas tree as they had done since children, while the Parents Russell relaxed in matching armchairs.

Liana snapped pictures of the three of them, and then tossed the camera to Erin, who obediently took several shots to include Liana before finding a present for her sister, who was promptly delighted with the tripod she opened.

“I don’t know why you’ve gone so long without one, silly wench. And look,” Erin pointed. “A baby tripod, too. Set up for a group shot while I get more coffee. Anyone else?”

Coffee offers, when needed, usually drew attention, so when they all ignored her while talking over each other, she assumed they were fine. The fat tabby cat wound around her ankles as she entered the bright kitchen. “I see you, Five.”

The cat’s name was actually Tiger, but fifth in a long line of tabbies of the same name—her creative parents had a real shortfall when it came to naming pets. Petting Five absently, she poured fresh coffee and, inhaling the scents of fresh baking and roasting turkey, looked out at the snow-blanketed backyard. It was good to be home.

S
he missed Ford. She had not seen him since he left her apartment a week ago, the morning after that night at Weimar, though they had shared a couple of brief phone calls (he had called her—she still hadn’t been given his cell number). The invitation she issued to him for both Christmas Eve and the Russell Boxing Day Party had been declined, with the excuse that he was sure to be away.

She wondered where he was right now. She’d love to talk to him. Wish him Merry Christmas.

Leaning against the cool glass of the sliding door, she dwelled for a few precious moments in the memory of being with him.

That last night seemed to bring them closer. She knew more about him, little threads of his life, thanks to his friends. The pain behind his emotional distance was not visible, but she knew it was there. She didn’t have the arrogance to think she could heal it, but she wanted the opportunity to soothe it.

If he would only let her in.

Erin, sweetheart
.

His plea echoed in her heart. It hadn’t been a physical request. Nope. Totally an emotional one, as if he were begging her not to let him down. People had disappointed him in his life, she assumed. She must not add to the list. And hells, but it was thrilling to have him virtually admit even vague emotions!

I like you.

“Erin, come on!” Liana yelled. “I’m set up.”

She returned to the living room to follow Liana’s bossing directions of where and how to crouch between their parents’ chairs. Setting the timer on the camera, Liana ran to join the group and they posed. The camera flashed and they relaxed.

The camera flashed again. “Much better,” Liana grinned as they scolded her for not warning them. “Candid! Always best.”

The doorbell rang and they all looked at each other in surprise.

“Who’s coming by on Christmas Day?” Mrs. Russell wondered aloud.

“Answer the door and find out,” Dr. Russell replied, unconcerned, and returned his attention to the book he had just unwrapped.

“Maybe it’s Gina and Doug,” Liana said hopefully of their elder sister and family, dashing to the door. A moment later, she called: “Erin! It’s for you.”

Puzzled, she went to see. A uniformed courier stood in the open doorway.

She signed for the package
. Liana gave the man a cash tip and Erin handed him a bulging goody bag from the overflowing bowl in the entry hall. With a quick “Season’s Greetings,” from him, and “Merry Christmas,” from them, he retreated down the walk.

“Who’s it from?”
Liana demanded. “Who gets courier delivery on Christmas Day?”

It could only be from Ford. “I do, apparently. Close the door, Li. It’s freezing.”

They walked together down the hall, Liana nudging and pushing, encouraging her to open the package. Erin blushed and Liana’s sharp eyes narrowed.

“From
him
? Erin . . .”

“Who’s ‘him?’” the Parents Russell demanded in unison as their daughters appeared in the doorway.

The sound of her BlackBerry ringing saved her from answering, but she panicked when she couldn’t locate it.

“Where is it?” she cried anxiously, running in the direction of the sound, ignoring the exchanged
amused glances of the Parents, and Liana’s complicated frowning smile. She knew she was acting crazy. Didn’t need the family to point it out.

She found her phone on the hall table beside the candy bowl. “Hello?”

“Do you have it?”

“Yes. Merry Christmas.”

“Did you open it?”

“Not yet. Hold on.” Poking her head into the living room, she advised her family that she would be “back in a minute,” and took the stairs two at a time, reaching her childhood bedroom in seconds, closing the door and curling up in the centre of the single bed.

“Where are you?” she asked him as she ripped open the thickly padded envelope.

“Somewhere over the Pacific. Where are
you
?”

“At
the Parents Russell’s. In Thornhill.”

“I knew that already. It helped the courier find you.”

“Right! Of course.” She giggled merrily. “I’m in a very silly mood.”

That received a bit of a responding chuckle. “Why do you call them that?”

“The Parents Russell? I don’t know. Inside family joke. Don’t remember the why of it. We’ve always called them that. How did you arrange a courier for Christmas Day?”

“Alex.”

“The mysterious third friend?”

“Yes. He owns CASS Courier.”

“Nice connexions you’ve got.”

He grunted. “In any case
, I meant, where
are
you?”

“Alone in my old bedroom.” Withdrawing a prettily gift-wrapped box from the envelope, she began opening it, taking her time.

“What’s taking so long?” he demanded.

She heard the smile in his voice. “Savouring, Ford. Just savouring.”

“I like when you do that. You are very good at it. What are you wearing?”

“Red-and-black-check flannel PJ bottoms and a black cami. Pretty sexy, huh?”

“You have no idea,” he murmured huskily. “I’ll want to see that outfit when I come home.”

“Deal.”

The wrapping fell away, revealing a black watch box. She bit back a gasp—the box alone was worth more than any piece of jewellery she had ever owned.

The lid creaked as it opened, and she
released the gasp at the white gold watch, delicate and finely wrought on a small-link bracelet, with rose-gold inlaid accents.

“Oh, Ford, it’s gorgeous. Thank you. I love it.” She opened the card tucked into the lid. “‘
Stop asking. Ford.
’” She laughed. “Does it annoy you that I never know the time?”

“No, but I’ve never met someone so busy who did not live with a clock attached, though.”

“I have my phone, but it always seems to be elsewhere or dead when I need the time. And I always forget my computer display.”

She clipped the watch to her left wrist and lay back on the bed, holding her arm above her to admire the lovely jewellery, surprised at its weight.

“You don’t have to buy me things,” she said.

“I thought you loved it.”

“I do,” she breathed. “Ford, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you buying me gifts. I mean, this is great, and it’s Christmas and all, but . . .” Her voice trailed away.

“It’s just a watch, Erin,” he retorted.
“It’s nothing. Would you have preferred a necklace or something?”

“No! No, this is perfect, and beautiful, and thoughtful. Thank you. With all my heart.”