'Tis the Season (16 page)

“I can't believe
you're
serving
me
dinner,” she murmured.

“I do know how, you know,” he joked. “If my staff all quit tomorrow, I'd be able to fend for myself.”

They started with butternut squash bisque, and followed with traditional Boeuf Bourguignon. Lisette
mmmm
'd several times with varying degrees of ecstasy. “If you're trying to win me over with top-notch French cuisine,” she said with a light smile after the first bite of the beef, “I'll admit, it's working. This food is incredible.”

“I'm so glad you like it,” he said, making a mental note to take her to the restaurant sometime. “I wasn't as sure about Portuguese cuisine, so . . .”

For the first time, her smile was teasing, almost cocky. “I'll tell you where to get great Portuguese food if you really want.”

“Oh, I do.” He met her flirty gaze. “But only if we go there together.”

Her dark eyes took on a sparkle, and she bit down on her lush bottom lip. “Deal.”

Elation rushed through him. He cut into the meat and took another bite. It really was fantastic. “So you think this is authentic French cooking, then?” Charles knew damn well the chef had been trained in Paris, had been wildly successful there before moving to New York. It didn't get more authentic than him.

“Absolutely,” she nodded. “My goodness, it's wonderful. That bisque alone was sublime. Reminds me of when I was a little girl, and we'd visit my grandparents in Paris. My mom and I would go, just the two of us, once a year. My grandmother used to make a bisque kind of like this . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she beamed at him with pleasure. “Thank you, Charles. I appreciate all this. You obviously put thought into it, and I'm touched.”

His insides warmed, and he smiled softly. She hadn't fled when she saw the dining room set for a romantic dinner, or when he'd made his heartfelt overture to her, and now she was delighted with the food he'd carefully chosen with her in mind. So far, the night was going better than he'd hoped.

She refused to drink any wine at first, sticking to water. But halfway through dinner, when he offered again, she agreed to half a glass. He matched her with his own. The only thing intoxicating him tonight was her presence.

“This really was so delicious,” Lisette said as she set her fork down. “What a treat. Thank you again.”

“My pleasure,” he said. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his linen napkin, then reached for his wineglass and drained it. “Ready for dessert?”

“Oh, no thank you,” she said. “I couldn't eat another bite right now.”

“You sure?” he taunted. “Wow. You can say no to crème brûlée, chocolate soufflé, and apple tart?”

She gasped softly, and her eyes widened. “Ohhh, you don't play fair.”

“Not where sweets are concerned.”

“You got
all
those things? For just the two of us?”

He smiled and nodded. The enchanted look on her face was priceless. “I wasn't sure which you'd prefer, so I got all three, figuring you'd like at least one of them.”

“I love
all
of them,” she moaned with a grin. “I'm a sugar junkie; I love desserts, did you know that? But especially baked pastries . . . I have a serious weakness for them.” She sat back in her chair and giggled ruefully. The sound made his heart lift. “Ohhh, I want them all, but I'm really too full right now!” She reached for her wine and sipped.

“Tell you what.” Charles dropped his napkin on the table, beside his empty plate. “It's a nice night. Why don't we go for a walk outside, and then afterward, maybe you'll be ready for dessert. Dessert, a glass of brandy . . .”

She considered him over the rim of her wineglass, the candlelight flickering on her face. At that moment, she was so beautiful, she seemed almost unearthly.

“You're really pulling out all the stops tonight,” she murmured.

He grinned. “I'm trying.”

“Charles . . . I'm flattered. I really am. And I've very much enjoyed both the food and your company.” She put down her glass and faced him directly. “Tell me what you want. When you planned all this . . . What are you hoping for tonight?”

He set down his glass too. “Merely for us to come to a decision, together, about what we want. To decide if we're willing to take this risk together.” He leaned in on his elbows, holding her gaze. “I'm not playing a game. I'm romancing you tonight because I like you and I wanted you to see that. It's really that simple.”

“Nothing about this is simple,” she countered. “Not one thing.”

“Yes, that's true.” His heart beat more heavily as he realized she still might be too scared to believe in him, or to try. “I want it anyway. I want
you
anyway. I just wish you could trust me.”

“I do trust you,” she said quickly. “As much as I can at this point, anyway.”

He rose and slowly moved around the table to stand before her. “But do you trust me enough to give this a shot?”

She stood to face him. “If I didn't, I wouldn't be here right now, and I never would've slept with you that night.” Her hand rose to touch his face, and he realized she was trembling as she looked into his eyes. “Charles, you're one of the best men I've ever met. I don't want this all to go to hell. You mean something to me.”

Something in him melted, like liquid heat, filling him entirely. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was pure affection. Maybe both. He cupped her face in his hands and said, “Then keep trusting me. Let's get to know each other better, spend some time together . . .” He brushed his lips against hers, a hint of what could be. “Some people say there are no accidents. This all got started off in a very . . . well, unorthodox way, yes. But all I know is I haven't been able to stop thinking of you since that night. That I'm drawn to you a little more each day. I want to try this. I want you.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered, slightly swaying on her feet, and his hands moved to her arms to hold her steady. She looked away, and he pulled her in close. As if in sweet surrender, her head dropped lightly to rest against his chest. He could feel her exhale, and his eyes slipped closed from the incredible feel of her in his arms. His hand lifted to run over her thick, soft hair, still secured in its ponytail, and he kissed her temple.

She pulled back and looked deep into his eyes. What she was thinking, he had no idea. He could feel her body trembling, and he braced himself for her to pull away from him, go to her room, and shut him out. But her gaze instead turned into something . . . wanting. He saw the longing there, and hope flickered through him.

“It all sounds like a dream,” she finally whispered. “But I'm scared as hell.”

“I know.” His heart started beating a little faster. Reflexively, his arms tightened around her. “Sweetheart . . . take a chance with me, and I promise you won't regret it.” He leaned in and kissed her mouth with all the tenderness he possessed. “I promise.”

Chapter Fifteen

After the intensity of their conversation, Lisette was glad Charles had pulled back and suggested that walk outside. Bundled in their coats and scarves against the cool night and gusty breezes coming off the nearby Long Island Sound, they strolled along the perimeter of his tremendous property side by side. With the quiet stillness around them and blanket of stars overhead, she could almost pretend they were walking through the countryside instead of his eight-acre backyard.

They kept the conversation light, as if they both needed a breather from the heavier vibe before. He asked for some stories from her childhood, some good ones, and she told him. Things like how her dad would take her fishing in lakes and ponds, or how she'd bake cookies and pastries with her mom, or the hours she spent sketching while staring out of windows or sitting in faraway fields. He listened attentively and seemed truly interested. That, along with everything else he'd said and done that night, surprised her. If he was putting on a show just to get her into bed, it was beyond elaborate.

She swatted that thought away. He was sincere; she just couldn't believe that he was pursuing her this way. She wasn't some socialite or celebrity, someone who traveled in the powerful circles that he did. Yet he claimed he was drawn to her. Wanted not just her body, but all of her. To try to be together, like any normal couple. Could that be possible for them?

“I can feel you thinking,” he said.

She glanced at him. His features were carefully schooled, as always. Sometimes he was impossible to read. The moonlight bathed his profile in a cool glow, making him so handsome it stole her breath away. She stopped in her tracks, and he stopped beside her. “Charles, I need you to know something. To understand.”

He gazed down at her, kindness in his eyes. “I'm listening.”

“I've been alone for a long time,” she said. “I know how to take care of myself, and I almost always have. And I've always cared for others, both because I had to, and because it comes naturally to me.”

“You're a nurturer,” he said with soft conviction. “I sensed that from the moment I met you. It was one of the main reasons I hired you.”

“You're right, I am,” she said. “But I'm not used to anyone's wanting to do anything
for me
. Or being demonstrative, or doing something incredibly lovely like you did with dinner tonight.” She swallowed hard, hoping she was making any sense at all. “It may seem as if I'm unaffected by it, or as if I'm still holding you off, but that's just how I'm wired. It's my way.”

“It's your army training,” he offered, trying to diffuse her growing angst with humor.

“Heh. You're not totally wrong. That's part of it, I guess. My father always tried to teach me to be as self-sufficient as possible. And like him, I'm not very good at accepting things—gifts or unforeseen kindness . . . or affection . . . graciously. Lack of experience.” She huffed out a breath of frustration and shoved her hands into the deep pockets of her coat. “What I'm trying to say is that everything you've said and done tonight mean something to me, and that I appreciate all of it. It's been romantic, and sweet, and I'm moved. And God help me, I care about you too, and I'm sorry if that hasn't been clear.”

He grasped her face and pressed his lips to hers, silencing her. His warmth enveloped her in the crisp night air. They held each other close and kissed under the stars . . . It was the most romantic handful of minutes she'd ever had. For those few minutes, there was nothing in the world but them, and she let herself melt into him and enjoy that feeling.

And his cell phone rang in his coat pocket, vibrating against her belly.

“Ignore it,” he whispered between sweet and sultry kisses.

“What if it's important?”

“Nothing's more important than this right now.”

The phone stopped ringing and vibrating. He smiled against her lips for a second, then took her mouth with deeper, more demanding kisses. She savored the feel of his tongue tangling with hers, the taste of him, the feel of his hands on her body, the warmth of his breath—

The phone rang again, vibrating against her through his coat once more.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

“What if it's Tess?” she asked. “Something about the kids?”

At that, he released her. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the phone, looked at the caller ID, and swore under his breath. “Tess? Is everything okay?” She watched his eyes shut as he winced and listened to whatever Tess said. “God, I'm so sorry . . . I'll pay to clean that, first thing tomorrow . . . No, I insist. How is he now?” He looked at Lisette and shook his head. “No, stop. Stop apologizing! My kid is sick; that's not your fault. I'll be there soon; I'm on my way. Lisette will be with me. We'll take all three of them home. No, you don't have to—they're both asleep? Well . . . okay. We'll just come get Myles, then. If you're sure . . . Thanks. Okay, see you soon.” He ended the call and groaned.

“What happened with Myles?” Lisette asked, concerned.

“He's sick.” Charles took Lisette's hand, pulling her gently with him to walk back to the house. “Tess said they all were fine all night, but Myles seemed a little quiet. She figured he was tired, and he actually fell asleep on the couch while they were watching a movie.” Charles's breath came out in visible puffs against the chilly air, white clouds against the darkness. “She got Ava and Thomas to bed, then went back to the den to try to wake Myles enough to shuffle him off to bed. He woke up, stood up, and threw up all over her floor.”

“Oh, nooo,” Lisette moaned. “Aww, poor baby.”

“Yeah. I'll have her carpet cleaned tomorrow. She said he feels warm to her. He must have a bug.” Charles put a hand at the small of Lisette's back as he ushered her through the side door.

“What about Ava and Thomas?” Lisette asked.

“She said they were fine and sound asleep, so why bother them. She'll take them to school in the morning, as planned. So we just have to get Myles.” Charles sighed. “You'll come with me?”

“Of course,” Lisette said. “That's my job.” Just like that, a crack had appeared in their romantic bubble, and they stared at each other. Her face flushed as she headed for the stairs. “I just want to get a pair of clean pajamas for him,” she said over her shoulder. “Give me a minute.”

He watched her as she quickly flew up the grand spiral staircase. She was a true gem; her concern for his children was endearing. But their romantic evening had come to a disappointingly abrupt end.
“That's my job.”
Damn, damn, double damn.

* * *

As he drove home from his sister's house, Charles snuck a few glances in the rearview mirror. Lisette was in the wide backseat of the Escalade, Myles bundled in her lap. She had a plastic bag next to her in case he vomited again, but both her arms were wrapped around his little boy, her fingertips smoothing his hair back from his forehead. She and Myles had chatted quietly for the first few minutes, then had gotten quiet.

“How's he doing?” Charles asked. “Fell asleep already?”

“Yeah. And he definitely has a fever,” Lisette said.

“Damn.” Charles turned into his long driveway. “Well, we're home. I'll carry him straight up to his room, if you could take his things.”

“Of course.”

As a team, they got Myles in and up to his bed easily. As Charles pulled the covers up to his son's chin, he turned and realized Lisette had shed her coat somewhere along the way and was already in action. She hadn't stopped since the minute they'd reached Tess's house.

Now, he watched as she knelt by Myles's bedside, holding a tiny plastic cup of purple liquid. “C'mon, sweetie, sit up just a bit . . .” she cooed as she slid her free arm under his shoulders to raise him.

Charles leapt forward to help, holding Myles up enough for her to get him, even though the boy was mostly asleep, to swallow the Tylenol. Then he eased his son back down to the pillows, dropping a kiss on his forehead. Yup, he was warm, all right, poor little guy.

“Thanks for the help there,” Lisette said as she rose to her feet. “Might be a long night, though. You should go to bed.”

Charles stared at her. In the past, that was exactly what he'd always done when the kids got sick—he'd let Lisette take care of them, barely going near them, not wanting to catch whatever they had. He couldn't afford to get sick; he had a company to run. Now, guilt and self-reproach washed over him. “No. He's my son, I'm not going to just push him off on you. We'll take shifts.”

“But you're leaving for your trip on Wednesday,” she said. “You can't get sick now, and we don't know yet what he's got.”

“Well, I've been exposed already, haven't I?” Charles reasoned.

“Yes, but I can do this. You have work tomorrow.” She looked into his eyes. “This is my work. This is exactly what you hired me to do.”

Dammit, again she was right, and again he didn't like it. The lines seemed so blurry all of a sudden . . . He sighed, glancing down at his son where he slept. “He seems okay for now. Shouldn't you get your sleep too?”

“I suppose,” she conceded. “Not that I'll sleep well, knowing he's sick. I'll be up to check on him a few times; I can't help it.”

Charles smiled and stepped closer to her. “You're the best, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she said. “But isn't that why you hired me?”

He paused, peered at her closely. “You don't have to keep reminding me you work for me.”

“I don't know . . .” she murmured, looking away. “Maybe I do.”

“No, you don't.” Only an hour before, they'd been kissing outside like lovestruck teenagers, wild and frantic. Now she was trying to put up her wall again. “Maybe I should remind you that there are some incredible desserts in the kitchen waiting. Don't want them to go to waste, do we?”

“Unfortunately, I don't have much of an appetite right now. Vomit tends to have that effect on me. Speaking of which . . .” She crossed the room and grasped a large blue plastic bowl, setting it down beside Myles's bed. “In case there's more.”

Charles shuddered and made a face. “Yuck.”

A giggle flew out of her, a deliciously light sound. He couldn't help but grin.

“I'll wrap the desserts up,” he said, “and you can have them for breakfast.”

“That sounds decadent,” she said. “But really good, too. Thank you.”

He put a hand to the small of her back to usher her out. She left with him, turning off the light and closing the door behind her, leaving it open a bit so she could hear Myles if he called for her. In the hallway, Charles spun her around, pressing her back to the wall and his mouth to hers. Her muffled gasp of surprise disappeared into his mouth as he kissed her firmly. His tongue swept inside, tasting her, teasing her. When he pulled back, he stared into her eyes. “You're already trying to act as if earlier tonight didn't happen. Why?”

“I-I'm not.”

“Yes, you are. Sweetheart, I know you're scared. I am too.”

“Charles . . . I think we're scared of very different things,” she whispered.

He didn't move, didn't look away. “Like?”

“Like you're scared you won't have what you want with me,” she murmured. “I'm scared I'll have absolutely nothing left if this all blows sky high. An affair versus an everyday life . . . quite different things, don't you think?”

His jaw tightened, along with his gut. She saw things more clearly than he did; it was true. He
was
used to getting what he wanted. Maybe he was pushing too hard. But . . . “I hear you,” he said. “I do. But please don't shut me out.” He leaned his forehead to hers. “We
both
feel this.”

“Yes, we do,” she whispered, her warm breath fanning his face. “That's no longer in question.”

“I want this.” He brushed his lips against hers. “We'll take it one step at a time; we can do it together. Just take that leap of faith with me.” He saw the emotions warring in her eyes, the battle between her mind and her heart, and kissed her lips lightly. “Trust in me. Try. Because I'm just a man, Lisette. A man who wants a shot with you. Okay?”

She stared at him for a long beat. He stared back, their eyes locked as his heart pounded. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, long and sweet, in unspoken accord.

* * *

Lisette and Myles holed up in his room on Monday. The poor kid had a nasty stomach bug and couldn't keep anything down. Tina had to go pick up Ava and Thomas from school; Lisette couldn't leave Myles. Charles checked in every two hours via text to see how they were doing—both Myles
and
her.

She had a lot of time to think, sitting with Myles all day while he napped, puked, or played games. Sunday night seemed like a surreal dream. Charles wanted her. He'd made that abundantly clear, in every way he knew how. Maybe that first night hadn't been a total accident after all, but him reaching out to her in a way he'd subconsciously wanted to but hadn't even been aware of? In any case, something had taken hold of both of them that night and hadn't let go, that was for sure.

He didn't care that she was his kids' nanny. He didn't care if people would talk about them if it ever went public. He didn't want her to leave, and had agreed to be careful around the kids as they attempted to start something. He wanted to be with her. Why couldn't she wrap her head around that? Exhausted from the long night and day, when Myles fell asleep around five o'clock, she lay on the floor beside his bed. She was so weary, it actually felt good. She grabbed the extra pillow she'd brought into the room and fluffed it behind her head.