The Magic of a Family Christmas. SUSAN MEIER
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and sleep in sleeping bags on the living-room floor.
This could actually be the most fun day of his stay with her.
She put her hand on Harry’s shoulder, took another step back, easing toward the door.
It almost seemed wrong to leave. Almost. The truth was she didn’t know Cullen Barrington. And she was attracted to him. The first man since Greg. That left her feeling odd enough. When she added that he was a playboy, out of her reach, the man who owned the company she worked for, in front of whom she’d prefer to be on her best behavior, not walking around a dark old house with a flashlight…Well, it was for the best that she not invite him to her home. She shouldn’t feel guilty for leaving him to figure out what he’d do for the next twelve to twenty-four hours—in the dark—when she not only had light and warmth, she could also cook dinner.
While he sat in the dark? Slept on the floor with his jacket for a cover?
Damn it!
Why couldn’t her conscience just shut up long enough for her to get to her car?
“Do you want to come with us?”
His head jerked up. “Where are you going?”
“As you said, we can’t work in the dark. So Harry and I are going home. I have a gas stove and a working fireplace in the living room. Even my hot-water heater is gas. We can be without power for a week and the only thing we’ll miss is television.”
“I don’t watch television.”
“Then you should be fine.”
He growled as if annoyed with the inconvenience of humbling himself to go to the home of an employee, and she said a silent prayer that he’d be stubborn enough—or maybe independent enough—to decide he’d rather sit alone in the office, maybe reading files by the emergency lights in the corridor, than go with her.
Please, God…
He pulled in a breath. “Okay. Fine. Let me get my coat.”
Chapter Three
THEY stepped out into the parking lot and Cullen motioned to the right. “That’s my rental car.”
“And it’s a fine car,” Wendy said, “but with power lines down, we can’t drive. We don’t want to become part of the problem.”
Cullen ignored her sarcasm in favor of more pressing concerns. “Part of the problem?”
“We could get halfway home, come across a tree that’s down and either have to leave our cars in the middle of the road or drive back here and walk anyway.”
She faced him. Sunlight sparkled off the thick ice on the trees surrounding the parking lot, encircling her with a glow that made her look like a shimmering angel. He shook his head to clear the haze, but there was no haze. She truly sparkled in the icy world they were caught in.
“So what do you say we skip the first few steps we know might not work, and just walk?”
Great. Maybe a little exercise would help him get himself back to normal around her. “Fine.”
“Good. You can carry Harry.”
He gaped at her. “Carry Harry?”
“It’s a ten-minute walk. And he’s a fortypound kid. Are you telling me that rich guys are too soft to carry forty-pound kids?”
He snatched the little boy off the ground and hoisted him to his shoulder. Not that he took her bait about him being soft. He liked Harry. Who wouldn’t? The kid had suffered the kind of loss that would flatten most adults, yet he was taking it like a man. He deserved a little special treatment.
“You have a smart mouth.”
She grimaced. “Not usually.”
He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to know that she was behaving out of character in his presence. It was confirmation that she was attracted to him, too. If they were attracted to each other and about to spend the night together that might be trouble. Of course, if she was being smart with him it could be because she didn’t like the attraction any more than he did—which should make them perfectly safe.
Occupied with his thoughts, Cullen slipped on the ice and bobbled Harry, who squealed with delight. “This is fun!”
“Always happy to oblige,” Cullen told Harry, before he leaned toward Wendy and whispered, “Italian loafers weren’t made for walking on ice.”
“It’s a very short walk. Ten minutes tops.” She pointed to the grassy strip beside the sidewalk. “But if I were you I’d walk in that.”
He stepped into the bumpier grass and found the footing a little more solid. Harry groaned. “Darn.”
With his hands on Harry’s thighs, holding him on his shoulders, Cullen shook his head. “Kids. You think the weirdest things are fun.”
Harry giggled. Cullen’s spirits unexpectedly lifted, but he told himself to settle down. He might want to make Harry’s life a little brighter, but he wasn’t here for fun and games. He had to work with Wendy Winston for the next few weeks. He had to be nice to her, but he also had to keep his distance. He didn’t want to accidentally start a relationship that would have to end when he left.
He stayed quiet the rest of the way to her home. Walking on the grass, he managed to slip only a time or two, but that provided Harry with a few laughs, and Wendy with something to talk about with Harry.
Suddenly she turned up an icy walkway to the right, and Cullen stopped.
Oh. Dear. God.
“Come on.”
Swallowing back a protest, Cullen carefully navigated the walkway and the five icy stairs to the wide front porch. They stepped inside a freezing-cold foyer with beautiful hardwood floors, a new paint job and a modern table holding a ginger-jar lamp and a stack of unopened mail.
She stripped off her coat. “As soon as I light the fireplace and turn on the oven, the downstairs will be toasty warm.” Heading for the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, “If you’re cold, don’t take off your coat until the place heats up.”
He slid Harry to the floor. The little boy immediately shucked his coat, found the hall closet and tossed it inside. Cullen grimaced. He’d look like a real wimp if he stayed in his coat, so he shrugged it off and followed Harry into the kitchen.
Wendy beamed at Harry. “Oh, you took off your own coat!”
Harry nodded. “I saw you put it in the closet before so I know what to do now.”
Cullen caught the exchange but he was too busy staring at the kitchen cabinets to comment.
Wendy winced. “I know they’re ugly.”
“My father hated them, too.”
Her pretty green eyes widened. “This was your house? Your family was the rich family that left town and neglected it?”
“That would be us.”
“And your mother is responsible for this floor?”
He shrugged. “It was the eighties. Linoleum was all the rage.”
“Yeah, but now I’m stuck with it. I should shoot at least one of you.”
Cullen heard her, but didn’t respond. Memories of conversations over breakfast with Gabby, the Barrington’s housekeeper, came tumbling back.
Are you ever going to learn to make pancakes?
No.
I like pancakes!
Little boys aren’t supposed to get everything they want. Makes them spoiled.
Gabby