Desire Collection: December Books 1 – 4. Elizabeth Bevarly
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her own reflected there, she would have believed the good-guy smile that now curved those wicked lips and seemed to say that the kiss had been no big deal.
Faye fought to calm her rapidly beating heart—to not betray even an inkling of the chaos that rattled through her mind over what had just happened. She bent her head to avoid looking at him, to avoid betraying just how much she’d enjoyed that kiss. She took in a deep breath and chose her words very deliberately.
“If you want me to continue to work for you, that had better be the last time you ever do something like that to me,” she said in a voice that was surprisingly even. “Here, your tray is ready.”
She picked up the tray with his supper and handed it to him, then turned away to finish preparing her own.
“Faye, I—”
“Really, there’s no need to rehash it. Or apologize, if that’s what you were thinking. Let’s just drop it, hmm?”
“For the record, I do want you to keep working for me.”
“Good, then there won’t be a repeat of that, then.”
“Was it so awful?” he asked, a glimmer of uncertainty flickering briefly in his dark brown eyes.
“I thought we agreed not to rehash it.”
“Actually we didn’t agree on anything. But, fine, if you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t talk about it.”
Had she offended him? That hadn’t been her intention...but if it meant he wouldn’t do something as insane as try to kiss her again, that was a very good thing. Wasn’t it? Of course it was. And he wasn’t the kind of guy to carry a grudge. It was one of things she’d always admired about him.
Faye finished fussing over her tray and checked that the stove was turned off.
“Let me take that for you,” Piers said, easily balancing his tray on one hand while sliding hers off the countertop with his other. “You can lead the way with the flashlight.”
He was laughing at her. Oh, not in any obvious way, but she sensed the humor that hovered beneath the surface of his smooth demeanor. What she’d said had actually amused him rather than offended him, she was certain.
Determined to avoid too much further interaction, she decided the best course of action was to do as he’d suggested rather than fight over her tray. It wasn’t as if they had far to walk, and if she chose one of the deep armchairs to sit in by the fire she wouldn’t have to sit next to him.
By the time she was settled in the chair, with her tray on her lap, she was back to thinking about that kiss and the man who’d chosen the seat opposite her.
The glow of the fireplace cast golden flickers of light and contrasting shadows across his face, highlighting the hollows beneath his cheekbones and the set of his firm jaw. He’d lost some weight this past year, since the death of his twin. She was shocked to realize she hadn’t noticed until now. She’d been too busy avoiding letting her eyes linger on any part of him. In simply taking instructions, preempting others and basically just doing her job to the best of her ability. For a personal assistant, though, she’d hadn’t paid much attention to the actual personal side of Piers Luckman.
Oh, sure, she’d organized his social calendar, ensured none of his engagements clashed, seen off unwelcome interest from women who saw him as a short road to a comfortable future and, more recently, forwarded his farewell gift to the girlfriend who’d stuck longer than so many others.
But even though she’d done most of the coordination for Quin Luckman’s funeral, she hadn’t offered more than the usual cursory expression of sympathy to his twin. How had it felt for him, losing that half of himself that had been there from conception? She’d been so locked under her own carapace of protection that she’d rendered herself immune to his grief once the initial shock of Quin’s death had blunted.
And why on earth was she even worrying about it? It wasn’t as if he was about to lay his sorrow at her feet now that he’d kissed her. Without thinking, she pressed her lips together, catching her lower lip between her teeth in an unconscious effort to relive the pressure of his lips on hers. The clatter of a spoon on an empty bowl dragged her attention back to the man sitting opposite and a flush of embarrassment swept across her cheeks.
“That was good. Remind me to thank Meredith for having the foresight to lay in such tasty supplies.”
“I’ll do that,” Faye said, reaching automatically for the small tablet that she kept in her bag to note his command immediately.
“Faye, I’m kidding. You’re off the clock, remember?”
His voice held that note of humor again and it made the back of her neck prickle. She looked him squarely in the eye.
“You don’t pay me to be off the clock. Besides, I’ll just call this overtime.”
Piers sighed, a thread of frustration clear in the huff of air he expelled. “You can relax, Faye. On or off the clock, I’m glad you’re here.”
He cast a glance at the sleeping baby and even with the shadows she could see the concern that played across his features. She felt compelled to reassure him.
“He’ll be fine, you know. You’re doing a good job with him so far.”
“I can’t help feeling sorry for him. His mother abandoning him. His father gone.” Piers’s voice broke on the last word. “I miss Quin so much, you know? I kind of feel that having Casey here is giving me another chance.”
“Another chance?” Faye asked gently when he lapsed into silence.
“At a real family.”
“You have your parents,” she pointed out pragmatically, “and I know you have extended family, as well. They’re all quite real.”
“And yet, for as long as I can remember, I always felt like Quin and I only had each other.”
Faye shifted uncomfortably on her chair. This was getting altogether too personal for comfort. Piers had never really talked about his family at great length. She’d always privately envied him that they, until Quin’s sudden death, were all still there for him. But were they really?
When she thought back, her dealings with his parents and other relatives had hinged around what Piers could do for them, never the other way around. Even thinking about his annual house party here, Piers had always instructed her on what gifts to ensure were under the tree for whom. But, aside from his great-aunt Florence’s questionable Christmas sweaters, had Faye ever heard of anyone bringing him a gift in return?
“I’m sorry,” she said for lack of anything else to say to fill the sudden silence that fell between them.
“This little one isn’t going to grow up alone. I will always be there for him.”
“You don’t even know for sure he’s your brother’s child,” Faye protested.
“It fits. You know what Quin was like. I’m only sorry I didn’t know about Casey sooner—then I could have helped his mom more.”
Faye saw his shoulders rise and fall on a deep sigh. There was a resoluteness to his voice when he spoke again.
“She needed help and Quin couldn’t be there for her. I’ll find her, Faye. I’ll make sure she’s okay before going any further with Casey but I want to offer him the kind of life he deserves.”
Piers’s words made something twist deep in Faye’s chest. Made her see another side of him that was all too appealing. It was the baby, it had to be. After her infant brother’s death thirteen years ago she’d spent some time subconsciously trying to fill that gaping hole in her life. Tried and failed and learned the hard way to inure herself to getting involved, to forming an emotional bond. And here she was, stranded with a man who appealed to her on so many levels—despite her best efforts to keep her reactions under control—and a helpless infant who