His Holiday Bride

by Elaine Overton

  Paul’s eye’s widened as the rocking chair came to a slow stop. He felt as if it would swallow his shrinking form. He had forgotten all about the fact that she did not have any clothes, other than the ones she’d arrived in.

  So, where did the little slinky, sexy thing come from? He remembered the shopping bags she’d been carrying that night. Obviously the outfit had been purchased for the pleasure of Dashuan Kennedy, he realized with jealousy.

  Still, the girl had no clothes, and he’d not offered to help her in any way. He’d just criticized her for wearing the only thing she had to wear.

  He’d let his hormones take control of his brain, and that situation hardly ever worked out. Hardly ever. He looked down at the bundle in his arms, remembering the one time in his life when hormones had ruled over intellect and created something wonderful.

  Realizing no argument would ensue, Amber turned to walk out of the nursery.

  “Amber,” Paul called her once more before she’d walked through the door.

  She turned, paused, but his next words seemed a long time coming.

  “Thanks for checking on Joachim for me.”

  Amber knew it was an apology of sorts, but it just wasn’t enough. After the way he’d talked to her, she was still stinging from the blow to her pride. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you.”

  Paul watched as she walked out of the room with a stiff spine and her head held high. He’d hurt her. In that moment, he knew there was nothing more heartbreaking than a wounded angel.

  Chapter 8

  When Amber awoke the next morning, she turned over and looked at the clock on the nightstand. She was surprised to see it was almost nine. It was much later than she normally slept, but given her busy night, it was understandable.

  As she pulled her tired body upright, she also accepted that it was time to leave Casa Gutierrez. Although, it wasn’t even Casa Gutierrez, was it? she thought, looking around at the scarcely furnished room. Her eyebrows crinkled as she considered just how comfortable Paul seemed in his friend’s house.

  She stood and pulled the scarf off her head, running her hands through her relaxed hair with a large yawn. She was halfway to the bathroom, when her eyes landed on the set of clothes folded on the dresser.

  She couldn’t help smiling as she picked up the folded jeans and the plain red T-shirt. It was a truce, an apology. And, she hoped, an invitation to stay.

  The truth was, although she was prepared to leave and return home to her family with her tail tucked between her legs, she would much rather stay here with this interesting man and his adorable baby boy a little longer.

  After a quick shower, she dressed in the jeans that ended up needing to be folded at both the top and the bottom in order to make them fit. When she pulled the large T-shirt over her head, she ended up looking like a five-year-old dressed for a day at the beach. But that didn’t matter. She was feeling better than she had in days.

  She bounded down the stairs with renewed energy, and was surprised to find the kitchen empty. She wandered from room to room, trying to find Paul to thank him for his temporary donation to her scarce wardrobe.

  As she came to the study door, she could hear talking coming from the other side. She knocked, and waited.

  “Come in,” Paul’s gruff voice answered.

  She reared back, looking at the door in indignation. But she still had enough of the good vibe thing going to ignore his tone. She cracked the door open and saw Paul sitting behind a large mahogany desk, his attention focused on the laptop in front of him.

  “What do you need, Amber?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the screen.

  “Just wanted to say thanks.” Her eyes scanned the room, and when she saw no sign of Joachim, she assumed he was still napping.

  Paul’s dark eyes glanced at her before returning to the screen. “No problem. If you want, later I’ll take you to the mall.”

  He did want her to stay. “Thanks, that would be great.” Her attention was drawn to a picture on a small side table near the window. She looked at Paul, still engrossed in whatever he was doing, and decided to inspect the picture for herself instead of asking him a bunch of questions.

  Out of curiosity, she crossed to the table and picked up the picture, but frowned in confusion when she saw it was a picture of Joachim when he was much smaller. Her eyes begin to scan the room, and she went from table to bookshelf, pausing to look at the pictures.

  She realized this was the coziest room in the whole house. It was personalized and well-used. She gave a short gasp as the truth hit her in the face. It was extremely personalized and well-used…by the homeowner.

  A few minutes later, Paul finished the quote for the six guards to transport some precious artifacts to New York for the Metropolitan Museum. He stretched, taking his eyes off the laptop, and only then did he notice Amber was still in the room. She had taken up position in one of the wing chairs on the other side of the desk and, considering the folded arms across her chest and the intense frown on her face, she had something on her mind.

  Could she still be angry about the night before? No, if that were the case, she would’ve been angry when she entered the room.

  He titled his head in concern and was just about to ask, when she exploded.

  “House-sitting for a friend, huh?”

  Paul’s frantic eyes quickly scanned the room, as he realized his mistake. He’d been so involved in writing the report he hadn’t stopped to think about what she would see when she entered the room. Signs of his life before and after Joachim were everywhere.

  Paul stood. Given the fire raging in her eyes, something told him not to make any sudden moves. “I can explain.”

  She huffed. “This should be good. By all means, explain, Paul. Tell me why you would bring me out here to the middle of nowhere and then claim the house belongs to a friend.”

  “I thought you were—”

  “What? You thought I was what?”

  “I didn’t know you, and—”

  “Are you even a security guard?” She glanced around once more, and then burst into laughter. “Of course not!” She shook her head and stood. “What have I gotten myself in to?”

  “Amber, I just didn’t know you well. And after Luther told me how you followed Kennedy here, I thought…”

  “Oooohhh, I get it now.” She stood and moved away from the chair. “Okay, I get it. Didn’t want the little basketball groupie getting the wrong idea, right?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Of course, it is. After all, we know how women like me are.” She pressed both hands to her chest in an exaggerated gesture. “The kind that gets lonely faster than others. I see some hotshot in his big fancy house, and who knows what I might do, right?” She went to the end of the desk and leaned forward, her eyes narrowing on his face. “Afraid I might crawl into your bed one night and force myself on you, Paul? Afraid I might get attached to your beautiful home and your sweet baby, and you’ll never get rid of me. Is that it?”

  Paul listened in silence. She finally seemed to run out of steam, though the fire in her eyes had not even dimmed. “Are you done?”

  She just continued to glare in silence.

  He gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. “Sit.”

  Amber folded her arms across her chest and stood still.

  He hunched his shoulder and flopped down in his chair. “All right, suit yourself. Before you get too high up on that soap box, you need to consider the fact that you are to blame.”

  She opened her mouth to protest and he put up a hand to silence her. “No! You’ve had your say, now it’s my turn.”

  With a deep breath, she conceded and sat down.

  “When I picked you up at the hotel, do you remember the look you gave my car? You turned your pretty little nose up like it was some kind of diseased monster.”

  “Well, it’s ugly!”

  “See?” He pointed one long, elegant finger at her. “That att
itude right there is the reason I did not tell you.”

  “That does not explain why you lied about the house and your occupation.”

  “I didn’t lie about my occupation. I told you I was in security, which I am. You assumed that meant I was a security guard. Truth is, I own a security consulting company called G-Force.”

  Her mouth thinned again. “And the house?”

  “Okay, I can admit that was just my own bad reaction to your behavior earlier that night. When we pulled up, and you asked whose house it was, you had already assumed it could not be mine. So, I let you go on believing that. But that was two days ago. I apologize, but you have to admit that you are partially responsible.”

  “I will admit no such thing.” She stood again, and without another word headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Paul called to her.

  “To get my stuff together. It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll be heading back to Detroit today.”

  “Sure you want to do that?”

  “No!” she shouted in frustration. “But what choice do I have? Dashuan doesn’t want me, you don’t want me, no one wants me!” The tears began to pour down her face in earnest.

  Paul was unable to resist the dejected figure standing before him, with her proud shoulders slumped in defeat. He crossed the room and took her in his arms.

  “You’re welcome to stay. I’m sorry, I’ve been such a jerk. I’m not normally this much of a pain in the ass.” He propped his chin on the top of her head. “It seems you bring out the best in me.”

  She chuckled against his shirt. “If this is your best, you’re in trouble.”

  “I know, so see? You have to stay, to help me improve my behavior and learn the proper way to treat a houseguest.”

  Even though Amber wanted to stay cuddled in his strong arms, she was even more afraid of living up to his lowest expectation—a kind of femme fatale that preyed on wealthy men.

  She stepped back out of his arms. “No, I appreciate the offer, but I better get going.”

  “I tell you what, give it twenty-four hours. If you still want to leave this time tomorrow, I’ll take you to the airport. It’s only been a couple of days. Give yourself some more time.”

  Amber knew she should’ve declined the offer. The problem was that most of her wanted what he was offering too much to turn it down. “Twenty-four hours?”

  “Just one more day out of your life to be sure you’re making the right decision.” And one more day for me to convince you not to leave. Paul did not examine the reasons he wanted her to stay.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll stay another day, and thank you for offering.”

  “Hey, why don’t we pack up Joachim and go shopping now?” Even as he said the words, Paul glanced back at his laptop. He hadn’t done any work in two days. This woman was wreaking havoc on his schedule.

  Amber saw his eyes dart to the laptop. “No, it’s okay, we can go later.”

  Paul wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her to the door. “No, I insist.” As they left the office, Paul pulled the door closed behind him. He justified his behavior by deciding that even the boss deserved some time off now and then.

  Chapter 9

  Almost three hours later, the couple found themselves pushing a baby stroller down a crowded avenue. They had been returning from the mall in creeping traffic, when Paul commented that the congested roads were due to the Avenue Art Fair that was going on that weekend.

  Amber had lit up in delight at the prospect of seeing some local artisans’ work, and Paul had been too mystified by her excitement to discourage her. And now, here they were.

  “Oh, look at this, Paul.” Amber stopped beside a covered booth that had two shelves lined with hand-blown jars in various shapes and sizes. She picked up a small oblong-shaped cylinder, turning it this way and that, studying the detailed engravings that surrounded the bottle.

  “You have good taste, miss.” The booth operator spotted the couple and made his way toward them. “This is one of my personal favorites.”

  “Do you do the glass yourself?” Amber asked, still studying the jar.

  “Each and every one. I start with a detailed drawing, images that come to me in my dreams. And even with so much preparation, the glass still manages to take on a life of its own.”

  “How much?” she asked. Being an experienced barterer, Amber knew a line when she heard one. He was setting her up.

  “That one took almost three weeks, from—”

  “How much?”

  The man frowned. “Four hundred dollars.”

  “Four hundred?” Amber’s eyes widened and she turned the vase upside down.

  “What are you doing?” the booth owner asked.

  “Looking for the Waterford symbol on the bottom. I assume it must be Waterford crystal for that price!”

  “What about you, sir?” The booth owner turned his attention to Paul. “Is four hundred dollars too much to pay to bring a smile to your wife’s face?”

  Paul and Amber exchanged nervous glances.

  “I’m not his—”

  “She’s not my—”

  They began and stopped in the same instance, giving each other a strange look neither had the nerve to question.

  The booth operator pointed at the baby snuggled in the stroller. “Sorry, I just assumed.”

  “I’ll give you one hundred for it,” Amber offered.

  “One hundred? That’s just a fraction of its worth. Two fifty.”

  “Never mind.”

  “Two hundred.”

  “One fifty.”

  “Fine!” the man huffed, then went to wrap the glass in paper.

  Amber felt Paul’s eyes on her and turned to see him smiling at her. “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…you didn’t strike me as the bargaining type.” His smile widened, and Amber felt those stupid butterflies taking flight inside her belly once more.

  “I watched the way you shopped today,” he continued. “You were actually looking at tags.”

  “I’m a full-time student, and even with my grants, between tuition and books, there isn’t a lot left over for the little extras. So, you learn to become careful about what you splurge on.”

  “And you thought that vase was worth one hundred and fifty dollars?”

  “It was worth two, but I’m not telling him that. Did you see that detailing? He’s right—it probably took him several hours to get that kind of intricate design in place.” She shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say, I like unique things.”

  “You are a unique thing.” Paul said, his dark eyes looking into hers.

  Amber wasn’t sure what to say in response to such an odd compliment, if it even was a compliment.

  “Paul?” A tall blond woman came up beside Paul and touched his arm. “I thought that was you. Harold, I told you that was Paul.”

  “Hey, buddy,” A dark-haired man came up, taking Paul’s hand in a vigorous shake. Something in his eyes cried apology, and it didn’t take Paul long to find out why.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” The woman smiled at Amber.

  Paul rolled his eyes. “Brenda and Harry Michelson, meet Amber Lockhart. Amber’s a friend of mine, visiting from out of town. Amber, the Michelsons are neighbors of mine.”

  Amber smiled and offered greetings to the couple.

  “You know when I saw you two pull into the parking lot ahead of us, I said, ‘Harold that looks like Paul with that pretty young lady.’” Brenda bent forward to play with the baby. “So, are you Joachim’s mother?” Brenda asked.

  Paul’s eyes narrowed on her back. “If you want to know something about Joachim, Brenda, talk to me. Got me?”

  Realizing she’d overstepped her bounds, Brenda stood straight. “I’m sorry, I meant no offense, it’s just—” She turned pleading eyes on her husband, and Harry stepped forward, shaking his head.

  “Excuse my wife.” Harry smiled at Amber. “Sometimes she
can be a bit overzealous when she meets new people.”

  Brenda’s worried eyes roamed over Paul’s face. “Paul, you know I meant no harm. It’s just so rare we see you with anyone.” She looked to Amber. “I apologize if I—”

  Amber took pity on the woman, and raised her hand to still the apology. “You didn’t.”

  “Well, we’d better be going,” Harry said, taking his wife’s elbow and leading her away.

  Once they were alone again, Amber waited for Paul to regain control of his temper before she spoke. “She meant no harm, you know.”

  Before Paul could respond, the booth owner handed Paul the wrapped package as Amber paid for it.

  He accepted the package, cradling it in his arm like he would his son. “I know. For the most part Brenda’s a sweet lady. She’s just so damn nosy, it drives me crazy.”

  Amber was tempted to blurt out that just like Brenda, she, too, was curious about Joachim’s mother. But she still remembered the way he tensed up the last time she’d asked. She was having such an enjoyable time, she didn’t want to say anything that might ruin it.

  As they continued along the avenue, Paul seemed lost in his own thoughts. He was trying not to think too much about the woman at his side. That morning, she’d been ready to leave, he could see it in her eyes. And a part of him knew that was for the best. The last thing he needed to bring into his son’s life was another Michelle. He’d been around enough to know that women like Amber Lockhart were all the same. And as certain as he was about that, he was even more convinced that if she continued to scamper around his house in next to nothing, she would scamper right into his bed and he would do nothing to stop her. He should’ve let her go while he had the chance. But for reasons he did not want to examine, he’d been unable to just stand by and let her leave.

  Although, he’d known her a short while, living in such close proximity had sped up the familiarizing process, and a part of him had gotten used to her being there. Most of the time it was just him and Joachim, and during the day Rosalie. And now there was this vibrant presence in his home twenty-four hours a day. He just wasn’t ready to go back to the silence.