His Holiday Bride

by Elaine Overton

  Without considering the consequence, Paul leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. The banked embers of passion between them roared into a blazing flame.

  Wrapping his arm around her, he leaned into her pushing her back onto the carpet, and instead of pushing him away, Amber wrapped her arms around his neck and surrendered to his heavier weight.

  Her mouth opened beneath his, welcoming him into the warm haven, and Paul drank her in with ravenous eagerness. He devoured her mouth, toying with her tongue, nipping at her bottom lip.

  It had only been a few days since he’d held her in his arms, but it felt like a year. Unable to stop his roaming hands, they traced every inch of her body, refamiliarizing himself with her.

  Amber’s welcoming response fueled his lust, and soon his trembling hand was beneath her shirt, lifting it to caress the soft mounds of flesh that taunted his dreams.

  Her small hands digging into his shoulders told him that her need was as great as his own. And when she lifted her body to his, opening her legs to allow him to settle between her thighs, Paul was almost certain he would explode on the spot.

  He looked down at her, with her head thrown back in abandon, her whole body straining toward his. The image was at once erotic and sobering. No! Not like this!

  Summoning strength of will he didn’t know he possessed, Paul pushed himself up.

  “What’s wrong?” Amber asked with bated breath, her lust-filled eyes tracing every line of his face.

  Paul swallowed hard, and said a quick prayer for strength. “No, angel, not like this.”

  Her lust turned to frustration. “Why not?”

  He almost laughed at the disgruntled expression on her face. “No, Amber, I won’t take you in the heat of passion when you’re so vulnerable.” He pushed himself off of her and rolled into a sitting position.

  Amber stroked his arm seductively. She was clearly a woman who knew how to get what she wanted. “I’m not vulnerable, Paul. I know what I’m doing. I want you.”

  Paul closed his eyes against the effect of those three simple words. He understood what Amber would not admit. If they made love like this, she would label it a fling, nothing more than a pleasant interlude in the overall scheme of her life.

  But Paul had no intention of being an interlude. He planned to be something much more. And in order to have that, Amber would have to first admit to more than just a physical attraction between them.

  Amber was like a wild thing, used to living for the moment and answering to no man. But he planned to change all that.

  He intended to tame her.

  And if that meant biding his time, waiting until she surrendered, then that was what he would do. Even if it killed him.

  “Not like this.”

  Her angry golden eyes narrowed on his face for several tense moments. She sat up and snatched up her pad. “Fine, then go away. I have work to do,” she muttered and turned her back on him. Paul knew that she was turning away from him in more than just the physical sense.

  He stood and stared down at her, and she continued to draw, pretending not to notice him standing beside her.

  Joachim was lying quietly, his eyelids drooping in an attempt to hold off sleep. His infant son accepted Amber’s presence so naturally, as if she had always been a part of his life, even preferring her touch to that of his father’s. And Amber so obviously adored his son. He himself was head over heels in love with her, and was almost certain she felt the same, even if she didn’t admit it.

  Everything had fallen into place so perfectly for them, it was completely obvious to Paul that the three of them belonged together. So why was she having such a hard time accepting it?

  Chapter 18

  As soon as Paul was out of sight, Amber breathed a sigh of relief. The man’s fortitude was unbelievable! And he was beginning to make Amber question the one certainty in her life. Her power over men.

  Paul Gutierrez defied everything she thought she knew about men. The first discrepency being that any man will take sex with no strings if it were offered. But during the past two weeks, she’d dangled that prospect beneath his nose any number of ways, and each and every time he’d walked away leaving her aggravated and unsatisfied. She found that she was beginning to agree with him. Love was indeed a nuisance.

  And there was no more denying. She was indeed in love with Paul.

  The why was no great mystery. Combine drop-dead gorgeous Brazilian with loving, dedicated single father, sprinkle in a dash of wealthy entrepreneur and you couldn’t help but have a winning recipe.

  The how was just as simple to explain. Two intense, sexually attracted and unattached people of the opposite sex living in close proximity, sharing the stories of their lives and discovering with every passing day that they have more and more in common. What else could’ve happened?

  For Amber the how and why were understandable. The only question left was what now? According to Paul, they should just surrender to what they were feeling and ride off into the sunset together. But Amber was a little more pragmatic—not to mention selfish.

  At twenty-one years old, Amber was not anywhere near ready to become a wife and instant mother. How was she supposed to be a good mother to Joachim, when she couldn’t even figure out how to support herself? Not to mention the kind of rigid life she could expect with a man as possessive and overbearing as Paul could sometimes be.

  Looking at it objectively, it was easy to say no. But it wasn’t always easy to be objective. Not when Paul was giving her that sultry look that spoke of decadent promises, or that mischievous smile that showed a crystal clear image of the boy he once was. And when he touched her…the world felt as if it were spinning at a million miles an hour. The man’s hands should be declared lethal weapons. No, it was not always easy to be objective about her feelings for him.

  And then, of course, there was the added fear that she would never feel for another man the way she felt for Paul. And in truth, she knew in her heart that even if she walked away from what he was offering her, he would always be the measuring rod for any future lovers.

  She stood and lifted the sleeping baby, and Joachim curled against her body as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Amber felt the now familiar stirring in her heart whenever she held his little sleeping body. She kissed the top of his silky curls and carried him into the nursery.

  As she tucked the infant into his crib, Amber realized that it was Saturday night and she had no desire to be anywhere other than where she was at that moment. That fact alone was proof that she’d changed. Until she came to live with Paul, she hadn’t spent two consecutive Saturday nights at home in the past three years.

  Home…Why did this place feel so much like home? She was even decorating it like home.

  Instead of making detached purchases based on the personality of her client, Amber was aware that she was choosing items she would have in her own home if she could. The color schemes she was choosing were her favorites, the furniture to her taste. Instead of creating a home for just Paul and Joachim, she was creating a home for herself.

  It was so easy, given that Paul had shown little interest in any of it. Except for insisting on going with her to all the stores, he’d left all the decisions in her hands. Did he know what he’d given her with this spontaneous proposition? Could he have any idea how important it had become to her in the past week? The kind of fulfillment she was finding in the project?

  She stretched, and picked up the baby monitor as she left the room. Glancing at the hall clock, she saw it was almost six o’clock. She’d planned to make a casserole for dinner, so she headed downstairs toward the kitchen to get started.

  Amber chuckled to herself, musing on what her girlfriends back in Detroit would think if they could see party girl Amber Lockhart playing the role of wife and mother. She smirked to herself. They would laugh, of course, and refuse to believe it. How could she blame them? She couldn’t believe it herself.

  Everyone knew she was too irrespo
nsible, too high-stung, too selfish, too Amber to ever be Mrs. Paul Gutierrez. She hoped Paul would realize it long before he broke down her defenses and caused her to want an impossible dream.

  As she turned into the kitchen, she paused in the door, seeing signs of herself everywhere. The furniture catalogs she’d been collecting over the week were stacked on the large dining table. The game she and Paul had started the night before was sitting on top of it. The jacket Paul had lent her was thrown over the back of one of the chairs. She glanced toward the stove where she’d spent yesterday morning reorganizing the area to better suit her cooking style. A stranger would know right away that this was the favorite room in the house.

  There were little touches everywhere, small, insignificant signs that revealed the personalities of the tenants. She could see Paul’s loafers sitting right outside the door, where he always kicked them off when he came into the house. Joachim’s playpen sat almost in the middle of the room, giving him a bird’s-eye view of all the goings-on.

  Amber wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a chill run down her spine as a terrifying thought occurred to her. No wonder this place felt like home.

  It had become home.

  Close to midnight, Dashuan Kennedy pulled to the curb and stopped. He turned off the lights and the engine of the rented Mustang and sat watching the dark house across the street. Thanks to the talkative cop that drove him to the police station the night Amber left him, Dashuan had learned a lot about the mystery man who’d confronted him in the hotel lobby. His name, the name of his security company and where he lived.

  The police officer hadn’t seen Dashuan as a threat. After all, he was a famous athlete. As far as the rookie was concerned, the brawl in the hotel lobby had been nothing more than a little scuffle over a woman.

  He hadn’t even bothered to process him. Just locked him and his bodyguards in a cell for a few hours—to cool off, he’d said—then the next morning, they were released without any charges being filed against them.

  The embarrassment of being detained increased Dashuan’s animosity toward the stranger. That, added to the ever growing anxiety that Amber was going to tell someone what she saw, had him wired like a bomb those first forty-eight hours.

  But after two days of hearing nothing from the press, Dashuan started to think maybe Amber had decided to take her time and sell her story to the highest bidder. That was good. That would give him time to shut her up once and for all.

  He accepted that she had almost certainly told her new lover. And he did not doubt for a minute that Paul Gutierrez was her new lover. Amber was as hot as they came.

  He still wasn’t sure what he would do about the man, but after an eye-opening conversation with his new bodyguard, direct confrontation was no longer an option.

  From what Barney Roberts told him, Amber Lockhart could not have found a better protector. Paul Gutierrez is a former Navy SEAL with the heart of a Boy Scout. Those were the exact words Barney had used to sum up his former employer, which meant he couldn’t be beaten or bribed.

  Dashuan tapped the steering wheel with his index finger as he considered the plan he’d settled on. It was dangerous, no doubt about it. But it had been over two weeks, and he had no idea who Amber might have talked to in that time. Every day he picked up the local tabloids, terrified of seeing his face on the cover.

  He knew what people would think if she told them what she’d seen. It wasn’t like he was gay, or anything, but that’s what everyone would think. He and Kelvin only hooked up occasionally, usually when they’d been drinking.

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel, as he kicked himself for the thousandth time about bringing the little bitch with him to L.A. He’d done it to piss off D’marcus Armstrong, the Chargers team owner and his personal adversary. He was also Amber’s future brother-in-law.

  At the time, Amber’s wild nature and fascination with his celebrity status had seemed like the perfect weapon of embarrassment against uptight D’marcus. Instead, Amber’s poor timing had caused the plan to go awry and he was now the one in peril.

  His eyes ran over the house, examining it in detail and committing it to memory. Yes, it was a dangerous plan, but if it worked he could get rid of both Amber Lockhart and Paul Gutierrez in one cunning move.

  The following morning, Amber stood in the kitchen doorway confused by the scene that greeted her. Who is this woman in my kitchen?

  “Hello?” she said, to the older Hispanic woman breaking eggs over a skillet.

  The woman looked up and smiled. “Hello, you must be Amber. I’m Rosalie.” She placed a hand on her chest. “I take care of Joachim. It’s nice to meet you.”

  No, I take care of Joachim, she almost said, but held her tongue. There was time enough for that later. For now she needed to know more.

  She entered the kitchen and forced a smile. “Nice to meet you.” She looked around the room. “Where’s Paul?”

  “Still upstairs. I always make his breakfast when I first arrive, so he has a hot meal in the mornings before going off to work.” She turned and flipped the fried eggs onto a plate with professional skill.

  Amber thought about the many mornings she’d watched Paul fix a bowl of cereal for breakfast. She’d just assumed he liked cereal. Why hadn’t he said he liked eggs in the morning? She could’ve made them.

  “Would you like some?” Rosalie asked, still holding the skillet in her hand.

  Amber shook her head and turned away. “Where’s Joachim? He’s usually up by seven.”

  Rosalie smiled. “That’s my fault. I’ve missed him so much, that I woke him when I first arrived to catch up on all my hugs and kisses.” She laughed, and it was such a genuine, full-bodied laugh, Amber couldn’t help but like it. “I’m afraid I wore the little soul out. As soon as I put him down he fell right back off to sleep.”

  Rosalie placed the skillet in the sink and started wiping down the counter.

  “Good morning,” Paul called, entering the kitchen just then. He was dressed today in a powder-blue silk shirt and tie that looked wonderful against his olive skin, and dark navy wool slacks. His casual loafers had been replaced by a pair of Allen-Edmonds, and Amber realized it was only the second time she’d seen him dressed this way. The night he’d rescued her was the first.

  He crossed the room and gave Amber a quick peck on the cheek as he had every morning for the past five mornings. Then he headed toward Rosalie and hugged the older woman. “It’s good to have you back, Rosalie. We’ve missed you.”

  Amber watched the interaction, trying to suppress the envy she felt building in her heart.

  She watched as Paul took the plate from the counter as if knowing it was for him, and sat down at the table. “Hmm, I’ve missed your fried eggs.” He winked at Rosalie and began to eat.

  Amber did not realize she was glaring at him until he asked, “Why are you glaring at me?”

  She shook the expression off her face and made a hand gesture. “Sorry, my mind was a million miles away.”

  Paul didn’t look convinced, but he continued to eat anyway. “I assume you ladies have been introduced.”

  Rosalie chuckled. “If we waited for you to do it, we’d be standing around all day, just two strangers looking at each other.”

  Amber wanted to mention that even after being introduced she still didn’t know the woman. She realized the remark was coming from spite and she held her tongue.

  “Good,” Paul continued. “Amber, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Amber crossed the room and took a chair across from him.

  Rosalie started to leave the room. “I’m going to put a load in the washer. Be right back.”

  “I did the laundry yesterday,” Amber said smugly.

  Rosalie smiled. “Okay then, I guess I’ll go check on Joachim.” She paused. “Unless, you would like to do that, Amber?”

  Amber felt like crawling under the table, realizing how ridiculous she was behaving. “No, that’s okay,” she said, tr
ying to recover a little of her former dignity.

  Rosalie nodded, and left the room.

  When Amber turned back to Paul, he was giving her a strange look. There was something in his expression she could not quite identify.

  “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Rosalie coming back today. I only talked to her late last night. Her husband recently had surgery and she’s been taking care of him, but now that he’s feeling better she was going stir-crazy and wanted to get back to work.”

  Amber shrugged. “It’s your house, Paul. You don’t owe me any explanation.”

  “What’s with you this morning?” he asked, reaching over and lifting her chin until he was looking into her eyes. “You feel okay?”

  “How am I supposed to feel? I wake up and find some strange woman roaming through the house.”

  “She’s not some strange woman. She’s Joachim’s caregiver.”

  “Then what am I?” Amber blurted out the words before she could stop them.

  Paul’s eyes narrowed on her face. Amber swallowed hard, realizing her big mouth had backed her into a corner.

  He ran his thumb over her cheek. “The job is yours whenever you want it, angel. Just say the word.”

  She turned her head to the side, and Paul’s hand fell away. He returned his attention to his breakfast. “I have to go in to the office today, but I should be home no later than five. Rosalie typically leaves about six.”

  Amber knew how crazy it was to be jealous of Rosalie, but she couldn’t seem to get rid of the feeling of resentment. “Fine, I’ll see you this evening.”

  “What’s for dinner?” Paul asked, when she turned to walk away.

  Amber turned and glowered at him. “Why don’t you ask Rosalie?”