Wrapped Up in a Beau

by Angelita Gill

  Her smile tugged at his heart, as it was both wistful and sad. He wished with everything he had she would be a part of more than the holidays.

  When she slid her hand out of his, pulling away emotionally as well as physically, he got a swift proverbial kick to the stomach. She rose and gathered their dirty dishes, heading to the kitchen.

  She meant it when she declared she didn’t like getting attached, already separating herself from this conversation. Frustration bubbled inside him. How easy it was for her. And how hard it was for him. Didn’t used to be that way. The woman was turning him into a sap. Well, if she could withdraw her emotions, then so could he.

  “I’ll call a tow for your rental,” he told her, taking out his cell phone. From this moment on, he’d stop pushing her away with his uncomfortable inquiries, and make sure she enjoyed her Christmas.

  By noon, the sun came out, and someone in the main house had called to clear the driveways.

  While the plows came in, Mason chased Greta around like two kids playing house. She teased him with mistletoe in her hand, daring him to catch her. And he did, hoisting her on the table and kissing her until they were both panting for breath. Then they spent a couple hours cuddling on the sofa watching Miracle on 34th Street, Greta’s favorite.

  After a phone call, Ben met Mason at the back door of the main house and handed him a neatly folded pile of clothes from his father’s closet. No doubt the butler had an opinion about the request, but he didn’t utter a word.

  Sophie called to check on Greta, and they chatted while Mason brought in more firewood. He overheard Greta claiming she wanted to stay inside and be lazy for the day, and it sounded like Sophie herself didn’t want to go out, either. They made plans to meet up for brunch, then facials at the Sophie’s favorite salon.

  Over a simple dinner, he and Greta talked about her travels and experiences—good and bad—of living abroad. Mason was enthralled by her stories of adventure, the people she met, and the tidbits of glamour intermixed with moments of humble living.

  At one time, she’d described sleeping in a barn loft and feeding an elderly couple’s chickens and pigs for a month. Then had befriended the daughter of a wealthy Italian businessman, who’d hired her to teach the girl French. She’d been invited to countless parties, chauffeured from one high profile event to another.

  He thought he could match her with his own tales of places he’d been, but they seemed touristy and predictable compared to Greta’s. He admired her fearlessness; not many women had the gumption to explore like she did. Now he understood why she never stayed in one place long enough to call home. Her free spirit wouldn’t let her.

  A familiar tune came on the radio and she stopped mid-sentence, turning up the volume. “Good song.”

  When he took her hand and rose, the delight on her face made his heart skip a beat. “Let’s see if I can compare to Leo.”

  Her smile was soft. “We’ve done this before, so I have no doubt.” Her mouth turned down. “I hope he comes out of this okay.” She came in close as they danced.

  “I’m sure he will. He’s not the sort of man who wouldn’t.”

  “I agree. He’s so full of life—such a big heart too. I met his daughter at the hospital. She’s going to have a baby! He’ll make such a wonderful grandfather. He reminds me of…”

  “Of…?” By her hesitation, he assumed she didn’t want to speak of the person readily. Since he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t press, he let her decide.

  “Of my father,” she finished. As they danced, Mason waited, allowing Greta to share with him what she chose. “Well, on his good days. Very animated, charming and fun to be around. That’s all I really remember of him.” She gave a slight shrug, resting her chin on Mason’s shoulder as they swayed to the music. “My father was hardly a part of my life. My mother died when I was a baby and I don’t think he really knew what to do with me once she was gone. I spent most of my childhood hopping from one family friend and neighbor to another. His parents were gone, her parents were gone and his only brother lived as a recluse somewhere in Colorado.”

  She sighed, pausing for a while. “My dad was handsome and charismatic, and made friends easily. Women fell for him fast. They felt sorry for him because he was a single father, and once he convinced them to take care of me for a while, he’d go off and try to get rich quick. But it never worked out the way he wanted, and eventually they would get tired of taking care of someone else’s child, and he’d have to move me somewhere else.”

  No wonder she didn’t like talking about her family. It was virtually nonexistent. How could a father treat his little girl like this? Mason’s heart pained, understanding why she hadn’t divulged the details before.

  “Don’t get me wrong. He did have good intentions,” she continued. “And when he finally walked in the door after being gone for weeks, he’d win my love all over again. But he never stayed. He’d make promises, bring me things, but he always left when a new scam was too hard to resist.” Her short laugh was dry. “You asked me where I got my restless spirit from.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He died when I was nineteen.”

  “I’m very sorry.”

  “Me too.” She met his eyes with a sad smile, and it lurched something inside him. He wanted to tear heaven and earth to see the pain wiped from her gaze.

  She shook her head. “Let’s not ruin the song with depressing memories. Show me how dreamy you can be, Mr. Renclair. What’s your best dance move?”

  Glad to oblige, to see her smile again, he turned her under his arm, yanked her to him and lowered her in a dip. She laughed, head falling back, and as he slowly brought her up, he kissed her the entire way. Kissed her lovingly, even if he couldn’t voice his growing, strange feelings.

  She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Mmm. That’s a good move. You taste like lust and biscuits.” She giggled at her words and pressed her body into him.

  Talk of her father was over, and Mason couldn’t help but begrudge the man for what he’d done. Too bad he hadn’t lived long enough to see what a vibrant, beautiful, intelligent woman she’d become. Mr. Marcum was really missing out. And soon I will be too.

  “Mason.” She caressed the back of his neck, and he met her gaze. “I’m thinking about delaying my flight a few days.”

  His eyes widened, hardly believing what he heard.

  She cleared her throat, after he didn’t respond. “Would that be okay? Because if it’s not then—”

  His mouth smothered her words. “God, you were reading my mind. Not to mention my sister would love it. I can show you more of Swan’s Crossing, drive you to some places outside of town, take you to New York City. There’s so much I want to do with you and a few days isn’t going to cut it.”

  “Slow down, Yankee.” Mason prayed he wasn’t scaring her away with his excitement, because she pulled out of his arms shyly. “I told you I didn’t want to get into anything complicated.”

  Attempting to keep the mood light, he caught her hand, and hauled her back with a grin. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. What’s so complicated about having fun? I’m having a good time. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she replied, her mouth turning up to smile.

  “Nothing will change except your departure date. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

  She searched his eyes, as if suspecting a hidden agenda. “That’s all then? Nothing more than that?”

  “I can’t handle more than that. Can you?”

  “Definitely not. I like to keep things casual. And honest. I want to be frank about what we’re really doing here.”

  “It’s the best policy, after all.”

  She bubbled with laughter. “I don’t want any feelings to get in the way. One day at a time until we go our separate ways. No expectations. This is basically a fling.”

  �
��You do know how to make it easy on a man.”

  Her lips curved in a smile as she cocked her head and studied him, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like you, Mason. You make me laugh. You’re fun and easy to spend time with. And…” She bit her bottom lip. “Well, we’re pretty good together in bed.”

  With a wolfish smile, he locked his hands on her hips and hoisted her up on the edge of the couch. “Pretty good? I’d say we were downright amazing together. In bed.” He kissed her, craving her again. She whimpered when he pulled back. Looking into her eyes, he yearned for her to say more. The sex was amazing, yes. But they were good for each other together in other ways; she clearly didn’t want to acknowledge that at the moment.

  She brought him in for another kiss and leaned back so far, they toppled over the sofa onto the cushions. She yelped and he laughed. Feeling playful, he reached under her sweater to tickle her ribs, loving how she wiggled wildly beneath him, her joyous laugh like music to his ears.

  He’d just agreed to a no-strings-attached fling. Although he should’ve been elated she didn’t expect—or want—more, a small part of him wished she would’ve asked if he did.

  Chapter Ten

  “I want to stay in my room, damn it.”

  Greta smiled as she pushed Christopher’s wheelchair down the long hall toward the family room, where everyone else was waiting to open presents. It was Christmas Eve, and in this household, gifts were opened the night before the big day. In the morning, they were to unpack their stockings, eat a big breakfast and try not to strangle each other before dinner at their neighbors’. At least, that was Mason’s version.

  “Why would you want to stay cooped up in your room all alone? The fun is out here, handsome.” She plopped a Santa hat on his head and stopped the chair to kiss his cheek.

  He grunted, but left the hat alone, and gave no other protest as she guided him into the room and parked him near the tree.

  “Oh good, Santa’s here,” Mason joked when they entered.

  Christopher pointed a finger at his grandson. “Shut up, boy. You know which side of the naughty or nice list you’re on.”

  Mason beamed at her for cajoling their grandfather out of hiding. Even Mrs. Renclair hadn’t been able to persuade her father-in-law to join them, and was visibly surprised. She gave Greta a grateful hug, impressed. Something Greta knew wasn’t a common thing to accomplish with the matriarch of the family.

  Sophie handed her a glass of sparkling wine. “What’s your secret? Fairy dust? Hypnosis?”

  “Bribery. I hid a small flask in his pocket and told him to spike his punch when your mother was preoccupied. Don’t worry, there’s only a splash in there. The rest is water.”

  Sophie swallowed her laughter as she took a sip of wine. “Crafty. And fearless. You’re the best.”

  Greta lowered her voice. “Are you sure it’s all right if I stay a few days more? I have no problem getting a room at the hotel.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s all right. Stay as long as you want. I’m so excited you’re extending your visit, by the way.” She leaned in, near-whispering. “And I don’t know what you’ve done to my brother, but keep it up. I’ve never seen him like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Happy. With Mason here, it makes all the difference. My parents are getting along for more than five minutes, and now look. Even Grandpa is smiling. And it’s all because of you!”

  “I wouldn’t give me that much credit.”

  “Well, I would! You are the reason Mason canceled his trip, after all.”

  From across the room, he caught her eyes, held them, then slowly smiled as he grabbed a handful of nuts out of a bowl. Her heart turned over. A part of her reveled in his open desire for her. “H-how do you know that?”

  “Uh oh. I thought for sure he would’ve told you,” Sophie murmured, feigning only a shadow of guilt. “Besides, I thought it was obvious for a woman as sharp as you. Don’t you remember me saying nothing short of a miracle would stop my brother from leaving for Christmas? Well, you are that miracle, Greta.” Sophie read the surprise on Greta’s features. “Bless your heart. You really did have no idea! It’s true, though. He told me so himself.”

  “I thought it was because of business or something. A change of heart.” She actually couldn’t recall an explanation.

  “It was. A change of heart that beats for you,” Sophie sang, batting her eyelashes.

  “Shh. You’re not funny. It’s nothing like that. We’re…well, we aren’t… That is…”

  Sophie clinked her glass with Greta’s. “You’re so funny when you stammer.” Then strutted off to join her father at the tree.

  Mason came over, impeccably dressed casual in light-colored slacks, a collared shirt, and a pullover. So handsome, deliciously urbane. She wanted to pull him into a closet and have her way with him. He placed a hand at her back and a thrill raced from the bottom of her spine up to her head, dizzying her.

  His voice was silken. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  She smiled. Of course she’d kept him solely in mind when she’d gotten dressed this evening in her wrap black dress with her hair up. Only so he could unravel the dress himself and undo her hair when they were alone.

  When she’d suggested prolonging her stay, her heart had pounded. She’d played it cool, and made sure to lay out some rules. For herself more than for Mason. Keep it light. Call it a fling. He didn’t have any problem with that. Why would he? He didn’t want to get into anything serious any more than she did.

  The past three days had been amazing, full of surprises, a little spontaneity, and a lot of fun, though she had to turn in her Mustang to the rental car company as a price.

  Mason had them and his parents flown into New York City to see The Nutcracker. That night, she and Mason spent the night at the Ritz, dancing in their suite and ordering pancakes at 2 a.m. The following evening, back in Swan’s Crossing, she talked him into ice-skating. He’d begrudgingly agreed, but when she started a conga line of children and latched onto him to guide them, he’d proudly played leader of the pack. One of the kids had slipped and fallen. A domino effect occurred, taking Greta and Mason with the rest, and no one was laughing harder than her handsome date. They also spent a couple hours a day helping out at Galore, and brought Christopher with them for dinner at the hotel. The old man was actually grinning by the time they left.

  And in between all the fun, when they were finally alone, they made love long into the night. A morning never went by without her waking in his arms. It was going to be very hard to break that ritual.

  “Mason, Greta,” his father called them. “Come on and take a seat. I’m dying to know what’s in this pyramid-shaped box from your mother.”

  “It’s a paperweight,” grumbled Christopher.

  Anne sighed, holding up one of her gifts, and shaking it. “I sincerely hope you didn’t buy me another ‘As Seen on TV’ gadget, Daniel. You know what a waste of money I think those contraptions are.”

  “You still use the folding wallet I gave you ten years ago! I want everyone to know I bought your gifts at the same store,” her husband announced.

  “My feet are cold! Put me next to the fire,” Christopher demanded, and Sophie hushed him, moving to oblige.

  “All my presents are last minute,” Mason admitted as he took a seat on the sofa, leaned back and rested an arm on top of the pillows. “Since I planned to bring back souvenirs from Bali and er—that didn’t happen, I did the best I could with the local fare.” He made a sweeping gesture. “Hope you all like bumper stickers and big packs of gum.”

  His parents chuckled.

  Sophie murmured, “I like gum…”

  And Christopher rolled his baggy eyes.

  What a funny family. Greta grinned. Mason patted the seat next to him, but after hesitating, she sat on the othe
r side of Sophie. Mason gave her an odd look then shrugged.

  Whenever she was close to him, it was next to impossible not to touch him somehow—brush her fingers through his hair, lay her head on his shoulder—and she didn’t feel comfortable with PDA in front of his family.

  Daniel began the tradition of passing out the presents, and the evening had begun. The best part about opening gifts was watching the family unwrap the ones she bought.

  “Greta,” Anne said later on. “It’s finally your turn.” She handed over a shiny gold-paper-wrapped box. “From me and Daniel. Though I’ll tell you right now he thought his idea was better. It wasn’t.”

  Her husband threw up his hands. “Who doesn’t love a custom-engraved gift card to Starbucks?”

  “People who know what real coffee tastes like, dear. People who live in places like Paris and Italy! Worldly women like our Greta.”

  She laughed, untying the ribbon. “You didn’t have to get me a thing. Opening your home to me during the holidays is gift enough, really.”

  “Gah!” Christopher slammed his fist. “Stop acting humble and open it.”

  “Christopher, please,” Anne reproached. “We’re happy to have you here, Greta. And we couldn’t have you spending Christmas with us with no presents to open. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Plus,” Daniel added, his Southern accent a little more pronounced since sipping on whiskey, “if she hadn’t shown up when she did, Mason would probably be in Bali and my father wouldn’t be in such a glorious mood.” He saluted her with a lift of his glass.

  Greta’s face flamed. Mason cleared his throat and Anne thrust her elbow in her husband’s ribs.

  “What?” he exclaimed, blinking innocence. “Was I not supposed to state the obvious?”

  “Dad!” Sophie half-laughed. “Be quiet and let Greta open her gift without any of your statements.”