“And maybe you just love him,” Hudson said. “That’s what I see. You’re not an Ice Queen.”
“Then what am I?” Michael held his dark gray gaze.
“You really want to know? You’re a hopeless romantic. You take love seriously and you won’t give your heart until you know it’ll be forever.”
That was it exactly. He had described her. How did he know? Michael could hardly breathe. The warmth from the fire closed in around them. “And what’s your secret, Mr. Grace. What holds you back from falling in love?”
“I am not ready for the responsibility.”
Michael speared her shoulder length hair with her fingers, a nervous gesture she’d carried over from childhood. “That’s what you all say in the beginning. I’ve believed guys like you before. You start out as the don’t-tie-me-down type, then—phfft!—the fun is over and it’s rings and string quartets. I had to climb out a bathroom window to escape the last one. I have a curse. I reform bachelors.”
“I’m sure it happens to some men. You’d have your work cut out with me.”
The memory of Hudson kissing her last night suddenly rose up in her mind and Michael felt a tightening in her abdomen. “Speaking of bad boys, you have quite a fan club of your own going on here. Were the adoring females I saw eyeing you in church all your conquests?”
“I’ve had my share.”
“Have you ever met one that you wanted but you couldn’t have her, or you screwed it up somehow? I guess I’m asking if you’ve ever had your heart broken.” Simon lolled in her lap, half-asleep.
“No,” he said slowly. “Why?”
“You sound nervous,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. Grace, I’m not going to make you my next victim. I don’t find you that attractive.”
Hudson smiled a lazy self-assured grin that turned her insides to cream. “So you keep saying. But you make it sound like a challenge. And I love a challenge.”
“Trust me—if you don’t want to find yourself crying in your beer six months from now or being arrested for stalking—you won’t test the curse. I could turn the dedicated ladies’ man of Mandrake Falls into a newly minted family guy without even breaking a sweat. I’m not proud of my superpower. Somebody always gets hurt.”
“And sometimes it’s you.”
Yep, she thought. Sometimes it’s me. She had turned Gregory into a family man—just not her family man.
Oh Holy Night swelled from the stereo. Simon was almost asleep, mustard smears and balls of bread crusting his mouth and hands. “He needs a bath,” Michael said, stroking his hair.
“Here, let me.” Hudson lifted the boy up in his strong arms and kissed him.
The tenderness of the action caught Michael off guard. A man carrying a small child had to be one of the most romantic images on the planet. What woman could resist it? She sat cross-legged, looking up at them; outwardly still, but her heart was hammering. Seeing Hudson holding his nephew created a pressure in her chest. She held her breath. Something old and familiar, something she wasn’t even aware she had, was crumbling away. Despite the heat, her teeth started chattering.
“Cold?” His voice was low. He sounded as confused as she felt.
Michael nodded and got to her feet. “Freezing. Come on. I’ll help you give him a bath.”
“HERE, HOLD him for a sec.” He shifted to one side and Michael caught Simon by his shoulders. Hudson stood up and began peeling off his work slacks.
“What are you doing?” She stared at his bare legs.
“I’m getting in the tub. My muscles are sore and I need a hot soak before I hit the sack. And I’m very big on water and energy conservation.” He winked at her.
“You have such a delightful sense of humor, Mr. Grace. But as you can see, I am still in the room. You can’t just take your clothes off in front of me.”
“There’s that double standard again. You could leave.” Hudson stripped off his T-shirt and stood in his boxers. The point she was about to make died on her lips. Heat swirled through her, mixing with the steam in the bathroom. Hudson’s hands moved to the elastic on his boxers and so did Michael’s eyes.
She jerked her attention back to Simon. “All right, fine, but where’s the fire? Keep your shorts on.” With rapid movements, she sloshed soapy water over the boy. “I’ll get Simon ready for bed and you can have the bath to yourself.” She lifted the kid out of the tub and bundled him in a thick terry towel.
Hudson didn’t wait. She heard a splash behind her and turned to see his legs propped up above the suds. He held the wash cloth over his groin primly. “Miss Shannon, please. Stop objectifying me with your eyes.”
Michael stumbled over his boxer shorts on her way to the bathroom door. She flushed, feeling as stupid and awkward as an adolescent. “Yes, well. Don’t take all night. I’d like a bath too.” She fumbled with the door knob trying to get out and banged the door behind her.
That was close. If Simon hadn’t been there, she’d have chucked all self-restraint and jumped into the tub with him. She lifted the boy in her arms. He dropped his head to her shoulder and stuffed his thumb in his mouth.
“Hang in there, little man. We have to get your pajamas on first before I can tuck you in.”
Michael carried Simon to his room and pulled out the new night-time pants and clean pair of pajamas that were too small for him. She made a mental note to ask Hudson to buy him another set for Christmas morning. His bed was clean and fresh. Michael hoped the night-time pants worked as well as they said they did on the bag. According to the information she received after calling the 1-800 number, it was quite normal for little boys to wet the bed at age three. Simon was tucked in and Michael was about to leave the room when his voice floated to her through a fog of drowsiness. “Can you hug me night?”
Her throat constricted, unaccountably. She wrapped her arms around his small body and hugged him tight. “Good night, sweetie. See you in the morning.”
“Pomiss?” Simon’s bright blue eyes were peering at her through his half-closed lids.
“I promise.”
He nodded and smiled around his thumb. “Uncle Hudson too?”
If she were his mother, she’d try to break him of that thumb-sucking habit. “Uncle Hudson too,” Michael confirmed. “Sleep now. We have a big day tomorrow.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and tiptoed out of the room. Simon was already snoring.
MICHAEL UNDRESSED, mulling over Simon as she pulled her silk wrapper on and tied the sash. He seemed to be a happy little boy but maybe he was suffering more anxiety than Hudson realized. She gathered her bath things together, wondering at his attachment to her. She didn’t know much about young children but it didn’t seem normal for a little boy to become so attached to a woman he’d only just met. Was he so hungry for maternal love that he’d embrace any stranger as a substitute mother? Maybe she should say something to Hudson. He’d tell her to mind her own business but she had to try. A hot soothing bath first and then she’d have it out with him. Michael swung open the bathroom door. Hudson was standing in the middle of the steaming bathroom, stark naked and dripping wet. His hand was poised in midair reaching for a towel.
“Don’t you ever knock?” He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his middle.
“I’m sorry!” She turned to bolt from the room and slammed into the open door. Pain shot through her nose.
“Hey, hey, slow down. Are you okay?” Hudson caught her hand and swung her around to face him. He registered her glance as it swept over his body and stopped at his eyes. As if reading her mind, Hudson drew her toward him. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Michael winced because she really was in pain but he was naked and it had been a long time since she been this intimate with a man. “My nose. I think I’ve broken it.”
He bent his face close to hers to get a better look. His hair dripped warm water into her eyes. “No, not broken. Just a bump.” He gave it a little kiss.
Michael struggled to catch her breath. “Thanks
.”
“Is Simon asleep?” His voice was thick.
“Yes.” Michael inhaled.
“The water is still warm. I saved it for you.”
She took a step back and banged into the door again. Michael fought the urge to swear. “Thanks but I can only take water conservation so far,” she said tightly. “Third time around for the same bathwater is pushing it for me. I’ll have a shower instead.”
Hudson rubbed a hand over his mouth, smothering a smile. “Well, okay then. Hop in and pull the curtain. I won’t see a thing, I promise.”
Michael looked at the shower curtain dubiously. “It’s translucent.”
“Why, so it is.”
Hudson’s mouth curved to one side as he reached for his razor. She was presented with a view of his broad bare back. As sexy and perfectly formed as his chest. It was a myth that women weren’t aroused by the male body. Man-watching was a cherished occupation of the female sex. Her eyes slid to Hudson. Watching her supervisor in towel was an image Michael would certainly cherish for a long time. He looked her way and she jerked her eyes to the ceiling. She was sure he didn’t notice. Thank god she took acting lessons instead of interior decoration.
“Don’t mind me, Miss Shannon. Go on about your business.” Hudson filled his palm with shaving foam and spread it over his face. “I like to shave at night, to get it out of the way.”
Michael squeezed past him to reach the bathtub and set her bath things down. She bent over to find the plug and release the water. Hudson’s thigh bumped against her buttocks and she felt it through the thin silk of her robe. Shocked, Michael straightened and turned, banging into his bare chest. With her nose all but pressed against his skin, she didn’t know where to put her eyes, so she lifted them to his face.
Mistake. Mistake.
The look in his eyes weakened her almost as effectively as the contact with his body did. She tugged her silk wrapper closer as if that would diffuse the tension between them. He noticed the gesture and took a step back. “Small space. Not much room to negotiate.”
“You were here first. I’ll wait for you to finish up.” She sat on the edge of the tub and crossed her legs. One foot jiggled nervously. “I’ve been thinking about Simon. Do you think he’s going to be okay when I leave? He really seems to crave a mom.”
Hudson dragged the razor over his jaw. “You don’t want to be a wife and mother and yet you haven’t stopped acting like one since you arrived. I’ve never met a woman who was such a mass of contradictions. Are you volunteering for the job?”
“No, of course not!” she said hotly. “I’m suggesting you think about it, that’s all. For Simon’s sake, will you at least think about settling down with one of your conquests? Not Jocelyn though. She’s not very good with kids.”
“I think Jocelyn would be surprised to hear that. But I see your point ... you’re definitely on to something there and it’s given me an idea. How about for the last three hours left in your community service under my watch, you sit down with my little black book and shop for a mom for Simon? I’ll go over each name and you can veto or approve until we have a winner. In fact, since this seems to matter to you so much, I’ll make you a deal. Find a suitable candidate in all those names and I’ll propose marriage to her tomorrow. You can give Simon mom for Christmas.” He rinsed his razor and then slowly dried his face on the hand towel. Hudson turned to her, his eyes stone gray and unreadable. His voice was husky. “Make a family man out of me, Miss Shannon. Give it your best shot.”
MICHAEL BENT over a book that was neither little nor black but contained all of the elements of a little black book—women. She thumbed through the pages alphabetically. “I can’t believe this ... page after page ... where do they all come from? The notations in the margins are a helpful touch. Very classy, Mr. Grace.”
They had drunk the rest of the red wine. Michael was wrapped in her thick terry robe against the chill and curled on the couch with Hudson’s book in her lap. Hudson was stretched out on the floor in front of the fire, his arms crossed under his head. He was wearing red and green plaid flannel pajamas and a long-sleeved tee-shirt. His shoulders made her melt just to look at them. She cleared her throat and returned her attention to the book.
“How about this one? She sounds promising. ‘Lisa Watkins: Redhead. Sympathetic. No issues. Likes dogs.’”
“She likes dogs. As in, she owns six or seven of them. That’s too many dogs.”
“Oh.” Michael frowned. “Agreed. That is too many dogs. But overall I think you are being too picky. There was nothing wrong with Frieda Ullmann. She enjoys making crafts, so what?”
“No, she is a crafter. There’s a difference. I can’t spend every weekend in a craft booth selling tea cozies—not that there’s anything wrong with that. Besides, I heard she met a model train maker at the Fall Fair and according to Darlene at the Beauty Box, it’s going to last.”
Michael sighed. “I’ll cross her out of the book then. Wow. Another one down. We are into XYZ and there isn’t a lot there. Three names: Yvonne, Yvonne, and Zoë.”
“The Yvonne cousins....” A slow grin crossed his face. “Oh yeah, I remember them. But they’re a package deal. I can’t marry one without marrying the other and that’s not allowed in this state.”
Michael choked a little. “You’re a bit wilder than I expected for a small town boy.”
“It’s the small town boys you have to look out for, Miss Shannon. That leaves Zoë. She is ... yes ... definitely a possibility. Beautiful—still single according to Darlene—got on well with Simon, no pets, tattoos or mood swings. She could cook too as I recall.”
“She sounds like a peach.” Michael had suddenly lost enthusiasm for the project. “Her number is here. Do you want to call her?”
Hudson squinted at the clock on the mantle. “It’s almost midnight. I’ll call her tomorrow. I’ll invite her to your opening night. Zoë will like that. She reads a lot. Smart and beautiful.”
“Wow, the perfect woman was right here under ‘Z.’ Why would you let this smart, beautiful girl get away? There can’t be that many single women left in Mandrake Falls to choose from.”
He sighed deeply. “I had to end it because I didn’t want to fall in love.”
Her mouth felt dry and her stomach clenched. “Oh. I see. You could have fallen in love with this girl.”
“Hell, yeah. I was half-way there when I broke it off.” Hudson pushed up on his knees and met Michael’s eyes. “I think we have a winner, Miss Shannon. Just in time too. It’s one minute past midnight. I am officially no longer your supervisor. Thanks for your cooperation and your service. I’ll make sure Zoë sends you an invitation to the wedding.”
Michael jumped to her feet and hurled the little black book in the fire.
Chapter X: Ten Lords A-Leaping
MICHAEL SQUIRMED, embarrassed by the hideous rush of jealousy that had overtaken her. Her hand darted toward the smoldering pages as she debated rescue, when all of a sudden the book evaporated in a fireball leaving nothing behind but charred leather remains.
“Whoops.” She pressed her hand to her mouth.
Hudson got to his feet and stood in front of her. “If you didn’t want me to marry Zoë, you just had to say so.”
“I honestly don’t know what got into me. I don’t know why I did that. I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” She was mortified.
“I know why you did it. You’re jealous.”
“I am not. I—I hardly know you!” Michael stammered and her cheeks were burning. “Why would I be jealous of a man I hardly know getting married?”
“For the same reason I was jealous when you told me you were going to ask Gregory Shaw to marry you.” Hudson drew her to him. He bent his head to her neck and whispered in her ear. “Miss Shannon, I am not going to marry Zoë.”
His lips trailed over her throat sending sweet shockwaves throughout her body. Aching, wanting, no-turning-back-now messages that Michael couldn’t ignore. “Why not
?”
Hudson met her eyes seriously. “Because I’m not in love with Zoë.”
“Thank the lord,” she exhaled. Michael wound her arms around his neck. “I didn’t want you to be.”
Hudson kissed her like their lives depended on it and maybe their lives did, Michael thought in a haze. Passion that came on suddenly like this always burned hot and fast—and out. It couldn’t last even if they wanted it to—Michael had to go back to New York. They would end it unwillingly, which made it all the sweeter, but they would end it. People like her and Hudson always ended it.
Hudson slipped his hands under her robe and she didn’t stop him. He slid it from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “I’m not your supervisor anymore.” When he saw what she had on, his voice caught. “It’s my turn to look at you.”
Michael was wearing a short nightie of gray-green silk that was even sexier than the red teddy because the nightie wasn’t trying. The bodice hugged and lifted her breasts which she appreciated at a time like this. She didn’t choose it intending Hudson would see her in it but like the Boy Scouts, her motto was Be Prepared.
He stepped back and held her at arms length. Hudson’s eyes razed her body from her bare toes that curled on the floor to her bare shoulders that were pink with embarrassment. “I thought you were used to walking around naked.”
“It’s different with you. You’re a real person. I have a feeling you can actually see me.”
“Oh, I can see you.” Hudson reached out to touch her, visibly slowing each movement. Seeing the strain in his eyes aroused Michael almost as much as his touch. His hands trailed over her breasts, thumbing her nipples to peaks and she arched against him. Hudson cupped their weight in his palms. “You are beautiful.”
“I need to lose five pounds,” Michael said automatically. It was an old obsession, one that her agent and producer echoed, but she could have stuffed a rag in her throat for blurting it out like that.
The Way Home: Winter (Mandrake Falls Series Romance Book 3) Page 12