Christmas in the Billionaire's Bed

by Janice Maynard

  “I’ll show you later,” he muttered.

  Aidan watched Emma, who was watching Mia and Dylan. On Emma’s face was a wistful look that said she found the bridal couple’s byplay romantic. Of course, that was a woman for you. Always suckers for a happy ending. Too bad those same women didn’t realize life was seldom so tidy.

  He glanced out the front window. “Car number one. Looks like Mom’s. I’ll go meet everybody if you two want a moment alone.”

  Mia smiled at him. “Thank you, Aidan, but I’m fine.” She smoothed the skirt of her black dress, looking up at the man who would soon be placing a wedding ring on her finger. “Dylan and I are the hosts tonight. We should go greet our guests.”

  The two of them hurried away, arm in arm, leaving Aidan alone with Emma for the first time since he’d left her bed early that morning. “I stopped by to see you this afternoon,” he said, “but the shop was really busy, so I didn’t go in.”

  She perched on the arm of a chair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t available.”

  “How’s your head?”

  “I’m still taking over-the-counter stuff for the headache, but it’s not bad.”

  The stilted conversation was almost painful. Only hours ago they had been naked together. The mental image made his skin heat. “Last night was amazing, but it can’t happen again.”

  “Why not?” She was pale, her expression mutinous.

  “I’ll be leaving soon. There’s no future for us, Emma.”

  “Because you’ve decreed it?”

  “Is that why you came here?” he asked. “To start over with me?”

  “Not in the beginning. I was telling you the truth. I wanted to make my peace with you. To explain the past. But now that I’ve seen you again...now that we’ve made love...well, I have to wonder if there’s something left between us. Something that never died.”

  “There isn’t.”

  “Liar.” She said it calmly, as if she could see inside the tortured recesses of his soul. “If you can kiss me and prove to me that you feel nothing at all for me, I’ll leave you alone.”

  He held out his arms. “Do your best. It’s sex, Emma. That’s all. And I can get that from any woman. The young man you remember so fondly doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “You’re trying to make me angry by acting like a pig.”

  “Is it working?”

  When she stood, the skin at his nape tingled. Emma on a mission was a formidable opponent. But he knew something she didn’t. He knew that resisting temptation was not a choice. It was his only defense.

  She crossed to where he stood and went nose-to-nose with him, although her nose was admittedly a few inches lower...almost at his collarbone, in fact.

  He stared straight ahead, trying not to inhale her scent.

  “This isn’t fair,” she complained. “I can’t reach you. Sit down.” She poked him in the chest until he took a step backward and sat down hard, hands behind him, on the edge of a beautiful oak table behind the sofa.

  Now, their heights were much closer. The dress she wore had a scooped neck that revealed modest amounts of cleavage...but only if he let his gaze fall. His fingers gripped wood until pain shot up his wrists.

  “Do your worst,” he said, staring at her chin. His throat was so dry the words came out hoarse.

  Emma leaned in. “You are a ridiculously handsome man,” she murmured. “Gorgeous lips. Masculine. Sexy. Here goes...”

  She pressed her mouth to his. Nothing happened except for his blood pressure shooting up about twenty points. Focus. Focus.

  The first few seconds were barely a challenge. Her kiss was chaste, almost sweet. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

  Then she curled a hand behind his neck, her fingertips slipping inside the collar of his shirt to scrape deliberately across the bump at the top of his spine. Sweet mother of God.

  Warm breath ticked his ear when she whispered. “How am I doing so far?”

  He shrugged, his jaw so tight his head ached. “I’ve had better.”

  Emma’s low chuckle was intensely sexual. He found himself getting hard despite his fierce concentration.

  She came back to the kiss and put her all into it. When she nipped his bottom lip with sharp teeth, he gasped, giving her an opening to slide her tongue against his. Her taste went to his gut like raw liquor on an empty stomach. Hell, this was a pointless game.

  He grabbed her close and angled her chin with one hand. The shock in her blue eyes gave him an enormous jolt of satisfaction. “You’re an amateur,” he said. “But I give you points for enthusiasm.”

  Then it was his turn. If he were going to admit defeat, he would drag her down with him. Pulling her fully into the V of his legs, he simply snapped. Everything he had tried to keep to himself, every needy, greedy urge to plunder, was unleashed.

  Ten years of memories, of wondering, of futile anger and grief, coalesced into a white-hot need to make Lady Emma Braithwaite his. “Don’t think you’ve won,” he croaked. “This means nothing.”

  Her eyes brimmed with moisture, the look on her face a mixture of tenderness and wonder. “I understand,” she said quietly. “Whatever you say, Aidan. Whatever you want.”

  Cupping her breast in his hand, he stroked the nipple through its soft covering. “I want you. Now.”

  Before Emma could say a word in denial or consent, a loud noise nearby shattered the mood, the one sound guaranteed to stifle a man’s ardor.

  Maeve’s Kavanagh’s cheerful greeting...“We’re all here. Let the party begin.”

  Twelve

  For Emma, the next two hours took on a surreal quality. The mood in the house was joyful and rowdy, rightly so. The Kavanaghs en masse created a special kind of magic. One of their own was tying the knot, and in true Irish fashion, they were prepared to party all night.

  Despite Emma’s efforts to stay in the background, Mia insisted on making sure she met everyone individually. The festive gathering at the hotel had been much larger and more formal. Tonight, however, was a time for one-on-one conversations, sibling jokes and eating.

  Emma had been taken aback at the amount of food laid out buffet-style, sure they would never consume half of it. But she had underestimated the appetite of a full-grown Kavanagh male. Amidst much good-natured jostling and name-calling everyone filled his or her plate and found a seat.

  Dylan’s mission-style dining room table, with leaves inserted, was big enough to handle the whole crew in one sitting. Emma took a spot at the far end and across the table from Aidan. She had promised not to embarrass him, and despite what had happened moments before the party began, she was determined not to give anyone cause to think she and Aidan were a couple.

  Her interactions with him were complicated enough already without other people butting in and offering their opinions. Apparently Aidan had come to the same conclusion, because he barely acknowledged Emma’s presence. It was Mia who offered her a seat, Mia who involved her in the conversations that bounced back and forth during the meal.

  Cora sat in a high chair at one corner, her chubby cheeks red with excitement. It was probably too much stimulation for a little one near bedtime, but Dylan and Mia had wanted to include her.

  Each of the younger Kavanagh men had brought a date. As far as Emma could tell, the females in question were casual connections at best, because all four of them had to be introduced to the group.

  The only unattached members of the dinner party were Maeve and Cora, Aidan and Emma. At first, Emma was on edge. But when she realized that no one was inclined to ask awkward questions, she relaxed.

  It was almost unbelievable that every single one of Aidan’s siblings was tall, broad-shouldered and dangerously attractive. The deceased Mr. Kavanagh must have been a fine figure of a man. Only the youngest, James, looked more like his mother.

  Emma had been reared in polite society. By the time she was ten, she knew how to comport herself at an afternoon tea or a grown-up dinner party. Although tonight’s gathering was much
less stuffy, the Kavanaghs were a sophisticated lot, well traveled, well read and comfortable with the trappings of wealth.

  The discussions of books, movies, politics and the world in general were stimulating. After a while, Emma felt comfortable enough to jump in and be a part of the occasional debate. Aidan, on the other hand, remained oddly silent. He nodded and answered when asked a direct question, but he was content to nurse a beer and observe the proceedings with a small smile on his face. From where Emma sat, his little grin seemed to encompass love for his family and an enjoyment of their eccentricities.

  When the housekeeper took Cora, ready to put her to bed, Liam held up a hand. “One moment please, Gertie.” He stood and picked up his wineglass. “We’re gathered here tonight to celebrate the upcoming marriage of my brother Dylan to the beautiful and much-too-good-for-him Mia.”

  A wave of laughter greeted his statement.

  He carried on, looking at Mia with warmth and affection. “Mia...when my brothers and I asked Dylan what kind of bachelor party he wanted tonight, his answer was none.”

  Dylan’s face turned red. He ducked his chin.

  Liam shook his head, smiling. “He told us everything in the world he wanted was under this very roof. And that the two days when you and Cora become official Kavanaghs will be the happiest of his life.”

  Every female around the table, Emma included, gave an audible sigh...awwww. For the first time during the meal, Aidan looked straight at Emma and rolled his eyes with a humorous expression. She shrugged, not about to apologize for appreciating romance.

  “To Mia and Dylan.” Liam held his glass toward the happy couple. The toast echoed around the table.

  “To Mia and Dylan.”

  Maeve had tears in her eyes as she gave Cora a quick kiss. When the housekeeper departed with the baby, Maeve remained standing. “This is a party,” she said. “So I won’t belabor the point. But I want to say that I have the most wonderful sons in the world. And adding Zoe and Mia to our family has been a joy.” She paused, moving her gaze from Aidan to Gavin, Patrick, Conor and James. “But the rest of you...”

  The men all groaned, as if they knew what was coming next.

  Maeve ignored their response. “I’m not getting any younger,” she said, managing to look frail and needy despite the fact that she was a vibrant woman in perfect health. “You young women be careful. The Kavanagh male is a slippery species. I’d love to have half a dozen grandchildren while I’m still able to enjoy them.”

  Catcalls and hoots and hollers ended her pseudo-pitiful speech. Laughter erupted again as she was forced to sit down in defeat. But the broad smile on her face told Emma she was perfectly happy to sit back and watch her sons find worthy matches.

  Emma wondered if she understood exactly how unlikely that was in Aidan’s case.

  By unanimous consent, the group moved to the large, comfortable living room. A roaring fire warmed the space and cast a circle of intimacy. Again, Emma stayed far away from Aidan.

  This time the conversation turned to less personal topics. Gavin’s date mentioned spending Christmas in Zurich with her family. Emma, seated beside her, sighed. “It sounds like a wonderful trip. I’ve heard the skiing there is awesome. Actually, now that I’ve moved to Silver Glen, I was hoping to learn how to ski myself.”

  Without warning, a dead hush fell over the group. Like Sleeping Beauty’s castle under a wicked spell, everyone in the room froze. What had Emma said? She replayed her innocent statements in her head. They hardly seemed the kind of words to provoke such a response. Though the women who sat with Aidan’s younger brothers appeared confused, no one could miss the uneasy silence. The expressions on Kavanagh faces ranged from dismay to outright alarm.

  Maeve suddenly looked her age, and Mia’s distress was palpable. What did I do? Emma wondered frantically. In desperation, she looked to Aidan for help. He stood up, never once looking her way, his face carved in granite. “If you’ll excuse me...”

  No one said a word as he left the room. Thirty seconds later, the front door of the house opened and closed quietly.

  Emma swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But what just happened?”

  Liam heaved a sigh, his expression a combination of resignation and worry. “Come with me to the kitchen, Emma.”

  She followed him out of the room with her heart thumping like mad. When they were out of earshot, she leaned against the sink. “What in the heck is going on? What’s wrong with Aidan?”

  “It’s not your fault.” Liam ran both hands through his hair. “You stepped on an emotional land mine.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Aidan never comes home at Christmas. When he was younger, he brought his fiancée to Silver Glen at the holidays to meet the family. While they were here, she and Aidan went skiing. Danielle fell and hit her head. She died forty-eight hours later without ever waking up from a coma.”

  “Oh, my God.” Emma’s stomach heaved. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You had no way of knowing. He’s been on edge since he left New York. Coming here...in December...has been a strain. But he wouldn’t miss Dylan’s wedding.”

  “I’m going to go talk to him.”

  “Probably not a good idea. When a man is hurting, he wants to hide and lick his wounds.”

  “I’ve ruined the party, Liam. I should go.”

  Liam touched her shoulder. “Nothing is ruined, Emma. Aidan will be okay. He needs a little time to regroup, that’s all.”

  Mia wandered into the kitchen, her face troubled. “Did Liam tell you?”

  Emma nodded, her throat too tight to answer.

  Mia hugged her and then stepped back. “I should have warned you, I guess. Dylan told me how bad it was back then. My heart breaks for Aidan. He’s never been serious about anyone since.”

  “I see.” Emma swallowed hard, on the verge of tears. “Thank you for inviting me tonight,” she whispered. “I’m going to see if I can find him and apologize.”

  “It might make things worse,” Liam said.

  He was probably right, but Emma couldn’t bear the thought of Aidan wandering cold and alone on a night that was supposed to be a celebration. “Maybe,” she said. “But I have to try.”

  Mia nodded. “I’d want to do the same.”

  “Please tell Dylan I’m sorry,” Emma said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m so glad you were here. Mom and Dad and my friends from Raleigh aren’t arriving until a few hours before the ceremony tomorrow, so it’s been nice having some emotional backup.”

  “Hey,” said Liam, his tone aggrieved. “We love you.”

  Mia kissed his cheek. “I know you do. But sometimes a woman needs a break from all that testosterone.”

  * * *

  Emma walked to where her vehicle was parked, her feet crunching on the frost-covered grass. The truth was, she had no good plan to look for Aidan...none at all. When she made it back to town, she cruised the darkened streets, trying to spot his fancy sports car. She even made a pass through the parking lot of the Silver Dollar Saloon. But no Aidan.

  Driving up the mountain was her last shot. Aidan was staying at the lodge, true, but there was at least a possibility that he had left town. When she handed her keys to the valet and stepped out, she shivered. The wind had picked up, making the night seem even colder. She bundled her coat around her, hurrying up the steps of the hotel.

  In the lobby, she paused. Aidan might be outside, though it was unlikely. The young man working the desk tonight was an employee she didn’t recognize, so that might be to her advantage.

  She approached him casually, removing her coat and straightening her dress and duster. “Hello,” she said, beaming him a bright smile. “I’m trying to catch up with Mr. Kavanagh, Aidan Kavanagh,” she clarified. “Did you happen to see him go up to his room earlier?”

  The barely twenty-something blinked, seeming dazzled by her deliberately cozy manner. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “About an hour ago. May I r
ing his room for you?”

  Emma reached in her purse and pressed a large bill into his hand. “No, thank you. He’s expecting me.”

  Leaving the flustered clerk to ponder the fact that he might have been indiscreet, Emma headed for the elevator. She had no clue what she was going to say to Aidan or how she could make things better, but she had to try. The memory of his face as he left the party hurt her deeply.

  Stepping out of the elevator, she paused a moment. The elegant hallway was quiet. It was possible that some guests had retired for the night, though unlikely. Even still, she didn’t have the luxury of making a scene.

  At Aidan’s door, she knocked softly and listened for any sound inside his room. Nothing. Knocking harder, she held her breath, praying that he wouldn’t ignore her.

  At last, she was pretty sure she heard him on the other side of the door. She knocked a third time. “I know you’re in there, Aidan. Let me come in. Please.”

  Thirteen

  Aidan unlocked the door with a sense of fatalism and swung it open, stepping back to allow Emma to enter. She would not leave until she was satisfied that he was okay. It was his own damned fault for reacting so viscerally to her innocent observations. But somehow, the thought of Emma on a ski slope had made his heart stop and his stomach revolt.

  No surprise, really, given his past with her. But she didn’t need to know that. His job now was to convince her that he was fine...that he’d had a momentary crisis, but it had passed.

  He saw her glance at the whiskey decanter. “I’m not drowning my sorrows,” he said, leaning heavy on the sarcasm.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you were thinking it.”

  She removed her coat and tossed it on a chair. Only hours before he had been holding her, his body taut with need. What he wouldn’t give to rewind the clock and pretend this evening had never happened.

  “I’m so sorry, Aidan.”

  He shrugged, her sympathy about as comfortable to him as a hair shirt. “It’s no big deal. I was caught off guard, that’s all.”

  And stunned at the thought that you could die...just like poor Danielle.