“Hello, Charles,” she said to her employer. She ignored the low burn starting in her belly at the sight of him. Dressed in a navy suit, crisp shirt, and striped tie, Charles looked every bit the urbane COO that he was. He also looked like a cover model, confident, handsome, and sexy . . . Damn. She had to stop thinking those thoughts. Clearing her throat, she put on a bright smile. “This is a surprise.”
“A good surprise, I hope?” Charles said, an arm around each child. He looked down at them.
“Yes, yes!” Myles shrieked, bouncing on his toes. “Look at me, Daddy, I’m a Power Ranger!” He struck a pose, intending to be fierce.
“So cool!” Charles said, smiling. “Hey, has anyone seen my daughter? She’s got dark brown hair. I don’t know who this redheaded warrior princess is . . .”
“Merida,” Ava said proudly. “I’m Merida from Brave. I can shoot arrows, and I’m strong, and I’m better than all the boys.”
“That’s definitely awesome,” Charles said, fingering one of the long fake curls. “I’ve always said you’re a force to be reckoned with.”
“Why are you here?” Thomas said. Curiosity and annoyance mixed in his tone.
Charles blinked, his smile faltering a bit. “It’s Halloween. I wanted to go trick or treating with you all. I thought it’d be fun.”
“We were about to leave,” Thomas said, more surly this time.
“Then I’m glad I caught you,” Charles said, flicking a glance at Lisette. “Where are you going?”
“To Pierce’s,” she said. “Their neighborhood has a lot more kids; they said it would be fun. We’re meeting him, Abby, and her nephew Dylan at Pierce’s place.”
“We’d better get going, then, huh?” Charles said, tweaking Ava’s nose playfully.
“You never come trick or treating with us,” Thomas said. “Don’t you have work? You always have work.”
“I left early.” Charles’s eyes narrowed, studying his elder son’s face as he stepped to him, and said carefully, “Thomas. Does it bother you that I’m here?”
Thomas didn’t answer, but his stare stayed petulant.
Charles sighed as he thought, Well, at least he didn’t say yes. “I left work early,” he said, “because Halloween is fun, and I wanted to be with my children.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks and looked around at all three of his kids. “I don’t see you guys as much as I should. That’s my fault. So I . . . well, I’m going to make an effort to see you all more. And not to miss things like your concerts and your soccer games . . . and trick or treating on Halloween. Okay?”
Myles banded his arms around his father’s leg and hugged tight. “Okay!”
“That would be really nice,” Ava admitted softly.
Charles’s heart squeezed, and he reached for her, pulling her into his side and hugging her with his free arm. “I love you,” he said. “All of you. I’m sorry I’ve been gone so much . . . I’m going to try to be better about that.”
Thomas looked wary, but he nodded. Charles exhaled; maybe he’d gotten through to him a little. It was a start.
Then he looked at Lisette, whose big brown eyes were warm and . . . approving. Well, that was a nice bonus. His gaze quickly traveled over her, drinking her in. Her curves were hidden by a long orange sweater, black yoga pants, and multicolored sneakers. Small, simple gold hoops hung from her ears, the only jewelry she wore besides a thin gold watch. As usual, her dark hair was pulled back in a long French braid and her face was devoid of makeup, except for what looked to be tinted lip balm on her luscious mouth. She didn’t need any makeup. Her long lashes were black as night, her smooth olive skin glowed, and that kissable mouth . . . She really was, as Dane had said, a natural beauty.
And Charles enjoyed looking at her, much more than he should. In fact, just looking at her made his heart beat a little faster, made his blood pulse a little hotter, and made him want things that he shouldn’t.
He tore his gaze from her and said to the kids, “Give me two minutes to change out of this suit. You all go ahead to the car; I’ll be right there.”
* * *
It was almost ten o’clock by the time the kids fell asleep. An afternoon of walking around Edgewater should have worn them out, but the excitement of Halloween—and the sugar rush from the candy they gobbled—had them buzzing way past their normal bedtime.
When the hallway was soundless, and Lisette was sure they were all sleeping, she went down to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea. A hot cup of orange spice tea, along with the new book waiting on her e-reader, after the frenetic noise and energy of the afternoon and evening, was all she wanted. That and quiet, to sit and read until she fell asleep.
The spacious kitchen was dark and empty. She flipped on the lights and hummed to herself as she filled the white teakettle with water. The last song that had been playing in the minivan on the way home was stuck in her head.
“I can’t get that damn song out of my head either.”
“Oh!” She whirled around in surprise, sloshing water from the open kettle onto the tiled floor. Charles stood a few feet behind her. Wide-eyed, she clutched a hand to her chest.
“I’m sorry!” he said. “Wow, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I—I didn’t hear you come in.” She turned off the faucet and glanced at the puddle on the floor.
“Here, give me that.” Charles strode to her and took the kettle from her, his fingers brushing hers as he moved away to place it on the stove. “Enough water in here for me to join you? I assume you’re making tea.”
“Yes. I mean, yes, there’s enough water, and yes, I am.” Still flustered, she hurried to the paper-towel rack, tore off a few, and went back to the puddle, dropping to her knees to wipe it up.
After setting the kettle on the stove and flicking on the gas, Charles watched her, casually leaning against the marble counter of the center island. “You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”
“Not yet,” she said, throwing the sopping pile of paper towels into the trash.
“Me either. But it was a nice evening.” Charles smiled warmly and crossed his arms over his chest. “The kids had fun, and it was good to be out with them. Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“Tag along?” Lisette frowned at him, puzzled. “They’re your children.”
“Well, you didn’t expect me to show up. I infringed on your plans.”
“What? Charles . . .” She wiped her damp hands on a cloth kitchen towel. “This is your home, your family. You don’t ever infringe on plans. You do whatever you want.”
“I know all that. But I know if I made a plan and someone popped in at the last minute, it might throw me off a little.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing throws you off. You run a billion-dollar international company. Unflappable, solid as a rock, that’s you. Everyone knows that.”
His lips pursed, his jaw tightened, and his gaze intensified. It almost made her squirm. She’d intended it as an offhand compliment, but he looked almost . . . agitated. What had she said wrong? She turned to go to the pantry, then stopped, realizing he intended to stay. “Um . . . what kind of tea would you like?”
To her relief, his features softened. “What are you having?”
“Orange spice. Decaffeinated.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have the same.”
As she ducked into the large pantry, she placed a hand to her still pounding heart, closed her eyes, and tried to take a deep breath. God, he’d startled her. And God, he looked gorgeous. She loved how he looked in his expensive custom-tailored suits; that was a given. Few men were as downright dashing in a suit as Charles Harrison III, and the man practically lived in his suits. When he got home from the office, he usually discarded the jacket and pulled off the tie, but stayed in his clothes until he went to his bedroom for the night. Even living in his house, the too-rare glimpses of a casual Charles were delightful.
So, seeing him like he was now—in a tight navy pullover sweater
and jeans, hair a little rumpled, and his glasses on, not his contacts—he was deliciously adorable, appealing, and just . . . normal. Well, if movie-star kind of handsome men were normal, other than the whole mega rich, smart, and powerful thing.
She found the box of tea bags and left the pantry. Charles now sat at the small table in the nook, where she usually did homework with Ava or talked with Tina. He flashed her a smile and gestured to the center island. “Got out some mugs.”
She dropped a tea bag in each cup, feeling as though she were being watched. She snuck a glance at Charles from beneath her lashes. He was watching her, and when caught, his eyes held, and the grin stayed on his face.
Jesus, was he actually smoldering at her? Or was she just wishing he were? Either way, the warm, wobbly feeling she lately got whenever she looked at him took merciless hold of her insides.
This new dynamic between them had thrown her way off course. She’d never been intimidated by Charles, and she knew some people were, simply because of the immense power he had. Yes, he had a commanding presence and was incredibly smart, but he was not arrogant or condescending. He was reserved in nature, but always extremely courteous, genial, and respectful, to her and to everyone around him. He didn’t micromanage her, obviously trusting her abilities enough to hang back and let her do her job. And yes, she’d harbored some feelings for him, but nothing that kept her from doing her job, being around him, or talking to him. It’d just been a crush, really.
But since the night of . . . well, that night, it was a whole new ball game. For almost two years, they’d shared an easy coexistence, but that mellow calm in his presence had vanished. Now, the thought of him, the sight of him, even the smell of him got her all worked up and flustered. She’d always thought he was gorgeous, sure; but now she also thought of him as sexy, and amazing in bed—well, on the couch—and tempting, and quietly charismatic, and . . . and she was in big trouble, that’s what she was.
The shrill whistle of the teakettle snapped her out of her thoughts. He rose from his seat and went to the stove. “Allow me.”
Biting down on her lip as he took the kettle and poured the boiling water into the cups, she fought to appear calm and collected, as she’d always been before. Now, it was taking everything she had to appear that way. Her skin felt warm, her stomach felt swirly, and she was sure her cheeks were flushed because she felt as if they were burning. She felt like a silly teenager with a secret forbidden crush—and it was not okay. Not if she wanted any sort of peace and sanity as she continued to live with him and do her job each day.
Steeling herself, she smiled demurely and thanked him as she took one of the mugs. He wrapped his large hands around his mug as they sat at the table in the kitchen nook. An awkward silence settled over them. Suddenly the kitchen felt too big for just two people sitting in the corner, which made that simple act feel somehow intimate. She stared down into her mug and chewed on her bottom lip.
“Today was nice,” he said amiably. “I think you enjoyed it. I hope?”
His deep, warm voice made her heart twinge. Or maybe something a little lower twinged. Or maybe both. His voice was so sensual, like everything else about him . . . Oh, yeah, this was very, very bad. She cleared her dry throat.
“Yes, I did,” she managed to say. “It was a fun day, and I know the kids loved having you with them.” She lifted her steaming mug to her lips to take a tentative sip. “That was a wonderful surprise for them. You made their day.”
He grinned. “I don’t know why I didn’t go last year.” Then he frowned slightly as he turned his mug in his hands. “Must have been working, of course . . .”
“Last year, you were on a business trip,” she reminded him. “Tokyo, I think.”
His brow furrowed harder as he tried to recall. “I think you may be right. Probably. Damn. And the year before that? And the year before that?” With a shake of his head, now it was he who stared into his cup. “I’ve missed too many things. It’s not fair to them. It isn’t right. I’m the only real parent they have. I have to start being around more.”
“Then you will,” she murmured. It wasn’t her place to offer opinions. She sipped her tea.
“Don’t worry, I still need you,” he kidded. “You’re not out of a job, not by a long shot. I just need to start being around a little more, and I’m very aware of that.”
She only nodded. They were his children; she had no say in whatever he did or didn’t do in regard to them. If he wanted to spend more time with them, good for the kids. They already didn’t have a mother around, and their father was barely home when they were actually awake. All she said was, “I’m sure they’d love that.”
Charles looked down into his cup, then back up at her. “When we were kids, our father was always working. We felt his absence. My mother felt it too, and she . . . started seeking attention elsewhere.”
Lisette had heard plenty of stories about the infamous Laura, of her multiple affairs and the ugly divorce that followed.
Charles stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “My father threw my mother out when I was fourteen. I was away at boarding school, so it didn’t affect me as much as it did Pierce. He was only six years old.” Charles took another sip of tea, and Lisette did too. “Pierce quickly turned into a surly, angry, hell-raiser of a kid. He felt ignored, unwanted, which was awful. He and my father have always resented each other. Knocked heads for years, and now they don’t speak unless forced to. It’s tense and uncomfortable . . . and my God, I don’t want that for Thomas and me. I can already see the parallels, and it worries me.”
His marine blue eyes narrowed, making the corners crinkle as he steadily held her gaze. “I know you know what I mean. Hell, you’re the one who suggested he might need therapy. He’s only seven.” Charles shook his head in frustration, huffing out a breath. “He deserves better. All three of them do. So I have to fix it somehow, while I still can. I need to be a better father. I thought I was doing okay, but I’ve come to realize and admit that’s not the case. Thomas wouldn’t even hug me willingly on my birthday. That’s on me.”
Lisette realized her mouth had dropped open, and she quickly closed her lips tight. He was revealing such private information to her; it was astonishing. They’d always talked, but it was insignificant chatter—typically about the kids, their schoolwork, their activities, maybe even the weather. This was so . . . personal.
“You’re shocked that I’m telling you all this,” he said, studying her shrewdly.
She had to laugh. “Did you read my mind or something?”
“Didn’t have to. It’s all over your face.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “You’re not often easy to read, but you sure are right now.”
She was surprised by his words. “You don’t think I’m easy to read? Really?”
“Nope. You’re very quiet; you keep to yourself. Kind of . . .” He searched for the right word. “Guarded. That’s fine; don’t get me wrong! But yes, it makes you hard to read sometimes. And I’m pretty good at reading people. In my position, I have to be. So the fact that you aren’t . . .” His brows arched as he added, “I have to admit, it’s intriguing. I find you interesting.”
She stilled at his assessment. It unnerved her. Maybe because it implied he’d paid more attention to her than she’d ever thought he would.
“So, shifting the topic a bit, what was your childhood like?” he asked in a lighter tone. “Hopefully better than mine.”
She peered at him cautiously. “I thought when you hired me, you did a full background check on me. You know my history already, don’t you?”
“Sure, I know the basics,” he said. “But I want to hear a little more, right from you. Something a bit more personal.”
She blinked, and a wave of alarm washed over her. She schooled her features into neutrality and managed, “Why?”
Charles crossed his forearms on the table and leaned in a bit. His posture was casual, but the look in his eyes wasn’t. “Because I’m curious. I me
an, I’ve known you for a while now. You’ve lived in my home for almost two years; you’re with my kids day in and day out . . . but really, I don’t know you at all.” His eyes were piercing, commanding, and she felt held in place by his gaze.
Her heart pounded erratically in her chest, but she looked right back at him as she said, “Why the sudden deeper interest? Just because we slept together?”
He stared at her for a long, heavy beat. It made a rush of heat whoosh through her. Then the side of his mouth quirked up. “I suppose so. Yes. Is that wrong?”
“N-no,” she stammered. “It’s not wrong, but it’s just . . . strange, I guess.”
“Everything about this situation is a little strange,” he murmured. “But I do like you. So I want to know more about you. That’s all.”
Her heart beat even faster, and her chest felt tight. “We have defined roles, Charles. As it is, some people look at me funny because I call you by your first name instead of ‘Mr. Harrison.’”
He blew out a dismissive breath and smirked. “Let them. Who cares? You live in my home. We’re both adults. There’s no reason you shouldn’t use my first name.”
Even something as simple as that, he didn’t grasp how it crossed what most people considered to be unspoken boundaries. She wasn’t sure if it was just his way because he was nice, or if it was his way because a man as powerful as him rarely had to adhere to boundaries, so he didn’t care about them.
“We’ve always gotten along fine,” he pressed on. “From the beginning.”
“Yes, we have,” she agreed. “We get along quite well. But . . . in our defined roles, Charles.” Her gaze held his. “We aren’t friends or even peers. I work for you.”
“I know. But—”
“But nothing. That’s all there is to it.” Lisette swallowed hard. “I love my job, and you’ve always been more than generous. I don’t want anything to jeopardize that.”
“I don’t either, Lisette. And I thought I’d made it clear your position here isn’t in jeopardy.” His voice was a little rough. “But if I’ve made you uncomfortable—”
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