by Various
“Let me do this, Traci,” Daniel said quietly.
She met his gaze and realized he was offering more than a car. He wanted her to need him, even in a small, simple way.
“Okay,” she said, accepting the loaner.
“Good.” He smiled, sending her heart askew.
She knew she shouldn’t be getting this close to him, that their attraction was dangerous, but she couldn’t stay away. He was too magnetic, too hypnotic to ignore.
Traci closed her eyes. What was she doing? Hoping to heal him? A man who had walked away from his father and denounced his heritage? His problems were too big for her to tackle, but here she was, clinging to that foolish notion.
He brushed her hand. “Let’s head back to the house, and I’ll show you around.”
They walked in silence, but she imagined voices whispering in the wind. What secrets did Orchid House keep hidden behind its massive walls? And why did Daniel spend hours alone, locked in a mysterious room?
Approaching the front door, Traci hesitated. Once she crossed the threshold, there would be no turning back. She would be entering Daniel’s secluded world … rumors, ghosts and all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE mansion was big and opulent—almost too beautiful. The entryway featured a double-curved staircase and a marble floor. A parlor displayed heavy antique furnishings and a custom fireplace. Velvet drapes trimmed leaded windows.
Daniel didn’t invite them upstairs. Instead he took them on a tour of the first floor, including a picturesque veranda. The house reflected Southern-style living on the East Coast—a strange concept in Traci’s mind. But then, as Daniel had said, the mansion had been built for a Southern belle who missed her homeland.
They stood on the veranda, overlooking the grounds. Beyond the lawn, the forest expanded into a maze of trees. She wondered if Daniel walked through the forest on moonlit nights, the way people claimed he did. There were so many rumors surrounding him, so many mysteries.
Feeling a sudden chill, Traci tightened her coat.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “We can go inside and make some hot chocolate.”
“Sure, that sounds nice,” she responded, knowing that Parker would enjoy the soothing treat.
Traci and her son followed their host into the kitchen, a room as massive and grand as the rest.
Daniel prepared three cups of instant hot chocolate, and Traci studied Parker’s expression. He had taken in every detail of the first floor, every chandelier, every brocade sofa, every marbled alcove.
“Do you ever slide down the banisters?” he asked Daniel.
“No. I can’t say that I have.”
“What do you do here all by yourself?” the child persisted.
“Don’t worry about me, partner. I keep busy.”
Traci watched steam rising from the cups. “It’s an incredible house,” she said, trying not to think about that rumored locked door. Daniel wasn’t being deliberately evasive, but he seemed different now that he was in his home. More elusive, she supposed, which gave credence to the cleaning woman’s story. “The decor is exquisite.”
He stirred the drinks and distributed them. “Thanks, but I bought it furnished. Everything was already here.”
They sat at a large oak table, the wood scarred from centuries of wear. She supposed the servants of Orchid House used to dine in the kitchen. Of course, it hadn’t been called Orchid House then. That name had come later—with the perfumed ghosts.
But Traci wasn’t sure if she believed the house was actually haunted. No one had ever seen the ghosts, and the scent of flowers could be conjured by one’s imagination, couldn’t it?
The ghosts were rumored to be the daughters of the Southern belle and the lumber baron. Supposedly they were two beautiful young women who had danced and dreamed and refused to marry the staid suitors who had been chosen for them. Both had grown old waiting for true love, believing in choices of the heart. Somehow, Traci didn’t envision them floating through the mansion like dark, demented ghouls.
She turned to see Daniel watching her.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, although orchids filled her mind. The sisters had grown a species called lady of the night, known for its exquisite evening perfume.
And Traci understood why they had waited a lifetime for the men of their dreams. She had married the wrong man, and he hadn’t fulfilled her deepest fantasy. She wanted what the sisters had hoped for—the heated attraction, the ache, the intimacy that came with falling hopelessly in love.
But God help her, she knew who made her feel that way. And he was practically a stranger, a secretive man she barely knew.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DANIEL wished he could read Traci’s mind. She looked pretty and sweet, like a fairy-tale maiden fantasizing about a prince. Auburn curls fell loose about her shoulders, and a cream-colored sweater clung to petite curves. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips a pale shade of pink.
She met his gaze, and the kitchen turned as balmy as a Southern night. Did she know how badly he wanted her? That he awakened every morning naked and aroused?
She moistened her lips, and he leaned into the table. If he kissed her, would he break the trance? Or would they slip into a dream? A sleek, sensual fantasy?
“Hey, how come you two are staring at each other?”
Startled, Daniel and Traci nearly jumped out of their skins. Somehow, they had forgotten that Parker was still in the room.
“We weren’t,” she said much too quickly, batting a curl from her eye.
“Yes, you were, Mom.”
“Well, we didn’t know we were. That happens to adults sometimes.”
“Oh. I thought maybe you was playing that game, to see who blinked first.”
Both Daniel and Traci managed a smile, and the awkward moment passed without further discussion.
Daniel got to his feet. “How about a snack? I’ve got sandwich fixings.”
“Sure.” Parker popped up to explore the contents of the refrigerator.
They chose ham and Swiss cheese, with mustard, mayonnaise and thick slices of tomato. The child appeared to be enjoying himself, and Daniel realized he was having fun, too. It actually felt good to have company, to see his orderly kitchen buzzing with life.
“Hey, Daniel?” Parker licked a dollop of mustard from his thumb, and received a quiet nudge and a napkin from his mother.
Daniel withheld a grin. “What is it, partner?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
The boy dumped a handful of potato chips onto his plate. “How come you don’t have a Christmas tree?”
Daniel’s knees nearly buckled. He gripped the counter and tried to school his emotions.
Christmas was still over two weeks away. What should he say? I intend to buy one soon? Cut one down myself? Haul in an evergreen as tall as the ceiling?
Yeah, right. He looked at Parker. How could he lie to a six-year-old? A kid with innocent eyes and a misbehaving cowlick? Parker hadn’t meant to knock him for a loop.
“I live alone,” he said. “I don’t need a tree.”
“That don’t matter. Grandpa lives by himself, and he has one.”
But your grandpa didn’t lose a wife and child five days before Christmas, Daniel thought. He didn’t come home from a business trip to find his house a skeleton of charred remains.
“Me and my mom can go with you to pick out a tree,” Parker persisted. “And we can help decorate it, too. That’d be okay, wouldn’t it, Mom?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice softer and more aware than her son’s. “As long as Daniel doesn’t mind.”
“That’s a real nice offer, but I think I’ll pass.” He let out the breath he’d been holding, struggling for an excuse to satisfy Parker. “Santa Claus isn’t going to come to my house.”
“Why? Have you been bad?”
Yes, he thought, knowing he couldn’t
explain. “I didn’t ask Santa for any presents.”
“Christmas isn’t only about presents. It’s about family and friends, too. Just get a tree, Daniel. Then you’ll know what I mean.”
“You think so?” he asked, wondering if the vibrant little boy who answered to his son’s name was right, if finding peace at Christmas would be that easy.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FOUR days later, Traci returned Daniel’s car. She pulled up to his house and saw her own Camaro parked on the street.
“Oh, my,” she said to herself. Her weary, old vehicle actually sparkled. What in the world had he done to it? Certainly more than plug an oil leak.
Daniel came onto the porch and met her on the street. He smiled, and her knees went weak. His hair, damp from a recent shower, was combed away from his face, intensifying his raw-boned features and penetrating eyes.
He stuffed his hands in the side pockets of his denim jacket, his jeans riding low and sexy on his hips. Traci wanted to touch him. Everywhere.
“My car looks awesome,” she said.
He moved closer. “I detailed it. It’s amazing what a good wax job will do for the paint.”
“How did you get the bumpers so shiny?” She noticed they were no longer mottled with rust.
“Replaced them.”
Traci tilted her head, scolding him with a friendly scowl. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Besides I’ve got plenty of extra parts around here. It was no big deal.”
“It is to me. Thank you so much.” She wanted to hug him, but his hands were still jammed in his pockets.
“I fixed the heater, too,” he said, glancing back at the car.
“Damn, Traci. It’s been freezing lately. You should have told me it wasn’t working.”
“I didn’t think of it.”
True, the December air was cold and misty, but Traci barely noticed. She had something more important on her mind. She knew she was falling in love with Daniel Crow, losing her heart to this elusive man.
There was no point in denying her feelings or pretending they didn’t exist. Hadn’t she dreamed about him that first night? Experienced an ache so deep that her heart actually hurt? And what about every night since? He continued to slip into her subconscious, becoming part of her.
But why him? she asked herself. Why this troubled, complicated man?
He shifted his feet, scraping his boots on the road. “I got a Christmas tree.”
Startled, she met his gaze. “You did?”
“Yeah. It’s a living one, and it was already decorated, so I didn’t have to fuss with lights and all that. I guess I’ll plant it after the holidays.”
“Can I see it?” she asked, wishing she had the courage to tell him how she felt.
“Sure. It’s pretty small, though.”
“That’s okay.”
They entered his home, and he led her to the parlor, a room filled with rich brocades and warm, engraved woods.
The tree graced a mahogany table, tiny ornaments shimmering on silvery blue branches. A fresh, clean scent rose in the air, and she decided it was the most perfect evergreen on earth, especially since her son, Parker, had inspired Daniel to buy it.
Yes, she thought. The tree complemented this grand old mansion. Someday the blue spruce would grow tall and powerful, its foliage magnificent against the sky.
“I can’t believe people think Orchid House is haunted.” She glanced around the parlor, feeling the beauty of Christmas. “It’s too beautiful for ghosts.”
She could actually imagine living here with Daniel, cuddling beside him on long winter nights, going for walks on bright, sunny days. She envisioned them raising Parker, loving and laughing and being a family.
But when she turned to look at Daniel, her heart sank. He was frowning, his eyes dark and distant.
“Traci,” he said, his voice painfully quiet. “I think it’s time I told you about my wife and son.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“YOU’RE married?” Traci stared at Daniel, her eyes wide with shock. “And you have a child?”
“No.” He shook his head, wishing he could shake away the memories haunting him. “I’m a—” Widower, he thought, hating the word. “My wife and son died, six years ago, near Christmas.”
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”
She reached out to take his hand, but Daniel stepped back. He hadn’t let anyone console him then, and he wouldn’t let Traci comfort him now. If she got too close, he would fall into her arms. Kiss her. Stroke her skin and pull her tight against him.
Slow, sultry lovemaking. That’s what he needed from Traci, and she deserved more than just sex.
“My wife’s name was Clarissa,” he said. “She was from Charleston. A young, beautiful debutante, a Southern socialite through and through. We had nothing in common.”
He removed his jacket and tossed it on a chair. “Nothing. Except this wild, almost unbelievable attraction.” And he had wanted Clarissa the moment he’d laid eyes on her. “Some people thought I didn’t belong in her world. Granted, I was a millionaire, but I didn’t come from old money.”
Traci let out an audible breath and sat on a Louis XVI-style settee. It struck him how pretty she looked in his 17th-century mansion with her tousled auburn hair and simple, small-town clothes. He felt the same wild, almost unbelievable attraction toward her, the same instant desire, and it was a feeling that confused him. Traci was so different from his wife.
“Did it really matter that you weren’t born rich?” she asked.
“Not to Clarissa, but it became an issue with her parents. I wasn’t the husband they had envisioned for their daughter. To them, I was still a reservation Indian.”
And he had tried so damn hard to shed that image, the stigma that had shamed him since his youth. “But Clarissa married me anyway, and we bought an estate in the historical district.” He glanced around the room. “It looked a lot like this one.”
“I see,” she whispered, acknowledging why Orchid House had appealed to him.
“It wasn’t enough.” Daniel frowned at the Christmas tree. “I needed to prove to her parents that pedigree wasn’t important. But the only way I knew how to do that was to exceed their net worth. If I had more money than they did, then they would have to respect me.”
He snorted. “You should have seen me. Short hair, stylish clothes, rubbing elbows with the crème de la crème of Charleston. I loved my wife. Loved her more than you can imagine, but fitting into her society became an obsession.”
“Did Clarissa love you?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed the pain, the lump rising in his throat. “But she didn’t understand why I was so driven to prove myself.”
Traci fingered a tapestry pillow. “Did her parents ever accept you?”
“No. Not even when our baby was born. They loved him because he was their grandson, but they didn’t like the idea that he was a mixed-blood. It didn’t matter that I had no intention of teaching him about his Cherokee side. He was still part Indian.” Daniel resisted the urge to pace, to unleash the pain and guilt. “His name was Parker. My son’s name was Parker.”
“Oh, my. Oh.” She placed a hand against her blouse. “I don’t know what to say. It almost seems like more than a coincidence. But it can’t be.”
Traci looked up at him, and he wanted to touch her, lose himself in all that sweet, girlish beauty. She was so pure and good, so unlike him. Daniel had tainted himself with the sin of greed.
“Parker was only three months old.” He closed his eyes, and then opened them, his heart hurting. “It shouldn’t have happened. My wife and child shouldn’t have burned in that house.”
Meeting Traci’s gaze, he took a deep breath, determined to tell her the truth, to admit what had been haunting him all these years.
“It was my fault,” he said. “Clarissa and Parker died because of me.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“YOU don’t mean that.” Traci did
n’t believe Daniel was responsible for the death of his family.
“Yes, I do.” He glanced at the tree. “Clarissa asked me not to go away. It was so close to Christmas, and she didn’t understand why that business deal was so important.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “But I didn’t stay home because closing the deal meant a lot of money. With me, it was always about the money.”
“You were trying to find acceptance,” she said, defending him. “Maybe you went about it the wrong way, but you were confused and hurting.”
She couldn’t imagine living her entire life ashamed of who she was or where she had come from. And she couldn’t imagine being shunned by her in-laws. “You weren’t there when your wife and child died. You didn’t set the fire.”
“Maybe if I’d been there, I could have saved them.”
“And maybe you would have died, too.”
“At least they wouldn’t have been alone.” He released a shallow breath. “Clarissa used to burn these tall, scented candles, but she must have forgotten to extinguish them that night. They said she probably knocked one over without realizing it, maybe when she got up to feed the baby.”
He fingered a branch on the tree, and Traci could see the ache in his heart, the loss and the loneliness. With his distant eyes and rough denim clothes, he looked like what he was—a man hiding from the rest of the world.
“It’s time to heal, Daniel. To stop blaming yourself.”
“I don’t know how.”
She noticed the gentle way he touched the tree, the reverence and respect he gave the tiny ornaments. “You’re healing now.”
He met her gaze, and she wanted to go to him, put her arms around his waist, lean her head against his shoulder. He was so big and broad, yet so vulnerable.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You bought a living tree, something that would grow in the sun or the snow, something you could nourish forever.”
“I bought it because of you and your son.”