by A. C. Arthur
Wendy had worked at the hospital for the past five years. So Morgan had been attending this event before becoming a widow herself. She’d always believed in its purpose, and now, being a single parent, she knew firsthand how important it was to have assistance. In her corner were Granny and Wendy. Her parents had been gone since Morgan was a sophomore in high school, when her father received a job offer in Australia.
“I hear he’s sexy as hell,” Wendy continued.
She was standing near Morgan’s dresser now, fluffing her loose curls. Her older sister was gorgeous, from her five-seven height to the generous curves she’d been blessed with and the bubbly personality that had landed her as captain of the cheerleading squad in high school. They shared the same creamy brown complexion and wide, expressive eyes, but that’s where the similarities ended. Where Morgan loved the fall and Christmas carols, Wendy wanted to swim in the lake every day of the summer and detested the cold.
“All of them,” she continued. “There are three boys and three girls. I don’t think any of them signed over the rights for the show to go into syndication or onto DVD, but Granny told me just the other day how good-looking they all had grown up to be.”
“And how would she know?” Morgan asked after she’d slipped her feet into the four-inch-heel platform red shoes that she’d treated herself to. “You know she hates the internet. That computer we bought her two years ago would have inches of dust on it if she wasn’t such a neat freak.”
Wendy shook her head. “And you know that’s the truth,” her sister agreed while laughing. “But you know her and Ms. Dessa love reading the tabloids down at the supermarket. She said there was a story about them a few months back when the father died.”
Morgan pulled at the hem of the dress that she’d already deemed too short. Wendy thought it was perfect—red, festive and flirty, she’d said. Morgan figured she was either going to freeze her buns off tonight trying to be cute, or fall flat on her face the moment she walked into the Olivia Taylor Hall at the hospital.
Olivia Taylor had been the equivalent of the Virgin Mary in Temptation. Thirty years ago, when she and her husband had been bold enough to travel to Maryland so that she could be artificially inseminated with multiple eggs, she’d shown every women in Temptation that it was okay to take their fate in their own hands. Morgan, and just about everyone who lived in Temptation, knew the story.
“They both need to find something else better to do during the day,” Morgan said, grabbing her shawl from the bed and heading for the door.
Wendy laughed as she followed her out. “They need a man! Two of them, or maybe one and they can share.”
Morgan shook her head. “You’re ridiculous,” she said.
The shawl would be for when she was inside the hospital. As for right now, her long wool coat was warranted as the temperature was expected to drop below freezing later that evening. While Morgan loved the season and the crisp cold winter air, she did not like shivering and shaking from the deep freeze that Temptation was known to receive this time of year.
“Not ridiculous, just practical,” Wendy said while slipping into her short leather jacket. “What woman wouldn’t want a nice handsome hunk of man to keep her warm on a night like this?”
Morgan stepped out into the evening air, recalling immediately how warm she’d felt each time Grayson had touched her. She continued walking to the car, feeling the cold breeze as it whipped through the air.
“I don’t have any problem keeping myself warm,” she told her sister as she climbed into the passenger side of Wendy’s SUV.
Still, she was shivering when she finally pulled the door closed, her traitorous body begging to differ.
* * *
“This wing of the hospital was named after your mother,” Millie told Gray.
Her voice had begun to grate on him, like nails sliding over a chalkboard. She’d been talking, mixing historical facts about the town with quick jabs of gossip and innuendo, like they were part of some insider tour. If they were, Gray didn’t want to partake—not a second longer.
“I think I’ve seen enough,” he told her. He was certain that the twenty minutes that she’d taken to walk him around the hospital had been nineteen minutes too long in her company.
Based on this tour alone, he knew exactly what he would do once he finally found a spot with internet access. Gray would tell his attorney to sell, sell, sell! This town was just as bland and behind the times as he’d recalled and he would be glad to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Actually, he thought as Millie touched her jeweled fingers to his arm for about the billionth time, he would be more than glad.
“So you see, it makes sense for you to be here tonight at the charity event,” she told him, blinking those unnaturally long lashes at him.
She’d been doing that as if she thought the action was somehow coercing him. It wasn’t. Instead, that action and Millie’s comments were beginning to irritate the hell out of him.
“I’m really not up for attending any type of event,” he began. “Besides, I’m not dressed for anything formal.”
“Oh, we rarely do formal here in Temptation. You should remember that,” she chided, slipping her hand right through his arm again and turning him toward glass double doors at the end of the hallway.
The tiled floor was old here, just as Gray had noticed throughout the rest of the facility. There were a number of areas that could be refreshed and updated, he’d thought as he walked through. Windows could have better coverings, computers at the main desk on all of the floors looked to be at least ten years old, which in any field these days was not good. A hospital especially should have the most up-to-date equipment possible.
“You see we kept your mother’s name right over the doors, just the way they were when we put them there years ago. She never did come back to see it, though. Her cousin, BJ, never understood that. She always thought Olivia was ungrateful, but you know how family can be,” Millie continued as she walked him closer to those doors.
“It was very nice of the town to dedicate this portion of the hospital to my mother. I’m sure she was very grateful,” Gray told her.
“Not enough to come back, though,” Millie continued with a shake of her head. “But tonight’s about new beginnings. We all start afresh with the New Year, so this charity dinner gives us a head start. You know, moneywise.”
Gray nodded because that was another point Millie had made sure to hit home. The town needed money.
“Really,” Gray said, coming almost to a stop before they could get closer to the doors. “I should get going. I have emails to send and calls to make.”
Millie shook her head. “Always got something better to do. Just like your father. It’s just a dinner, Grayson. And you said you were hungry, so come in, sit down and have a bite to eat. Then you can rush on and do what you have to do. But I’ll tell you, if you’re thinking of selling these buildings and running out on this town again, I beg you to think again. Whether you like it or not this is your heritage. It’s where you were born and where your children should have a chance to grow up and experience all the things you never did.”
“I don’t plan on having children,” Gray replied immediately.
He had no idea why he’d told her that, just felt the words slipping out without his permission.
Millie’s smile spread slowly. “You never know what this world’s got in store for you. Despite what your mother thought at first, she soon found out that everything doesn’t always go as planned.”
Gray was just about to tell her he was totally different from both his parents. He was going to assure her that she was wrong and that he would definitely not be getting married or having any children. Ever.
Then she approached. He’d heard the clicking of heels across the floor but hadn’t bothered to look away from Millie until the other woman
was standing right there behind the older one. He’d glimpsed at the bright red of her dress first, then realized how little material there actually was as his gaze soon rested on her stocking-clad legs. Then moved slowly to the swell of her pert breasts over the bodice. Her hair was tapered on the sides and curly on top, her makeup light, but alluring.
There was another woman with her, Gray noticed when he figured staring was probably just as rude as it was embarrassing on his part.
“Hi, Millie. You trying to keep all the handsome men out here with you tonight?” the third woman asked, her smile wide and her eyes cheerful as she looked at Gray.
She was a couple inches taller than Morgan, who he had noticed was wearing some pretty sexy heels tonight. The other woman also had on heels. Her hair was longer, curls relaxing on her shoulders as long, icicle-like earrings dangled and glowed. Pretty wasn’t a bold enough word for this one and the tight black dress she wore, with a festive red choker that had small jingle bells dangling from it, was definitely something to stare at. Still, Gray’s gaze went right back to Morgan.
“Not at all,” Millie said, her smile faltering. “This is Grayson Taylor. You know, he’s one of the Taylors of Temptation.”
Gray didn’t like that title any more than he liked the way Millie had said it—as if he was the Dracula of Transylvania.
“Hello, Grayson Taylor,” the woman said as she extended her hand to him. “I’m Wendy Langston. I’m one of the Langstons of Temptation. We’ve been here forever, too, but most of us have done the smart thing and escaped as well.” She chuckled and so did Gray, liking her instantly.
“Please,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it. “Call me Gray.”
“Well, Gray, you should come on in and join the fun. You can sit with me and my sister, Morgan. I hear Magnolia Daniels was this year’s caterer. She just graduated from some fancy culinary college in New York, so she was anxious to come back home and show us all her skills,” Wendy told him.
“My sister attended a culinary school in New York as well,” he said. “She owns her own restaurant now and teaches at the college. I wonder if it’s the same school Magnolia attended.”
“There’s only one way for us to find out,” Wendy said as she easily stepped in front of Millie to snag Gray’s arm.
This time, Gray wasn’t as irritated. In fact, he thought, he could appreciate Wendy’s cheerful demeanor. He could also like the fact that Morgan had looked a bit chagrined at the way her sister so easily stepped up to him.
They walked through the double doors that Gray had sworn he hadn’t wanted to enter and he was pleasantly surprised, at least for a few moments. The lights were dim and there were tables all around the floor, covered in festive red cloths with what looked like little gingerbread houses in the center. Holiday music played softly in the background as fifty or so people walked around or hovered over the punch table.
“I’m going to get something to drink,” he heard Morgan say and then looked up in enough time to see her walking hastily away from the table where Wendy had led him.
“I believe you’ve met my younger sister already,” Wendy said as she took a seat in one of the folding chairs.
Gray sat in a chair beside her after he’d forced himself to look away from Morgan’s retreating body.
“Yes. We met last night at the community center,” he replied.
Wendy nodded. “You interrupted Jacob Marley’s grand entrance in Mountainview Elementary’s first-grade-class presentation of A Christmas Carol.”
“Is that what they were doing?” he asked, then recalled the little boy named Ethan saying something about “bah, hamburger” when he’d taken his place on the stage after Gray first arrived.
“Yes. It’s one of Morgan’s favorites, so she begged the town council to let her class present the play, as opposed to the older members of the theater club, who had wanted to perform The Sound of Music. I think we’re better off with the kids and that has nothing to do with my sister being the director,” Wendy continued, chuckling again.
“I hope it turns out well,” Gray responsed.
He’d been wondering how long it was going to take Morgan to return. Not that he didn’t like talking to her sister. Well, actually, Gray wasn’t really in the mood to talk any more tonight. He did, however, want to be near Morgan Hill once again. That thought hadn’t occurred to him earlier when he’d been busily immersed in his work. Yet, the moment he saw her, he was unable—or unwilling...he couldn’t figure out which one just yet—to think about anything else.
“It’s going to be fun. You should think about sticking around town to see the finished product.”
This sister liked to talk. Gray was certain he hadn’t gotten this many words out of Morgan the night before and they’d been together longer. He looked at Wendy now, and asked, “When is the production taking place?”
“Christmas Eve,” she told him. “You weren’t planning on selling the community center before then, were you?”
Gray didn’t immediately respond. Christmas was weeks away. There was no way he planned on staying in town for that long, and while he was immediately going to put the buildings on the market, he wasn’t optimistic that they would sell so quickly. Who would want to buy run-down buildings in this small town? There was no market value to the purchases, only sentimental value, which he’d figured out from his talk with Millie, and Morgan’s immediate reaction to finding out who he was.
“I don’t think they’ll be sold before Christmas,” he answered. “Maybe I’ll go help Morgan with the drinks.”
Wendy had seemed to look at him knowingly as she replied, “Sure. You go right ahead and do that.”
Regardless of what she said or thought about Gray as he walked away, he kept moving. Too many people wanted to chitchat with him in this town and he didn’t want any of that. What he wanted... Gray wasn’t quite certain. Sure, he’d thought he knew, just last night when he’d driven into town, and earlier, when he talked to Gemma, but at this moment...
Morgan turned away from the punch table just as he walked up behind her. Quick footwork had him moving just before she could turn with her outstretched hands, which held two glasses filled with red punch. The red punch that Gray had no doubt would have splashed all over his white shirt had they collided in the way they’d seemed destined to do.
“Let me help you with that,” Gray offered and reached for one of the glasses.
She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, then clapped her lips closed and allowed him to take the glass from her hand.
“Why don’t we enjoy this over there near the tree,” he said.
“That one is for my sister,” she said, nodding toward the glass in his hand.
He shook his head and did not hesitate to lie. “She said she’d get something later.”
“Why do you want to go over there? We can go back to our table,” she said before lifting her glass to her lips and taking a sip.
“I want to be alone with you,” he said, again without any hesitation.
Or any thought to what he was doing. All Gray could admit to with any sort of definitiveness was that he wanted to be with Morgan. His salacious thoughts from last night were at the forefront of his mind as he stood close to her, the light scent of her perfume wafting through the air.
“And I like Christmas trees,” he continued when she only glared at him, one brow lifted in silent question.
“Lily said you didn’t like Christmas,” she replied after another few moments of silence.
“Your daughter,” he said when he remembered the solemn-faced little girl from last night. “She and your son are twins, correct?”
Morgan nodded. “They’re the loves of my life,” she replied, then looked up quickly as if she hadn’t meant to say that.
Gray decided to let it slide because the
re was another pressing question he wanted an answer to. “And their father? Is he also the love of your life?”
For the first time ever Gray held his breath as he waited for the answer.
Her fingers seemed to tighten around the glass she held before she replied, “My husband died in Afghanistan.”
It was a simple statement and yet it held as much power as if she’d reached out and socked him herself.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
Gray moved beside her then, taking her elbow lightly, and began to walk toward the tree. “Do you like Christmas?”
“What?” she asked as they moved.
“Do you like Christmas? That’s what Lily asked me last night. Now I want to know your answer.”
“Yes, I love Christmas,” she said before taking another sip of her punch.
Gray hadn’t bothered to sip his.
“It’s a wonderful time of year. A time for family and fellowship, miracles and happiness.”
“You sound like one of those greeting-card commercials,” he replied.
“And you sound like the star of my play, Ebenezer Scrooge,” she snapped back.
They’d come to a stop near the huge Christmas tree that was nestled in a far corner of the room. It had to be at least ten feet tall and was decorated with what looked like every sort of bulb, bell, ribbon and light ever created for this season.
“I don’t have anything in particular against the holiday,” Gray confided. He’d walked farther around the tree toward the side that was facing two large windows.
The old window shades were tattered at the edges and if anyone attempted to pull them down farther, they’d surely crumple into pieces. So more than half the window was bare, leaving a view of the side street, where only two cars were parked and the sidewalk was clear. At this time of evening on a Sunday night, if Gray had looked out the window of his penthouse in Miami he was sure to see lines of traffic and people headed toward the clubs or the beach. There was always something going on in the city, some party or meeting, a huge wedding, or a celebrity sighting. Never a dull moment, and never a quiet street like this.