A Cinderella Story: Maid Under the Mistletoe / My Fair Billionaire / Second Chance with the CEO. Maureen Child

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       Six

      Sam used to hate the night.

      The quiet. The feeling of being alone in the world. The seemingly endless hours of darkness. It had given him too much time to think. To remember. To torture himself with what-might-have-beens. He couldn’t sleep because memories became dreams that jolted him awake—or worse, lulled him into believing the last several years had never really happened. Then waking up became the misery, and so the cycle went.

      Until nearly a week ago. Until Joy.

      He had a fire blazing in the hearth as he waited for her. Night was now something he looked forward to. Being with her, hearing her voice, her laughter, had become the best part of his days. He enjoyed her quick mind, and her sense of humor—even when it was directed at him. He liked hearing her talk about what was happening in town, even though he didn’t know any of the people she told him about. He liked seeing her with her daughter, watching the love between them, even though it was like a knife to his heart.

      Sam hadn’t expected this, hadn’t thought he wanted it. He rubbed his palms together, remembering the flash of heat that enveloped him when he’d taken her hand to seal their latest deal. He could see the flash in her eyes that told him she’d felt the same damn thing. And with the desire gripping him, guilt speared through Sam, as well. Everything he’d lost swam in his mind, reminding him that feeling, wanting, was a steep and slippery road to loss.

      He stared into the fire, listened to the hiss and snap of flame on wood, and for the first time in years, he tried to bring those long-abandoned memories to the surface. Watching the play of light and shadow, the dance of flames, Sam fought to draw his dead wife’s face into his mind. But the memory was indistinct, as if a fog had settled between them, making it almost impossible for him to remember just the exact shade of her brown eyes. The way her mouth curved in a smile. The fall of her hair and the set of her jaw when she was angry.

      It was all...hazy, and as he battled to remember Dani, it was Joy’s face that swam to the surface of his mind. The sound of her laughter. The scent of her. And he wanted to know the taste of her. What the hell was happening to him and why was he allowing it? Sam told himself to leave. To not be there when Joy came into the room. But as much as he knew he should, he also knew he wouldn’t.

      “I brought more cookies.”

      He turned in his chair to look at her, and even from across the room, he felt that now-familiar punch of awareness. Of heat. And he knew it was too late to leave.

      At her smile, one eyebrow lifted and he asked, “More reindeer and Santas?”

      That smile widened until it sparkled in her eyes. She walked toward him, carrying a tray that held the plate of cookies and two glasses of golden wine.

      “This time we have snowmen and wreaths and—” she paused “—winter trees.”

      He shook his head and sighed. It seemed she was determined to shove Christmas down his throat whether he liked it or not. “You’re relentless.”

      Why did he like that about her?

      “That’s been said before,” she told him and took her usual seat in the chair beside his. Setting the tray down on the table between them, she took a cookie then lifted her glass for a sip of wine.

      “Really. Cookies and wine.”

      “Separately, they’re both good,” she said, waving her cookie at the plate, challenging him to join her. “Together, they’re amazing.”

      The cookies were good, Sam thought, reaching out to pick one up and bite in. All he’d had to do was close his eyes so he wasn’t faced with iced, sprinkled Santas and they were just cookies. “Good.”

      “Thanks.” She sat back in the chair. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

      “What?”

      “Talking to me.” She folded her legs up beneath her, took another sip of her wine and continued. “We’ve been sitting in this room together for five nights now and usually, the only voice I hear is my own.”

      He frowned, took the wine and drank. Gave him an excuse for not addressing that remark. Of course, it was true, but that wasn’t the point. He hadn’t asked her to join him every night, had he? When she only looked at him, waiting, he finally said, “Didn’t seem to bother you any.”

      “Oh, I don’t mind talking to myself—”

      “No kidding.”

      She grinned. “But it’s more fun talking to other people.”

      Sam told himself not to notice how her hair shined golden in the firelight. How her eyes gleamed and her mouth curved as if she were always caught on the verge of a smile. His gaze dropped to the plain blue shirt she wore and how the buttons pulled across her chest. Her jeans were faded and soft, clinging to her legs as she curled up and got comfortable. Red polish decorated her toes. Why that gave him a quick, hot jolt, he couldn’t have said.

      Everything in him wanted to pull her out of that chair, wrap his arms around her and take her tantalizing mouth in a kiss that would sear both of them. And why, he asked himself, did he suddenly feel like a cheating husband? Because since Dani, no other woman had pulled at him like this. And even as he wanted Joy, he hated that he wanted her. The cookie turned to chalk in his mouth and he took a sip of wine to wash it down.

      “Okay, someone just had a dark thought,” she mused.

      “Stay out of my head,” Sam said, slanting her a look.

      Feeling desire didn’t mean that he welcomed it. Life had СКАЧАТЬ