Single Dad in Her Stocking Page 12

  ‘Why not?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Because they were my mum’s—your grandma’s—special Christmas things and...well, she died and we were very sad so we never used them again.’

  ‘Why not?’ Ben was frowning. ‘You’ve got to have lights on your Christmas tree. It’s a—’

  ‘—rule. I know.’ Max flicked the switch and the lights came to life, making the tree sparkle as they flashed on and off sequentially. Instead of having bulbs that didn’t work any more, or wires that caught fire because they had deteriorated over the years, it looked as if these decorative lights were as good as new. Max decided he was going to take that as a good omen. That everything was going to work and sparkle with a bit of Christmas magic.

  ‘My mummy’s died too.’ Tilly’s bottom lip was wobbling. ‘And I’m sad.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart.’ From the corner of his eye, Max saw Emma start to reach out to Tilly but then he saw the way she stopped herself—the way her hands curled into soft fists—as if she was just too afraid to let herself follow her natural instinct to comfort this small girl. So he was the one who went to Tilly to scoop her up and cuddle her. He resisted the urge to draw Emma into the hug as well. If he tried to force her to open her heart to these children she might change her mind about staying to share Christmas with them and run away. He could only hope that some of that sparkly Christmas magic would wrap itself around Emma and she could find the courage to step past the perfectly understandable fear she had and that, by doing so, she would see what a new future could offer her.

  ‘Can you help me?’ he asked Tilly. ‘You could unwrap all the ornaments in that box and then we can all hang them on the tree.’

  ‘There’s this green stuff too,’ Emma said, pulling at loops of the long, thin length of artificial foliage of ivy, mistletoe and holly with red berries. ‘I could go and put that on the bannisters, perhaps? And hang the bells on the doors?’

  If it was time away from the children that she needed, it wasn’t going to work. Ben’s eyes widened as he saw the impressive amount of greenery appearing.

  ‘I want to help,’ he said.

  ‘Me too.’ Tilly wriggled out of Max’s arms. ‘I like bells and stars.’

  She was almost running in her haste to get closer to Emma when it happened. The doorframe of the drawing room was filled with the tall figure of James Cunningham and the furious vibe radiated from him with the speed of light.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ he roared. ‘Where did you get those boxes?’

  ‘From the attic, Dad.’ Max kept his tone carefully neutral. ‘We needed more decorations for the tree.’

  But his words could barely be heard over the sound of children crying. The angry roar had made Ben cower behind Emma’s legs, still holding one end of a garland of greenery. Tilly had burst into tears and even Alice had woken in her pram and started howling. Maggie and Ruth both moved towards the baby. He saw the way Emma instinctively stretched out her arms as if creating a safe circle for the two children close to her. She was glaring at his father, as well, looking both horrified and angry that he was scaring everybody.

  Max was angry too, even though part of his heart was breaking for his dad. He’d known his father would be upset at having his wife’s precious decorations appear again with no prior warning but it wasn’t fair to take it out on the children like this. Even Pirate was looking worried, slinking away from James to hide beneath one of the chairs.

  ‘You’ve got no right.’ James’s voice was still loud enough to qualify as shouting. ‘Put them back. Ben...put that down. Right now.’

  The garland slid instantly from Ben’s hands.

  Max cleared his throat. ‘If Mum was here, this is exactly what she’d be doing,’ he told his father.

  ‘I want my mummy,’ Tilly sobbed, sinking into a puddle of miserable child on the floor. Ben came out from behind Emma and crouched to put his arms around his little sister. Pirate came out from beneath the chair and went slowly towards the children. He sat down close to Tilly and pressed his nose to the hands covering her eyes. Perhaps it was the surprise of seeing the little dog as she opened her eyes that made her stop crying.

  Maggie was rocking baby Alice and successfully soothing her. Ruth had her hands protectively on the impressive bump of her belly and was staring nervously at her mother’s employer. Max shifted his gaze to Emma to find she was staring straight back at him. If he’d had any doubts at all about her level of commitment to help him make this Christmas special for the children, they evaporated instantly. In the face of opposition she had just become as determined as he was to make this work. She was going to do whatever it took to protect these children, even if she had to do it alone, but she wanted his help. She needed him to be by her side and that made him feel remarkably fierce.

  He would do whatever it took to protect Emma, as well as the children.

  ‘It’s what Mum would have wanted us to do, Dad,’ he said firmly. ‘You know that. You know how much she loved Christmas. How much she wanted everyone to be happy. I know it’s been a very long time but we are going to have a proper Christmas in this house this year.’

  James was staring at the boxes. At the huge wreath that Maggie had put to one side to take out to the front door. At the bunches of bells and the tissue-wrapped decorations.

  ‘Oh...do what you want, then,’ he snapped. ‘You’re obviously going to, anyway. I’m going out.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Pirate...come with me...’

  But Pirate didn’t move. If anything, the little dog pressed itself closer to Tilly and Ben’s hand moved to rest on the small white head. For a horrified moment, Max wondered if his father was about to march further into the room and drag his dog away from the children but James just stared for a moment longer, made a sound that was a frustrated growl and then turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

  For a long, long moment, there was silence in the drawing room. It was broken by Ben’s small voice.

  ‘I don’t think Grandpa likes Christmas,’ he said.

  Max walked over to his nephew and crouched down beside him. ‘He used to,’ he told Ben. ‘It was the best day of the year for all of us when I was a little boy like you. He’s just forgotten, that’s all. But we can help him remember. He’s not cross with you. He’s just...’

  ‘Sad.’ Ben nodded. ‘Because his mummy died.’

  Max didn’t bother trying to correct his interpretation of a former generation’s relationships. ‘It’s always sad when someone you love dies,’ he agreed. ‘And it’s okay to be sad but it’s okay to have fun too. Why don’t we all have fun now and see how pretty we can make everything with all these decorations? Do you think you and Tilly can pull that long rope of leaves and berries all the way up the stairs?’

  Max caught Emma’s anxious glance as the children headed for the door.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Dad will have gone out for a walk or something. He just needs time to get his head around this.’

  Emma didn’t look convinced.

  ‘It’s been a very long time,’ Max added. ‘I suspect he’s healed far more than he even realises but he’s never going to find out if that plaster doesn’t get ripped off. Having a proper Christmas with his grandchildren might be the best thing that could ever happen for him.’

  Emma was still frowning. ‘As long as he doesn’t hurt the children. Don’t you think Ben’s going to be a bit scared of him after that outburst?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Max was holding Emma’s gaze. ‘But I think he’s going to be fine. Even the scary stuff isn’t too bad as long as you’ve got someone on your side and Ben’s got me. He’s always going to have me.’

  Would Emma pick up on the silent message that he was there for her as well? That she had him by her side as she faced what was probably her first real celebration of Christmas for a long time?

  Maybe she had. Th
ere was a sparkle in her eyes that looked as if a tear or two was gathering.

  ‘He’s a lucky little boy,’ she said quietly. ‘And I think you’re right. He’s going to be fine.’

  ‘He’ll need help with that green stuff. Why don’t I come and show you how Mum used to do it and then we can all do the decorations for the tree?’

  * * *

  It was much later that evening that Emma went down the stairs, admiring the greenery woven through the bannister railings, heading for the kitchen to get a glass of water. To her surprise, she found Max sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop open in front of him and the handset from the baby monitor to one side. James was also there, an empty plate in front of him that told Emma he’d eaten the meal they’d left in the oven when he hadn’t come home in time for dinner.

  ‘I owe you an apology too,’ he said gruffly.

  Emma nodded her acceptance. ‘The children missed you at bedtime,’ she told him. ‘They wanted you to read them a story. Ben said that it might make you feel better because stories always make him feel better.’

  James stared at her for a long moment. ‘You always know the right thing to say, don’t you, love? You’re like my Hannah was, like that.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m off to bed,’ he said. ‘But I’d better take Pirate out first. It’s starting to snow and he doesn’t like it when it gets too deep on the grass. Do you know where he is?’

  ‘Lying beside Ben’s bed,’ Emma told him. ‘I think he’s decided it’s his job to protect the children.’

  ‘He’s not the only one, is he?’ James put his plate in the sink. ‘It’s okay... Now that I’m over the shock, I know I was wrong and I’ll tell the children that tomorrow. It’s time for Christmas to happen again here. Time for a new beginning.’ He smiled at Emma. ‘Maybe I should write my Christmas wish on a bit of paper too, and you could put it up the chimney. Max told me about you doing that for the children this evening.’

  ‘It’s what I’m working on now,’ Max put in. ‘Seeing if I can find exactly what they want online and get it delivered secretly tomorrow.’

  ‘Didn’t Ben say he wanted a blue bicycle?’ Emma reminded him. ‘That might be a bit hard to keep secret.’

  ‘There’s some rooms that aren’t being used above the clinic. Extra bedrooms and a bathroom or two. It could make a good suite for live-in help for a housekeeper or nanny later, maybe. In the meantime, it’ll be easy to get things delivered out of sight and hide them in there, wrap them up tomorrow night and put them under the tree for Christmas morning.’

  James was heading for the door. ‘Don’t forget the stockings.’ His voice was a growl. ‘The ones your mum always hung up above the fireplace. They must be in one of those boxes.’

  Max waited until his father had left the room. ‘He’s trying hard,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not easy.’

  ‘I know. For you too.’ Emma had been watching Max as they’d decorated the tree earlier. She’d seen the way he’d held some of those decorations so reverently—like the gorgeous glass angels and wooden gingerbread men—as if he was remembering the last time he’d done this, when his mother had been there as well, and her heart had ached for that little boy who must have dreaded Christmas for so many years afterwards.

  She pulled up a chair to sit close beside him so that she could see the screen of his laptop. ‘How are you going on finding things?’

  ‘Not bad. Derby’s has a great toy department. I’ve found a bicycle for Ben and a football and a tent.’

  ‘A tent?’

  ‘It was something that Andy and I used to do—put a tent up in the woods and pretend we were miles from anywhere. I thought Ben might like to try that.’

  ‘It’s a great idea.’

  ‘I’m not sure what Tilly meant by “fairy stuff”, though.’

  ‘Oh... I can help with that.’ Emma leaned closer so that she could use the mouse and scroll through the available items. ‘Look...a tutu, wand, tiara and wings all in a set. There’s even a pot of fairy dust, which is probably glitter and will make an awful mess. That’s what “fairy stuff” is all about.’

  Emma looked up, her smile full of the delight of imagining the look on Tilly’s face when she discovered exactly what Emma had helped her write on her scrap of paper that had gone up the chimney. She hadn’t realised just how close she’d got to Max as she leaned over the laptop, however. And she hadn’t expected him to be grinning down at her, as pleased as she was to have found the perfect gift.

  And there it was.

  That moment again, as their gazes locked and their smiles faded as they both found they couldn’t look away from each other. That the magnetic pull was simply too powerful to resist.

  ‘Thanks.’ Max’s voice was a little hoarse. A deep, sexy growl. ‘I wouldn’t be managing this if I didn’t have you to help.’

  ‘Oh...it’s my pleasure.’ Emma’s voice was more like a whisper and her last word was the one that tipped the balance of control. Pleasure... It hung there between them and she knew that Max was thinking exactly the same as what was going through her own head. That real pleasure was also hanging there, just waiting for one of them to make the first move.

  Maybe both of them did, because a split second later their lips were touching. So softly at first that Emma had to close her eyes so that she could feel it properly. And then she felt the movement of Max’s lips on hers and her own lips parting. The kiss wasn’t so soft now but it was when she was aware of the touch of his tongue on her lip before meeting the tip of her own tongue that Emma stopped even thinking about what was happening and fell into a forgotten sensation.

  Sheer pleasure, that was for sure. So intense that nothing else existed. This was nothing like that public kiss under the mistletoe at that long-ago Christmas party. This was nothing like any kiss Emma had ever had in her life. She didn’t want it to stop but the need for oxygen made it a necessity and her first breath was a gasp. She opened her eyes to find Max staring at her, looking as stunned as she was feeling.

  Oh...help...

  This wasn’t supposed to have happened.

  Emma braced herself for what was about to happen next. Laughter, perhaps, to dismiss the kiss as no big deal? The reassurance that she had nothing to worry about because she was ‘so not’ Max’s type?

  As he opened his mouth to say something, Emma closed her eyes so that she could hide her reaction to whatever he might be about to say.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MAX HAD NO idea what to say but felt the need to express appreciation for what had to have been the most memorable kiss of his lifetime and that was saying something, given how much practice he’d had.

  There was something very different about Emma Moretti. It wasn’t just the softness of her lips, or the incredible taste of her mouth, or the way she responded to him as if they were having a conversation in a language they were the only two people in the world who could speak. It was bigger than that. Because he’d come to realise that Emma was the most extraordinary woman he’d ever met and he had huge respect for her, professionally but even more on a personal level.

  That she had chosen to go through such a traumatic experience as carrying a baby for months that was never going to survive only to help others was something he felt put Emma way out of his league in terms of humanity and kindness and the kind of virtues that nobody would associate with someone who had his kind of reputation with women. It made him feel curiously shy to even think that she might be interested in him but that kiss had just revealed that she was possibly just as attracted to him as he was to her. That she might, in fact, be just as desperate to take it a lot further than just a kiss.

  Just a kiss?

  Ha! The words that finally escaped Max’s lips were not ones he normally used in public but he needed something very succinct and powerful to sum up his reaction. His words certainly startled Emma. Her eyes flew open and
then widened in shock.

  ‘I thought you were going to laugh,’ she said. ‘Not say...that...’

  ‘Why on earth would I laugh?’

  ‘That’s what you did the last time you kissed me.’

  ‘Did I?’ Max searched his memory. ‘No... I think it was you that laughed and I was pleased that you were looking happier again because that was what I wanted to happen.’

  ‘You laughed first,’ Emma insisted. ‘And then you told me not to worry because I was so not your type.’

  Oh...that was true. But not true at the same time. Even then he’d known precisely how attractive Emma Moretti was but she definitely wasn’t his ‘type’ because she was dangerous. Or he was dangerous as far as she was concerned. She wanted such different things out of life and he would have ended up hurting her if he’d acted on that attraction. How ironic was it that he was the one who’d ended up with a bunch of kids and Emma was footloose and fancy free, roaming the world and perfectly entitled to work and play wherever and with whomever she chose.

  Another thought that was a little disturbing was that if Emma had remembered his exact words after all this time, was it because he’d managed to hurt her anyway when he’d been trying to make sure he didn’t? Max held Emma’s gaze.

  ‘No man in his right mind wouldn’t have fancied you, Emma. I said that because I knew I wasn’t your type. Maybe I wanted to say it before you did.’

  ‘You weren’t my type,’ Emma agreed. There was a tiny smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. ‘You were the “love ’em and leave ’em” bad boy of that group of registrars. But no woman in her right mind wouldn’t have fancied you.’

  Max found it suddenly rather difficult to swallow. Was she saying what he thought she might be saying? That she had fancied him? That she still did? He could find that out, he thought, if he kissed her again. If Emma wanted him to kiss her again. And, if she did, then he could scoop her up into his arms and take her...where...to his bedroom?