Bride Under the Mistletoe: The Magic of a Family Christmas

She knew she’d scared him silly the day before by telling him he reminded her of her husband. She’d done it on purpose. He liked her. She liked him. Their chemistry could go off the charts if they let it, and he didn’t seem to have a practicality switch or understand that they were opposites. He might be the if-it-feels-good-do-it type, but she wasn’t. If they got involved, he’d have a good time, maybe be sad when he returned to sunny Miami, but in twenty minutes on his boat he’d forget all about her. While she’d be left in snowy Pennsylvania with a broken heart.

No thanks.

She understood that Cullen being in Harry’s life in Harry’s time of trouble was a good thing. She also got Cullen’s point that by the time he left Pennsylvania, Harry would be adjusted. Though he’d miss Cullen, he wouldn’t pine for him because he’d be secure with Wendy by then. So it was good for Cullen to be involved with Harry. His point had been made. But she’d also made her point with him. He had to stop giving in to their attraction.

She didn’t even poke her head into his office to say good morning. Instead, she stripped off her coat, hung it in the small closet, and went straight to work. A half hour later, he strolled out of his office and stopped in surprise. “Oh, you’re here.”

She smiled her best administrative-assistant smile. Friendly, but not personal. “I’ve been here a while.”

He angled his hip on her desk and made himself comfortable. “So everything went well this morning?”

“Yes. Harry’s back to being his typical sunny self.” She pushed her chair back, rose and took some papers to the filing cabinet, putting some distance between them.

“That didn’t take long.”

Deliberately occupied with filing so she wouldn’t look at him, she said, “As you said, he’s becoming secure with me.”

“You sound like the girl giving the morning news when you talk like this.”

“Really?”

Cullen was about to say yes, but he stopped himself. This was the reason she would miss him when he left. Because of one icy night together they’d bonded enough that making conversation came naturally. Easily. And, for two people totally unsuited to each other, they really were beginning to like each other too much. He’d already decided to rein in his romantic impulses, but he now saw the reining had to include private conversations.

Without replying, he returned to Paul McCoy’s desk. He tried to read the numbers on the production reports, but he couldn’t focus, and soon they blurred on the sheet in front of him. Before he knew it, he was thinking about how nice Wendy looked in her blue sweater. With a growl of annoyance, he rose and walked to the window, shifting his thoughts in a direction they were allowed to go: Harry. But thoughts of Harry naturally segued to Wendy again.

He glanced out at her. She sat at her desk diligently typing on her computer keyboard. She’d make a terrific mom, and that made his heart swell with respect for her. He liked Harry. In fact, he saw a little bit of his own loneliness and insecurity as a child when he looked at Harry. Knowing exactly how Harry felt, if he had one wish, it would be that Harry could feel safe and secure. Always. For the rest of his life.

He turned back to the window. He didn’t trust wishes. He trusted in his own abilities. Even as a child, he’d quickly realized the only person he could count on was himself. So if he wanted to help Harry, it couldn’t be with a wish. It would have to be with something substantial he could do—

Returning to his desk, he grabbed the phone and punched the intercom numbers for the human resources director. There was something he could do. And that something might even be why fate had brought him to Barrington.

When Poppy Fornwalt answered her phone, Cullen said simply, “I want the detailed wage reports for the past six months.”

Wednesday morning, Harry dressed himself for school and had toast ready for Wendy when she ambled into the kitchen. Pleased, thinking her life was finally settling into a routine, she hugged him and he proudly served her toast with strawberry jam.

Off in her own little world, contemplating how great life would be now for both her and Harry, she drove to work and was surprised out of her reverie when Poppy Fornwalt called her down to her office.

She entered with an enthusiastic hello, and dark-haired, blue-eyed Poppy looked up with a smile. “Close the door.”

Wendy swallowed. “You don’t normally ask anybody to close the door unless it’s bad news,” she said, as she pulled the office door shut behind her.

“Or unless we’re going to talk money.”

She took the seat in front of Poppy’s desk. “Money?”

“You really must have impressed Mr. Barrington.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Impressed Mr. Barrington?”

“He’s giving you a twenty-five percent raise!” Poppy all but bounced out of her seat with joy.

Wendy’s mouth fell open. “Twenty-five percent?”

“Yes!” Poppy cried. “And isn’t it wonderful timing? He wants it backdated to last week so you’ll have extra money in time for Christmas!”

Her heart sank and the world spun, as her head filled with a truly awful conclusion. She’d brushed him off, so he was offering her money? This time her stomach turned over. Was he trying to buy her with a raise? “Oh really.”

Poppy’s happy expression faded. “You should be dancing.”

Wendy pulled in a breath, working to react naturally to what appeared to be good news, but what was, in reality, the worst possible news. “I’m dancing on the inside.”

“Wendy, everybody knows you recently got custody of your neighbor’s little boy. Maybe this is his way of helping.”

Wendy forced a smile. “I’m sure it is.”

Poppy handed some forms across the desk. “Here’s your paperwork. It has all the numbers. Your raise will be on this pay. Mr. Barrington simply asked that we keep this between us.”

Wendy rose. “I’m sure he did.”

Poppy apparently didn’t catch the note of dismay in Wendy’s voice because she rose, grabbed Wendy’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m so hoping this helps you with your little boy.”

Wendy smiled. She would look incredibly ungrateful if she didn’t show some appreciation. “It will. Thank you, Poppy.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Mr. Barrington.”

“Oh, I will.”

Wendy left Poppy’s office, not sure if she was furious or ashamed. Particularly since the Barringtons had held raises to cost-of-living raises for the past five years. Being singled out to get a raise when everybody in the plant needed and deserved one, only made Cullen’s generosity stand out all the more. If anyone heard about this she’d be a pariah.

By the time she reached her office, she was breathing heavily. She stormed through the open door, into Cullen’s office and slapped the paperwork for her raise on his desk.

“What is this?”

He glanced up, took in her angry expression and his brow furrowed. “It’s paperwork to give you a raise?”

“I know!” Tossing her arms in the air, she pivoted away from the desk.

“And yet you’re angry.”

She spun to face him. “What do you think that money is going to get you?”

“Get me?”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with you for this?”

The expression in his eyes went from confused to fiery in the beat of her heart. “You’d better stop talking and let me explain.” Real menace dripped from his words.

Her blood ran cold at his tone. Dear God, he was the boss! He could fire her, call security and have her escorted off the property. And she had a child to think about!

“I checked into your salary to see if I could help you out since you now have a son to support.” He sat back in his chair, tossed his pencil to his desk. “I certainly wasn’t intending to pay you to sleep with me.”

Her cheeks flamed. The room spun. It was so hard to breathe she wasn’t even sure she could speak, but there was no turning back. “You’re still treating me differently, showing me favoritism. Even if I was wrong about the reason—” she swallowed “—you can’t give me and no one else a raise without making it look like I did something to get on your good side.”

“When I checked your salary I saw everybody’s. No one in this plant has gotten above a cost-of-living raise in five years. Which is why everybody will be getting a raise similar to yours in January.”

Embarrassment coursed through her. She wanted to faint or die, but knew she couldn’t do either. She fell to the seat in front of his desk. “Everybody?”

“Yes. When I saw those numbers I was actually glad I was forced to take a real look at what was going on here. My dad and I check the big-picture figures when we get our profits every quarter, but we never looked at the details. Your situation forced me to do that.”

“Oh, God.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“You don’t trust me. I get it. Personally, man to woman, I’m not to be trusted. I’m not looking for what you want. You probably couldn’t live the way I live. But don’t ever question my business judgment again.”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

He sat back on Paul McCoy’s tall-backed black leather chair. “I’m not going to tell you it’s okay because it isn’t. But I am willing to forget about it and move on.”

“Thank you.”

“And don’t tell anyone about the raises.”

She looked up, confused.

“You need yours now. Don’t tell me you don’t. But accounting and human resources need time to process everyone else’s. So, on my order, they did yours now. But I don’t want anyone to be offended or upset. So please, keep this all under your hat until everyone’s raise is announced in January.”

She frowned. “But then no one will know you’re the one who authorized the raises.”

He picked up his pencil and glanced down at the papers in front of him again. “There’s no point.”

“Sure there is. It’s Mr. McCoy who’s run such a tight ship that we only got cost-of-living raises. He claimed the plant couldn’t afford more. So when he gets back, he’ll get the credit for giving everyone their raise.”

“This isn’t about who gets credit.” He didn’t even look up. “I was only giving you what you had worked for over the past four years. You may go now.”

Dismissed, Wendy rose. She’d put the last nail in the coffin of their friendship, and felt like a complete fool.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THAT night, after tucking Harry beneath a soft comforter and kissing him goodnight, Wendy ambled into her living room. In need of a little comfort herself, she made a fire in the fireplace, found a book and curled up on her sofa.

She read for only twenty minutes before the events of the day weighed down on her. She hadn’t meant to insult Cullen. She’d thought she was protecting herself. Which was just more proof that they were too different to get involved. So different she’d seen his kindness as an attempt to buy her favors and embarrassed herself.

Wondering what he saw when he looked at her, at her life, she glanced around his former home. Her sofa and chair were simple beige. The area rug atop the hardwood floors she and Greg had refinished was a modern print in soft yellow, cream and green that brought the room to life. The walls had been painted a pale yellow.

It was a soothing room, a calm room, but it wasn’t elegant. She couldn’t even imagine the kind of home he lived in in Miami. But he hadn’t looked down on her or her things the Saturday he’d stayed with her. He’d joined in her fun with Harry, working to make Harry happy. He’d slept on the floor without complaint and even cooked for her and Harry.

She frowned. Technically, with the exception of kissing her, everything he’d done had been for Harry. When he’d stepped into the conversation with Randy Zamias, when he’d said they shouldn’t wait to tell Harry his father had passed, when he’d volunteered to take them out to dinner—all those things had been for Harry. And maybe he hadn’t been pushy or domineering, simply desperate to help? As out of his element with the little boy as Wendy had been, he’d made a few mistakes.

So had she.

Yet she’d taken everything personally. Forgetting, or maybe not even noticing, that at the office and in their private conversations, he’d always been a perfect gentleman.

Running her hands down her face in misery, she rose from the sofa to make a cup of hot cocoa, but a blood-curdling scream sounded from upstairs. She dropped her book to the coffee table, raced upstairs and burst into Harry’s room.

Sitting in the center of the bed, Harry sobbed. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and she could see the tears that poured down his cheeks. She sat on the edge of his bed and he leaped into her open arms.

“It’s all right. It’s all right.”

Sobs racked his small frame and he clung to her. “No, it’s not!”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m here now. You’re safe.”

“I want Cullen.”

Surprised, she pulled in a breath. Not only did it sting that her comfort wasn’t enough, but also she wasn’t really sure Cullen would come. “It’s late. He’s at his hotel.”

“He said if I ever needed him I could call.”

“I’m sure he meant it but it’s—”

“I want Cullen!”

He clutched her upper arms tighter and pressed his face in her shoulder, his tears wetting her T-shirt.

Wendy stroked his soft hair. She had to at least try. “All right. I’ll call him.”

Cullen didn’t ask for details. Hearing Harry had had a nightmare and was inconsolable, he raced to Wendy’s house. She opened the door before he even knocked. She didn’t mention their argument. He didn’t either. What happened between them was between them. What happened with Harry wasn’t just separate, at the moment it was the only thing that mattered.

“How is he?”

As she led him up the stairs, Wendy said, “Once I called you he stopped crying. So it must have been the right thing to do.”

“Let me see what’s going on.”

He stepped into the little room that had been his own when he and his parents had lived in the house. The bright-blue walls he remembered had been repainted a soothing blue. Trains and dump trucks decorated the comforter. The base of the lamp was in the shape of a football.

Sitting up on the bed, partially covered by the thick blanket and sliding a small plastic car on his thigh, Harry said, “Hi, Cullen.”

He sat on the bed. “Hey.” He ruffled Harry’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

Without looking up, he said, “I had a nightmare.”

“What kind of a nightmare?”

Harry shrugged.

“Monsters?”

He glanced up. “No.”

“Then what?”

“Kids at school.”

“Are the kids at school bothering you?”

He shrugged again. “Some.”

“Just some?”

“Just one.”

“Who is that?”

“Freddie.”

“Is he hurting you?”

“No. He just told me I was an organ and nobody wanted me.”

Not feeling the need to tell him organ was probably orphan, Cullen reached over and hugged Harry, then drew him onto his lap. “Wendy wants you so much that she was willing to go to court for you. Why do you think Randy Zamias gives your mom so much trouble?”

Standing just outside the doorway, Wendy leaned against the wall. She wondered if Cullen had slipped up in calling her Harry’s mom, but doubted it. He was a very smart guy. He realized Harry needed reassurance, continuity and he was giving it to him in the most subtle way.

Harry twisted to look up into Cullen’s face. “Because he wants me?”

“No. Because he needed to be sure the right person has you.”

Running the car up his pajama-clad thigh, Harry said, “Did kids tease you when you were in school?”

Watching Cullen’s facial features harden, Wendy’s brow furrowed. She’d never considered what it might have been like for him to live in the town where his dad’s grandparents started the company that provided jobs for nearly everyone in town and his mom was the president who ran it. But it must not have been a joyful experience. Otherwise, his expression wouldn’t have gone from sympathetic to hard in an automatic reaction he hadn’t had time to stop.

Thinking back to his first day at the plant, she remembered that he wouldn’t go onto the plant floor without introductions and none of the employees had treated him normally. Men had grunted hellos. Women had giggled.

Wendy had treated him normally, but only because he’d stayed at her house the night of the ice storm. And she wasn’t from Barrington. She’d only moved here four years ago. She had no idea how he’d been treated as a child.

“Yes, kids teased me. But not for the reasons you think. My mom was sort of everybody’s boss. When I got into third grade, the kids thought it would be cool to hit me and stuff.”

Wendy smiled at the way he brought the language of his conversation to Harry’s level.

“Our neighbor down the street, my dad’s partner in the candy store, waited for me one day after school and set them straight.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “He did?”

“Yep. He handed me a brand-new ball and bat, with nine mitts. Enough for an entire team.”

“Wow.”

“Then he told the kids who’d gathered around us that if we wanted to become a Little League team he would coach us.”

“Wow.”

Cullen laughed. “He’d coached his own kids, but they’d outgrown Little League and he hadn’t.”

Wendy tilted her head to the side as a clear image of that day formed in her head. She could see eight-year-old Cullen being teased and tormented, and a family friend stepping in to help him because apparently neither of his parents had noticed.

A shudder of sadness passed through her. He’d been as alone as Harry. But he probably hadn’t been an easy mark. She couldn’t imagine that even as a child he’d let anybody push him around, but she also knew most children weren’t equipped to defend themselves against a gang.

A sudden realization swamped her. He’d spent most of his life in this town alone, a child constantly being forced to prove himself. Only she had treated him normally. Until Friday night when he had asked about her husband and tried to kiss her a second time, then everything had changed. She’d put her back up and refused to talk, wanting to protect herself. But even though she had explained that, she had nonetheless become another person from Barrington who treated him coolly. Then she’d made the ultimate mistake by accusing him of trying to buy her. Lord, could she have been any more wrong?

Harry shook his head. “Freddie already has a mitt.”

“And you don’t need to buy gifts to make friends. You said only he teases you. do the other kids like you?”

He nodded.

“Then you’re just going to have to ignore Freddie.”

Glad he hadn’t told Harry to punch Freddie, Wendy breathed a sigh of relief. Fighting wasn’t the answer. But she also wouldn’t let Freddie get off scot-free. She’d have a discussion with the principal in the morning.

Harry began rolling the little car along his thigh again. “Do you miss your mom?”

“Sure. But not the same way you do. I don’t need my mom to take care of me. You do. So part of what you feel is fear. Especially fear of being alone.”

He nodded.

“Wendy’s not going to leave you alone. All you have to do is believe in her.”

Harry looked up. His blue eyes connected with Cullen’s dark ones. The trust that Wendy saw in them nearly stole her breath. “Okay.”

“And any time you get afraid, I want you to call me.”

“Okay.”

“In fact,” Cullen said, reaching over, opening the bedside-table drawer and retrieving a pen and a little tablet. “This is my cell phone number.”

Harry grinned. “You have a cell phone? Jimmy Johnson has a cell phone.”

He placed the tablet and pen on the bedside table. “Well, now you have my number.You can call me any time. Day or night.”

They were quiet for several seconds before Cullen said, “Do you think you can sleep now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll tuck you in.”

Rather than laying him down, Cullen switched the mood of their discussion by tossing Harry to the bed. The little boy landed in the middle, his head slightly askew on the pillow. He giggled then said, “Thanks, Cullen.”

“Hey, any time.”

Cullen pulled the covers to Harry’s chin, kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. “Go to sleep now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Wendy ducked out of the doorway before Cullen turned in her direction. She raced down the steps as quietly as possible, ran into the living room and fell to her couch, not wanting Cullen to know she’d listened in.

A few seconds later he appeared at the doorway. “I think I have him settled.”

“Thank you.”

“He only wanted reassurance that everything’s going to be okay.” He rolled his shoulders, as if to loosen their tightness. “I gave him my cell phone number.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I don’t think he’ll bother me. He’s in school all day so he doesn’t have a lot of access to a phone. Even after school he’s with a babysitter until you get home.” He met her gaze. “But if he wants to call me forty-six times a day until he’s comfortable, I can handle it.”

She smiled slightly, feeling like a real jerk for being so wrong about him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned and walked into the foyer. Wendy scrambled from the sofa and to the door before he opened it.

“I know this was a huge imposition, so I appreciate it.”

“Again, you’re welcome.”

The foyer became quiet. Wendy searched her brain for something to say, but there was nothing, unless she wanted to apologize once more for misunderstanding about the raise. And she didn’t care to bring up that particular misery again.

Not sure what else to do, she looked up and found him staring at her, studying her.

She knew he was probably wondering how she could be so dense, and she shook her head. “Look, for two people who got off on the right foot, I know I’ve made a real mess of things.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. You’ve been nothing but nice to both me and Harry and I’ve been…well…odd.” She pulled in a breath. “You’re not like my husband. Not that he didn’t have his good points, but when he died, leaving me alone, I got angry. I obviously jumped to some wrong conclusions about you and I’m sorry. I don’t normally take that anger out on people.”

“But it made you cautious.”

She nodded.

“Maybe you should be cautious.”

She smiled. “Are you warning me off?”

“Yes.”

The seriousness of his voice caused her stomach to tighten. She caught his gaze again. His dark eyes virtually glowed, sending a sizzle of electricity through her. If she touched him, she had the feeling he’d be lost.

“I’m not the kind of guy to settle down and you are absolutely the kind of woman to settle down. Even if you didn’t have Harry, I would know it. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting you. And you’re not too far off the mark about me being pushy. When I want something I go after it. And right now I want you.”

She licked her lips at the severity of his tone and took a step back.

“Forget all about your first impression and stick with the worry that I’m enough like your husband that you shouldn’t get involved with me. We’ll both be happier, if only because you don’t want to get hurt and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Swallowing, she caught his gaze. “You don’t have to warn me. I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl.”

“Not big enough to play in my league.”

With that he turned and walked out of her house. Wendy stood in her foyer a long time, every cell in her body tingling. Not just because he was an attractive man, but because he’d admitted that he was so attracted to her he was having difficulty stopping himself from doing what he wanted.

She absolutely knew that feeling. Just being in the same room with him made her blood hum in her veins. She hadn’t felt this good, this alive, in years. Though the Miss Goody Two-shoes in her told her to back off, the promise in his soft voice and sensual eyes told her not to listen. She wanted this, and for once in her life she didn’t want to walk away wishing things could have been different. For once in her life, she’d simply like to enjoy the moment. Do what she wanted to do instead of what she knew was the “right” thing to do. For once in her life she didn’t want to be Miss Goody Two-shoes.