A Diamond For Christmas

She motioned toward his black suit and white shirt. “Are you sure you want to butter bread or stir tomato soup in a suit?”

He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and began rolling up his sleeves.

And Shannon’s mouth watered. Damn it. She’d already figured out she couldn’t be fantasizing about him. Sure, his shoulders were broad, his arms muscled. And she’d always been a sucker for a man in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves looking like he was ready to get down to business. But as far as she could tell, he was married. That shut down the possibility of any relationship right then and there. Plus, she wanted him to buy her parents’ store. She couldn’t be drooling on him.

She hung up her coat, then scurried past him, into the kitchen and directly to the laundry room. Leaning on the closed door, she drew in a deep breath. God, he was gorgeous. But he was also married.

Married. Married. Married.

She forced the litany through her head, hoping it would sink in, as she grabbed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from the dryer and changed into them.

When she returned to the kitchen he stood at the center island, buttering bread. “While we have a few seconds of privacy, I also wanted to apologize for Finley. I brought her because she’s on Christmas break from school and I hate to leave her with her nanny for an entire week. But I know she can be a handful.”

Walking over to join him, she said, “She’s just a little girl.”

“True, but she’s also recently entered a new phase of some sort where she stomps her foot when she doesn’t get her own way.”

Standing so close to him, she could smell his after-shave. Her breathing stuttered in and out of her lungs. So she laughed, trying to cover it. “A new phase, huh?”

“She was perfectly fine in preschool and kindergarten, but first grade is turning her into a diva.”

“Diva?”

“Yeah.” Smiling, he caught her gaze, and every nerve ending in her body lit up like the lights on the Christmas tree in Central Park. Spinning away from him, she repeated the litany in her head again.

Married. Married. Married!

“You know, I can easily handle this myself. You can use the den for privacy if you need to call your wife.”

He snorted a laugh. “Not hardly.”

She set the frying pan for the sandwiches on the stove and faced him again. “I’m sure she’s worried.”

“And I’m sure she and her new husband aren’t even thinking about me and Finley right now.”

“Oh.” Nerves rolled through her. He was divorced? Not married?

Their gazes caught. Attraction spun through her like snowflakes dancing in the light of a streetlamp. She reminded herself that they were about to do business, but it didn’t work to snuff out the snap and crackle of electricity sizzling between them.

She pivoted away from him. Pretending she needed all her concentration to open two cans of soup, she managed to avoid conversation. But that didn’t stop the chatter in her brain. As difficult as it might be to have a little girl around, she was abundantly glad Finley was with him. She might have had that quick fantasy of being stranded with him, but now that sanity had returned, she knew the sale of the store had to take precedence over a night of…she swallowed…passion? Good God, she hadn’t even thought the word in a year, let alone experienced it. She’d probably dissolve into a puddle if he made a pass at her.

Finley came out of the bedroom just as Rory set the sandwiches on the table and Shannon had finished ladling soup into the bright green bowls sitting on the pretty yellow place mats. She crawled onto a chair and spread her paper napkin on her lap.

Longing hit Shannon like an unexpected burst of winter wind. She remembered dreams of buying pretty dresses for her own little girl, her dreams of taking her to the park, gymnastics, dance lessons and soccer—

She stopped her thoughts, cut off the sadness and grief that wanted to engulf her. Surely, she could have a little girl in her house without breaking into a million shattered pieces? She hadn’t given up on the idea of becoming a mother altogether. She knew that once she adjusted to not having her own child, she could adopt. So maybe this was a good time to begin adjusting?

Finley sighed. “I don’t like red soup.”

Sounding very parental, Rory said, “That’s okay. Just eat your sandwich.”

Finley sighed heavily again, as if it were pure torture not to get her own way. Rory ignored her. Shannon studied her curiously, realizing that with Diva Finley she really would get a solid understanding of what it took to be a parent. She was like a little blond-haired litmus test for whether or not Shannon had what it took to adopt a child and be a mom.

Rory turned to her and said, “This is certainly a lovely old house.”

She faced Rory so quickly that their gazes collided. He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. And they were bottomless. Mesmerizing…

She gave herself a mental shake. It was pointless to be attracted. He wouldn’t make a pass at her with his daughter around, and she wouldn’t make a pass at him because they were about to do business. She had to stop noticing these things.

She cleared her throat. “The parts I’ve restored are great. But the whole heating system needs to be replaced.”

“Well, you’ve done a wonderful job on the renovations you have done.”

“Really?” She peeked up at him.

And everything Rory wanted to say fell out of his head. Her big blue eyes reminded him of the sky in summer. The black curls that curved around her face had his hand itching to touch them.

Finley sighed heavily. “I don’t want this soup.”

Rory faced her. “We already agreed that you didn’t have to eat it.”

“I don’t like that it’s here.”

“Here?”

“In front of me!”

Before Rory had a chance to react, Shannon rose with a smile. “Let me take it to the sink.”

She reached across the table, lifted the bowl and calmly walked it to the sink. Then she returned to the table and sat as if nothing had happened.

Technically nothing had happened. She’d diffused the potentially problematic soup episode just by reacting calmly.

Of course, he knew that was what he should have done, but after ten grueling hours on the road, he was every bit as tired and cranky as Finley. And this confusing attraction he felt for Shannon wasn’t helping things.

“I don’t want this sandwich.”

Here we go again. “Finley—”

“I’m tired.”

Before Rory could remind her he was, too, Shannon rose. “I have just the cure for being tired. A bubble bath.”

Finley instantly brightened. “Really?”

“I have all kinds of bubbles in my bathroom. It’s right beside the bedroom you’re using. Why don’t we go get a bath ready for you?”

Finley all but bounced off her chair. “All right!”

They disappeared down the hall to the bedroom, and Rory ran his hand down his face.

He didn’t know what would drive him crazy first, his daughter or his hormones.

CHAPTER TWO

SHANNON WALKED OUT of the kitchen with a happy Finley skipping behind her to the bathroom. Her self-pity long forgotten and her new mission in place, she was glad to help tired, frazzled Rory with his daughter. It would give her a chance for some one-on-one time with Finley, a chance to prove to herself that she was strong enough to be around kids. Strong enough to adopt one of her own, if she wanted to.

Unfortunately, the second they were out of Rory’s earshot, Finley the Diva returned. “You can go. I’ll fill the tub myself.”

Having watched her friends in Charleston handle their children, if nothing else, Shannon knew the grown-up in charge had to stay in charge. “I’m sure you could, but I want to do it.”

Finley crossed her arms on her chest and huffed out a sigh.

For Rory’s sake, Shannon didn’t laugh. “I like this scent,” she said, picking up her favorite bubble bath. “But you can choose whichever one you want.”

Finley chose another scent. Shannon shrugged. It didn’t matter to her which scent Finley used. She turned on the tap, poured in the liquid and faced Finley with a smile. “I’m going to leave the room while this fills up so you can undress. Call me when you’re ready to step in the tub.”

“I don’t need help.”

And with that comment, Shannon decided she had experimented enough for one night. She didn’t have the right to discipline this little girl and she definitely needed a firm hand. So she left this battle for Rory. “Okay. That’s great.”

She walked out of the bathroom and directly into the kitchen. “Tub is almost full and Finley’s stripping. You might want to go in and supervise.”

Rory rose. “She can bathe herself but I like to be in the next room just in case.” He glanced at the dishes and winced. “Sorry about that.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “I can load a few dishes into the dishwasher. You go on ahead.”

Alone in the kitchen for forty minutes, she wasn’t sure if Finley had decided to have an Olympic swim in her tub or if Rory was reading her a story…or if they’d found the TV and decided to stay on their own in the bedroom.

Whatever had happened, Shannon was fine with it. She knew they were both tired, weary. And once the dishes were stacked in the dishwasher and the kitchen cleaned, she had decorating to do. But just as she dragged the box of garland over to the sofa, Rory walked into the living room.

“Well, she’s down for the night.”

“I suspected she was tired.”

“Exhausted.”

“She’ll be happy in the morning.”

With a weary sigh, Rory fell to the couch. “How’d you get so smart about kids?”

His praise surprised her. Though she’d spent years watching her friends’ kids, longing for her own, she’d also all but ignored them this past difficult year. “I had some friends in South Carolina who had children. I used to babysit.”

He laughed. “You volunteered to hang around kids?”

“It’s always easier to handle children who aren’t yours.” She brushed her hands together to rid them of attic dust and stepped away from the box of decorations. Eager to change the subject, she said, “You sound like you could use a glass of wine.”

“Or a beer, if you have one.”

“I do.” She left the living room, got two beers from the refrigerator and gave one to Rory.

He relaxed on the couch, closed his eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She glanced at the decorations, thinking she really should get started, but also knowing Rory was embarrassed about imposing and at his wits’ end. Deciding to be a Good Samaritan and give him someone to talk to, she gingerly sat on the sofa beside him. “Must have been some drive.”

“There was a point when I considered turning around because I could see things were getting worse, but the weather reports kept saying the storm would blow out soon.” He peered over at her. “It never did.”

“This will teach you to listen to weathermen.”

He laughed. Relaxed a little more. “So you ended up taking over your family’s business?”

“By default. I was perfectly happy to work with the buyers and in advertising for Raleigh’s. But my dad wanted to retire and I’m an only child.” She paused then smiled at him. “I see you also ended up in your dad’s job.”

Rory tilted his head, studying her. Her smile was pretty, genuine. Not flirtatious and certainly not enough to get his hormones going, but an odd tingle took up residence in his stomach. “Yeah. I did. Who would have thought ten years ago that we’d be running the two businesses we always talked about while I waited for Natalie for our dates?”

“Well, you were a shoo-in for your job. You’re the oldest son of a family that owns a business. I thought I was going to be a lawyer. Turns out law school is really, really dull.”

He laughed again, then realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed twice, back-to-back, in the same night. Warmth curled through him. Not like arousal from flirting. Not like happiness, but something else. Something richer. Not only was Shannon Raleigh a knockout and good with kids, but she was also easy to talk to—

Good grief. This strange feeling he was having was attraction. Real attraction. The next step beyond the hormone-driven reaction he had when he saw her in the little red dress.

Damn it. He was here to look at her family’s store to see if it was an appropriate investment for his family. He couldn’t be attracted to her. Not just that, but he was already a loser at love. He’d given in to the fun of flirting once. He’d let himself become vulnerable. Hell, he’d let himself tumble head over heels for someone, and he knew how that had turned out—with her leaving him on Christmas day two years ago, and all but deserting their daughter.

When he’d finally found her and asked about visitation, she’d told him she didn’t want to see Finley. Ever. Hoping that she’d change her mind in the two years that had passed, he’d run out of excuses to give Finley for missed birthdays and holidays. Pretty soon he was going to have to tell a six-year-old girl that her mother didn’t want her.

That broke his heart. Shattered it into a million painful pieces. Made him want to shake his ex-wife silly.

Which was why he’d never marry again. At this point in his life he wasn’t even sure he’d date again.

He rose from the sofa. “You know what? I’m tired, too. I’m going to have to figure out how to get my car from the interstate in the morning and I’m guessing for that I’m going to need a good night’s sleep.” He gave her a warm smile. “Thanks again for letting us stay.”

With that he turned and all but raced toward the door, but he didn’t get three steps before Shannon stopped him. “Rory?”

He turned.

She pointed at the sleeping bag rolled up at by the door. “You might want to take that.”

He sucked in a breath. The whole point of coming into the room had been to get his sleeping bag. Two minutes in her company and he’d forgotten that. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He scooped the sleeping bag from the floor. He hadn’t been this foolish around a woman in years.

He was glad he was leaving in the morning.

Shannon was awakened by the feeling of soft breath puffing in her face. She batted at it only to have her hand meet something solid.

Finley yelled, “Ouch!”

Shannon bolted up on the couch as several things popped into her head at once. First, she was sleeping in her living room. Second, she had company. Third, Finley was not the nicest child in the world. But, the all-important fourth, she would be alone with a child until Rory woke up.

“I’m hungry.” Finley’s tiny face scrunched. Her nose became a wrinkled button. Her mouth pulled down in an upside-down U.

Shannon pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Which heartened her. Because Finley was forceful and demanding, not a cute little cuddle bug, it was easier for Shannon to deal with being around her.

She rolled out of her sleeping bag. Her friends had complained about being awakened by their children at ungodly hours. But a glance at the wall clock told her it was after eight. She couldn’t fault Finley for waking her. It might be Saturday, but she still had to be at the store by ten to open it.

Fortunately, she had enough time to make something to eat. “Well, I enjoy cooking breakfast so it looks like we’re both lucky this morning.”

That confused Finley so much that her frown wobbled.

Laughing, Shannon ruffled her hair. “Which do you prefer pancakes or waffles?”

“Do you have blueberries?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’d like pancakes.”

Shannon headed for the kitchen. “You and I are going to get along very well.”

As she pulled the ingredients for pancakes from the cupboards, Finley took a seat at the table. Before she started to make the batter, Shannon picked up the remote for her stereo and turned it on. A rousing rendition of “Here Comes Santa Claus” poured into the room.

“Would you like a glass of milk?”

“Yes, please.”

Shannon dipped into her refrigerator as Finley slid off her seat. Watching Finley walk to the counter, she grabbed the gallon of milk and pulled it out of the fridge. But before she could reach the counter, Finley had picked up the remote and turned off the music.

She blinked. “I was listening to that.”

“It was stupid.”

“It was a Christmas song.”

“And Christmas is stupid.”

Shannon gaped at her. Not just because she had the audacity to turn off the music without asking, but that was the second time she’d mentioned she didn’t like Christmas.

The temptation was strong to ask why, as she poured Finley a glass of milk, but she wasn’t quite sure how to approach it. Did she say, Hey, kid, everybody likes Christmas. You get gifts. You get cookies. What’s the deal?

As curious as she was, that seemed a lot like interfering and she was just getting accustomed to being around a child. She wasn’t ready for deep, personal interaction yet. Plus, saying she hated Christmas could just be a part of one of Finley the Diva’s tantrums. Or a way to manipulate people.

So, she turned to the counter and began preparing pancakes. A happy hum started in her throat and worked its way out, surprising her. Breakfast was one of the few meals she was well versed in. She could make a pancake or a waffle with the best of them. But it was a happy surprise to be able to be in the same room with Finley without worrying that she’d fall apart or dwell on her inability to have kids herself.

“So where do you go to school?”

“Winchester Academy.”

“Is that a private school?”

Finley nodded.

“Do you like school?”

“Sometimes. Artie Regan brings frogs and scares me. And Jenny Logan beats me to the swing.”

A motherly warmth flowed through her. When she wasn’t demanding her own way, Finley was normal. And here she was handling her. Talking to her. No flutters of panic. No feeling sorry for herself.

The kitchen door opened and Rory walked into the room yawning. “Sorry about that.”

“About what?” Shannon faced him with a smile, but the smile disappeared as her mouth went dry.

His dark hair was sticking out in all directions. His eyes didn’t seem to want to open. A day-old growth of beard sexily shadowed his chin and cheeks. He wore a white undershirt and navy blue sweats that loosely clung to his lean hips.

“About sleeping in. Normally, I’m up—” He paused. “Are you making pancakes?”

“Blueberry.”

“Wow. We should get stranded on an interstate more often.”

She laughed. Laughed. She had a sexy man and a cute little girl in her kitchen and she wasn’t stuttering or shattering, she was laughing.

But a little warning tweaked her brain. Not only was she enjoying this way too much, but it also would be over soon. They’d eat breakfast, pack up the few things they’d brought with them and head out.

She had about twenty minutes over breakfast before she’d be alone again.

Rory ambled to the counter, where the coffeemaker sputtered the last drops of fresh coffee into the pot. “Can I get you a cup?”

“That’d be great, thanks. Mugs are in the cupboard by the sink.”

But as he reached into the cupboard to get the mugs, his arm stopped. “Holy cats!”

Shannon paused her spoon in the pancake batter. “What?”

“There’s got to be two feet of snow out there.”

“That was the eventual predication after we already had eighteen inches.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t look like the snowplow went through.”

She dropped the spoon, hustled to the window beside him. “Wow.”

He turned and caught her gaze. “Even with that big SUV I saw in the driveway, I’ll bet you can’t get us out to a main road.”

Her heart lodged in her throat. Could they actually be forced to stay another day? Could she handle another day?

The answer came swiftly, without hesitation. She couldn’t just handle another day; she wanted another day.

“With all that snow, I’m not sure the main roads are even clear.”

“I’ll check the internet.”

“If the roads are still closed, you know you’re welcome to stay, right?”

“I think we may have to take you up on that.”

Though her heart leaped with anticipation, she pasted a disappointed-for-them look on her face. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She brightened her expression. “I don’t mind.”

Rory nudged his head toward Finley, who sat quietly at the kitchen table.

Lowering her voice, Shannon said, “She’ll be fine.”

“You want to be the one to tell her?”

“What do you say we get a pancake into her first?”

He tapped her nose. “Excellent idea.”

The friendly tap shouldn’t have made Shannon’s heart race, but it did. She pivoted away from him and returned to her pancake batter. They were staying another day as guests. Friends. Nothing more. But being friends meant no stress. No pressure. They could have a good time.

A good time, instead of a lonely, boring weekend.

Who would have thought the day before, when she’d stood trembling with fear over playing Santa’s helper, that today she’d welcome having a little girl spend the day with her?

She ladled batter onto the already warm grill and within minutes the sweet scent of pancakes filled the air.

As she piled pancakes on three plates, Rory found the maple syrup and took the pot of coffee to the table.

Finley eagerly grabbed her plate from Shannon. Without as much as a blink from her dad, she said, “Thank you.”

Shannon’s heart tweaked again. She glanced from happy Finley to relieved Rory. They had no idea how much their presence meant to her. Worse, they probably didn’t realize she was actually glad the snowplow hadn’t yet gone through. Their misery changed her incredibly lonely, probably bordering-toward-pathetic weekend into time with other people. Company for dinner the night before. Someone to make pancakes for. People who would eat lunch and maybe dinner with her.

And maybe even someone to bake sugar cookies with? A little girl who’d paint them with her child’s hand, giving them strokes and color and even mistakes only a child could make. Turning them into real Christmas cookies.

Rory pointed at his pancake. “These are great.”

Finley nodded in agreement. “These are great.”

“Thanks.”

Rory laughed and caught her gaze. “Thought you said you couldn’t cook?”

Her heart stuttered a bit. Not because he was paying attention to her, but because his dark eyes were filled with warmth and happiness. Casual happiness. The kind of happiness real friends shared. “I can’t, except for breakfast. But breakfast foods are usually easy.”

Turning his attention back to his plate, he said, “Well, these are delicious.”

Warmth filled her. Contentment. She gave herself a moment to soak it all in before she reached for her fork and tasted her own pancake.

Picking up his coffee cup, Rory said, “I can’t believe how much snow fell.”

“It is Pennsylvania.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Well, on days like this, those of us who can stay in.”

“You play games maybe?”

Ah, she got what he was doing. He was paving the way to tell Finley they couldn’t leave. Probably hoping to show her she’d have a good day if they stayed.

“We do. We play lots of games. But we also bake cookies.”

Finley didn’t even glance up. Happily involved in her blueberry pancake, she ignored them.

Rory said, “I love cookies.”

“These are special cookies. They’re sugar cookies that I cut into shapes and then paint.”

“Paint?”

“With icing. I put colored icing on houses, churches, bells—”

Finley glanced up sharply. “You mean Christmas bells.”

Shannon winced. “Well, yes. I’m baking cookies for my family when we celebrate Christmas next week. But it’s still fun—”