Gift-Wrapped in Her Wedding Dress, page 15
Jeremy poked his head around the door that connected through to the living room. She beckoned him to come in. She forced her voice to sound businesslike, refused to let even a hint of a tear burr her tone. ‘I told you he wouldn’t be happy with the tree.’ Her effort at a joke fell very flat.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Jeremy said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘We’ll get rid of this tree quick-smart. No matter your man is in a mood. The show has to go on. You’ve got two hundred people here for lunch tomorrow.’
‘Thanks, Jeremy,’ she said. ‘Dominic has just got off a long flight. He’s not himself.’ But her excuses for him sounded lame even to her own ears.
Was that angry man glaring at her with his fists clenched at his sides the true Dominic? She’d known the anger was there bubbling below the surface, was beginning to understand the reasons for it. But she’d thought that anger that had driven him to violence was in his past. How could she possibly have thought she’d fallen in love with him? She didn’t even know the man.
‘What do you suggest we do with the tree?’ Jeremy asked. ‘There are no returns on cut trees.’
Andie’s thoughts raced. ‘We’ve got a Christmas Eve party happening elsewhere tonight. The clients have put up a scrappy old artificial tree that looks dreadful. We’ll get this delivered to them with the compliments of Party Queens. Keep whatever ornaments you can use here; the rest we’ll send with the tree. Let’s call a courier truck now.’
Seething, she set to work dismantling the beautiful tree. As she did so, she felt as if she were dismantling all her hopes and dreams for love with Dominic. The diamond ring felt like a heavy burden on her finger, weighted by its duplicity and hypocrisy. While he’d stood there insulting her, she’d felt like taking the ring off and hurling it at him. If it had hit him and drawn blood she would have been glad. His words had been so harsh they felt like they’d drawn blood from her heart.
But of course she couldn’t have thrown her ring at him while there were other people in the house. She would be professional right to the end. After all, wasn’t she known for her skill at dealing with difficult people?
In spite of that, she’d had her fill of this particular difficult man. He’d got what he wanted from her in terms of his American deal. She’d got what her family needed for Timothy. Both sides of the bargain fulfilled. He’d been her employer, her fake fiancé—she’d liked to think they’d become friends of a sort. She’d wanted more—but that was obviously not to be. She’d stick it out for the Christmas lunch. Then she’d be out of here and out of his life.
The crew worked efficiently and well. When they were done and the tree was gone she waved them goodbye and wished them a Merry Christmas. But not before asking them to please not repeat what they might have heard today. Talk of Dominic’s outburst could do serious damage to the rehabilitation of his Scrooge image.
By the time they had all gone it was early evening. She stood and massaged the small of her back where it ached. She would let Dominic know she was done and going home. But she had no intention of texting him as he’d asked. Not asked. Demanded. She had things to say that had to be said in person.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WITH A HEAVY HEART—wounded hearts hurt—Andie made her way up the stylishly decorated staircase, its tiny lights discreetly winking. She hadn’t been up here before, as this part of the house was off-limits for the party. When she thought of it, she actually had no idea where Dominic could be.
The first two doors opened to two fashionably furnished empty bedrooms. The third bedroom was obviously his—a vast bed with immaculate stone-coloured linens, arched windows that opened to a sweeping view of the harbour. But he wasn’t there.
Then she noticed a door ajar to what seemed like a study.
There was no response to her knock, so she pushed it open. The blinds were drawn. Dominic lay sprawled asleep on a large chesterfield sofa. The dull light of a tall, arching floor lamp pooled on him and seemed to put him in the spotlight.
His black lace-up business shoes lay haphazardly at the end of the sofa. He had taken off his jacket and removed his tie. The top buttons of his shirt were undone to reveal an expanse of bare, well-muscled chest her traitorous libido could not help but appreciate as it rose and fell in his sleep.
His right arm fell to the floor near a bottle of bourbon. Andie picked it up. The bottle was nearly full, with probably no more than a glassful gone. Not enough for him to be drunk—more likely collapsed into the sleep of utter exhaustion. She put the bottle on the desk.
There was a swivel-footed captain’s chair near the sofa with a padded leather seat. She sat on the edge of it and watched Dominic as he slept. Darn it, but that wounded heart of hers beat faster as she feasted her eyes on his face, which had become so familiar. So...so—she nearly let herself think so beloved. But that couldn’t be.
She swallowed hard at the lump that rose in her throat. Why on earth had she let herself fall for a man who was so difficult, so damaged, so completely opposite to the man who had made her so happy in the past?
Dominic’s hair stood up in spikes. He obviously hadn’t shaved since he’d left Minneapolis and his beard was in that stubble stage she found so incredibly sexy. She hadn’t realised how long and thick his eyelashes were. His mouth was slightly parted. She longed to lean over and kiss it. She sighed. There would be no more kissing of this man.
He moaned in his sleep and she could see rapid eye movement behind his lids as if he were being tortured by bad dreams. She could not help but reach out to stroke his furrowed forehead. He returned to more restful sleep. Then his eyes flickered open. Suddenly he sat up, startling her. He looked around, disorientated, eyes glazed with sleep. He focused on her.
‘Andie,’ he breathed. ‘You’re here.’ He gave a huge sigh, took her hand and kissed it. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.’
He didn’t deserve to, she thought. But her resolve was weakening.
‘Are you okay?’ she said, trying to ignore the shivers of pleasure that ran up her arm from his kiss. He had been rude and hurtful to her.
‘I’ve just had a horrible dream,’ he said.
‘What kind of dream?’
‘A nightmare. I was in a cemetery and saw my own headstone.’
She shook her head. ‘No, Dominic—I don’t want to hear this.’ The day of Anthony’s funeral had been the worst day of her life. When she’d had to accept she’d never see him again. She couldn’t bear to think of Dominic buried under a headstone.
But he continued in a dramatic tone she didn’t think was appropriate for such a gruesome topic. ‘It said: ‘Here lies Dominic—they called him Scrooge’. And I think it was Christmas Day.’
Not so gruesome after all. She couldn’t help a smile.
‘You think my nightmare was funny?’ he said, affronted.
‘I’m sure it was scary at the time. But you’ll never be called Scrooge again. Not after tomorrow. I... I’m sorry about what I said earlier. About your...your Scroogeness, I mean.’
He slammed the hand that wasn’t holding hers against his forehead. ‘The Christmas tree. I’m sorry, Andie. That was unforgivable. Pay your crew a bonus to make up for it, will you, and bill it to me.’
Did he think everything could be solved by throwing money at it?
‘I’m also sorry about the tree, Dominic. It was an honest mistake. It’s all gone now.’
Maybe she’d been in the wrong too, to imagine he might like the tree when he’d been so vehement about not having one in the house. But she hadn’t been wrong about expecting better behaviour from him.
He shuddered. ‘It was a shock. The smell of it. The sight of it. Brought back bad memories.’
She shifted in her seat but did not let go of his hand. ‘Do you think it might be time to tell me why Christmas trees upset you so much? Because I didn’t like seeing that anger. Especially not directed at me. How can I understand you when I don’t know what I’m dealing with?’
He grimaced as if stabbed by an unpleasant memory. ‘I suppose I have to tell you if I want you to ever talk to me again.’
‘I’m talking to you now.’
She remembered what she’d said about recalling unpleasant memories being like reliving them. But this had to come out—one way or another. Better it was with words than fists.
‘Christmas Eve is the anniversary of my parents’ deaths.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘Dominic, I’m so sorry.’ That explained a lot. ‘Why didn’t you say so before?’
‘I... I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me,’ he said gruffly.
‘People wouldn’t have... Yes, they would have felt sorry for you. But in a good way.’ Could all this Scrooge business have been solved by him simply explaining that? ‘Can you tell me about it now?’
‘There...there’s more. It was cold and frosty. My parents went out to pick up the Christmas tree. A deer crossed the road and they braked to avoid it. The road was icy and the car swerved out of control and crashed into a barrier. That’s how they died. Getting the damn Christmas tree.’
She couldn’t find the words to say anything other than she was sorry again.
‘It was...it was my fault they died.’
Andie frowned. ‘How could it be your fault? You were eleven years old.’
‘My aunt told me repeatedly for the next six years it was my fault.’
‘I think you’d better tell me some more about this aunt.’
‘The thing is, it really was my fault. I’d begged my parents for a real tree. We had a plastic one. My best friend had a real one; I wanted a real one. If they hadn’t gone out to get the tree I wanted they wouldn’t have died.’
‘You’ve been blaming yourself all these years? It was an accident. How any competent adult could let you blame yourself, I can’t imagine.’
‘Competent adult and my aunt aren’t compatible terms,’ he said, the bitterness underlying his words shocking her.
‘I keep asking you about her; it’s time you gave me some answers.’ Though she was beginning to dread what she might hear.
‘She used alcohol and prescription meds to mask her serious psychological problems. I know that now as an adult. As a kid, I lived with a bitter woman who swung between abuse and smothering affection.’
‘And, as a kid, you put up with a lot in the hope of love,’ Andie said softly, not sure if Dominic actually heard her. She could see the vulnerability in that strong-jawed handsome face, wondered how many people he had ever let be aware of it. She thought again of that little boy with the dark hair. Her vision of Dominic’s son merged with that of the young, grieving, abused Dominic. And her heart went out to him.
The words spilled out of him now, words that expressed emotions dammed for years. ‘She was particularly bad at Christmas because that’s when she’d lost her sister—which was, in her eyes, my fault. When she got fed up with me, she locked me in a cupboard. The physical abuse stopped when I got bigger than her. The mental abuse went on until the day I ran away. Yet all that time she held down a job and presented a reasonable face to the world. I talked to a teacher at school and he didn’t believe me. Told me to man up.’
‘I honestly don’t know what to say...’ But she hated his aunt, even though she was aware she’d been a deeply troubled person. No child should be treated like that.
‘Say nothing. I don’t want to talk about it any more. I’m thirty-two years old. That was all a long time ago.’
‘But, deep down, you’re still hurting,’ she whispered. ‘Dominic, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. And I admire you so much for what you became after such a difficult start.’
Words could only communicate so much. Again, she felt that urge to comfort him. This time, she acted on it. She leaned over to him and kissed him, tasted bourbon on his lips, welcomed the scrape of his stubble on her skin. Immediately, he took the kiss deeper.
The kiss went on and on, passion building, thrilling her. But it was more than sensual pleasure; it was a new sense of connection, of shared emotion as well as sensation.
He broke the kiss to pull her shirt up and over her head. His shirt was already half unbuttoned. It didn’t take much to have it completely undone and to slide it off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. She caught her breath in awe at the male perfection of his body.
She wanted him. Dominic had got what he wanted from Walter. Timothy was booked for the treatment he needed. She had promised herself to go after what she wanted—him—and now was her time. It might never be more than this. She knew it and was prepared to take that risk. But she hoped for so much more.
She hadn’t known him for long but she had the same kind of certainty—that it could be for ever—as she’d felt for Anthony. A certainty she’d thought she’d never feel again. For ever love. Had she been given a chance for that special connection again? She thought yes, but could she convince Dominic she could bring him the kind of happiness that had seemed to evade him—that he deserved?
He threw his head back and moaned his pleasure as she planted urgent kisses down the firm column of his throat, then back up to claim his mouth again. He tasted so good, felt so good.
He caught her hands. ‘Andie, is this what you want? Because we have to stop it now if you don’t,’ he said, his voice husky with need.
‘Don’t you dare stop,’ she murmured.
He smiled a slow, seductive smile that sent her heart rate rocketing. ‘In that case...’ He unfastened the catch on her jeans. ‘Let’s see if we can get these jeans to misbehave...’
* * *
Satisfied, replete, her body aching in the most pleasurable of ways, Andie drowsed in his arms as Dominic slept. But she couldn’t let herself sleep.
If she’d been a different kind of person she would have stayed there. Perhaps convinced Dominic to shower with her when they woke. She would enjoy soaping down that powerful body. Heaven knew what kind of fun they could have with the powerful jets of water in his spacious double shower. Then they could retire to spend the rest of the evening in that enormous bed of his.
But Andie was not that person. There was the Christmas Eve party she had committed to this evening. As the party planner, she was obliged to call in to see all was well. She also had to check the big tree had made its way there safely—though the eighteen-year-old daughter had texted Andie to thank her, thrilled with the ‘real tree’.
There was nothing like the smell of pine resin and the beauty of a natural tree. As eleven-year-old Dominic had known. Her heart went out to that little boy who lived in the damaged soul of the big male, sleeping naked next to her, his arm thrown possessively over her. She was also naked, except for her engagement ring, shining with false promise under the lamplight.
She had agreed to see her family tonight. Tomorrow, Christmas Day, would be the first Christmas lunch she had not spent with them. She was surprised her father had taken it so lightly. ‘You have to stand by Dominic, love. That party is not just a job for you now. You’re his future wife.’
If only.
Reluctantly, she slid away from Dominic, then quietly got dressed. She would see him in the morning. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, a holiday she loved and he hated. Now she could see why. She ached to turn things around for him—if he would let her.
She looked at his face, more relaxed than she had seen it, and smiled a smile that was bittersweet. They had made love and it had been magnificent. But nothing had changed between them. Tomorrow she was facing the biggest party of her career so far. She would be by the side of the man she had fallen in love with, not knowing for how much longer he would be a part of her life.
When the truth was, she wanted Dominic for Christmas. Not just his body—his heart as well.
Somehow, tomorrow she would have to confess to Dominic the truth of how she felt about him. That she wanted to try a relationship for real. She hoped he felt the same. If so, this would be the best Christmas she had ever had. If not... Well, she couldn’t bear to think about if not.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DOMINIC AWOKE ON Christmas morning as he was accustomed to waking on December the twenty-fifth—alone. It was very early, pale sunlight filtering through the blinds. He reached out his hand to the sofa beside him in the vain hope that Andie might still be there, only to find the leather on that side disappointingly cool to the touch. He closed his eyes again and breathed in the scent of her that lingered in the room, on his skin. Then was overtaken by an anguished rush of longing for her that made him double over with gut-wrenching pain.
He remembered her leaving his side, her quiet footsteps around the room, the rustling as she slid on her clothes. Then her leaning towards him, murmuring that she had to go. She had duties, obligations. He’d pulled her back close to him, tried to convince her with his hands, with his mouth why she should stay. But she’d murmured her regret, kissed him with a quick fierce passion, told him he had jet lag to get over. Then she’d gone.
All he’d wanted to say to her still remained unsaid.
Of course she’d gone to the other people in her life who needed her and loved her. The only commitment she’d made to him was based on the falsehoods he’d engendered and coerced her into. She’d played her role to perfection. So well he was uncertain what might be fact and what might be fiction. But surely making love to him with such passion and tenderness had not been play-acting?
He noticed the bourbon bottle on the desk, lid on, barely touched. This would be the first Christmas he could remember that he hadn’t tried to obliterate. The first Christmas that he woke to the knowledge that while Andie might not be here now, she soon would be. And that his perfect, empty house would be filled with people. People who had known hardship like he had and whom he was in the position to help by making their Christmas Day memorable.
