Bride Under the Mistletoe: The Magic of a Family Christmas

CHAPTER NINE

“CULLEN?”

Standing on Wendy’s front porch, feeling like a gangly teenager who’d finally found the nerve to visit the girl he had a crush on, Cullen had to work to hide his embarrassment. Which was crazy. His relationships were always short-term, for fun. He shouldn’t feel any differently just because the woman he was pursuing lived in Pennsylvania.

“Hi. I…um…came to see how Harry is.”

The little boy in question appeared from behind Wendy’s knees. His wispy yellow hair floated on his forehead to the rim of his glasses. His smile was wide and welcoming.

“Hi, Cullen!”

Wendy stepped aside and invited Cullen into her foyer. “Hi, Harry!” he said, picking up the little boy and looping him over his shoulder.

Harry whooped with delight, and Cullen surreptitiously glanced at Wendy. She didn’t seem displeased that he’d come to visit Harry, but he hoped she’d be even more pleased when she realized that the real reason for his visit was to have some alone time with her.

“We were just about to get Harry ready for bed.”

Which was exactly why he’d timed his visit for later in the evening.

“Why don’t I read Harry his bedtime story?” And after that he and Wendy would be alone and he could either see for himself that she wasn’t so nice, so perfect, so wonderful, and that all these emotions swirling around him were ridiculous, or she’d get the message that to him sexual attraction meant exactly that. Sexual attraction. Not love. Certainly not marriage. And they’d get involved. On his terms.

Wendy shrugged. “Sounds good to me.” She turned to go up the stairs. Harry followed her. Cullen followed Harry.

Stopping in the hall outside Harry’s door, she pointed to the bedroom. “I’ll get the bath ready. You two get a clean pair of pj’s from his dresser.”

Harry obediently walked into his bedroom, directly to the dresser. He opened the drawer, pulled out a pair of pajamas, left the room and headed for the bathroom.

Cullen smiled. That was easy.

Watching through the open bathroom door, he saw Wendy pull off Harry’s T-shirt. Over the little boy’s head she called, “There are three library books in the bottom drawer of his bedside table. Pick one. He’ll be in in a minute.”

Cullen went to the bedside table, sat on the bed, and opened the bottom drawer to find three worn children’s books. He pulled out the last book, leafed through it to make sure he hadn’t made a bad choice and decided he’d be okay with the story about a pig in a puddle.

Tossing the book to the bed, he rose and shrugged out of his leather jacket. He hung it across the back of the chair tucked under a Harry-sized desk and walked to the window.

Outside, the dusting of snow had turned into an inch of fluffy white that sparkled in the streetlights. Car windshields were covered. a coating clung to bare black branches of the big trees in the front yards in Wendy’s neighborhood. The quiet, peaceful scene almost made his plans feel all wrong.

Almost.

Small-town women weren’t any less sexual than those in the big city. They were simply more discreet, and he could be discreet.

“All set,” Wendy said and Cullen turned to see her standing behind Harry who grinned at him.

“I’m all set, too.”

“I found a story about a puppy in a puddle.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You mean a pig in a puddle.”

Laughing, Cullen walked to the bed. “Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t!” Harry looked horrified. “There’s a big difference between a pig and a puppy.”

Struggling with a smile, Wendy grabbed Harry’s doorknob as she left the room. “I’ll just leave you two alone for now.” She closed the door behind her.

Harry scrambled under his covers, took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table. Cullen sat on the bed.

Twenty minutes later, with Harry fast asleep and Cullen’s tongue about tied in a knot from all the rhyme and alliteration in the storybook he’d read, Cullen walked down the steps. He casually tossed his jacket over the coat tree in the foyer and walked into the living room where Wendy sat.

Now things would get interesting.

She looked up from the book she was reading. “How did it go?”

“He’s out like a light.” He casually walked to the sofa and sat beside her. Not so close as to appear inappropriate, not so far away that he wouldn’t accomplish his purpose.

“I think I should stay awhile, though, make sure he doesn’t have a nightmare and wake up.”

She set her book on the coffee table and reached for a round yellow pot. “Hot cocoa. Would you like a cup?”

“Sure.”

She poured some into one of the bright yellow mugs on the bamboo tray and handed it to him.

“Smells great.” But she smelled even better. The scent of her floated around him. He guessed it was shampoo. Every time she moved, her long red curls danced and shifted, sending the aroma of something light and floral swirling around him. All his hormones cheered. He’d absolutely made the right decision.

“It’s from scratch.”

“From scratch?”

“I made it myself. I boil cocoa, butter, sugar and vanilla until it makes syrup, then I add whole milk.”

He took a sip. “That’s really good.”

“I don’t make it often because it’s fattening and probably full of cholesterol.”

But tonight was a special night. Damn it. She didn’t even have to say the words. He got the message. Because he felt it too, the strange sense of being in the right place at the right time enveloped him. No matter how he tried to keep things purely sexual, something else hummed between them. And that “something else” wasn’t what he wanted out of life. He knew that “something else” let people down. He didn’t want to be let down the way his parents had been. He didn’t want to let Wendy down the way her husband had.

He leaped up off the sofa. “You know what? It’s getting late. Harry’ll probably be fine.” He headed for the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She rose from the sofa, gave him a confused smile. “Okay.”

Cullen didn’t say another word to her. He grabbed his jacket and ran from her house. Wendy dropped her head to her hands. She was such a klutz. A ditz. And the worst of it was, this time she had absolutely no idea what she’d done wrong.

She ambled to bed, miserable.

Friday morning, he barely spoke to her and he left for Miami before noon. Emma and Patty took an early lunch, and Wendy missed them, but she wasn’t ready to share anyway. She was growing a tad tired of looking like an idiot. Not just to Cullen, but to her friends.

Saturday morning, Emma and Patty surprised Wendy with an early-morning visit.

Motioning for them to enter her kitchen, she said, “What are you two doing here?”

Emma held up a box of doughnuts. “We’ve brought food.”

“So you’ll spill the beans,” Patty added as she shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the peg by the door.

Still not quite sure she was ready to talk, Wendy took the box of doughnuts to her kitchen table. “Spill what?”

Patty glanced around. “First of all, where’s Harry?”

“Watching cartoons.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, because now we can get into the juicy stuff.” Patty walked to the table. “I saw his car here Thursday night.”

Wendy frowned. “What were you doing out in this part of town?”

“Forgot my inhaler at work,” Patty said. “Had to call Wendell to let me in.”

“Oh.”

“So,” Emma prodded, sidling up to Wendy as she poured three mugs of coffee. “What happened?”

Wendy glanced over at Emma. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on.” Patty sat on one of the chairs at the round kitchen table.

Handing Emma one of the mugs of coffee, Wendy said, “It’s true. He came to check on Harry, read him a story, took one sip of the hot cocoa I had made while he was reading and bolted.”

“Bolted?” Emma sat beside Patty. “Interesting choice of words.”

“Because it’s true. He ran as if his feet were on fire.”

Patty grinned at Emma. “Very interesting.”

“Very embarrassing. I’m guessing the cocoa sucked.”

Emma leaned closer to Wendy. “I’m guessing he hadn’t come over for cocoa.”

Patty leaned in, too. “And you confused him.” She shook her head in dismay. “Who offers a man like Cullen Barrington cocoa? It’s like saying you’re homespun—which means you want a home—which he probably interprets as meaning you want marriage.”

Wendy gasped. “I didn’t mean that!”

“Of course you didn’t.” Emma sighed. “You hardly know the man. You shouldn’t want to marry him.”

Patty shook her head. “You are really rusty.”

“Rusty?”

“On dating. Which is why we’re here. Monday morning you’re not going to look like Suzy Snowflake.”

“Or Sandy Secretary,” Emma agreed. “He’s interested, but you keep confusing him.”

“So we’re going to help you pick your outfits for next week, so you stop sending mixed signals.”

Wendy bit her bottom lip. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Both friends put their folded arms on the table. “Why?”

“Because he…he’s…”

“Different,” Emma supplied. “We get it.”

“He’s not going to settle down with you.” Patty snagged a doughnut. “But you need to get back into the real world.”

Emma also took a doughnut. “Consider him practice.”

“And if you’re lucky, you’ll get lots and lots of practice.”

Wendy hid a shudder of pleasure. She told herself nothing could come of this, but just as quickly reminded herself that Emma was right. Even if nothing happened between her and Cullen, she needed to practice even simple things like how to make small talk, what drinks to serve and even how to dress. She wouldn’t make a big deal out of this. She knew the truth. Cullen wasn’t the kind to settle down.

But a little voice in her heart reminded her that plenty of flings had turned into the real thing. Practice or not, she liked him. There were so many things to like about him. And maybe…just maybe…

She shoved those thoughts away, telling herself she shouldn’t wish for things that couldn’t be. But try as she might to think of spending time with Cullen as only a trial run, she liked him. And she could very well end up hurt.

But playing it safe had gotten her hurt, too.

There was no easy answer.

She pulled in a breath. “All right, I’m in. Just don’t make me look like somebody I’m not.”

Cullen spent the weekend on his boat, soaking in the tropical sun, reminding himself that this was where he belonged.

When he returned to Barrington Candies late Monday afternoon, he kept his head down. He plowed through Wendy’s office and only grunted hello as he strode by. He even closed the door.

He didn’t get involved with women like Wendy. Normally, he didn’t even want to. Not because they were somehow wrong, but because he was fair. They were looking for something he couldn’t give, so he unselfishly let them alone.

So why the devil couldn’t he just do that with Wendy?

He had absolutely no idea, but he did know that his innate sense of fairness would keep him in line. A bit of sexual desire would not be his undoing. He could control the crazy urges he had to touch her and taste her and kiss her. And by God, he would!

After hanging his leather jacket in the closet, he strode to his desk. In keeping with Wendy’s suggestion that he behave a little more comfortably with the workers as a subtle reassurance that their jobs were safe, he’d chosen to wear corduroy trousers and a green sweater over a white shirt, and was amazingly comfortable himself. He reminded himself that was because he typically worked in casual trousers and lightweight shirts, in beachfront restaurants or on boats, persuading investors to trust him with their money. He wasn’t the kind of guy who liked being stuck in an office—though he couldn’t say he’d been unhappy here at Barrington Candies. In fact, he’d been amazingly happy.

He growled at himself. Told himself to stop. One woman couldn’t change how he felt about everything in his life!

Tuesday morning, he arrived in the office when Wendy was away from her desk. The minute his butt hit the chair, he put his head down and set his mind on the production figures from the day before. He didn’t surface until eleven o’clock, when he needed to see the five-year plan again. Hitting a button on his phone, he buzzed Wendy.

No answer.

He tried again.

No answer.

With an annoyed sigh, he rose and walked into her office only to find she wasn’t there. Thinking she might be in the clerical area, and sorely in need of a short walk to stretch his muscles, he walked out.

Remembering Wendy’s suggestion about helping the employees grow accustomed to him, he smiled. “Has anyone seen Wendy?”

A pretty brunette glanced up at him in surprise. “She’s on the factory floor, doing a quick safety audit.”

“Thanks.”

She nodded eagerly, obviously happy to have been called upon.

Cullen headed for the factory floor. He knew that in their small company employees did a lot of double duty. It wasn’t a surprise that the employee who probably kept the records for the safety equipment was the one who walked through the plant to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be.

But he really couldn’t wait until she was done to get the reports he needed. He opened the door to the plant and the scents of chocolate and peanut butter that had floated on the air all morning hit him in earnest, making his mouth water. But he forgot all about the sweet temptation when he saw Wendy at the other end of the floor.

Wearing a black skirt and crisp white blouse, she looked coolly efficient. That thought registered and then floated away when his eyes ran the length of exposed leg. He’d never seen her legs before. Realizing he was staring, he gave himself a mental shake and began walking toward her.

For Pete’s sake, he partied with women in thong bikinis! How could he be so startled, so affected, by the sight of a woman’s calves? It was ridiculous. And if he didn’t stifle his reactions, stop giving her these signals, she’d be the one to do something about their attraction, he wouldn’t be able to resist…and he’d end up hurting her.

“Hey, Mr. Barrington?”

He stopped and turned toward the sound of his name.

Standing by the Ferris-wheel-like apparatus that distributed assorted candies for packing, and wearing a white coat and a hairnet, a woman in her fifties smiled at him.

“Are you going to the company Christmas party Friday night?”

He took the few steps over to the candy wheel. “Actually, I didn’t know there was a Christmas party.”

“It’s sort of employee-sponsored. We save the proceeds from the vending machines all year and in December we have enough to have a Christmas party.”

She gave him the name of his own hotel as the venue for the party, but he hardly paid any attention. Paul McCoy couldn’t even spare a few thousand dollars of the company’s money to host a Christmas party for the people who worked for him all year? He was an abysmal general manager. Cullen intended to call his hotel that afternoon and pay for the party, and he also intended to have a few choice words with Paul.

“Sure. I’m going.”

She grinned and waved a piece of candy at him. “Want a Peanut Butter Bite?”

The no that should have tripped off his tongue, tripped over itself. He hadn’t had a piece of Barrington’s Candies in at least ten years. The scents wafting through the factory combined with a vivid memory of the taste of sweet chocolate and smooth peanut butter, and somehow moved his feet closer to the packing cylinder.

“Actually, my favorite is caramel.”

A younger woman stretched her gloved hand to the distributor and plucked off a piece of candy. “Here you go.”

His mouth watering, Cullen took the chocolate-covered caramel she handed him. He popped it in his mouth and groaned.

“I’d forgotten how good this was.”

The packing ladies giggled.

“Want another?”

“Maybe one for after lunch.”

The first packer snagged a piece and set it in one of the little brown paper cups that lined the Barrington Candies boxes. “Here you go.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

From her position in shipping at the back of the factory floor, Wendy watched Cullen, crossing her arms on her chest, pride swelling inside her. She wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come onto the plant floor, but unlike his first trip to have her introduce him around, his demeanor was totally different. And he’d accepted candy from strangers.

She wanted to giggle, but didn’t want to call attention to herself, which might shift the attention of the employees milling around her to Cullen. He was doing so well building the employees’ confidence in him that she didn’t want to ruin that.

She pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. He was such a good guy. Really good. The affection he had for Harry could be explained by Harry’s charm. But the gracious way he’d agreed to ease the employees’ worries about the company closing was all Cullen. He was a good-hearted person. A nice guy.

A nice guy who wouldn’t even look at her now.

She watched him laughing with the packers, accepting the various pieces of candy they handed to him, until ultimately Jennie Ferguson gave him a box in which to store his goodies. Wendy smiled at his silly behavior. He wasn’t simply a good person; he was a fun person. Fun had been missing from her life for two long years and in a little over two weeks, Cullen had her toasting marshmallows, making cocoa from scratch, Christmas-shopping and kissing again. For the first time in months she’d actually thought about sex. Not because of a physical need but because of him. This gorgeous, sexy, sweet guy had her tiptoeing into uncharted territory. But she was a small-town girl with so little experience she constantly made mistakes with him.

Before anybody noticed her staring, she turned and began taking inventory of the items in the first aid kit in shipping and receiving.

Like Patty and Emma, she’d thought for sure he had come to her house last Thursday night to see her. But he couldn’t even sit with her for two minutes after he’d read Harry’s story. Now, he wouldn’t look at her. She suspected he hadn’t yet noticed that Emma and Patty had given her a makeover. And if he had, he’d probably realized she was dressing up for him and that was why he was keeping his distance.

This time she’d made a fool of herself without even opening her mouth.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so disappointed. So embarrassed. Seeing him laughing with the candy packers, her humiliation grew. She was the only person he seemed nervous around. Because of their damned attraction. Because he realized she wouldn’t mind having an affair with him. Because she was now strutting around in skirts instead of slacks, wearing makeup…making a fool of herself!

He’d warned her off. But she couldn’t take a hint and now she felt like an idiot.

With a box of assorted chocolates under his arm, Cullen glanced in the direction of shipping and receiving and didn’t see Wendy.

He turned to his candy posse—which is what they’d told him to call them since they intended to make sure all his chocolate needs were met for the rest of his stay. “Anybody see where Wendy went?”

“She left through the side door,” Annette said, pointing to the opposite end of the plant floor. “Probably on her way back to her office.”

“Thanks.”

He arrived in Wendy’s office, smiling. After his encounter with the ladies in packing, he now understood that most of the people in this town were happy-go-lucky and generous with their time and attention. He didn’t have to worry about Wendy. She wasn’t falling for him. She was simply being nice to him because that’s the way people in this town were.

Walking into her office, he displayed his box of chocolates. “Look what I got.”

She didn’t look up from her work. “That’s nice.”

“How can you say that’s nice when you didn’t even see what I have?”

“You have a box of chocolates.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw you talking with the ladies in packing.”

He thought about that for a second. She should be dancing for joy that he was doing as she asked, mingling, making himself seem normal, putting everybody’s mind at ease that he and his father had no intention of closing the factory.

Yet she was angry. Why would she be angry that he talked with the packing ladies?

His eyes narrowed. Unless she was jealous?

A sweet pang of self-satisfaction danced in his belly. But he stopped it. That was ridiculous. First, she didn’t seem like the kind of woman to be jealous. Second, he didn’t want her to be jealous. Now that he understood what a bad idea it would be for them to have an affair, he wanted their relationship to be strictly professional.

“They’re all very nice,” he said softly, not quite sure what else to say.

She rose from her desk and walked with the safety binder to the filing cabinet. Sliding it into position with the other binders, she said, “Wasn’t I the one who told you that?”

Her clipped tone made him sigh. “All right. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I have work to do.”

The sharp tone was a downgrade from the clipped tone. Whatever had her angry, it was getting worse. “Why are you angry?”

She spun to face him. “I’m not angry.”

He took a step closer, set his candy on top of the filing cabinets and touched his index finger to the red spots flaring on her cheeks. “These say otherwise.”