The Christmas Baby Bonus

Three

“No, no radio.”

“Well, I plan to get right on that as soon as I get home. You can’t be stranded here like this. In fact, I’m not sure how an event like this is even covered under your protection insurance for the firm.”

“Faye, relax,” Piers instructed her with a wry grin. “We’re hardly about to die.”

“I am relaxed.”

“No, you’re not. You know, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you relaxed.”

“Of course you have. I’m always relaxed at work.”

His brows lifted in incredulity. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she affirmed, averting her gaze from his perfectly symmetrical face with its quizzical expression and the similar expression on the infant so comfortable in his arms. For a man who had no experience with babies, he certainly looked very natural with this one.

Fay willed her heart rate back to normal. Right, so they had no external communication. It wasn’t her worst nightmare, but with a baby on hand it came pretty darn close. What if something went wrong and they needed medical assistance? What if—

The lights flickered.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“Just a flicker, that’s all. It’s perfectly normal, considering the weather. How about you show me how to do this diaper thing?”

“Diaper. Yes. Okay. Fine.” Faye looked around the room, searching for the tote bag. “Where’s the bag with his things?”

“It’s in the kitchen,” Piers said.

“Great.”

Faye marched in the direction of the kitchen and retrieved what she—correction, what Piers—would need, and detoured past the massive linen closet near the housekeeper’s quarters for a thick towel to lay the baby on. She wondered what Meredith, Piers’s housekeeper, would think of the situation when she arrived. When she actually could arrive, that was. Faye felt a flutter of panic in her chest again. She thought she’d overcome her anxiety issues years ago, but it was a little daunting to realize that all it took was being stranded with her boss and a baby and they all came flooding back.

“Okay,” she said on her return to the main room. “Pick a nice, flat spot and lay the towel down, double thickness.”

Piers took the towel from her and did as she instructed, spreading it with one hand on the sofa where he’d put Casey to sleep earlier.

“Good,” Faye said from her safe distance at the end of the couch. “Open the wipes container and put it next to where you’ll be working, then lay him down on the towel and undo the snaps that run along the inside of the legs of his onesie.”

“Okay, that’s not so bad so far,” Piers said.

“Keep one hand on his tummy. It’s a good habit to get into so when he starts to wriggle more, or roll over, he’s less likely to fall and hurt himself.”

“How do you know this stuff?” Piers asked, doing what he was told and looking up at her. “Jokes aside, I didn’t see anything about baby wrangling in your résumé.”

Faye ignored the question. Of course she did. She wasn’t about to launch into the bleeding heart story of her tragic past. The last thing she wanted from Piers was pity.

The last thing? What about the first? a tiny voice tickled at the back of her mind.

There was no first, she told herself firmly.

“Now, do you see the tapes on the sides of his diaper? Undo them carefully and pull the front of the diaper down and check for—”

A string of expletives poured from Piers’s lips. “What on earth? Is that normal?”

Faye couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud. As if he knew exactly what she found so funny—and he probably did—Casey gurgled happily under Piers’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said, getting herself back under control. “I shouldn’t laugh. Yes, it’s entirely normal when a child is on a liquid-only diet. His gut is still very immature and doesn’t process stuff like an older child begins to. Watch out, though, don’t let his feet kick into it.”

She continued with her instructions, stifling more laughter as Piers gagged when it came to wiping Casey’s little bottom clean. But that was nothing compared to his reaction to the water fountain the baby spouted right before he got the clean diaper on.

Faye couldn’t quite remember when she had last enjoyed herself so much. Her usually suave and capable boss—the lady slayer, as they called him in the office—was all fingers and thumbs when it came to changing a baby.

Eventually the job was done and Piers sat back on his heels with a look of accomplishment on his face.

“You do realize you’re probably going to have to do this about eight to ten times a day, don’t you?” Faye said with a wicked sense of glee. “Including at night if he doesn’t sleep through yet.”

“You’re kidding me, aren’t you? That took me, how long?”

“Fifteen minutes. But then, you’re a newbie at this. You’ll get faster as you get used to it.”

“No way. There aren’t enough hours in a day.”

“What else were you planning to do with your time? It’s not like you were planning to work this week.”

“Entertain my guests, maybe?”

“If we can’t get out, they can’t get in,” Faye reminded him, ignoring the little clench in her gut at the thought.

She hated the idea of being trapped anywhere, even if it was in a luxury ten-bedroom lodge in the mountains.

“True, but I expect once the storm blows through we’ll have the phones back, mobiles if not the landline, and we can call someone to come and clear the road and retrieve your car.”

“And then I can head back home,” she said with a heartfelt sigh.

“And then you can head home,” Piers agreed. He balanced Casey standing on his thighs, smiling at him as Casey locked his knees and bore his weight for a few seconds before his legs buckled and he sagged back down again.

“Why do you hate Christmas so much, Faye?”

“I don’t hate it,” she said defensively.

“Oh, you do.”

Piers looked her square in the eye and Faye shifted a little under his penetrating gaze. Against the well-washed wool of the snowman sweater her bare nipples tightened and she felt her breath hitch in her chest.

No, she wasn’t attracted to him. He wasn’t at all appealing as he sat there wearing a mutant Rudolph sweater and cuddling a tiny baby on his lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The lights flickered again.

“I’d better find some flashlights. Where do you keep them?”

“In the kitchen, I suppose. Usually, Meredith takes care of all that,” he answered, referring to the housekeeper who’d been due to arrive this evening.

Overhead, the lights dimmed again before going right out. Faye shot to her feet.

“It’s dark!” she blurted unnecessarily.

“Let your eyes adjust. With the fire going we’ll be able to see okay in a minute,” Piers soothed her.

Faye felt inexplicably helpless and that was something she generally avoided at all cost. Not being in control or being able to direct the outcome of what was going on around her was the tenth circle of hell as far as she was concerned. Where was her mobile? She had a flashlight app she could use. Better yet, she could use Piers’s. His was undoubtedly closer.

“Give me your phone,” she demanded.

“No reception, remember?” he drawled.

She could just make out that he was still playing with the baby, who remained completely unfazed by this new development. Mind you, after being abandoned by your mother, facing a power outage was nothing by comparison in his little world.

“It has a flashlight function, remember?” she sniped in return.

Piers stood, reached into his pocket and handed her the phone.

It held the warmth of his body and she felt that warmth seep into the palm of her hand, almost as intensely as if he’d touched her. She swapped the phone into her other hand and rubbed her palm over the soft cotton of the track pants, but it did little to alleviate the little tingle that warmth had left behind. The realization made her exhale impatiently.

“Faye, they’ll get the power back on soon, don’t worry. Besides, I have a backup generator. I’ll get that going in a moment or two. In the meantime, relax—enjoy the ambience.”

Ambience? On the bright side, at least the Christmas lights were also out and the carols were no longer playing. Okay, she could do ambience if she had to.

“I’m not worrying, I’m making contingency plans. It’s what I do,” she replied.

After selecting the right app on his phone, she made her way into the kitchen and searched the drawers for flashlights. Uttering a small prayer of thanks that Meredith was such an organized soul that she not only had several bright flashlights but spare bulbs and batteries, as well, Faye returned to the main room. Piers was right, with the firelight it didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust to the cozy glow that limned the furnishings. But the flickering light reminded her all too quickly of another time, another night, another fire—and the screams that had come with it.

Forcing down the quiver juddering through her, Faye methodically lined up the flashlights on the coffee table, then sat.

“I guess you’re not a fan of the dark, either, then?” Piers commented casually, as if they’d been discussing her likes and dislikes already.

“I never said that. I just like to be prepared for all eventualities.”

In the gloom she saw Piers shrug a little. “Sometimes it pays to live dangerously. To roll with the unexpected.”

“Not on my watch,” she said firmly.

The unexpected had always delivered the worst stages of her life, and she’d made it her goal to never be that vulnerable to circumstances again. So far, she’d aced it.

Across from her, Piers chuckled and the baby made a similar sound in response.

“He seems happy enough,” Faye observed. What would it be to have a life so simple? A full tummy, a nap and clean diaper, and all was well with the world. But the helplessness? Faye cringed internally. No, she was better off the way she was. An island. “What are you going to do with him?” she asked.

“Aside from keep him?” Piers asked with a laconic grin. “Raise him to be a Luckman, I guess. According to the note, he’s mine.”

Faye shot to her feet again. “We both know that’s impossible. You weren’t even going out with anyone around the time he was conceived. You’d broken up with Adele and hadn’t met Lydia yet. Unless you had a casual hookup over the Christmas break?”

Piers snorted. “I can’t believe you know exactly who and when I was going out with someone.”

“Of course I keep track of those details. For the most part I’ve had a closer relationship with any of those women than you have, remember?”

“I do remember, and you’re right. I wasn’t with anyone, in any sense, that holiday.”

“Then why would his mother say he’s yours? Surely she knew who she slept with that holiday?”

Or had she known?

Piers’s twin had been at the lodge since before that New Year’s Eve when Piers had flown to LA for two days to countersign a new deal he’d been waiting on. While Quin had always been charming enough, he’d very clearly lacked the moral fiber and work ethic of his slightly older twin. Faye privately thought part of Quin’s problem was that everything in his life had come too easily to him—especially women—and that had left him jaded and often cynical. Not for the first time she wondered if he’d masqueraded as his brother sometimes, purely for the nuisance factor. And this baby development was nothing if not a nuisance.

“If we ever track her down, I’ll make sure to ask her,” Piers said with a wry twist to his mouth. “We don’t have much to go on, do we?”

No, they didn’t. Faye made a mental note to add speaking to their private investigators to her to-do list the moment she returned to civilization.

Piers shifted Casey into the crook of his arm and the baby snuggled against him, his little eyes drifting closed again. The picture of the two of them was so poignantly sweet it made Faye want to head straight out into the nearest snowdrift and freeze away any sense of longing that dared spark deep inside her.

She moved toward the fireplace and put her hands out to the flames.

“Still cold?” Piers asked.

“Not really.”

“I should get that food I promised you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get it. You hold the baby,” she said firmly and grabbed a flashlight from the table. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

* * *

Piers watched her scurry away as if the hounds of hell were after her. Why was his super-efficient PA so afraid of babies? It was more than fear, though, he mused. On the surface, it appeared as if she couldn’t bear to be around the child, but Piers wasn’t fooled by that. He hadn’t doubled the family’s billion-dollar empire by being deceived by what lay on the surface. His ability to delve into the heart of matters was one of his greatest strengths, and the idea of delving into Faye’s closely held secrets definitely held a great deal of appeal.

Casey was now fast asleep in his arms. He settled the baby down inside the cushion fort he’d created earlier and covered him with his blanket. As Piers fingered the covering—hand-knitted in the softest of yarns—he wondered if the baby had other family who cared about him. Family who might be wondering where he was and who was caring for him.

While Piers projected the image of a lazy playboy, beneath the surface he had a quick mind that never stopped working. It frustrated him that there was nothing further he could do to solve the question of how Casey had come to be delivered to his door.

But he could certainly delve a little deeper into Faye’s apparent phobia when it came to infants. She intrigued him on many levels. Always had. He’d always sensed she bore scars, emotional if not physical, because she was so locked down. But now he knew she had scars on her body, too, and suddenly he wanted to know why. Were the two linked? And how did she know her way around a diaper bag so well?

Satisfied the baby was safe where he was placed, Piers rose and made his way through to the kitchen, where he could hear Faye clattering around. From the scent that tweaked his nostrils, she’d found one of Meredith’s signature rich tomato soups in the freezer and was reheating it on the stove top, tiny blue flames dancing merrily beneath the pot. Ever resourceful, she’d lit some candles and placed them in mason jars to give more light.

Faye was in the middle of slicing a loaf of ciabatta and sprinkling grated cheese onto the slices when she became aware of his presence.

“Bored with the baby already?”

“He’s asleep, so I thought I’d come and annoy you instead.”

“It takes a lot to annoy me.”

“Casey seemed to manage it,” Piers said succinctly, determined to get to the root of her aversion to the infant.

“He doesn’t annoy me. I’m just not a baby person,” she said lightly, turning her attention back to putting the tray of sliced bread and cheese under the broiler. “Not every woman is, you know.”

“Most have a reason,” he pressed. “What’s yours?”

Sometimes it was best to go directly to the issue, he’d found. With Faye, it was fifty-fifty that he’d get a response. Tonight, it seemed, he was out of luck.

“Did you want a glass of wine with the meal?” she asked, moving to the tall wine fridge against the wall.

“No, thanks, but go ahead if you want one.”

She shook her head. Piers watched her move around the kitchen, finding everything she needed to set up trays for them to eat from. He’d always appreciated her competence and reliability, but right now he wished there was a little less polished professionalism and little more about her that was forthcoming. Like, who was she really? How did she get to be so competent around babies and yet seem to detest them at the same time? No, detest was too strong a word. It had been fear in her eyes, together with a genuine need to create distance between her and little Casey.

“Are you scared of him?” Piers asked conversationally. “I can understand if you are. I was always terrified that I’d drop a baby if I ever had to hold one.”

“You? Terrified?” she asked, raising a skeptical brow at him as she turned from checking the bread under the broiler.

Under the candle glow, he could see the hot air had flushed her cheeks and was reminded again that Faye was a very attractive woman. Not that he was into her or anything. Liar, said the small voice at the back of his head. Half of her appeal had always been her looks, the other half had been her apparent immunity to his charms. It didn’t matter what he said, did or wore—or didn’t wear—she remained impervious to him. She also wasn’t in the least sycophantic—and not at all hesitant to bluntly tell him when his ideas or demands were outrageous or unreasonable.

He realized she’d managed to deflect the question away from herself again.

“You’re very good at that, you know,” he commented with a wry grin.

“What, cheese on toast?” she answered flippantly, presenting her back to him as she bent to lift the tray of toasted golden goodness from the oven. Faye began piling the cheese toast slices onto a plate on his tray, taking only two small bits for herself.

No wonder she was so slender. She barely ate enough to keep a bird alive.

“I meant your ability to avoid answering my questions.”

“Did you want cream in your soup?”

And there she went again. She was so much better at this than him, but he was nothing if not tenacious.

“Faye, tell me. Are you scared of babies?”

She sighed heavily and looked up from ladling out the steaming, hot soup into bowls.

“No. Did you want cream or not?”

He acceded. “Fine, whatever.”

As with everything Faye did, she paid meticulous attention to presentation, and he watched with amusement as she swirled cream into his bowl and then, using a skewer like some kind of soup barista, created a snowflake pattern in the cream before sprinkling a little chopped parsley on top and setting the bowl on his tray.

“That’s cute. Where did you learn to do that?”

“Nowhere special,” she said softly. But then a stricken expression crossed her face and she seemed to draw herself together even tighter. Her voice, when she spoke, held a slight tremor. “Actually, that’s not true. I learned it as a kid.”

She bit her lower lip, as if she’d realized she’d suddenly said too much.

Piers pressed home with another more pointed question. “From your mom?”

She gave a brief, jerky nod of her head.

Piers sensed the memory had pained her and regretted having pushed her for a response. But he knew, better than most people realized, that sometimes you had to endure the pain before you could reap the rewards. Oh, sure, he’d been born into a life of entitlement and with more money at his disposal while he was growing up than any child should ever have. Most people thought he had no idea as to the meaning of suffering or being without—and maybe, on their scale, he didn’t. Yet, despite all of the advantages his life had afforded him, he knew what emptiness felt like, and right now he could see a yawning emptiness in his PA’s eyes that urged him to do something to fill it.

But how could a man who had everything, and yet nothing at the same time, offer help to someone who kept everyone beyond arms’ length?

Something hanging from the light fitting above Faye’s head caught his eye. Mistletoe. Before he knew it, Piers was rising and taking her in his arms. Then he did the one thing he knew he did better than any man on earth. He kissed her.