One Christmas Knight Page 4

  “This will sound a little déjà vu,” she began, “but just before that boyfriend and I broke up, I took a home pregnancy test.”

  Damon’s world screeched halt. His voice was a disbelieving rasp. “You’re a mother, Em?”

  “The test was inconclusive,” she went on. “But I was late, my breasts were tender. All the signs. We hadn’t planned it. Actually, Grant didn’t want children for a while―if ever. But, I couldn’t help but be happy. Couldn’t stop smiling thinking about the possibilities. I hoped when Grant found out, he’d be excited, too.”

  Damon kept the growl contained in his chest. The more he found out about this guy, the more he wanted to dismantle his jaw.

  “Is that why he broke it off?” he ground out. “Because he didn’t want to take responsibility?”

  “He never knew about the test. Turned out I wasn’t…or wasn’t any more.”

  “And now your sister has a baby,” Damon said, half to himself. He ran a hand back through his hair.

  Talk about bittersweet.

  Emma shrugged. “Grant had a temper, like my dad. I’m sure we only stayed together as long as we did because I was used to smoothing over the bumps.”

  “Definitely not the Emma I know.”

  “I’m big on overcompensating. Now, no one walks over me. I speak up for myself.” She stopped and seemed to think before she added, “Maybe I’m more like my father than I want to admit.”

  The pieces were falling into place.

  Damon laid an arm along the sofa back behind her. “My father has a philosophy. Every day, do what you can to make your wife happy.”

  She sat back, too, found a smile. “I like that philosophy.”

  “He says marriage isn’t fifty-fifty. It’s one hundred percent on both sides.”

  “I’m guessing your parents have an amazing marriage.”

  “They’ve had disagreements. Not that they wanted the kids to ever know when they didn’t see eye to eye. My dad’s business got clobbered by the recession in the 80s. Mom never got on with Dad’s mother. But my parents still got it right. They support everyone in the family where they can, but they don’t interfere.”

  “How did they meet?”

  “College. At a party. They started arguing about which was more important―pure maths or social sciences.”

  “Who won?”

  Brushing hair away from her eyes, he grinned. “They both did.”

  An hour later, the baby was awake, but when Emma came out with her niece, Damon was missing.

  She searched practically every room. His car was still in the driveway. His keys were still on the kitchen counter. Then, through a window, she caught sight of something in the vacant block next door. A man, rugged up in coat and beanie, was lumping snow together, rolling a big ball. A second more sizeable ball sat waiting nearby.

  Bringing Shelley close to the pane, she pointed. “See that? Uncle Damon’s building a snowman.”

  They watched a while longer, until he tried to lift the second ball. It cracked down the middle then fell completely apart. While he stood over the attempt, fists low on hips, Emma laughed. “Someone needs a lesson in snowman building Maine style.”

  When she’d finished Shelley’s diaper change and feed, Damon was still at it. Cradling the baby close, Emma watched as Frosty’s head rolled off and cracked open on the ground. Damon kicked the snow once, twice, then crouched down and started to repack.

  Emma checked out the sky. This morning’s blanket of clouds had swept away, leaving only blue. She spoke to the baby. “Let’s go help.”

  She’d bundled Shelley up nice and warm and was on her way outside when Krystal’s call came through.

  A few minutes later, Emma began her trek through the snow-covered lot feeling unsettled now rather than playful. As Damon swivelled and squashed a second snowman’s head into place, he spotted them and then looked at her sideways.

  He called out, “That hat suits you. Not.”

  She touched the severely battered Black Bears cap she’d slapped on over her white beanie. “A trucker passing through left it on the office counter last summer. It goes with my Bean boot attire,” she posed, planting a toe into the snow, heel facing out. “But I’m willing to sacrifice for a worthy cause.”

  “For Frosty?” Damon asked, as she held Shelley in one arm and offered over the cap.

  Then she delved into her coat pocket and drew out a carrot. “He needs a nose, too.”

  Damon took the carrot but frowned over its bent shape. “How’s he supposed to breathe through that?”

  Emma was checking out around the trunk of a towering white pine. She crouched down and collected a couple of decent sized pebbles.

  “Hey.” She tossed them over. “Catch!”

  Damon caught one in each mitten and pushed them in above the carrot nose. Finally, he wound his own blue scarf around Frosty’s neck.

  Damon stood back, set his fists on his hips and this time nodded.

  “What do you think, Shell-Bell? Is that a snowman, or is that a snowman?”

  Suddenly Emma was back in the field next to the house where she’d grown up. She was a little girl again, holding her baby sister, watching as their dad built a snowman just for them. Despite his moods, Harry Bagwell was a big fan of Christmas. He sang carols at the top of his lungs, and the gifts Santa brought never disappointed―the best pushbikes and dolls and gadgets galore.

  Life had its ups and downs, but the Bagwells had always been happy at Christmas.

  “Any news?” Damon asked, straightening the snowman’s cap.

  Emma got her thoughts back on track. “Krystal called. Says she needs another day.”

  He exhaled a plume of frosty air. “We were expecting it.”

  “She said definitely tomorrow.”

  He came up to them both and spoke to a rugged-up Shelley. “Looks like you’ve got us for another night.”

  Emma didn’t want him to feel obliged. “You must have lots to do with your house situation…the insurance and all.”

  “Insurance is done. Repairs can wait until after the holidays. A bit soggy, but I’ll survive.”

  He was so close, looking into her eyes like nothing could ever get in his way. Like he had ‘dependable’ written across his chest in neon lights. But no one had to sleep in a water damaged house.

  “There’s a spare bed here,” she cleared her throat, “if you, ah, need one.”

  He arched a mischievous eyebrow. “What will the neighbors think?”

  “That maybe all the rumors aren’t true.”

  “Rumors?”

  “You know. New kid scores epic fail with local prude.”

  He pulled a face. “Prude’s a bit harsh.”

  She studied him, virile and handsome and who in their right mind could resist?

  “You know,” she said, stepping up to close the space between them, “you could be right.”

  Careful of Shelley, she coiled a hand around his neck and pulled him down.

  The kiss was light but also lingering. Carefree as well as heartfelt. The kind of caress that could leave a girl crying for more.

  When she released him, his mouth stayed intoxicatingly close.

  He said, “Prude definitely doesn’t fit.”

  “Still feel lightning bolts?”

  His expression sobered. “Getting stronger all the time.”

  The baby fell asleep before her early evening bottle was completely drained. When they put her down, she didn’t move a muscle. Emma smiled. Must have been all that outside activity.

  She and Damon stood in the muted lamp light watching as quiet moments ticked by. The world felt balanced, calm…very close to perfect.

  Damon whispered. “Here’s hoping she’ll sleep through.”

  “I’ll snap awake if she so much as squeaks.”

  “It’s amazing how parents cope on so little sleep.”

  “Must be endorphins.”

  His arm curled around her waist and then simply r
ested there, like it belonged. Like they stood here together like this every night. Everything about him felt familiar…his scent, his warmth, his palpable strength.

  “There’s a theory in evolutionary biology,” he said. “Do you know why babies are cute?”

  “Evolutionary biology?” She grinned. “Watch it. Your degrees are showing.”

  When his fingers kneaded her side, her smile grew. It tickled….felt nice.

  “Cuteness,” he said, “brings out our protective nature, our instinct to nurture.”

  “Which helps specious numbers survive and grow.”

  His hand filed up her side as he rotated around to face her and murmured, “Nature is one smart lady.”

  When the tip of his nose touched hers, Emma tingled with need. Her eyes drifted shut. She wanted Damon to kiss her again. Only…

  In a few weeks, Damon was leaving the Point, and not simply to the next town or next state. He was settling all the way across the country. If anything serious started up to tonight, there was only one way it could end. And that wasn’t ‘happily ever after’.

  A heartbeat before his mouth touched hers, Emma dropped her head, turned toward the door.

  He hesitated before joining her in the hallway. She left the door open a crack so that a wedge of light fell on the floor between them both. When Emma finally lifted her gaze to meet his, the lidded intensity in his eyes left her in no doubt. He wanted her.

  But for how long?

  Then his chin went up and a comprehending smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “Try to get a good night’s sleep,” he said, before pressing a kiss on her brow and quietly letting himself out.

  Emma stood there thinking for a few more moments before finally going back into the bedroom.

  Shelley hadn’t moved. Not one bit. Emma put a palm near that button nose. Still breathing.

  Of course, she was.

  Crossing to the highboy, she pulled out a drawer and found a garment with its price tag still in place.

  She’d bought the negligee on a whim. It had lain in the same spot for months, white and sheer and alone. She lifted the slip out and brought it to her cheek, closed her eyes. She didn’t want a fling. She wanted more…a partner.

  A happily ever after.

  Thursday, December 23

  “It’s absolutely gorgeous. And it smells so…” Emma drew in a deep breath. “So Christmassy.”

  Damon had arrived five minutes earlier. After downing a quick cup of coffee, he’d charged outside to his car again. He’d come back with this perfect Yuletide surprise.

  “When I was a kid,” he said, dragging in a seven-foot tree, “my brothers and I would go with Dad to pick out the perfect fir. One year we were too late. All the good ones were gone. So, we bought this spindly excuse of a thing and piled it so full of decorations, it literally snapped in two.”

  She laughed but quickly sobered. “I don’t have any decorations.” Zip, other than the pint-sized tree on the mantle.

  He put a finger to his nose, St. Nick style. “Got it covered.”

  He went outside again and this time returned with a giant box filled with tinsel and all kinds of baubles and bells. After Emma propped Emma up in a lounge chair, making sure she was comfortable and had a good view, he handed her some tinsel and they got to work.

  “What was your dad like?” Emma asked, as she crossed under his stream of tinsel and he crossed over hers.

  “Solid. Thoughtful. Kind. Strong in a way all men ought to be. This one night, my dad, an older brother and I were coming back from a ballgame when we came across two teenage boys belting up a smaller one. Dad busted up the fight, made sure the kid was okay. When one of the bad asses came at him with a broken bottle, Dad didn’t flinch. He always knew exactly what to do…calm and quick. Mom was more a firecracker. A bit like you.”

  “I wasn’t always a firecracker.”

  He handed over two silver bells. “You don’t need to apologize for speaking your mind.”

  “It wasn’t an apology.”

  He grinned like she’d just agreed with him.

  The baby was quiet, amused, the whole time they trimmed the tree. Finally, Emma stepped back to admire their work. The tree sparkled and twinkled and made her want to dance around its branches, a little girl again. But she’d forgotten one thing.

  She went to her briefcase and found the card that had kicked all this off. She found a branch dead center and placed the card between the tinsel.

  Damon’s dreamy voice was at her ear. “We make a good team, don’t you think?”

  Filled with emotion, Emma nodded. Really good.

  “We had a tradition in our house,” he said, digging out a packaged box. “Bon bons. Whoever won the most got to hang the star.”

  After unwrapping the box, he offered one end of a giant bon bon. They pulled, it snapped, and ignited powder scent filled the air.

  Emma waved her end at Shelley. “Look, baby. I won!”

  Enjoying the show, Shelley kicked her feet and then sucked her fist while Damon revealed a big gold star.

  Taking the star, Emma checked out the height of the tree and looked around. “I need a chair.”

  “I have a better idea.”

  Damon placed sturdy hands around her waist and effortlessly lifted her high above the ground. Feeling as if she had wings, Emma leaned in and slotted the ornament in place. She patted the hands gripping her ribs.

  “Mission accomplished,” she said.

  As he lowered her down, he angled her around as well, until she her front faced his and their eyes were level. Her socked toes wiggled mid-air and her heartbeat skipped while he held her there, suspended. Grinning, she looped her arms around his neck.

  “The star’s hung,” she said “You can let me go now.”

  “But I don’t want to let you go. In fact, I vote we start another tradition.”

  His body was so hard pressed against hers. With his arms firmly lashed around her back now, Emma felt as if her feet might never touch the ground.

  “So, what’s this new tradition?” she asked.

  “Whoever got to hang the star has to kiss the one who missed out.”

  She made a point of studying the ground. “I don’t appear to have a choice.”

  His expression intensified.

  “Em, you have all the choices in the world.”

  His tone…those words…

  Carefully, deliberately, she filed both sets of fingers up the back of his hair then met her lips with his.

  Christmas Eve, December 24

  The next day, Shelley didn’t want to finish her bottle. She looked drowsy but wouldn’t settle.

  When Damon arrived around eight in the morning, Emma let him know before he’d even come in off the porch. Other than a flash in the depths of his eyes, his expression remained neutral. Calm. She hung his coat as he made a beeline to see the baby.

  “Hey, Shell-Bell,” he said, hovering over her where she lay on the bed. “How you feeling today?”

  The baby blinked slowly then pulled the most adorable pained face and gave a whimper that made Emma’s stomach turn. If she had just one wish, she’d make certain no child suffered. Upset tummies, ear ache, viruses…they would all be banished for good.

  “There’s no rash,” she said.

  “Let’s check her out anyway.”

  Five minutes later, Damon was finished his examination. “Temperature’s a little high again.”

  Emma lifted the swaddled baby into her arms. “I shouldn’t have taken her outside yesterday.”

  “Ten minutes in the middle of the day…the fresh air would’ve done her good.”

  “Are you sure?” Emma shook herself. “Of course you’re sure.” She took a breath, got a grip. “I’m doing it again.” Getting wound up.

  He ran a gentle finger around Shelley’s cheek and asked Emma, “Have you heard from Krystal?”

  “Not today. Not yet.” A chill ran up Emma’s spine. It was earl
y yet, but she was beginning to worry. “Krystal gets distracted. Caught up in things. We’re different like that. I have no desire to jump out of planes or swim with sharks or―”

  “Leave your baby to play make-up with the ex?”

  Emma couldn’t argue. She’d thought the same thing. “I can’t help wondering what kind of father this guy will make.” Emma studied every line of her beautiful niece’s flushed face. “Shelley deserves a good life.”

  “A happy and safe life.”

  A sharp rap on the door made Emma jump. Damon looked at her as if she’d turned white. And, in that instant, she did feel faint. She wasn’t sure why, but that knock reminded her of the day police had knocked on their door. The day of the accident.

  “Want me to get it?” he asked.

  She pushed back her shoulders. “We’ll both go.”

  When Damon opened the front door, Krystal stood on the porch, shoulders hunched in her white parka, a guilty half-grin on her face. Her focus instantly dropped to Shelley.

  “How’s my baby?” she asked, stepping forward and scooping the infant out of Emma’s arms.

  It wasn’t as if Emma had held the baby twenty-four-seven, but now it was as if a piece of her had been torn away. Emma looked on as Kyrstal rubbed her nose against the baby’s.

  Had she told the father? How had he taken the news?

  Emma stepped aside. “Come in out of the cold. Shelley has a temperature.”

  Krystal’s gaze snapped up. “You said she was over that.”

  Damon introduced himself. “I’m Damon Knight.”

  “Damon’s a doctor,” Emma said. “The one who made the house call.”

  Krystal’s questioning gaze cleared before she frowned again. She looked between the two of them, like Judd had the other day. “Are you two a thing?” she asked.

  Sudden anger flared in Emma chest. Damon wasn’t exactly hers to steal away, but the idea that Krystal thought he might be brought her claws out. Not that Damon would be any part of it. As far as morals went, he and Grant were worlds apart.

  Krystal threw a glance back over her shoulder. “I, uh, have someone with me.”