Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (46 page)

However, it wasn't her place to dispense advice she not only had no idea how to give but strongly suspected would be soundly rejected.

From way deep in the house, a roar went up. A touchdown, no doubt. Claire sat back down. “For what it's worth? I think you did the right thing, keeping the house.”

His eyes again grazed hers for a moment before he looked back down at the baby. “Thanks.” Then he stretched out his leg, as though it was bothering him.

“You okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Sure. Been sitting too long in this position, that's all.” He smirked. “Yet another reminder that I'm not twenty-five anymore.”

“I suppose... Maybe you could give me the baby to me for a bit? So you can get up, walk around.”

“But I thought—”

“He looks harmless enough, asleep like that.”

“Okay, then... Come here—” she stood, her stomach cramping “—and put one hand under his butt...that's right...and support his head with your other. You got it.”

Awkwardly, she arranged the surprisingly floppy—and heavy—infant under her chin, then lowered herself back into the chair. “Like this?”

“Mostly. Although it's okay to breathe.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. Claire thought maybe she saw a grimace. And she definitely saw, once he started to move, a limp.

She eased back in the chair, amazed that the baby didn't wake up.

“See?” Ethan said. “Piece of cake, once you get the hang of it.”

“Speak for yourself. This feels totally weird, holding a little human being.”

“You never played with dolls?”

“No, actually. I liked building sets better. And yes, I was a strange kid.”

He carefully worked his knee. “Bella prefers her brothers' toys to hers, too. Although her clothing choices make my teeth ache.”

Claire smiled. And relaxed a little more. Then she said, “How bad is it?”

“How bad is what?”

“Your knee.” When he frowned at her, she said, “Your dad told me you were hurt when you were overseas. And that you don't like talking about it.”

Several beats passed before he said, “I was. And I don't. What I do is deal. You know, like a grown-up?”

“Got it. So...how'd you come to live with the Nobles? Or is that a forbidden subject, too?”

“Anybody ever tell you you're nosy?”

“I prefer
curious,
but yes. Often. Well?”

He shook his head, then sat back in the rocker, his leg stretched out in front of him as he massaged the muscles around his knee. “My parents were in their teens. Married, actually, but in way over their heads. Family Services convinced them to let the Nobles foster me, at least until they got their act together.”

“How old were you?”

“Around two. Long story short, they never did work it out, and the Nobles adopted me. My birth parents eventually moved away, married other people, had other kids. I haven't heard from my father in years, although I'm still in touch with my birth mother. Occasionally. She and her second husband did come to my wedding, though. And she's seen the older kids, once or twice, although I doubt if they'd remember her.”

“So...any half siblings?”

“Five. Three brothers, two sisters. But we're not close—”

“
There
you are!” Laurel said, scooting over to take her son from Claire, her smooth, straight hair curving around her face as she bent over. She lifted the sacked-out kid to her shoulder, making a little “aww” face when Jonny arched his back in his sleep. Claire wondered if she'd miss the feel of the baby in her arms...but honestly? Not so much.

“Game's over,” Laurel said, “food's all sorted out, so the party's breaking up. Thanks for watching Jonny, you two.” Then she turned to Claire. “Hey—Kelly and I are doing the Black Friday thing at the mall tomorrow morning...Wanna come with?”

“Oh! Wow. You know, I've never had the nerve to do that.”

“Us, either,” Laurel said with a grin. “So we can be Black Friday virgins together. Whaddya say? We can meet up here at, say, six—”

“In the
morning?
”

“Kelly says she'll bring the coffee and doughnuts. We'll go in her van. No guys, no kids... It'll be fun.”

“Okay. Sure,” Claire said, even as a little voice in her head said,
Are you
off your rocker?
Then again, no guts, no glory. Or something.

“Great! See you then!” Laurel said, and she and Jonny were gone.

Ethan stood. “Guess that's our cue to make our retreat, too. You need a ride?”

“And again, five blocks. I also need to walk off the eighty pounds of food I put away. Kelly is seriously an amazing cook.”

“Speaking of which, I almost forgot—there's something for you. In the kitchen.”

“You mean besides the entire bag of leftovers Kelly insisted I take?”

“Yes.” With that, he headed out of the sunroom, his gait a little stiff, clearly expecting her to follow. The kitchen was empty, the dishwasher whirring away, the only lights still on the pendants over the island. He ducked into the pantry, returning with a pie box...and a slightly embarrassed smile.

“I remembered what you said about eating a whole pumpkin pie by yourself. So this is all for you.”

A laugh burst from her throat. “What did you do, steal it?”

“No, I asked first. So.” He held out the box. “Here.”

This was silly, it was only a pie, but... Claire carefully set the box in the plastic bag she'd left earlier on the counter, on top of all the other food Kelly had foisted on her. “Why?” she quietly asked, not looking at him.

“I guess...to say thank-you for taking the boys this morning. Although since I didn't make the thing I'm not sure how much it counts.”

Smiling, she hefted the bag off the counter and faced him again. “You thought of me. So it counts.”
Big-time.

“Um...you sure you don't need a ride?”

Okay, so she might have been tilting a little. “Honestly, it's not that heavy—”

A somewhat breathless Juliette burst into the kitchen. “Kelly says you guys are going to the mall tomorrow?”

“It would appear so—”

“Can I come, too? Please?” She turned to her father. “
Please,
Dad?”

“If it's okay with Kelly and Laurel. And Claire—”

“Hey, I'm only going along for the ride. If everyone else is cool—”

“I already asked, they totally are! Omigod, this is going to be so much fun—!”

Behind her, Ethan groaned. She looked back to see him shaking his head at his daughter's vapor trail. “Definitely her mother's child. Merri also never met a bargain she didn't love. Put the kid in an entire mall of bargains...” He shuddered, and Claire laughed.

Which actually brought forth something close to a real smile.

And that, boys and girls, was worth any amount of Black Friday madness.

Chapter Seven

T
hank goodness Ethan actually didn't have anything on his agenda today—other than getting up the outside decorations before the kids blew a gasket—because considering the sleepless night he'd had? He was basically worth bupkes.

Because what was going on here, he thought as he put on coffee, then stared at the maker as if he expected it to tell his fortune, went beyond deprivation-driven, half-assed fantasies. Which was not good. Or fair. To anybody. Which naturally only made him feel guilty that he was thinking about Claire Jacobs
that way.
Although the truth was he'd been feeling
that way
about her for some time, but only in the occasional moment when his defenses were down and other things...weren't.

Beside him, Barney yipped, then sat and gave Ethan sad eyes. As if he wanted some coffee, too. Or, more likely, a doggie treat. Ethan reached for the Milk-Bone bag in the cupboard, handed one over without making the dog perform. Barney cocked his head, suspicious.

“No strings. I swear.”

Cautiously, the dog took the treat, then pranced out of the room before The Man could change his mind. Ethan poured his coffee as he yawned, taking a sip before it'd cooled off. Wincing, he carried the cup to the kitchen table, yanked out a chair and dropped into it, remembering sitting at another kitchen table at around fourteen or so, when he and the Colonel had had a surprisingly blunt chat about those things that, like every other teenage boy in the world, Ethan thought about pretty much constantly. And the takeaway was, a
real
man was in charge, in control, of both his thoughts and his body.

His life.

Of course, that last part was a joke. Monkey wrenches happened. To some more than others. But if he couldn't control his destiny—or, it would seem, a certain body part—he could still control his reactions. His choices. And, make no mistake, he did have choices. A few, anyway. And one of those choices was to never again let another human being—save the possible exception of his children—have that much power over his emotions.

Jules came bouncing into the kitchen, dressed like an elf—red tights, green shorts, black-and-white striped vest over a sparkly red sweater. She was even wearing earrings with bells, good God. Only thing missing was the pointy-toed shoes, which she'd apparently eschewed in favor of her brown suede hiking boots. And the streak, conspicuously absent from her just-washed hair.

“Whatever happened to jeans and hoodies?” Ethan grumbled as she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

“Um...I don't want to look like everybody else?”

“Aren't you worried somebody'll take away your teenager membership card?”

“Har-har. And besides, I can't very well be an actress if I'm afraid to stand out, right? Grab someone's attention?”

“And whose attention, exactly, do you expect to attract at the mall?” he said, immediately realizing, at his daughter's blush, that he'd inadvertently hit a bull's-eye. Well, crap.

“Nobody, silly Daddy,” she said, swooping in to give him a hug as a horn beeped outside. “That's Miss Jacobs, gotta go—”

“And you both can hold your horses a minute,” Ethan said, getting to his feet, only to remember he was still in his sleep pants and an ancient Marine Corps T-shirt. Then he thought,
Screw it, I'm sure she's seen worse,
and padded after his daughter through the living room and outside onto the cold, cold step. Barefoot.

Claire lowered her window as his daughter jingled out to the car and climbed in beside her.

“Fetching,” she said, grinning. His arms crossed over his chest, Ethan came to the edge of the step. His knee complained loudly. As did his rapidly freezing feet.

“It's six-freaking-thirty in the morning, I'm not exactly holding court. You really ready for this?”

“I sincerely doubt it. But there will be doughnuts, so it's all good.”

“Got your phone, Jules?” he called out, even though he couldn't see her. Claire laughed.

“She rolled her eyes. I'm gonna guess that's a yes.” Then she pushed a curl behind her ear, the tiny diamond twinkling at him as she said, “You should join us for lunch in the courtyard,” and he could hear his daughter's groan. “All of you, I mean. Bring Bella to see Santa.”

“You kidding? Bella ditched Santa when she was four.”

Claire jerked her thumb to her side. “Got that in stereo. But you should still come. You know, join the party. Have some fun.”

Only the presence of his already jaded daughter kept him from asking her what she'd been smoking. “At a shopping mall on Black Friday?”

“Good point.”

“Anyway, today's when I deck the outside of the house. It's a tradition.”

Claire glanced up at the thick, nasty-looking clouds hunched overhead, clearly ready to barf all over his plans, then back at him. “Oh, yeah?”

“Eh, this'll blow off by noon.”

“Whatever you say,” she said with another light laugh, then shifted the car's gears. “We'll be back when our money, sanity or legs give out. Whichever comes first.”

Then, with a little wave, she pulled out of the driveway, Jules yammering beside her. Only, for a moment it was Merri driving, his little girl yakking away in that silly hat she used to have with the flaps like dog's ears covering her cheeks, the two of them going off to have a little “girl time.” And his heart ached.

But whether because it was cracking, or stretching, he wasn't entirely sure.

* * *

“Honestly, this is worse than Times Square!” Claire said, dodging yet another woman in faux fur and spandex who clearly considered the entire mall her personal space.

Beside her, Laurel—who'd done her own time in the city—pushed out a dry laugh. “Truly. Oh, for pity's sake...
Kelly!
” she yelled over the blare of some pop star's pathetic rendition of “Winter Wonderland,” as the redhead zoomed ahead like a guided missile, energy fairly sparking from her bright, wavy hair. Claire checked behind them to make sure Juliette, who'd been plugged into her phone for the past hour, was keeping up. Because Ethan would probably not take kindly to Claire's losing the child. “For God's sake, Kell,” Laurel yelled again, coming to a dead halt. “
Stop,
already!”

Even though she was ready to drop, too, Claire chuckled. Four hours, she'd been with these women, and while they were each a different brand of crazy, the flavors seemed to blend quite nicely. At least well enough to endure a two-hundred-store mall on Black Friday. Although clearly Laurel, her posture as limp as her straight brown hair, had reached her limit.

Shopping bags from a half dozen stores clutched in her hands, Kelly turned, clearly puzzled. “What?”

Laurel plunked down on a bench beside a cluster of totally incongruous tropical plantings—even more incongruously embellished with Christmas ornaments the size of small planets—blissfully soaking up the dreary light from the three-story-high skylight overhead. Her own back none too happy either, Claire joined her, leaving Juliette to roll her eyes before dropping onto another bench a discreet ten feet away to continue her electronic communication with half the free world. With a sigh, Kelly trudged back.

“You guys are total wusses,” she said, and Laurel snorted.

“Yeah, well, your boobs aren't about to explode,” she said in a low voice. Although with the roar of shoppers surging around them like the Jersey turnpike at rush hour, it wasn't like anyone would hear them. Or care. “And no, I wasn't about to schlep my pump out here to go sit in some ladies' room lounge to express milk. And how is it you're like the Energizer Bunny, O Pregnant One?”

“Second trimester,” Kelly said with a shrug. “That hallowed window between being perpetually sick and perpetually winded. I could probably keep going for another three hours—”

“Jules! Hey!”

Almost grateful for a diversion from a conversation she couldn't relate to, Claire looked over to see a gaggle of kids from Hoover zeroing in on them, with Rosie—wearing a Santa hat set at a rakish angle—at the head of the pack. Mostly the drama kids, Claire now saw. Including the ever-elusive Scott...sans the ever-present Amber. Huh. She glanced at Juliette, who was doing the deer-in-headlights thing, and thought,
Oh, dear, this will never do.

“Hey, Miss Jacobs!” Rosie said, radiating enough Christmas spirit to light up the entire state. “Julie said you guys were coming here, but I didn't think we'd see you! Cool, huh?”

“It is,” she said, then introduced the girl to Laurel and Kelly. “Did you all...come together?”

“Nah, Mom dropped me off, and then I ran into Shawna, and then we somehow started collecting the others. Like a snowball going down a hill,” she said with a chuckle...and a telling glance toward Juliette. Uh-huh.

But whatever. Claire turned to her charge and said, “You should join your friends,” which earned her the buggiest blue eyes in teen history, as well as a stammered, “I...um...”

“Yeah, you should totally come with,” Rosie said to Juliette, nodding a little too vigorously. “We were headed for the food court, in fact. Mom said she'd pick me up whenever—” Rosie turned back to Claire “—but I'm sure she'd be cool with getting Julie home, too.”

“Fine with me. But you should probably check with your dad, honey, make sure it's okay with him—”

“Oh, I'm sure it is,” the brunette said, “since it's not like we've never been here by ourselves before.”

“Still, he needs to know there's been a change of plans.” Then Claire looked at Juliette, whose expression was such a mixture of hopeful and terror stricken that Claire's heart went out to her. “Unless you'd rather stay with us?” she said, touching her shoulder.

Her braces glinting as she caught her lower lip between her teeth, Juliette darted a look at Rosie, then at Scott—dark haired, dimpled and totally engrossed in a convo with two of his compadres—then back at Rosie. Finally, with what Claire guessed were very clammy hands, the girl punched at her phone, then turned away from the group. Seconds later she handed the phone to Claire.

“He wants to talk to you.”

Claire took the phone, plugging her finger into her other ear so she could hear. “You need me to corroborate her story?”

“I'm the father of a fifteen-year-old girl, what do you think?”

“That you're a very
good
father of a fifteen-year-old girl. But it's true. Rosie's here, she somehow accumulated a batch of kids—”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“And it's only for an hour or so.” She decided against mentioning The Boy, partly because she sincerely doubted this was an issue, partly because the kids were traveling in a herd. Like wildebeests on the African plains. And she'd trust Rosie in a zombie apocalypse, let alone in a mall teeming with Jerseyites.

“You'll still be there?”

“Um, actually, I'm not sure. Hold on...” She looked from Kelly to Laurel. “So are we staying or going?”

Shrugging, Kelly nodded at Laurel the Limp. “Up to you.”

That got a sigh. “I really did want to check out Macy's before we left. Maybe if I...” She grimaced at her chest. “If I could maybe find a cup or something?”

“We will find you a cup or something,” Kelly said, tugging the other woman to her feet. “Trust me, I am an expert on these things. And don't even give me smack about ‘wasting it,' there's plenty more where that came from. Also, I need lunch. Like, yesterday...”

Laughing, Claire said into the phone. “I guess we're staying. And it looks like we're all headed for the food court, so we won't be far. I'll keep an eye on her, I promise.”

She heard a heavy sigh, then a weary laugh. “I know I can't protect her 24/7, but...”

“Hey. You've got nothing on my dad, who I half expected to move to New York
with
me. And I was twenty-two, not fifteen. And yes, it made me nuts. Then. But there's a lot worse things in the world than having someone give a damn about you. So don't worry about it, I've got it covered.”

Silence buzzed between for a moment before he said, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she said, then handed the phone back to Juliette. A minute later, the kids all shuffled off to the food court as Claire and the others followed at a respectful, unobtrusive distance. The kids commandeered a table or three closest to the Burger King while the ladies decided on Chinese food. After telling the others what she wanted, Laurel—purloined soft drink cup in hand—hustled off to the ladies' room, leaving Kelly and Claire alone at their table with enough food to
feed
China.

“So what's going on with Jules and the hottie?” Kelly said, shoveling in orange chicken at the speed of light.

Claire frowned at her. “Hottie?”

“Shaggy dark hair? Killer smile? Who she keeps staring at like a kid in a toy store?”

“Who, you will notice, is not returning her stares.”

“In all likelihood because she's probably creeping him out. Seriously...do we need to do an intervention here?”

“Like I'd have any clue how to do that,” Claire said with snort. “In high school? That was me, the one rendered mute any time a boy looked at me.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Kelly said, sighing and shoveling simultaneously. Talented. “Who we need is Sabrina. Matt's sister,” she said at Claire's frown. “I swear, boys would follow her with their tongues hanging out. So gross. Fascinating, but gross.”

“So you guys all went to school together?”

Nodding, Kelly bit off half an egg roll. “Sabrina, Matt and I were in the same grade. I lived next door, but I spent most of my waking hours at the Nobles'. And a fair amount of my sleeping hours, too, actually.”

“So you and Matt...?”