'Tis the Season (13 page)

“Army training,” she whispered hoarsely. The tears leaked from her eyes; her boss was holding her, and she was too raw and drained to care.

He chuckled gently and rested his chin on top of her head. “Maybe so. But you're also one of the sweetest women I've ever known. You have such kindness, such warmth.” His hand swept up and down her back. “That bastard couldn't kill that in you. No one can. Because you have a beautiful heart, Lisette.”

Stop saying such wonderful things, dammit. How am I supposed to keep myself steeled against you when you're so sweet?
She went to pull away
.

“Shhhh. Relax,” he murmured, not releasing her. “Everyone needs some comfort sometimes. We're all only human.” His large, warm hand swept up and down her back again, gentle and assuring, as the other encircled her waist. “Know what I think? That night, with you? I needed comfort. It's the truth. I was feeling pretty damn sorry for myself that night.” He snorted and added, “It was the absolute wrong way to seek out comfort, of course. But ultimately, you were there for me.” He smoothed his hand down her hair, down her back. “I know you're not feeling sorry for yourself, and I'm not feeling sorry for you. But your pain . . . it's palpable. So lean on me. I'm not your boss right now, I'm . . . tonight, I'm just a friend. Okay?”

His words rocked her to the core. She'd never thought she'd meet a man capable of such kindness, such generosity of spirit—and she hadn't expected it from him, not like this. Without really being aware of it, her arms squeezed him tighter, welcoming his embrace and returning it. God, he felt so good. Strong, and sure, and good.

“As for your past,” he continued, still stroking her back, “and everything that happened . . . Honestly, other than how sorry I am, I don't even know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything,” she said. Suddenly her mind reeled. She'd told him the truth, all of it, and he was
holding
her. Trying to soothe her. It felt so good to let herself talk about her demons and not be shunned, but to receive comfort from someone like this . . . She couldn't even remember the last time she'd really been held. It felt wonderful. It was heavenly.

He's your boss
, a voice hissed in her head.
What the hell are you thinking?
Her stomach roiled and clenched. Jesus, what was she doing? Hugging her boss, crying all over him, spilling her deepest secrets? Showing him herself at her most fragile? Humiliation washed over her, cold and cruel. She jerked back, untwisting herself from his embrace.

“What's wrong?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“You're never going to look at me the same way again,” she choked out, anxiety kicking in. “I should just resign right now.”

“Whoa, stop.” His hands lifted to hold her face and make her look into his eyes. “I'd never judge you based on any of this.”

“You say that now,” she said. “Until you think about it some more. Poor Lisette and her sob story—”

“Stop that!” he ordered. “I
care
. I'm not looking at you like some broken china doll. Do you think so little of me?”

“No,” she whispered. “That's the problem. I think the world of you. So I—”

Still cradling her face, he pressed his lips to hers, stopping her words with a fiercely tender kiss. He sipped from her lips, slow and savoring, before he whispered against them, “I think the world of you too.”

His mouth consumed hers, and her mind went hazy. These weren't the hard, consuming, hungry kisses from that first night. These kisses were long and sweet and sumptuous. Heat flooded her, making her senses reel. He kissed her once more before pulling back to look into her eyes. “I'm so sorry for what you went through. And you're right, I don't look at you the same way. But not in the way you implied. Now that I know what you've gone through, I have more respect for you than ever. I admire your resilience. Your strength. Your incredible sweetness, in spite of all that happened.” He dropped the gentlest kiss on the top of her head.

She shook her head, wanting to believe him, but unable to let herself. She was trembling. “Let me go. I should go.”

“Look at me,” he commanded. Again he held her face, to still her.

She did as he asked, and her breath caught in her lungs at what she saw in his eyes. The adoration, the sincerity, were unmistakable.

“I think you're amazing,” he murmured. “Amazing and warm and wonderful. And so beautiful that sometimes it hurts to look at you, because I want you, and I know I shouldn't.”

A startled gasp flew out of her. He leaned in slowly . . . and cradling her head in his hands, pressed his lips to her forehead. Her eyes slipped closed as he lingered there; she was stunned into stillness by the exquisite tenderness of his gesture.

“But we'll talk about that another time. Right now, you must be exhausted,” he said against her skin. His hands lowered to rub her arms. “Let me walk you up to your room. Help get you into bed.”

She startled, looking up at him in shock.

“Not like that!” he exclaimed. “No! I just . . .” He gently grasped her shoulders. “I just want to get you into your bed and make sure you get some sleep.”

“Why are you being like this with me?” she whispered in consternation.

“Because your sadness makes me want to comfort you. It's really that simple.” Something flickered in his eyes. “Also, because I truly care, which isn't as simple. You aren't the only one who'd felt numb for a long time, and now . . .” He cleared his throat. “But most of all, because right now, you need me to be here, and I'm here.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “You were there for me when I needed you. Reciprocation is more than fair play, don't you think?”

“I'm too tired to argue that line of thought,” she said. “Actually, all of a sudden, I'm too tired to do much of anything.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her from the study. By the time they reached the stairs, she felt the adrenaline begin to ebb and drain from her limbs. By the time they reached her bedroom, the exhaustion had overwhelmed her, and it was hard to even untie the sash of her robe. She managed to slip it off and lay it over the chair, then went right to her bed and slid beneath the covers. The pillows felt like heaven beneath her achy head.

Charles was right there, pulling the covers up to her chin. He leaned over her, sweeping loose tendrils of her hair back from her face. “Feels good to lie down after all that, I bet.”

“Mmmm.” She felt hazy, half-asleep already. She had nothing left.

He bent to kiss her forehead, again so gently it made her heart smile. “Good night, Lisette. Sleep well. In fact, sleep late tomorrow. That's an order.”

“But the kids . . .” She yawned. “School in the morning.”

“I'll get them there,” he said. “You sleep as long as you need to, okay? I mean it. I'll make sure no one disturbs you. It's totally an order.”

“If you insist,” she murmured, her eyelids drooping.

“I insist.”

“Oh, all right. Charles, wait . . .” With great effort, she opened her eyes enough to meet his. “Thank you for everything tonight.”

“You're welcome.” He smiled sweetly. “Good night.”

She felt cool air, the lack of his presence beside her. Then she heard the flick of the light switch, and the room went dark. From heavy-lidded eyes, she saw him in shadow, standing in her doorway . . .

He stood there, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching over her as she quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Twelve

Lisette woke up with a start. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she swiped them away. Her dreams had been so visceral, especially the last one . . . She could smell her mother's perfume; her mother had felt so real, it was as if she'd visited. It'd been a long time since Lisette had dreamed about her mother looking healthy and vital, not emaciated and sick as the cancer had ravaged her at the end of her life. And seeing her healthy for the first time in a long time was a comfort. Maybe her mom
had
visited her in her dreams, just to reassure her after such an emotional night.

Oh, God. Last night she'd told Charles everything. And,
holy shit
, the kids! She had to get the kids to school and—oh,
no
, it was nine-thirty. While she looked wildly around the room, she noticed a folded paper taped to her inside doorknob. She flung back the covers and all but jumped across the room to grab it and read it.

Lisette sank onto her mattress and read the note again twice before reaching for her cell phone on the nightstand. She turned it back on, curled up in a more comfortable position, and stared out the window. It was one of those overcast autumn days, but the sun behind the clouds added a silvery glare. She could see the maples and oaks beyond, lining the perimeter of the property, stunning in their peak crimson and gold glory.

Charles had taken care of everything. Last night, he'd taken care of
her
. Today, he'd covered for her, and had even done a part of her job for her, and had left her a sweet note on top of it all . . .

With a deep sigh, she clutched her pillow and held it close. God help her, she loved that man. She couldn't deny it: she'd fallen in love with him last night, helplessly and deeply. She could almost pinpoint the exact moment she'd felt it hit and swallow up her heart. When he'd held her and leaned in and kissed her forehead, lingering with such tenderness, such earnest sweetness . . . After that, her poor heart never had a chance.

And even though a part of her wanted to leave while she still could, before she spent the rest of her life loving a man she could never have, she was so grateful that he wanted her to stay. She loved the kids, and she was in love with him, and even just being part of their lives and in their presence would be enough for her. That was her sad truth, and it would stay her most guarded secret. If she could just keep her head on straight and continue to do her job well, she'd be able to stay with them all for a few more years, and at least she'd have that much.

* * *

Charles felt himself start to relax the instant Tess opened her door and hugged him. His siblings were the only people in the world he trusted completely, could let down his guard with, could laugh and just be himself with, with no worry over how he was being perceived, if what he said or did was on or off the record. More than just his brothers and sister, they were his closest friends and confidants; they were the only ones who truly understood what it was to be a Harrison. The pressures had been heavier on him than on the others, but they all understood that and gave him that extra measure of support and respect for it. Even Pierce; Charles and Pierce had forged a new relationship since Pierce had returned to New York, and Charles was glad for it.

As Charles entered the living room, Dane got up to embrace him, and Pierce crossed the room for a quick but genuine handshake. Pierce lacked Dane's natural amiability and warmth, but after years of angry self-isolation, he'd finally edged his way back into the fold. Not with their father, hell no, but with his siblings. Charles's heart lifted at the sight of Pierce relaxing with them, something that would have been unthinkable only a year ago.

“I heard you were bringing something sweet,” Dane said. “Give it up.”

Charles lifted the bakery box in his hand for all to see. “Rainbow cookies from Roberto's.”

“Yesssss,” Dane said, taking the box with greedy hands. “Gimme gimme.”

Laughing, Tess took the box from him. “Give me that. We let you have this, there won't be any left within the hour.”

“I'll be good,” Dane said, batting his eyes coquettishly.

Tess snorted and walked toward the kitchen. “What are you drinking, Charles?” she asked over her shoulder.

He glanced at the bottles of IPA on the coffee table and said, “Whatever they are, looks fine.”

“It's good stuff; you'll like it,” Dane assured him. He grinned, gave Charles another slap on the back, and sat in one of the three lushly cushioned armchairs.

“Drinking beer from a bottle, Tripp?” Pierce teased. “How very bourgeois of you. Awesome.” He flopped down on the couch, reaching for his bottle before stretching his legs out. He rested his socked feet on the table and crossed one ankle over the other. “How goes it, biggest brother?”

“Fine, thanks. You're awfully chipper tonight,” Charles remarked as he sat in one of the other chairs. Clad in a long-sleeved T-shirt and track pants, Pierce still looked like the professional athlete he'd once been.

“I'm feeling really good,” Pierce said. “I don't know about ‘chipper,' but yeah, things are good.”

“Tell us more,” Tess said as she reentered, holding a glass of white wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other, which she handed to Charles before sitting on the couch with Pierce. The living room felt warm and inviting, nothing like the home they'd all grown up in. Tess had decorated with earthy colors, deep rust and tan and wheat. The furniture was plush and cozy, the furnishings elegant but not ostentatious, and the artwork complemented it all perfectly. With a fire blazing in the stone fireplace and old R&B songs playing softly, Tess had created such a welcoming atmosphere that Charles felt himself melt into the chair and the stresses of his daily life ebb away as his siblings talked and bantered.

Pierce told them how his soccer teams were doing, both the Edgewater youth league and the New York professional team he'd personally invested his time, energy, and money into. When Tess asked about Abby, the mere mention of his girlfriend lit Pierce's face with such a glow that Charles was momentarily taken aback. He'd never seen Pierce look like that over a woman . . . or anyone, ever.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Pierce asked.

“Like what?” Charles retorted.

“Like I suddenly grew two heads or something,” Pierce said.

“Um . . .” Charles took a sip from his bottle, using the time to choose his words carefully before speaking. “I'm a little stunned, frankly. At the look on your face when Abby's name was mentioned. Your whole demeanor changed, do you know that?”

Pierce made a face, something between a scowl and a look of disbelief. “Get out.”

“He's right,” Dane piped up. He ran a hand through his curly hair as his eyes sparked with mischief. “It's nice. But boy, are you a smitten little kitten.”

“A what?” Pierce laughed, shooting Dane a look. “You're bonkers.”

“We've never seen you like this, is all,” Charles said. “You look . . . content. Happy. It's kind of amazing, and I'm glad for you.”

Pierce fixed his brother with a long look, before saying quietly, “I was going to say something smartass, but you know what? You're right. I
am
content and happy. Abby's made it that way. She's everything to me.” He looked down at his bottle for a few seconds, taking his legs off the coffee table and shifting position. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he looked around at his three older siblings and said, “I bought a ring. Last week.”

Tess gasped, practically bouncing in her seat. “Omigod! Oh, honey!”

“You serious?” Dane said, grinning.

Pierce nodded, unable to keep the almost shy but pleased smile off his face. “Dead serious. We've been together for a year. We live together. It's time. And I know she's it for me. I've known from the start, so . . . yeah. I'm going to ask her to marry me. Holy shit, huh?”

“Holy shit indeed,” Charles said with a chuckle. “And good for you. She's a fantastic woman.”

“Hey, anyone who puts up with your crap is a damn saint,” Dane teased.

“Wish I could deny that,” Pierce said, “but I won't. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Time to make it official.”

“When?” Tess squeaked, her smile wide and bright.

“I'm surprising her with a quick trip,” Pierce said. “Day after Thanksgiving, that three-day weekend, I'm flying her out to Sedona. She loves it there; she's been there twice, and she keeps saying she wants to go there with me, so . . .”

“So you'll take her on a hike up to one of those red mountaintops and propose,” Dane concluded. “Very nice. Good luck, brother.”

Tess vaulted across the couch to hug him. “Oh, Pierce. God, I'm so happy for you. I adore her. She
is
the best thing that's ever happened to you. I wish you two all the luck and happiness in the world.”

“She'll be a wonderful addition to the family,” Charles said.

Pierce snorted at that as Tess released him. “Yeah, I'm sure Dad will be thrilled to hear about this. Maybe he'll give me a bottle of arsenic as an engagement gift.”

All three of them quieted at that.

“I'll tell you all something right now.” Pierce's voice got low and steely as he looked from one face to the next. “Whatever kind of wedding Abby wants, I'm going to give her. And I want it to be everything she's ever dreamed of. So I don't want him there. I won't let him give her even a moment's worry that he might say or do something to ruin the day. He's not invited.”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Dane said, and took a swig of beer.

Tess nodded and reached for her glass of wine. “We understand.”

Pierce looked to Charles. “Well?”

Charles shrugged and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “It's your day. Your rules. It should be whatever you want it to be. You don't want him there, done deal.”

“How about actually proposing to Abby first?” Dane said. “Making sure she'll say yes to a troublemaker like you.”

“Shut up,” Pierce said on a laugh.

“Dane's right, though,” Tess said. “Let's concentrate on the good parts, okay?”

“Excellent idea.” Charles lifted his bottle to his mouth and stole another swallow of the dark beer. Mentally, he was already strategizing. If anyone would have to run interference between their father and the wedding, it would be him. Pierce was obviously counting on the three of them to have his back; no way would Charles let him down.

“I can feel you thinking from here,” Dane said, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Oh, really.” Charles crossed one leg over the other. “What am I thinking about?”

“A certain dark-haired beauty, perhaps?” Dane's mouth quirked at the corners.

Tess's head whipped to Charles. “You're seeing someone?”

Irritation prickled over Charles's skin. “You bastard,” he growled at Dane. “You absolute bastard.”

“You need help,” Dane asserted. “I can only do so much. You need a Team Harrison powwow, and we're all here.”

“Getting together wasn't my idea,” Tess admitted softly. “It was Dane's. He was worried about you.”

Charles swore under his breath, set down the bottle on the table, and raked both hands through his hair. “I don't fucking believe this.”

“Charles,” Tess tried to begin.

But Charles pointed a finger at Dane and snapped, “I trusted you with all that. How dare you open it to the floor as if it's a subject up for discussion! It isn't.”

Unfazed by Charles's anger, Dane leaned in and met his glare. “It's about more than what happened with her, Charles. It's about all of it. You need to talk about it, and you need to with us, because you know we're the only three people on the planet that you can talk to. I'm not afraid of you. Go ahead and be furious at me. I'm trying to help you.”

Charles grunted, but sat back in his seat, letting out a heavy sigh. “I came here to have a good night, not to be dissected and analyzed, dammit.”

“Don't think of it as a dissection,” Dane said. “Think of it as more of an intervention.”

“Fuck you,” Charles ground out.

“What's going on?” Tess asked tersely, looking from Charles to Dane and back again. “Because you're worrying
me
now. Dane was right; you're not okay.”

Pierce watched them intently without a word, waiting.

“Charles.” Dane's voice was soft, coaxing. “Tell them. We're here for you.”

Charles glared at his brother and blew out another frustrated breath, rubbing his hands over his face. “Jesus, Dane.”

“Someone start, please,” Tess practically begged. She looked to Charles, her blue eyes wide with concern. “Honey?”