stay. We should be polite to her.”
“I was polite.”
“Saying you want the bed while you stomp your foot is not polite.”
Her bottom lip puffed out. “Sorry.”
And this was why he had trouble disciplining her. The second he pointed out something she’d done wrong, she turned on that little-girl charm. Batted her long black lashes over her pretty blue eyes.
Scrubbing his hand over his mouth, he rose. “I’ll tell you what. You stay in here for a few minutes, while I spend some time getting acquainted with our hostess.” And apologizing and doing damage control. “While I’m gone, you can get your pajamas and toothbrush out of your backpack and think about how you’d want a little girl to behave if she were a guest in our house.”
Apparently liking her assignment, she nodded eagerly.
“And don’t spend all your time thinking about how you’d spoil your little guest, because you wouldn’t. If you had to give up your bed for a stranger, you’d want her to be nice to you.”
Finley nodded again and said, “Okay. I get it.”
Rory was absolutely positive she didn’t, but he had to make amends to Shannon. He left Finley in the bedroom and walked up the hall to the kitchen.
The house was small, but comfortable. The furniture was new and expensive, an indication that Raleigh’s Department Store did, indeed, make lots of money. So maybe the trip to Pennsylvania might not have been the mistake he’d thought while sitting in his car for ten hours, not moving, on the interstate?
He found Shannon in the kitchen. Still wearing her coat, she drew bread from a drawer and cheese from the refrigerator.
“Thanks again for taking us in.”
“No problem.” She set the bread and cheese on the center island of the sunny yellow kitchen with light oak cabinets and pale brown granite countertops. She reached for the top button of her coat. “Furnace has kicked in,” she said with a laugh, popping the first button and the second, but when she reached for the third, she paused. “I think I’ll just take this out to the hall closet.”
She walked past him, to the swinging door. Wanting something to do, he followed her. Just as he said, “Is there anything I can do to help with supper?” her coat fell off her shoulders, revealing a bright red dress.
But when she turned in surprise, he saw the dress wasn’t really a dress but some little red velvet thing that dipped low at the bodice, revealing an enticing band of cleavage. Tall black boots showcased her great legs.
She was dressed like Mrs. Santa—if Mrs. Santa were a young, incredibly endowed woman who liked short skirts.
His dormant hormones woke as if from a long winter’s nap, and he took a step back. These little bursts of attraction he was having toward her were all wrong. He had an unruly daughter who took priority over everything in his life, including his hormones, and he was a guest in Shannon’s house. Plus, tomorrow morning, when the storm was over, they’d go into her department store as adversaries of a sort. She’d be trying to sell her family business to him and he’d be looking for reasons not to buy. He couldn’t be attracted to her.
He swallowed back the whole filing cabinet of flirtatious remarks that wanted to come out. “That’s an interesting choice of work clothes.”
She laughed nervously. “I was going to fill in for our Santa’s helper in the toy department.”
Ah. Not Mrs. Santa but Santa’s helper.
“Well, the dress is very…” He paused. He knew the dress was probably supposed to be Christmassy and cute. And on a shorter woman it probably was. But she was tall, sleek, yet somehow still womanly. He didn’t dare tell her that. “Festive.”
She brought the coat to her neck, using it to shield herself. “That’s the look we’re after. Festive and happy. And it actually works for the girl who fits into this costume. I was lucky Mother Nature saved me and I didn’t have to fill in for her tonight.”
Recognizing her acute nervousness, Rory pulled his gaze away from her long, slim legs. He cleared his throat. “I…um…just followed you to see if I could help you with anything.”
She motioned toward his black suit and white shirt. “Are you sure you want to butter bread or stir tomato soup in a suit?”
He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and began rolling up his sleeves.
And Shannon’s mouth watered. Damn it. She’d already figured out she couldn’t be fantasizing about him. Sure, his shoulders were broad, his arms muscled. And she’d always been a sucker for a man in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves looking like he was ready to get down to business. But as far as she could tell, he was married. That shut down the possibility of any relationship right then and there. Plus, she wanted him to buy her parents’ store. She couldn’t be drooling on him.
She hung up her coat, then scurried past him, into the kitchen and directly to the laundry room. Leaning on the closed door, she drew in a deep breath. God, he was gorgeous. But he was also married.
Married. Married. Married.
She forced the litany through her head, hoping it would sink in, as she grabbed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from the dryer and changed into them.
When she returned to the kitchen he stood at the center island, buttering bread. “While we have a few seconds of privacy, I also wanted to apologize for Finley. I brought her because she’s on Christmas break from school and I hate to leave her with her nanny for an entire week. But I know she can be a handful.”
Walking over to join him, she said, “She’s just a little girl.”
“True, but she’s also recently entered a new phase of some sort where she stomps her foot when she doesn’t get her own way.”
Standing so close to him, she could smell his after-shave. Her breathing stuttered in and out of her lungs. So she laughed, trying to cover it. “A new phase, huh?”
“She was perfectly fine in preschool and kindergarten, but first grade is turning her into a diva.”
“Diva?”
“Yeah.” Smiling, he caught her gaze, and every nerve ending in her body lit up like the lights on the Christmas tree in Central Park. Spinning away from him, she repeated the litany in her head again.
Married. Married. Married!
“You know, I can easily handle this myself. You can use the den for privacy if you need to call your wife.”
He snorted a laugh. “Not hardly.”
She set the frying pan for the sandwiches on the stove and faced him again. “I’m sure she’s worried.”
“And I’m sure she and her new husband aren’t even thinking about me and Finley right now.”
“Oh.” Nerves rolled through her. He was divorced? Not married?
Their gazes caught. Attraction
