he berated himself, aware that both Meg and her son were now looking at him, Meg surreptitiously Scott with the frank intensity of a child.
‘It’s rude to stare, Scott,’ his mother remonstrated as she noticed his intensity of concentration.
The little boy turned away obediently. Only to turn back again seconds later when his mother wasn’t looking, those green eyes studied on Jed’s face.
Obviously he had never seen a man try to eat half a cow in one mouthful before.
‘Mr Cole, why don’t you have a tree?’ Scott finally asked, a frown marring his creamy brow.
Ah, it wasn’t the steak that was bothering him at all.
‘Or decorations?’ The little boy looked disapproving now. ‘We like decorations, don’t we, Mummy? An’ there’s no cards, either,’ Scott continued before his mother could answer him. ‘With robins on. We like robins, don’t we, Mummy?’ He gave his mother a beatific smile.
As little kids went, this one was a cute little devil, Jed allowed as he finally managed to swallow the steak. In fact, with his dark hair, green eyes, the freckles on his little nose, he was a tiny version of his mother.
Not again.
Meg Hamilton, even without the extra baggage, was most definitely not his type.
At thirty-eight, he liked his women to be tall and sophisticated, older women, who were only interested in the brief relationship he was willing to give. Meg had the look of a woman who had already taken enough blows to her girlhood dreams, without another selfish bastard coming along to shatter them some more.
‘I did explain, Scott—’ Meg spoke quietly to her son now ‘—that not everyone celebrates Christmas.’
‘Do you celebrate Christmas, Mr Cole?’ Scott questioned guilelessly.
‘Well…Yes. Usually.’ Talk about putting him on the spot. ‘But, you see, I don’t actually live here, Scott. I live in a place called New York.’ He predicted what the next question would be and answered it. ‘Very far away from here, in a place called America.’ Where, no doubt, dozens of cards and gifts would be waiting for him to deal with when he returned.
But even in New York he wouldn’t have put up a tree and decorations, had never seen the need for them when there was only him living there, the modern chrome and leather of his apartment not lending themselves to such frivolity.
Scott’s eyes were wide now, surrounded by the same incredibly long lashes as those of his mother. ‘Then why are you here and not there?’
Exactly like his mother, Jed identified impatiently, who had asked him a similar question before dinner.
But the difference here was that with cute little kids like Scott you didn’t feel comfortable either fobbing them off or lying to them.
However, at this point in time, Jed really didn’t feel like telling the little boy the truth, either. Especially as there hadn’t been so much as a flicker of recognition in Meg’s face when he’d introduced himself earlier.
He wasn’t quite sure where Meg had been for the last nine months while the invasion of his privacy had become a thing of nightmares, so that he had come to England and hidden away in this cottage in order to find the peace and quiet he needed to work. Not that he had worked. Well…not much, anyway. But this escape from instant recognition was better than nothing.
‘I think we’ve bothered Mr Cole enough for one evening, Scott.’ Meg came smoothly to his rescue at his continued silence. ‘It’s almost time for your bath and then bed.’
‘Oh, but, Mummy, Father Christmas comes tomorrow night,’ the little boy protested.
She smiled. ‘All the more reason for you to get lots of sleep tonight. Let’s help Mr Cole clear away, and then I’ll run your bath—’ She broke off, giving Jed a wry look. ‘I take there is hot water for a bath?’
He nodded. ‘And a shower, of sorts.’ He stood up. ‘You’ll need your bags from the car?’ He didn’t particularly relish the idea of going back out into the cold and wet, but neither did he think it a good idea for Meg to be wandering about naked upstairs later. It might be fun, but after the thoughts he had been having about the curviness of her hips, and the soft warmth of her body, it probably wasn’t the best idea.
In fact, having this unlikely pair here at all wasn’t a particularly good idea, but as none of them had any choice in the matter he would have to make the best of it. And that included providing Meg with nightclothes.
‘Please.’ She nodded. ‘Just the one bag in the boot of the car.’
‘Travelling light?’ He raised dark brows, remembering all the clutter his sisters-in-law always seemed to carry around for their kids.
‘We’re only staying at my parents’ until Boxing Day,’ Meg answered him as she collected the plates together, at the same time, it seemed, carefully avoiding his gaze.
They didn’t have Boxing Day in the States, made do with Christmas Eve and Christmas Day for the holidays over there, but it seemed to him that Meg had travelled a long way for a three-day, now two-day, visit. Why?
‘We’re going to see my granma and grandad,’ Scot told him brightly.
‘So I understand.’ Jed nodded, finding himself smiling at the little boy in spite of himself.
Children, especially little ones like this, were not part of his everyday life. Although, despite what he might have said earlier, he was fond enough of his nieces and nephews.
‘Do you know my granma and grandad?’ Scot looked up at him expectantly.
He gave a shake of his head. ‘I can’t say that I’ve ever met them, no.’
‘Scott, it really is time for your—’
‘Neither have I.’ Scott spoke at the same time as his mother, his expression wistful now.
Curiouser and curiouser, Jed mulled frowningly. Scott had to be at least three, perhaps a little older, and yet he claimed never to have met his own grandparents. Jed could understand the lapse where the boy’s father’s parents were concerned, but not with his maternal grandparents.
What sort of people were the Hamiltons never to have even met their own grandson?
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