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December 10th
THE CLOCK IN THE LIVING room struck midnight again. Except Colson barely heard it as he deepened the kiss. Her mouth quivered against his, which just served to intensify his desire for her. He was so wrapped up in the kiss Colson forgot that at some point, they’d both need to come up for air. Had her gentle teasing kiss been the start? Or was he to blame for this because of where he’d placed the mistletoe?
Suddenly, the heat of her mouth was gone as Blair abruptly ended the kiss, breaking the spell.
Disappointment seized him when he noticed her back away from him.
He held his hand out. “Blair...”
“I should go,” she said breathlessly, a stunned expression on her face.
Looked like the kiss had taken her by surprise as well. Even though she’d been the one to initiate this time.
“You don’t have to,” he said. “Let me drive you home.”
“In whose car?” she asked.
A very good question because if he drove her car, he’d be stuck in town, and if he drove his, she’d have to leave her car here.
“I can drive your car,” he offered. “I’ll catch a ride from town after that—”
“At this hour?” She shook her head. “I can make my own way home.”
“Blair, don’t run off again,” he pleaded.
“I’m not running off. It’s just...if I stay, I’m liable to do something that we can’t take back.” He saw the blush in her cheeks.
“Ah. Yes. I see.” He ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. Yeah, his mind had gone there when the kiss had gotten heated, but he hadn’t figured she’d end up thinking the same thing. Colson had been attracted to her ever since he’d met her, but that was nothing compared to the desire raging through him now. Somehow, his feelings for Blair had intensified after a single kiss.
“So I really should go. For the sake of our professional relationship.” She rushed off then, stopped momentarily to open the front door, and disappeared into the night.
Even though she was gone, he could still feel the heat of her lips on his. Could still taste that spicy, tart sweetness that reminded him of ice cream and apple pie. She had tasted so good that he had been ready to devour her if she’d let him.
Colson ran a hand through his hair again and he realized that he was sweating. And his heart was pounding like crazy. As if he’d just been on one of his early morning jogs. Damn it, he needed to cool down.
He decided that he could deal with the wreath later and went upstairs to take a cold shower. Which didn’t do him any good because it still felt like fire was coursing through his veins when he got out of the shower.
Eventually, he got into bed in a futile attempt to fall asleep. What he needed to do was put the kiss in the rearview mirror. Too bad he started worrying about Blair and whether she’d arrived home okay.
Should he text her? No, that would just seem like he was hounding her. She’d given her word that she would let him know when she got home safely, so Colson was going to have to trust that she’d keep her promise. Otherwise, he’d be up all night worrying or worse, he’d wind up thinking less of her because she couldn’t keep a promise.
Sleep didn’t come quickly. Despite tossing off the covers and turning down the radiator, Colson was drenched in sweat. His desire for Blair had turned into torture. He’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her and there was no way to satisfy it.
Right when his finally started to drift off, his phone pinged. He fumbled for it off the nightstand and checked his messages. There was a new text from Blair:
Hi. Letting you know that I got home ok.
He figured that it would be polite to respond. And yet, with that kiss replaying in his head, he didn’t know what the hell to say. Mostly because he felt an overwhelming urge to send something referencing it. Something clever or flirty, to let her know that even though getting to kiss her was the last thing he’d expected, he didn’t regret it. To let her know that he wanted to kiss her again.
Instead of sending something playful or downright inappropriate, he replied: Thanks for the heads up. Talk later? without referring to the kiss at all.
His heart slammed against his ribcage when he fired off that message. Because it was an invitation that she could turn down. That kiss had made her run off again. For all he knew, she could be contemplating ending their working relationship or cutting off contact altogether.
And he’d never be able to plead his case or point out that she had turned the kiss into something far beyond a playful, teasing surprise. He’d kissed her first to make light fun of her aversion to the mistletoe tradition. She’d probably returned the kiss for the same reason. Then, that light fun had become something explosive. Something real. With genuine passion behind it. That kiss had been so intense that he’d wanted to take her to bed.
This bed. What if she hadn’t been the one to come to her senses first? Would they be in bed together right now?
For the second time that night, Colson felt himself go hard and he had to grit his teeth against the rush of desire. Wanting her was dangerous. A fling wasn’t something he could afford to risk. He still needed her help with his family’s antiques for one thing. And for another, he was too confused about the trajectory of their relationship. If she was another one of his boring, upper-class diversions he’d know exactly where this was going: nowhere. But Blair was neither bored nor boring. She didn’t play games and seemed just as interested in him as he was in her. Which was a breath of fresh air on one hand, and a terrifying prospect on the other. Because it meant that another kiss was a question of when and not if. Blair wouldn’t hold back forever and neither could he. And based on her rush out of the mansion, she knew exactly where a kiss could lead the same way he knew. Sooner or later, they’d cross a line that their professional relationship couldn’t come back from. He’d go from being her client to...well, something else.
Colson looked down at his phone screen. There was another ping. Spam. Then a notification that read...Blair is typing.
His chest tightened. He braced himself. For what, he didn’t exactly know. Clarity, perhaps? Blair could want to push things further. Or she could flat-out reject him. Every part of him wanted more. Wanted to cross that line even though that was just asking for trouble. If they wound up in bed together, it would be like torching their relationship for good. Kissing Blair had been the stupidest thing he could have done, and yet, he didn’t want to take it back. What came next was up to her, and he hoped she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.
A new text came in from Blair. A single word:
Goodnight.
So much for clarity.
***
COLSON WOKE UP TO THE sound of his phone ringing. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand. Maybe it was Blair. She could have figured out what she wanted to do next in the clear light of day.
Sitting up, he quickly answered. “Hello?”
“Greetings, Colson. I’m sure I didn’t wake you since you’ve probably been up since the crack of dawn working.”
He knew that pompous tone of voice anywhere. “Dad. What’s going on? We don’t have a meeting scheduled for today—”
“You’re out of town and worst of all, Christmas is approaching,” his father cut in forcefully. “We’ve got to use every spare minute to finish out the year on secure footing.”
“You know, most people slow down this time of year,” Colson said, attempting a feeble joke to try and alleviate the tension that was already settling.
“We are not most people,” his father said, each word cold and sharp as ice. “Since you’re suddenly such a stickler for schedules, we can sit down for a video conference in a half hour.”
Colson suppressed a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, sure, I—”
His father hung up before he could finish the sentence. Muttering under his breath, Colson dragged himself out of bed. He’d barely gotten enough sleep. Mostly because he’d spent the whole night dreaming about Blair. Reliving that kiss over and over until it was seared into his memory. He’d never forget the taste of her. Never forget the heat of her soft, pliant lips.
Maybe an early morning impromptu meeting was what he needed. At least he’d be able to get his mind off Blair. His father could be a pain in the ass, but these were desperate times. While he usually dreaded having to listen to his old man drone on about lines on a spreadsheet, that kind of torture was probably healthier than obsessing over a woman who more than likely wanted nothing to do with him now. Though he didn’t regret the kiss, there was a good chance that she did. And he felt sick to his stomach at potentially chasing Blair off for good.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Colson got ready—taking a quick shower, brushing his teeth, and downing a cup of coffee in record time. His father, Whittaker Bennett. Was not the kind of man to keep waiting, so Colson quickly grabbed his laptop and headed downstairs to set up in the living room.
His dad appeared on screen several minutes later, the usual disapproving look on the older man’s face. A harsh face that looked like it was carved out of solid ice, offset by snow-white hair and glacial blue eyes.
“Hey, Dad. Guessing this is a standard earnings report you wanted to go over?” Colson asked, trying not to sound bored out of his mind already.
Instead of responding right away, his father squinted at something in the distance. “What in heaven’s name is that?”
Colson shifted in the chair to momentarily glance over his shoulder. He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “What?”
“Is that...” The expression on his father’s face seemed to get more severe. “Is that a Christmas tree?”
“You act like you’ve never seen one before,” Colson muttered.
“I thought you said that the servants had all moved out of the mansion. How the devil did a decorated tree get there?” his father demanded.
If this was anybody else, Colson would have called them out for being a pompous jackass. But since this was his father and the president of Bennett and Company, he was going to grit his teeth and get on with it. Partially out of respect, but mostly because he didn’t want to stir up any workplace conflict during the holidays. He had enough of that on his plate with Blair. Leaning back in the leather chair, Colson crossed his arms. “I put the tree up.”
His father sputtered, his face turning such a violent red that Colson thought the old man’s head might explode. Truthfully, his father wasn’t really all that old. It was just that Whittaker Bennett had never been youthful. He had been stern and preoccupied with a sense of duty all his life. Not exactly the qualities of a young man. “Is that what you’ve been up to? Decorating trees? By yourself?”
Frustration mounted, forcing Colson to momentarily hold his head in his hands. “Dad, is this a business meeting or isn’t it?”
Narrowing his blue eyes dangerously, his father said, “I didn’t send you to handle your great-grandmother’s affairs to do servants’ work in the process. If the servants are gone, hire someone to move your great-grandmother’s furniture.”
“Someone’s been hired,” he heaved out in annoyance.
“Oh?” His father’s bushy white eyebrows went up. “So you do have a servant taking care of your great-grandmother’s affairs?”
“She’s not a servant,” Colson gritted out. Somehow, in his brief time in Mislin Bush, he’d forgotten just how exasperating it could be to deal with his family. Locals in Mislin Bush were ordinary, humble, hardworking people who didn’t make it a hobby to look down on everyone else. Colson had gotten used to that in a matter of days.
Yet, now that he was speaking to his father one-on-one, he was beginning to recall the things he hated about working in the city. The smug superiority from the titans of industry in his social circle. His father’s endless condescension. Both of his parents’ refusal to interact with anyone they decided was beneath them.
What Colson had once seen as his parents deferring to formality and outdated social graces, just seemed self-important and overbearing now. It was as if the upper-class wanted to use good breeding and family fortunes like weapons against anyone they deemed inferior and his father was no different. Based on his rising annoyance, Colson realized he wasn’t going to be able to keep the peace and avoid conflict like he’d planned.
The old man frowned. “She? You have a woman handling all that heavy furniture?”
“Blair Hawthorne has years of experience dealing with antiques—and she’s not a servant, by the way,” Colson said.
“Ah, well, I hadn’t realized there was a respectable auction house in town,” his father said. “You should have led with that.”
“It’s not an auction house. It’s a small antique store. That’s all.”
Dad gave him an incredulous look from his side of the computer screen. “You mean to tell me that you’re going to let some woman with no real credentials deal with this? What track record could someone of that sort possibly have?”
“Blair is perfectly capable of dealing with everything,” Colson said firmly, with far more confidence than he felt in that moment. Because even though he trusted in Blair’s expertise, last night’s kiss had probably done more damage than he cared to admit to himself. For all he knew, Blair was gearing up to drop him as a client. Still, even though he was in danger of pushing her away for good, he was adamant about defending her against his father’s narrow-minded attacks. She didn’t deserve to be disrespected. “As I said, she has years of experience and she knew Opal.”
“Goodness gracious, she was one of Opal’s friends?” His father shook his head, his contempt palpable. “You’ll forgive me for saying, but your great-grandmother came from pretty common stock originally. New money always does, you know. They start off as servants and laborers. Her father was the mansion’s gardener before he made his fortune. At least Opal had the good sense to marry her way up. Pity she also had an unfortunate habit of spending her time with just about anybody. Rabble really. So, this Hawthorne woman being familiar with Opal is not an endorsement.”
“Blair helped Opal,” he countered, remembering that it was Blair who helped his great-grandmother choose the pocket watch as a Christmas present. “That speaks to Blair’s character.”
Dad lifted a hand and waved dismissively. “Don’t misunderstand, I had quite a lot of affection for my dear grandmother Opal, but anyone she befriended is going to have to come highly recommended from more appropriate sources.”
Colson clenched his jaw. That was the best his father could muster. Not love. Just affection. The sort of cold emotion that was utterly appropriate yet completely distant. In his heart, Colson knew that his great-grandmother had deserved better. Opal had been a good woman. Though she took zero nonsense, she was also kind. She’d insisted on treating everyone with equal respect no matter their background. If only his father had learned that lesson from her. It would have saved him from a lifetime of sounding like a self-important dick.
“I’m an appropriate source,” Colson said finally, fighting to keep his cool. “I recommend Blair. That should be enough.”
The old man’s eyebrows furrowed as he sized Colson up with a questioning look. “This is unusual.”
Colson sighed heavily. “What is?”
“You’ve never been this insistent about someone providing a professional service. Business is rarely this personal for you...” Suddenly, his father’s expression hardened to suspicion. “How old is this woman?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Answer the question,” his father ordered flatly.
It felt more like an interrogation than a mere question, but Colson decided it was best to give an answer. That way he’d be able to shut his father down before his suspicion worsened. “I don’t know exactly. Late twenties. Early thirties.”
“What does she look like?”
Colson tapped his knuckles against the arm of the chair, renewed frustration surging through him. The truth was, if he actually gave a response, he’d end up describing Blair in the most poetic terms. Golden curls that formed a halo around her head. The face of an angel, contrasted by lush lips that invited him to sin. Huge brown eyes he could get lost in. Not to mention a body he couldn’t stop thinking about. Yeah, there was no way in hell he was going to give his father an answer to that question. “Why does it matter what she looks like?”
“Is she beautiful?” his father demanded, now watching him like a hawk. Watching for a tell that the old man might use against him. His father was good at that. Finding weaknesses and exploiting them. Which was why both men were usually so formal and kept each other at arm’s length. The less they knew about each other, the better things would be at work. That way, they couldn’t completely destroy each other if they were both in the dark about the other’s vulnerabilities.
“She isn’t the only beautiful woman in town Dad,” Colson ground out. “There are beautiful women everywhere.”
“Yes, but there’s a certain look on your face.”
“A look? What look?” Colson demanded, feeling exposed.
“A look that tells me you’d rather be meeting with this Hawthorne woman than meeting with me,” his father accused coldly.
To be fair, Colson would rather be speaking to just about anybody other than his father, but the old man was right unfortunately. Of all the people Colson wanted to see in that moment, Blair was at the very top of the list.
His father continued his relentless barrage of questions. “Is she married? Has she shown an interest in you? Who are her parents?”
“Her parents?” Colson’s jaw clenched. “Dad, that’s enough.”
“Is she married or not?” his dad pressed. “No matter. Marriage doesn’t have to get in a man’s way, does it?”
“Look, I’m no choir boy, but I’ve always respected a woman’s marriage.” Colson regarded his old man with disgust. “Blair is single.”
“Don’t get self-righteous with me,” his father warned darkly. “If you’re sleeping with her, you need to make sure that she isn’t some gold-digger. So yes, her family background matters. Is she from a reputable family in town? There’s some old money in that town. Not much but it exists. If she’s got a good background then maybe you can parlay that into something that benefits all sides. After all, I was married by the time I was your age.”
“Blair is middle class,” he forced out, anger simmering through him.
His father frowned. “So, she’s ordinary.”
There was nothing ordinary about her. In fact, Colson considered her to be one of a kind. She was smart, feisty, funny, generous, dedicated, loyal, and passionate. She possessed so many qualities that blew him away. Set her apart from so many of the people he’d known all his life. People who thought themselves superior just because they came from wealth. They were dead wrong. Wealth didn’t make somebody special. It was the heart and mind of a person that did that. And Blair spoke her mind and wore her heart on her sleeve. If she believed in something, she fought for it. Stood her ground no matter what. A quality that he both admired and found utterly frustrating. Truthfully, her stubborn nature and refusal to be impressed by him held an endless fascination. Which made that kiss under the mistletoe all the more stirring. After all her protests about the tradition, she’d kissed him under the mistletoe without any restraint. Damn, he hoped he hadn’t ruined his chances with her.
“Blair is a businesswoman,” Colson finally said. “That’s what counts.”
“The way you said that woman’s name. Something is going on.” His dad’s face hardened, anger flashing in the old man’s icy blue eyes. “You haven’t denied sleeping with her. If she’s out for our money—”
“I don’t need to dignify your insinuations with a response,” Colson interrupted, taking an authoritative tone. “Blair is not the purpose of this meeting. A meeting you requested, I might add.”
“We’ll have our meeting,” his father said in a voice cold enough to freeze Colson’s blood. “But this isn’t the end of it.”
“It’s not?” Colson asked, trying to sound as unfazed as possible. If he projected an air of disinterest in this father’s accusations, maybe he’d get the old man to back off.
“No, it’s not. And I’m going to make sure of it. Face to face. In person.”
“Meaning what?” Colson demanded.
His dad’s eyes darkened with resolve that put Colson on edge. “Meaning it’s time that someone kept tabs on you and Ms. Hawthorne’s efforts to settle your great-grandmother’s affairs. Which is why I’ve decided that in few days, I’ll be stopping by Mislin Bush to monitor your progress.”
