Authors: Darah Lace
didn’t want to discuss his feelings for Charlotte with
anyone. Certainly not with a petulant child who had
added to the mess he created.
“You are. You’re in love with Charlotte. All this
time, I thought you were just—but you really...” Her
lower lip began to tremble, and a tear spilled down
her cheek. She looked down at her lap. “This is so
unfair. I love you, Marcus. I have since I was fifteen.
I’ve been waiting for you to see that I’m grown up.”
“I’m sorry, Nat. You’re sweet, but—”
“But you don’t love me.”
“No. I care for you, like a kid sister. Even if I
didn’t love Charlotte...” He trailed off when she burst
into tears and searched the console for a tissue. He
found a napkin from the last fast food place he’d
driven through, and with a sigh, put the truck in
gear before his conscience overrode common sense
and he did something stupid. Like try to comfort her.
As much as he hated to see her cry, she would
probably take it as a sign that he cared more than he
did. Besides, a good cry would help her heal—not to
mention keep her quiet. He needed to think.
But his thoughts were a jumble, and clearly,
Natalie had more to say. She laid a hand on his arm
resting on the console. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
He thought back to the minutes following their
lovemaking. He’d come near telling her, thought she
might have guessed, but he hadn’t actually said the
words. “No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Something about the way she said it, the way
her voice cracked with shame, made him look at her.
“What do you mean?”
She darted a quick glance at him, guilt and
remorse shifting back and forth around the hurt in
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her big brown eyes. She opened her mouth as if to
explain, then wedged her lower lip between her
teeth.
“Nat?”
“I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I think
she loves you, too.” He thought he would have to
prompt her again, but she shook her head and
rushed on. “She gave up too easily. From all I’d
heard about Charlotte, I’d expected her to be a
vindictive bitch, to sink her claws into you and not
let go no matter who she hurt, you or me. But
instead,
I
was the bitch. I wanted her to leave you
alone so I let her believe you had feelings for me,
that your attraction to her was holding you back.”
Sniffling, she turned away. “You must hate me.
I don’t even like myself right now.”
Marcus gripped the steering wheel with both
hands and hung onto his patience by a thin thread,
afraid she’d start to cry again and never tell him
what he needed to know. Like why she thought
Charlotte loved him. He prayed she was right. “I
don’t hate you, Nat.”
“It’s just that I—I do want you to be happy.
That’s what she said, you know. You deserved to be
happy and to make sure you were. I thought that’s
what I was doing—would do if you gave me the
chance. Anyway, she obviously cares enough about
you to do what she thought—or what I led her to
believe—was best for you. I’m so sorry, Marcus.
Maybe it’s not too late.”
“Maybe.” But if it was, he had no one to blame
but himself. He’d been cocky enough to think he
could
control
everything—a
teenage
girl’s
infatuation, his attraction to Charlotte, his dick.
Well, he’d done about as well controlling those as he
had his heart.
But right now it wasn’t
his
heart he was
concerned about. Charlotte might not love him,
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might not care if he loved her, but she had to be
hurting after the things Natalie said. He had to find
her. He had to make things right.
Luckily, he knew exactly where she would be at
seven o’clock on Christmas Eve, the night of
miracles.
A little angel had told him.
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Arms loaded with colorfully wrapped gifts,
Charlotte backed up to the double doors of the burn
unit’s game room. She sniffled, remnants of the last
breakdown she’d had since leaving Marcus at the
church, and sucked in a steadying breath. She
couldn’t start blubbering in front of the children and
upset them.
Butting her way inside, she heard the pitter
patter of slippered feet and Sarah’s sweet voice.
“Charlotte, you came.”
“Of course, honey. I promised didn’t I?” She
surveyed the room, taking a head count to make
sure she had enough gifts for everyone. “Did Dylan
go home?”
“Yeah, today.”
Good
. Children needed to be home with their
families at Christmas. She’d take his present to him
later in the week.
Squatting at the base of the tree, she lowered
her burden to the floor as several children, excited at
her arrival and the new haul, ran over to
investigate. She looked around for the smallest and
most precocious of the bunch. “What about Amy?”
“Oh, she’s here somewhere.” Sarah danced
beside her. “I can’t wait to show you what I got this
morning.”
Charlotte smiled at Sarah’s excitement and felt
a little of her depression lift. This place—these
children—could always do that, make her forget the
world outside. “Oh, did Santa come early?”
“You could say that.”
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She looked up to see the girl’s face lit with
humor. Brushing the dust off the knees of her jeans,
she straightened and slipped out of her hip-length,
black leather jacket. “Okay, I give. What’s up?”
Sarah took her jacket and draped it over the
chair behind her. “We had a visitor after breakfast.”
“Yes, I’ve already got that much. Who was it?”
“Marcus.” Sarah beamed. “And look what he
gave me.”
Charlotte flinched at the sound of his name and
suddenly wished she hadn’t worn her hair in a
ponytail. It left her flushed skin too exposed, even
above the turtleneck that peeked from under her
sweatshirt. Her gaze followed Sarah’s fingers as they
ran over the purple tie-dyed scarf tied neatly around
her throat. The very scarf she’d thought he bought
for Natalie.
“It covers my scar.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“He said you helped him pick it out.”
“Yes.” Something fluttered inside Charlotte,
knowing he spoke of her to the children. Then again,
he could have been using her relationship with them
to ease the way into creating one of his own. Either
way, she was relieved the gift she had helped him
choose wasn’t for another woman.
“Charlotte!”
Amy’s squeal from behind yanked her from the
edge of another attack of self-pity. She turned to
greet her favorite imp and stopped in her tracks
when her gaze, leveled for the tiny five year old,
landed on a pair of very masculine, jean-clad thighs.
Following them upward, she took in slender hips
and a trim waist that expanded into a broad chest
covered in a dark green cashmere sweater. Little
legs covered in pink thermal pajama pants dangled
over wide shoulders.
Unable to breathe for the tightness squeezing
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her lungs, Charlotte blinked past the face she knew
so well to Amy’s, peering at her over waves of jet
black hair. “See what Marcus gave me. A snow globe.
It has a little town in it.”
“H—how pretty.” That he’d been thinking of the
children while on their trip was another reminder of
the kind of man he was. And that she had ruined
any chance of happiness with him. That she’d never
really had a chance.
“I hope you don’t mind me barging in.”
Forced to acknowledge him, she took a direct hit
to her heart. Geez, it hurt to look at him. “Of course
not. The children seem to have formed an
attachment to you. And it was thoughtful of you to
bring gifts. Where’s Natalie?”
If the floor opened up to swallow her, she would
have rejoiced. It was the last thing she had meant to
ask. Now she sounded like a jealous ex-lover, exactly
what she was.
He shrugged, making Amy giggle, then lowered
her to her feet. “I don’t know. I dropped her off at the
ranch and headed back here. Didn’t want to miss the
fun.”
Fun? He called this fun? Every nerve in her
body ached with the need to touch him, to feel the
warmth of
his
touch.
Sarah tugged on her arm. “He brought
something else, too. The doctors and nurses have
been having fun with it all day.”
Both the girls began to titter and point above
her head. She glanced up and saw a sprig of
mistletoe tied to a ceiling beam with red ribbon.
“You gotta kiss her, Marcus.”
Charlotte jerked around to find Amy and Sarah
pushing him toward her. Shaking her head, she
started to back away, but his hands slid up her arms
to rest on her shoulders. He leaned close to whisper.
“For the kids.”
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She wanted his kiss, wanted it more than
anything. But she’d made a promise to herself that
she would think of him and what he needed. “I don’t
think we...”
“Then quit thinking,” he murmured as his head
drifted toward hers. There it was, the same raw
hunger in his eyes she’d seen so many times before.
But there were other things now, a gentle
understanding, a questioning hope, a profound
longing.
She closed her eyes, certain her own longings
were playing tricks on her, and ducked from under
his hands. “I left something in the car.” She started
walking backward, toward the exit. “Sarah, you start
passing out the presents.”
“Charlotte, wait.”
His voice followed her into the hall, and she
quickened her pace almost to a run. Several nurses
looked up as she passed their station, but she didn’t
care. She could feel the tears welling up and had to
make it to the elevator before the dam broke.
He caught her half way down the hall and
matched his stride to hers. “I’ll come with you.”
“There’s not that much.” Actually there were no
gifts in the car. And as much as she hated to lie to
the kids, she wasn’t coming back tonight. Not while
Marcus was here.
“I need to talk to you anyway. There are some
things I should explain.”
“You don’t have to. I get it now. I—” To her
horror, her voice cracked then wouldn’t budge past
her throat as the first of her tears tipped over her
bottom lashes.
“Oh God, Charlotte, please don’t cry.”
Swiping the back of her hand over wet cheeks,
she lifted her chin away from him and sniffed. “I’m
not.” Not really. This was nothing compared to what
she wanted to do. Would do later when she was by
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herself.
He stepped in front of her, putting his hands on
her upper arms when she tried to go around him.
“Then stop running away.”
“I’m not,” she repeated the same feeble words,
unable to think beyond her need for escape.
“You’re not crying and you’re not running?” He
shook his head. “You used to be a better liar than
that.” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Not this time.”
Hysteria bubbled inside her, and she could feel
herself losing the thin grasp she had on her
emotions. “What do you want from me, Marcus?”
“I’ll answer that later. For now—” Marcus
moved her to one side of the hall as two nurses
approached with obvious curiosity and waited for
them to pass. “For now, I want to start by saying I’m
sorry.”
“No,
I’m
sorry. For everything. If I’d known—”
Her voice broke again and shame dragged her gaze
to the wall behind him.
“Shh, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I made a game out of trying to
seduce you. When I couldn’t win fairly, I cheated.
And now...”
“And now?” he prompted.
She inhaled deeply and exhaled, struggling for
composure. “You won. No matter what happened.”