Enticed (21 page)

“Amen,” Alex said softly, and I concurred.

“Most of all,” Jonathan continued, “thank you for Rachel, who gave me back the family I always wanted, especially Uncle Alex and Max.”

When I raised my head, I realized Alex was staring right at me. “Amen,” he repeated.

I dropped my eyes quickly, instead rising from my seat to go to Jonathan and hug him tight. “I thank God for you, too,” I whispered in his ear before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Rachel!” Max concurred, and with laughter through my tears I gave him a big hug and kiss, too.

We dug into our feast with gusto. There was enough food to feed an army. I suspected we’d be eating leftovers for days. Jonathan enthusiastically detailed all the dishes I had contributed to the meal, including a decadent cherry “salad” made with sweetened, condensed milk, cherry pie filling and whipped cream that was in no way, shape or form healthy.

It was almost gone in a night.

Cleo contributed sweet potatoes with cranberries and brandied pecans while Harrison supplied the traditional green bean casserole. They joined us for the meal, despite their protests of propriety. Jonathan insisted, and they could no more deny him than I could.

It was a festive evening full of laughter and
heartfelt, human connection, like any Thanksgiving worth its salt should be.

After we forced down what few bites of dessert we could, choosing between pecan and pumpkin pies, Jonathan dragged us into the study so that we could see his new gaming accomplishment. Max
fell asleep nestled in my arms while Jonathan and Alex dueled together on the game. I reached a level of contentment I hadn’t thought possible with Drew’s contentious brother, so I sat in the afterglow of the meal with a sated smile on my face and allowed myself to relax for the rest of our evening.

None of us expected Drew to open the door of his study and loom there in the doorway like an angry cloud.

“Dad!” Jonathan exclaimed happily as he struggled for his crutches to rush to his father’s arms. “Happy Thanksgiving!” he said as he threw his arms around Drew’s neck and hugged him tight.

Drew’s eyes, however, were on the cozy family pictur
e on the couch, with Alex sitting close to me while I cuddled Max in my arms. “So it would appear,” he muttered as he straightened.

Jonathan was so happy to see his father that he missed how the air in the room crackled with tension. “There’s plenty of food! Let me go get you a plate.” He was out of the door before any of us could stop him.

There was nothing aside from a sleepy baby that prevented Drew from unleashing the wrath his clenched jaw indicated he was trying to contain.

Even that wasn’t enough.

“Well, this is cozy,” he said as he entered the room. “Was this always the plan or did you figure one Fullerton brother was as good as the other?”

“This isn’t Rachel’s fault,” Alex started.

“So it’s your fault again?” Drew asked.

I slid to my feet to take Max far away from the ugliness that was sure to follow. I met Jonathan in the kitchen, who was still all smiles and ready to take his father a plate of food. “I wouldn’t, Jonathan,” I said softly.

My suggestion was punctuated by the smashing of glass from the other room. I led Jonathan into the media room, where I transferred Max into his arms and turned on the TV so they wouldn’t hear the blowup to follow.

My legs shook as I made my way back to the study, where I found both men amidst broken crystal, with Alex nursing his jaw. “What the hell is wrong with you two?” I demanded. “There are children present.”

“Collateral damage, eh, Drew?” Alex taunted, which made his brother flare up again.

“Get the hell out of my house, Alex!”

He just twisted the knife. “Don’t you mean our house? It was willed to the both of us, after all.”

“Stop it!” I cried. “You’re ridiculous, both of you!” I turned to Drew. “Alex and Max are here because I invited them. I did that for Jonathan, because today is about family. You’re the one who made it about money, so you have no right to throw a tantrum now.”

“You’re taking his side?” Drew asked, his mood growing ever more ominous.

“I’m taking
their
side,” I clarified, pointing toward the media room.

“Don’t bother,” Alex muttered as he approached. “There are some miracles even you can’t pull off.” He glared at his brother contemptuously from the door. “But thanks for reminding me what I’m most thankful for. That I’m absolutely nothing like you.”

After a hateful stare-down, Alex looked back at me. “Thanks for dinner, Rachel. It was lovely.” He glared once again at Drew. “For a while.” He went to find his son, leaving Drew and me to square off.

“What gives you the right to invite that man into my house?” Drew demanded.

“You hired me to do what was best for your son,” I reminded.

“You’re absolutely right. I hired you. That means you work for me. That means you don’t go behind my back and hop into bed with the enemy
!”

I was flabbergasted as I watched him kick away glass on the floor to make his way toward his bar. “Maybe if you didn’t drink so much, you’d figure out that he isn’t your enemy at all. He’s your brother. And whether you like it or not, your son loves him.”

“Then he’s a fool,” Drew spat as he threw back whiskey right from the bottle. “And so are you for buying into his act.”

“No more a fool than buying into your act,” I shot back. His eyes darkened as he glared at me icily. “You tell me that you’d do anything for your son, but he’s so far at the bottom of your list I don’t think he’s even on it anymore. Your business, your grudges, you
r pride… they all mean more to you than that little boy.”

“You’re walking a thin line, Miss Dennehy,” he warned.

My Irish temper flared. “Oh, so I’m the hired help again? You don’t have a hard-on so I’m just the convenient little gopher who gets to make up for all your inadequacies?”

With a snarl he hurled the bottle against the opposite wall, cracking the frame of one of his paintings. I jumped from the loud noise, but I didn’t budge.

“Feel better?” I sneered.

“No,” he admitted as he crossed the seven feet between us
in a flash, slamming the door shut and locking me inside. “Not yet.”

He grabbed me and pulled me toward him, leaving me breathless with the forcefulness of his embrace. When his mouth crushed mine, I struggled against him, but he pinned me against the door with his hard, unforgiving body.
He didn’t relent until I submitted to the dominance of his kiss, which – by this point – was beyond my will to fight. The kiss flared so hotly that our own need for each other spiraled around us and locked us together like a magnetic force. It caught us up in some entangled web of desire neither one of us could deny. We were both breathless as we stumbled apart.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I told you never to betray me,” he muttered.

“How can I betray you when I don’t belong to you?”

He put an arm on either side of where I stood at the door as he bent down to look me in the eye. “You really think I have to make love to you to make you mine, Rachel?”

“Do you really think you’ve bought me with your salary?”

“This has nothing to do with money,” he corrected. “We are connected by something much, much stronger. I feel it in your kiss. I feel it in the way your body arches toward mine, as though you can’t get close enough. I’m in your blood, Rachel. I have been since the moment we met. The same way you’ve been in mine, which is why I broke all my own rules just to get back to you today.”

I licked my lips, which drew his gaze toward my mouth.

“We can play this game if you want to, but you know, deep down, that we’re only delaying the inevitable. You belong to me because you were made for me. You sizzle to life every time I touch you. You
really think you’re going to find that with anyone else? Tell me. Has anyone else made you feel the way that I do?”

“No,” I admitted softly.

His head bent toward mine for a much softer kiss than before. He toyed with my lips until I could do nothing but sigh in submission. He didn’t take me into his arms. We connected by our kiss alone until he withdrew just enough to whisper, “My bedroom door will be unlocked tonight and every night thereafter. You hold the key, Rachel. Come to me when you’re ready to lock us both inside.”

My eyes fluttered closed as he kissed me hard, with the promise of all the passion he offered. I shook as he pulled away and walked back toward the mess he created in his study, to pick up the pieces of
expensive crystal he had destroyed.

I slipped through the door and raced up the stairs, where I saw Jonathan sitting on the top step. He was understandably traumatized by the events of the evening
, and my flustered appearance did little to assuage him. “Are you OK?” he asked.

I nodded but did not speak. I didn’t trust myself. I wasn’t proficient enough a liar to convince this boy that everything was going to be okay, since I wasn’t sure of that myself.

“Is he really mad?” Jonathan asked.

“He was,” I admitted.

He nodded, as if he had seen this very scenario before. Given the shocking revelations at the hospital, I supposed he probably had. I sat next to him on the step. “These aren’t your problems, honey. Just stupid grownup stuff. I’m sorry it ruined your Thanksgiving after you worked so hard to make it so special.”

He shrugged before he stole a glance.
I could feel the flush in my cheeks, and the way my mouth had swollen from Drew’s demanding kiss. This perceptive boy missed no detail. “Are you in love with my dad?”

I didn’t want to lie to him, but I could hardly tell him the truth. “It’s complicated, Jonathan.
All I can really say is that no matter what, you’re my priority… not getting mixed up with your dad or Alex.”

“It’s probably best that you don’t,” he said.

“Why?”

“Everyone who loves my dad gets hurt. And eventually they get so hurt they leave.”

I took his hands in mine. “We already covered this. I’m not going anywhere.”

A tear slipped down his cheek. “Good. I don’t think I could make it without you.”

“Oh, sweetie,” I said as I cuddled him close while he cried.

I carried him to his bed and didn’t leave his side the rest of the night.

If Drew tried to find me that night after our encounter in his study, he never let on. He volleyed the ball into my court and established, with his withdrawn demeanor, that I would have to make the next move if we were going to
take that next step in our relationship.

After seeing how much distress this idea caused Jonathan, I withdrew from
Drew also. The poor kid had enough going on in his life without some unnecessary, hackneyed soap opera happening between his teacher and his father. I was the adult here and I knew I had to act like it, no matter what my hormones had to say about the matter. So I threw myself into the preparations for the Christmas and New Year’s parties, which were scheduled ten days apart. Drew worked late every night, but so did Jonathan and I. Dinners were separate by necessity, but honestly I was OK with the break. Drew had been right when he said he was in my blood. He was like a fever that kept me up night after night, tossing and turning, knowing all it would take was a short walk down the hall to relieve the growing frustration.

The less I saw of him, the less I had to deal with this unwanted complication.
I could keep my head on straight and focus on the things that really mattered. I could stay as busy as I needed to be during the day. I worked closely with Simone to oversee the details of the parties. To prepare for the Christmas showcase, this involved fully dressing the house. This inevitably turned into a full-time job dealing with professional decorators coming through the house on a daily basis. Each room was transformed thanks to garlands and ornaments and priceless heirlooms. The entire downstairs level was turned into a showrooms in various hues, complete with a tree (or two) in every room.

I was a little bummed that we didn’t decorate the trees together. One of the fondest memories of my childhood had been decorating the Christmas tree on Thanksgiving night, to usher in a season of family unity and togetherness symbolized by putting our personalized ornaments on the tree.

I’d have to remind myself that the Fullertons and I were not, in fact, a family, and this wasn’t just a mere Christmas tree for the home. Important people would file through the mansion during the holiday open house, and these professional decorations were more fitting to the Fullerton image.

Impersonal d
esigners took over this role, with nary a popcorn garland or homemade photo ornament in sight. There were trains around each tree, which matched the décor of the individual rooms perfectly. The ballroom had two 18-foot Grand Tetons with tiny yellow lights and shiny gold baubles, with strings of pearls draped delicately from the boughs. The living room was a more traditional Douglas fir, with ornaments in various shades of pink and green to match the room.

The media room featured two trees on either side of the screen on the far wall, with garland made of strips of film. Tiny silver ornaments crowded the tree, keeping with the media theme with various musical notes, movie cameras, clap boards and tiny awards.
Likewise the tree in the kitchen was decorated with tiny replicas of kitchen utensils, candies and cranberry garland.

Even t
he dining room showcased a 12-foot Rockefeller pine with crystal ornaments to match the timeless crystal and china in the grand mahogany cabinet. There wasn’t one nook or cranny in the downstairs level of the house that wasn’t festively decorated, yet they all left me cold. They were all flawless in appearance, but every time I looked at one I felt a deep sadness I couldn’t quite identify.

It was quite odd, really. I hadn’t decorated a personal Christmas tree for my home since the year before Jason died. Yet the longing this year was acute.

Perhaps it was because I couldn’t get away from the holiday wherever I turned. I was up to my neck in Christmas. And yet none of it was for me at all, but I guessed that was for the best. The holidays were more for children anyway, and Jonathan loved each and every moment, as if we were unearthing some magical memories from his past. So I would suck up my discontentment and smile for my favorite boy, carrying on with these strange new traditions as if they weren’t strange at all.

His happiness and wellbeing
were my only priorities, my irrational schoolgirl crush on his father notwithstanding.

O
n Saturdays, when Elise had custody of Jonathan for the day, I avoided Drew entirely, either by leaving the house first or locking myself in the bedroom until he found something better to do. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that I was purposefully avoiding him. There were no more surprise breakfasts or public excursions where the paparazzi hid in the bushes. Nightly phone calls were replaced by more impersonal emails to keep him abreast of Jonathan’s progress.

By the time Jonathan got his cast off in mid-December, I was feeling much more
like my old self. Maybe Drew had finally taken the hint, who knew? But after weeks of splitting my time and attention between Jonathan and the parties, even my unconscious mind had even given me a break from the madness. Apparently my fever had begun to subside. When Jonathan begged that I join him and his father that following Sunday, I couldn’t really come up with a reason not to. He wanted to get back on his horse, both literally and metaphorically, and Drew supported the idea, though I might have argued it was too soon.

However I, as the hired
teacher, was not consulted.

Even two weeks out from Christmas, we enjoyed weather in the mid-70s, which made our jaunt on the mountain trail a pleasant way to spend the afternoon.
Billowy clouds rose high in the sky, stretching all the way out to the ocean. We stopped for a picnic at the top of the mountain. Though he made no mention of it, I could tell by the look in his eyes that Drew was thinking of our last encounter during our hike. Maybe it was the way his hand brushed over the swell of my hip as he helped me into and out of the saddle, but I blushed as the ghost of his hand slid across my skin, its echo surrounding my breast possessively as though he had any right at all to touch me so intimately.

Any
other employee would have taken him directly to court and sued for millions in sexual harassment. Yet I had given him that right, whether directly or indirectly. Our living arrangement was cozy and familiar, blurring the very thin line of propriety that separated us. All that were left were the solid walls of our separate bedrooms, and I already knew I had permission to breach that final barrier between us if I so chose.

On days like that Sunday afternoon mere days before our big party, it was easy to forget why I chose not to.
Anyone looking on could have mistaken us for a real family. Drew and I doted on Jonathan like devoted parents, and Jonathan responded to us like an obedient, loving child. We laughed and joked as we explored the mountain trails on horseback, an activity I hadn’t indulged in a very long time.

“But you’re from Texas!” Jonathan giggled.

“In the suburbs,” I reminded. “Dallas isn’t all that different from Los Angeles. A tangle of freeways through different towns, many with different personalities. Lots to explore, but generally not on horseback.”

“When was the last time you were on a horse?” he asked.

“My grandparents’ farm,” I said with a smile. “They lived near a small town called Crosbyton, outside of Lubbock in West Texas. Gosh, it had to be more than a dozen years ago. I lived with them after my folks died.”

“How did your parents die, anyway?” Jonathan asked with
his childlike candor. Drew was quick to correct him.

“Jonathan, perhaps Rachel doesn’t want to unearth unpleasant memories on such a nice day.”

“It’s okay,” I said. After Jason died, the trauma from my early childhood felt so far removed from the acute loss of my son that it felt like these events had happened to someone else entirely. “My mom and dad broke up when I was very young,” I explained to Jonathan. “So I really didn’t know him much. He was gone from the time I was three. I don’t even remember him, honestly. After he left, my mom worked really hard to support me, going to school full-time and working full-time until she graduated and became a nurse. She commuted back and forth between Crosbyton and Lubbock, and ended up in a pileup accident during a bad snowstorm the January after I turned thirteen. We tried to find my dad after that, but he had suffered a fatal heart attack two years before that, so all I had left were my grandparents.”

Jonathan processed this new information we had never broached before. “Were they good to you?”

I smiled. “The best. They helped raise me after my dad left. I guess that’s where I learned my work ethic. Everyone is equal on a farm, each with their own part to play.”

“What did you grow?”

I laughed. “Mostly cotton, like most farms in that area. But we also grew okra, tomatoes, green beans, pecans, cantaloupe and the best watermelon in West Texas, which we sold at local farmer’s markets. And of course Gram was the best cook in the county, so I learned from a master.” I winked at Jonathan. “You’re part of a proud tradition.”

“We should grow something,” Jonathan decided. “What do you think, Dad?”

He grinned. “I think whatever the two of you set your mind to, you’ll do.” His eyes were warm as they met mine. “Are your grandparents still living, Rachel?”

I shook my head. “Gramps got sick around the time I turned 16. We ended up selling the farm
a couple of years later, and they went to live in a retirement home together. They refused to be separated, even after his stroke. He died the last semester of my senior year. Gram followed six weeks later. I used their inheritance money to move to Dallas and go to college.”

It took a long time to realize that it was part of that loneliness that led to my hasty decision to marry
Zach. I was an emotional orphan who needed to belong to someone… anyone. I could tell that Drew filled in those blanks as he watched my face. He blissfully changed the subject. “We haven’t spoken much about the party planning. Everything on schedule?”

“Ahead of. I’m already on New Year’s,” I admitted.

He laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’ll miss the most joyful time of the year.”

I just shrugged, which made Drew chuckle. “Why, Jonathan, I do believe we have a scrooge in our midst.”

Jonathan jumped right on board. “Come on, Rachel. You have to love Christmas.”

“Christmas is more for kids,” I dismissed. “Besides, it’s your home, so it’s really more your holiday.”

“It’s your home, too,” Jonathan insisted. “What would you do if you were back in Texas?”

“Honestly, I’d sleep from Christmas Eve till New Year’s. It’s no big deal, really.” Neither Fullerton looked convinced.

“But it’s Christmas,” Jonathan reasoned like only a kid could.

“I’m a low-key kind of girl. What can I say?”

“What would Gram and Gramps say?” Drew teased.

I just laughed. “Gram and Gramps would have more to say about your showcase of a house, mister.”

He wore an amused grin. “They wouldn’t approve?”

I shook my head with a wrinkle of my nose. “Looks more like a museum than a house decorated for the holiest birthday celebration of the year. Christmas is about kids and family, and all those imperfect little nicks in the façade that make a house a home.”

This piqued Jonathan’s interest, as he had never known any other way to celebrate the holiday. “So how would they do it?”

“Well,” I started, “Gramps would have put up those outdoor Christmas lights, the big, bulb looking ones in every color of the rainbow. Gram would have strung popcorn and cranberries to wrap around the tree, which had all these kitschy ornaments, many of which I made throughout the years as part of Gram’s arts and crafts projects. They were these clunky, chunky ornaments made of clay, with a penny from that year and little mementoes of things that had happened that year. Like the year I made my first dress, so we put all these little buttons on it, or the year I caught my first fish with Gramps, we had lures. We used glitter and paint and had a box full of these horrible ornaments that would send your decorators screaming for the hills.”

My voice softened as I felt that bittersweet nostalgia wrap itself around me. “Then, every Christmas Eve, we’d drink homemade egg nog by the potbelly fireplace. Gram would play piano while we sang carols and ate all the cookies we had spent the whole week making. All cookies except two, that is,” I added. “Had to save some for Santa, with some carrots set aside for the reindeer. Then I could open one gift that night, right before bedtime.”

“Sounds beautiful,” Drew said softly.

“It was,” I told them, fighting back each misty memory. “It was the best.”

They didn’t dig any further, so I remained quiet as we stabled the horses and headed for home. They wanted to watch a Christmas classic in the media room, but I feigned a headache and made an early night of it.

By Monday morning I was back in party planning mode. We only had five days left before the first party, so I knew it would be a week of 12-hour days at the very least. That I had to work in a final dress fitting in the midst of it all only added to my stress. Unlike the costume I wore for the Masquerade Ball, I knew that no designer gown I could choose would help me fit into the world of the beautiful and the elite. This was Elise’s world, not mine. Even Simone outclassed me with her statuesque figure, standing 5’10 with less than ten percent body fat, and straight, Nordic blonde hair that fell almost to her waist.