The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1) (17 page)

“A dinner party?”

“No, more relaxed than that. My parents and brothers will be there, and a few friends from work. Your parents are welcome to come too. I’ve cut myself off from life over the past two years, and I want to reconnect. It seems like a good time to start.”

“Okay. I’ll come. Can I let you know my decision about Auckland then?”

“There’s no time limit, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you feel ready.”

He pushed her shoulder to turn her onto her side away from him. She rolled over, and he pulled her back into his arms. “Sleep tight, honey.”

In spite of everything he’d told her, her eyelids were already drooping. “You too.”

Her mind continued to whirl, but Brock’s slow, regular breathing comforted her, and eventually she let sleep take her away.

*

When the sun came up the next morning, she opened sleepy eyes and a smile spread across her face.

Ryan had come into the room looking for her after rousing at three o’clock. She’d taken him to the bathroom, poured him a glass of water, and tried to settle him again, but he’d been unnerved by the strange surroundings and had clung to her, sucking on Dixon’s paw.

Brock had come in to find them, and told her to bring him into their bed. She’d hesitated, not wanting to set a precedent, but his smile had been warm and genuine, and in the end she’d carried the boy in and settled him between them, and all three of them had dozed off again in minutes.

Now, Ryan lay on his side facing away from Brock, but he was snuggled up against the man’s chest. Brock’s arm rested across the boy, his hand holding Dixon tightly to Ryan’s tummy. The two of them looked contented and cozy, so much so it brought a pain to her chest.

Was it possible she had at last found herself a decent guy? Someone who’d care for her and her son, who’d treat the boy as his own, and who’d make sure she never wanted for anything again?

Had she really been given the perfect gift for Christmas?

The festive season had always been a busy time at the hospital in the past, and this year proved to be no exception.

As usual, Brock spent the few days leading up to Christmas diagnosing and caring for sick kids and reassuring their parents, but he had to admit that lately he felt more than his standard sympathy for the worried mums and dads and the ill children. Now, he saw Ryan in every coughing boy and Erin in the concerned face of every parent. For the first time, when Erin rang him two days later to say she’d caught Ryan’s second asthma attack of the year just in time, he really understood what those parents had been going through.

He asked her to fly down to Auckland immediately, but she reassured him they were fine, and she’d be there on Christmas Eve for the party in a few days. He didn’t argue with her, knowing he had to let her come to a decision about their relationship in her own time.

He wasn’t used to waiting, though, and he didn’t like it one bit. He wanted Erin by his side so he could comfort and reassure her, and he wanted Ryan there so he could keep an eye on him. He told Erin as much, flatly and without mincing his words, not ashamed to tell her how he felt. She thanked him and said she was touched by his concern, but ended the call soon after that, leaving him wondering if he’d somehow upset her.

Two days passed, during which they had trouble connecting, one of them always in the middle of something each time the other rang. Brock was either in clinic or seeing to patients and had to ignore the buzz of a call from the phone in his pocket, and each time he called her back, she was in the middle of the supermarket or bathing Ryan or had her mother there and couldn’t talk.

Their conversations weren’t exactly stilted, but they didn’t hold the warm affection he’d grown to love. He missed her, but he was beginning to worry she’d decided she didn’t want to make the move to Auckland.

“You did say you’d move to the Bay if she wanted?” It was Matt who asked the question on Skype, the night before Christmas Eve, when the three of them had their usual weekly catchup.

“I forgot,” Brock said. “I thought she’d get swept away with the notion of being by my side permanently. I didn’t consider she might not see it as an attractive proposition.”

“I’m sure she does,” Charlie said, for once not picking up on Brock’s attempt to make light of the situation. “It was easy to see the connection between the two of you online, and it sounds as if you got on well in the flesh.”

“Yeah,” Brock said, the word ‘flesh’ conjuring up visions of Erin’s pale silky thighs and bare breasts.

“Earth to Brock?” Charlie said.

“What?”

“Your eyes have glazed over. Stop thinking about her naked. We’re talking about serious relationship stuff here.”

“I know. That’s sort of the problem. I said the three little words and I’m not sure I should have.”

“Did she say them back?” Matt asked.

“Nope.”

The three of them fell quiet for a moment. Brock looked at his brothers’ faces—Charlie’s concerned eyes behind his dark-rimmed glasses, Matt’s frown beneath his spiky fringe. They were worried about him, and that wasn’t fair, not on the eve of Christmas.

“What is this,” he joked, “are we all turning into girls? Want to paint each other’s toenails and braid our hair?”

“Yeah,” Matt said sarcastically. “Let’s get out the beer and fart to the National Anthem.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Stop avoiding the issue. What are you going to do about Erin?”

Brock shrugged. “Not much I can do. She’s coming down tomorrow, and I have a feeling she’ll have an answer for me then. I can only wait.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“We three Kings don’t do waiting.”

Brock gave a short laugh. “Not normally, no. In this case, though, there isn’t an option. Anyway, are you guys still coming to the party?”

They both nodded.

“Bringing a plus one?”

“Might be,” they both said at the same time, and laughed.

Brock grinned. “Might be or will be?”

“Depends,” Matt said.

“On what?”

“If she’s still talking to me.”

“Like that is it?”

Matt shrugged. “What about you?” he said to Charlie. “How are things going there?”

Charlie pulled a face. “Touch and go.”

“Jeez.” Brock sighed. “We’re not doing great, are we?”

“We rely on you to set an example,” Matt pointed out.

“Fair enough. But you never know, maybe tomorrow night we’ll all get our heart’s desire.”

Charlie and Matt both looked doubtful.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “It’s a long shot. Still, it is Christmas.”

*

The day of the party dawned bright and sunny. Brock left the arrangements in the care of the event planning company he’d hired and spent the morning and early afternoon at the hospital. The last couple of years he’d offered to work over Christmas so the consultants with families could have a few days off, but this year he finished up around three p.m. and headed home. Erin was arriving at the airport at five with Ryan and her parents, and Brock had arranged for Lee to pick them up, so they’d be at the apartment by five thirty. Everyone else was arriving around six.

That gave him a couple of hours to make sure everything was ready. As soon as he walked into the apartment, though, he saw that there wasn’t going to be a lot for him to do. The party organizers had strung fairy lights throughout the rooms and placed elegant center pieces made from fresh flowers and Christmas decorations on all the tables. Trays of wine glasses stood ready on the kitchen counter, while staff were heaping platters with cold nibbles and preparing hot ones ready for the oven. They’d filled the fridge with various white wines and the liquor cabinet held all manner of spirits and other drinks for those who preferred something different. It promised to be a great party—but deep inside, Brock knew he would judge the success of the evening by what Erin had to say.

He hoped that if she intended to either break it off or say she wanted to slow things down that she would have told him over the phone—hopefully the fact she was still coming, and bringing her parents, meant she still wanted to see him, and maybe even discuss moving things forward, but he couldn’t be sure.

After chatting to the head of the event planning company to make sure she didn’t need anything, he went into his bedroom and shut the door.

For a moment, he just stood there, looking at the bed and remembering the previous weekend, where he’d made love to Erin in that beautiful silky nightie, when she’d promised she’d let him do whatever he wanted to her. When he thought about it, they’d only slept together a few times. Was he crazy to be pressing her into a serious relationship when they hadn’t known each other for very long?

Even as he formed the question, he rolled his eyes and discarded it. He had no doubts whatsoever that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. All that remained was to wait and see if she felt the same.

He opened the windows to let the afternoon breeze in, then lay on the bed and picked up his phone. Erin would be getting ready to go to the airport, if she wasn’t there already.

He dialed her number and got her answerphone.

Sighing, he typed a text.
Are you at the airport yet? Miss you! B xx
and sent it. Then he lay back and picked up his iPad to flick through some notes from work he’d promised himself he’d finish before the party.

He couldn’t concentrate, though, and eventually he put the iPad down and stared up at the ceiling.

For the first time in a few days, he thought of his sister. If Pippa hadn’t died, she would have been twenty-five, and no doubt she would have come to his party and loved every minute of it. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have had a party if she hadn’t died. If she hadn’t had a fatal asthma attack, he and his brothers wouldn’t have felt the need to work so hard developing their medical equipment, and although they hadn’t exactly been poor to start with, they probably wouldn’t be as rich as they were now.

Or would they? All three of them were ambitious and hardworking. Maybe they would just have funneled that energy in another direction. He couldn’t imagine any world where Charlie didn’t have his head buried in test tubes and equipment, or where Matt wasn’t sketching and painting. Matt would have just ended up doing another series of children’s books, and Charlie would have invented some other amazing thing that nobody had thought of before.

And what about himself? Brock sighed. Even if Pippa had survived, Fleur would still have died. He’d still be alone.

Would he have been a doctor? There was no doubt that Pippa’s passing had driven him into medicine, but he couldn’t imagine doing anything else now. He loved his job, loved helping people, so in that sense he had to be grateful that at least something positive had come out of her death.

Closing his eyes, he imagined what life would have been like if both Pippa and Fleur had survived. He would have had his sister and wife. But he’d never have met Erin.

A year ago, he would have given his whole fortune and everything he owned to have Fleur back. But now, the thought of being without Erin made his throat tighten.

He lifted his hands and sank them into his hair.
You don’t have to choose
, he told himself, swallowing hard to try to get his throat to relax. When Fleur had died, he’d gotten off one train and crossed the station to get on another. The first train had gone no further, whereas the second train had set off on another set of tracks. There had been no choice to make. He’d had to keep going, and he was extremely lucky in that he’d found another woman as beautiful in both body and spirit as his first wife.

He pictured Pippa in his mind.
Please make her come to the party,
he begged.
I love her so much. Please make her come.

On the bed beside him, his phone pinged, announcing the arrival of a text. Opening his eyes, he picked the phone up and swiped the screen. It was from Erin.

I’m on the plane. See you soon! E xxxx

A smile spread across his face, the wave of emotion so strong it made tears prick his eyes. He sniffed, hit reply, and sent a message back.
Have a safe journey. How are your parents?

They’re fine, thanks,
she replied.
Looking forward to the party.

And how’s the boy doing? Excited?

Super-excited. Did I mention I’m on the plane? I’m supposed to turn my phone off.

He grinned.
One more minute. I miss you, sweetheart. Can’t wait to see you again.

Me too. Now Pat’s glaring at me. Stop texting me!

I’m lying on the bed and thinking about Saturday night.

OMG! Stop it! I’m turning my phone off now. xxxxxx

He laughed and put the phone down. Half of him wanted to run yelling through the apartment. The other half wanted to bawl like a toddler.

Deciding neither was the best bet, he blew out a long breath and sat up.
Thanks
, he said silently to Pippa.

Erin was on her way, and now it was time to get ready for the party. Whistling
Jingle Bells
, he walked over to his wardrobe and opened the door.

He stopped whistling when he saw the gift sitting on the shelf to the side. A tiny box with a red bow on top.

For a long moment, he perused it, then he turned his gaze away. He took out a pair of black jeans and pulled them on, and chose the new light gray dress shirt with the fine black velvet swirls on it he’d bought for the party.

His gaze returned to the box while he buttoned up his shirt. When he’d done, he pursed his lips and huffed a sigh, his hands on his hips.

Go on,
Pippa said in his head.

Lips curving up, he took the box, slid it into the pocket of his jeans, and headed out of the room.