Love Under the Mistletoe Page 12

  And speaking of cocks, she felt Gerard’s enthusiastic erection pressing against her ass. She wondered if he was dreaming about her. The situation almost made her laugh. All the efforts and struggles between Jasper Inc. and the Valentine Corporation was for a merger that she and Gerard knew would make both companies stronger. It was a win-win, if they could only iron out the details. But they were both still determined to make sure their company got the very best of the deal they were trying to make. And now here she was, literally in bed with Gerard Jasper. If it ever got found out, who would possibly believe that the whole thing was a coincidence, that it was never planned? Her best hope was that no one knew who the reclusive R.M. Valentine really was. She and Howard had kept the secret for five years. Surely they could continue to do so, and she really couldn’t imagine Gerard being too anxious to share the fact that he’d had a naked woman show up under his Christmas tree as a gift. Why couldn’t she just relax and have a good time? Surely her secret was safe. She and Gerard would enjoy each other’s company for the long weekend, then that would be that. The merger would take place as planned, both companies would be better for it, and they would never see each other again. Strange that. The thought of not seeing the man again, the man who was pressed up so warm and inviting against her right now, caused an empty feeling down low in her belly. Yes, the sex had been amazing. Yes, she had to admit, based on relatively little experience, she actually liked the guy she had expected to hate. Yes, this whole Christmas gift situation was turning out to be very exciting, and even more so because the man who had just given her the best sex she’d ever had seemed to be a truly decent human being.

  Her stomach rumbled, and Gerard groaned and nibbled her ear. ‘Is that you or me, Moira?’ he said, stroking her nipple. ‘I’m hungry enough to eat a taxi, with or without mustard.’ He gave a slight thrust, as if she needed any help to be aware of his cock. ‘I think we’re both going to need some serious fuel if we’re going to thoroughly enjoy our holiday, and I know Olga well enough to know she cooked enough to feed half of midtown Manhattan. What do you say, food first, then maybe a shower, and we’ll see what comes up?’

  Chapter Five

  The long dark highway stretched out before him, the snowflakes flew at the windshield like tiny pins aimed at his tired eyes, desperately focused on a view disappearing into a whiteout. In the part of himself that always knew, always felt it coming, he moaned and struggled to wake up, but there was never any waking up, never any fast-forwarding to the end until every last horrendous detail was replayed in slow motion, until he watched her fall away into the dark icy water, unable to draw her back to him, unable to trade places with her, unable to do anything to save her and his child.

  In the real world he could feel himself struggling, battling, desperate to wake up. In the dark dream world, the car fishtailed on the bridge as he swerved sharply to avoid the oncoming truck. For a split second, just like always, he believed he would be able to miss it, just like always he believed he would be able to steer them to safety. And just like always, at the last minute, the truck jack knifed and the heavy trailer swung around like a scorpion’s tail sweeping his car off the bridge and following it down in that slow motion descent into deep water. As the car filled, he struggled to get Ella free. Then, against his will, he was being pulled to the surface while she fell further and further away from him, and with her, fell his life. He struggled with all his strength to go back for her, to escape the grip of the truck driver, who pulled him ever toward the surface even as Ella disappeared into the deep dark, and all the while his brain was screaming it was only a dream, with every cell of his body begging to wake up before he had to do this all again. Strange, that same denial, that same hope against hope – that it was all just a dream had been like fire in his chest for the longest time – that at some point he would wake up and find it really had all been only a dream, that Ella was sleeping in the bed beside him and their son was in the next room. But that part, her death, their death, that part was the nightmare that never went away.

  ‘Gerard!’ Someone called him from above the water, someone warm and safe. ‘Gerard, wake up! Wake up!’

  With his lungs bursting, he fought his way out from under the duvet, yelling until his throat was raw. ‘We have to go back for her. She’s not dead! She can’t be dead.’

  He woke in a cold sweat clutching the woman in his bed as though she were a lifeline, and maybe she was. Moira. Moira was with him. God, he hadn’t wanted her to see this. He hadn’t wanted her to see him this way, but as he shivered in her arms, he couldn’t seem to release his crushing grip on her that surely must have made it hard for her to breathe.

  To her credit, she said nothing, only held him and stroked his back while he fought the shakes. Then she bundled him in the duvet and half dragged, half led him to the bathroom, where she sat him down on the lid of the commode. After offering him a glass of water, which he downed in thirsty gulps, she sloshed bubbles into the tub and turned on the water.

  He shook his head and began to tremble again, nearly dropping the glass on the floor. ‘No water. I don’t want to go in the water.’

  She blew out a deep breath and knelt naked in front of him. ‘Gerard, you’re drenched in sweat and you’re freezing. You need to get warm, and you need to relax. It’s only a bath. You were in it with me just this afternoon. She stepped into the rising bubbles and offered her hand. ‘And I’ll be in it with you now. I’ll hold you. I promise it’ll be all right. I promise you’ll feel better.’

  Still shaking so badly he could barely stand, he shrugged off the duvet and took her hand. She guided him into the tub and allowed him to settle her between his legs with her head against his chest, with him still holding her as though she were all that anchored him to the safety of the waking world. It was a bathtub, for chrissake! He would be all right. It was only a dream, like always. But he held her as though his life depended on it, as though her life depended on it, as though he could erase all memory of what happened ten years ago if he just held onto her long enough.

  She said nothing, only laid back with her head against his chest until the gallop of his heart calmed and settled to sync with the slow, even lub-dub of hers.

  At last he spoke. ‘I’m sorry. That was a rude awakening.’

  ‘You were dreaming about the accident,’ she said, then before he could ask how she knew, she replied. ‘It was all in the papers. It was horrible. To lose a wife and an unborn child like that … I’m so, so sorry.’

  He pulled her still closer until she grunted in protest, but still made no effort to wriggle from his hold. ‘I don’t have the dream as often as I used to, but this time of year … well it’s always hard.’

  ‘You lost them on Christmas Eve, didn’t you? I can see why it’s a hard time for you – and don’t apologise for your pain. I’m glad I was here for you.’

  ‘We were heading upstate to spend Christmas with my parents. I didn’t want to go, but Ella insisted.’ There was more silence. He kissed the top of her head for courage and continued. ‘My parents didn’t like Ella. She was a nobody, with no connections. They thought I’d gotten her pregnant to spite them.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe I did. I loved her, I know that much. She had taken off her seatbelt so she could get out of her coat. It was only for a few seconds. Then the truck jack knifed on the bridge.’ He shivered in spite of being up to his neck in warm water. ‘Doctors said her neck was broken before we hit the water.’

  For a long moment they sat in silence, her tracing circular patterns on the arm with which he pressed her to his chest. Then he inhaled a shaky breath. ‘I’ve gone over it all a million times. She would still be alive if I had listened to my parents and left her alone. She would still be alive if she hadn’t insisted we placate my mother by joining them for a family Christmas.’

  ‘That’s bullshit,’ Moira said. ‘It’s all bullshit, Gerard. You can’t second-guess yourself about something you can’t change. All you can do is remember that you love
d her, that you would have done anything for her, and move on.’

  Another long silence passed between them and he relaxed his grip just a tad and lifted his hand to stroke her hair. ‘I’ve never talked about it with anyone before. Somehow I just couldn’t. My father had given me a job with his firm when he found out that I’d soon have a family to support.’ He grunted a laugh. ‘He thought having a son would force me to grow up, take on some responsibility. You know, be a man? I never gave a shit about Jasper Inc. while Ella was alive. I went to an office, did what I had to, then came back home to her. But after she died … I threw myself into the work. I discovered I had a talent for it. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that it never all got done. There was always way more work than there were hours in the day, and I could lose myself in it, exhaust myself, focus on something mindless and heartless and not hurt quite so bad. In a way, I suppose taking on the business was my healing. Then two years later my dad had his heart attack and I was the heir apparent.’

  ‘And you’ve done a good job … from what I hear.’

  He grunted. ‘Not that difficult when there’s nothing else in your life.’

  ‘Yes it is that difficult, Gerard, no matter what else you have in your life. You don’t take a company to the pinnacle of its worth, raise it way beyond what your father could have done, and make it something truly amazing without a real gift for it.’ She caught her breath, ‘Or so I would think. I mean why would business be any different than anything else you have to work hard for?’ She fell silent, but he felt as though there was more she wanted to say. He was just about to encourage her, to ask how she knew about his track record, when she scooted away and turned to face him. Then she picked up the bar of French milled soap and began to draw it in tight little circles over his chest and down his belly. She leaned in and kissed his nipple. ‘You’ve come a long way, Gerard, and you’ve overcome a lot, but you’re only human, just like the rest of us.’

  He ran a wet hand along the side of her cheek and pushed a damp lock of hair back behind her ear. ‘Who are you, Moira?’ he whispered.

  For a flash of a second, the look that crossed her face was pain, but it passed into a tremulous smile so quickly that he wasn’t sure he’d seen it at all. She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. ‘I’m your gift. That’s all that matters.’ Then she knelt and continued to bathe him with aching tenderness, and he let her, passively basking in her caring touch, in the simple motions of cleansing that somehow felt like they washed far more than his body. When she rose and offered her hand, he took it and stepped out onto the thick mat where he stood motionless. As she dried him, he watched the water bead and sparkle on the tops of her breasts, on the slope of her belly, in the tight, dark curls nestled between her legs.

  When she turned to lead him back to the bedroom, he balked. ‘I don’t want to go back to bed. I never can sleep after …’ He searched her eyes for understanding, and found it in abundance.

  She turned toward the stairs and led him into the study. While he stood watching, she lit the fire laid in the hearth, and on the floor in front of it she made a nest with pillows and cushions from the furniture. With a quick glance around the study, she plugged in the lights on the Christmas tree, and the room was awash in reds and golds. Then she settled onto the cushions and pulled him down next to her. ‘Here’s better,’ she said. ‘You need to rest in the warmth, in the light.’

  ‘Here is better,’ he repeated, stretching out first to kiss and cup her breasts then to stroke his way down her belly, fingering her curls until she shifted and ground against the cushions and her legs fell open to his touch. She was silky wet and ready for him. It took him seconds to don a condom, then she lifted herself and settled onto his lap, onto his cock that she had somehow known would be ready for her, almost desperate for her. Need, loss, pain often translated into lust when there seemed to be no other mode of expression. The fire bathed her face in brightness and the flash of the Christmas lights formed a halo around the crown of her head. She was more than a gift, she was an angel, he thought, wondering if he was still dreaming. He never thought about gifts and angels and finding healing. He thought only about the penance he knew he would never complete. Until tonight. Before he could dwell on what Moira had done for him, what it had meant to share the dream with her, she took his mouth, tightened her legs around his waist, and he could focus on nothing but her haloed face and her body drawing him into her, keeping him centered in the still place close to the rapidly accelerating beat of her heart.

  A long time later, as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms gazing into the dying flames, Moira kissed his shoulder then laid her head on his chest. ‘You’re a good man, Gerard Jasper. You should forgive yourself.’

  Chapter Six

  The New Year was coming up and, for the first time in a long time, Gerard anticipated the new beginning. It was the first time he could remember really appreciating the intricacies of his work. It was the first time he had ever seen just how far he had taken the company since his father’s heart attack. Up until this Christmas, it had always been nothing more than a way of keeping his mind off the past. He looked out the window of his study at the view into Central Park covered with a pristine blanket of snow. Five days until New Year’s Eve. Would Moira join him? What would he do if she didn’t?

  As they said their good-byes, with her insisting repeatedly that they couldn’t see each other again, he had slipped a card into her coat pocket with details of a flat he kept high above Time Square, promising her the best views of the New Year’s Eve celebration and promising her that this time he would be her gift. He knew that he’d made her uncomfortable with his invitation, and it was obviously not a Pretty Woman situation in which he could offer her a tremendous amount of money to be his date. At least he didn’t want to believe that it was. Moira was too unimpressed with wealth and luxury to be someone who didn’t grow up with it. But if she had grown up with it, then why had she ended up naked under his Christmas tree? Another part of her mystery, he thought. It was also one more reason why he wasn’t taking any chances.

  He turned to the PI sitting on his couch. ‘You understand, of course, that this is very private, Perkins?’

  The man looked up from his notebook and raised an eyebrow. ‘That goes without saying, Mr Jasper. You know you can trust me. My firm’s been doing private investigations for your family for a long time now.’

  ‘Of course. I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t trustworthy. It’s just that … well, this situation is so … personal.’ Fuck if he didn’t find himself blushing! ‘I know the whole set-up sounds … well, cheap and sleazy, but I can assure you it was anything but.’ He was instantly angry with himself. Why the hell did he feel the need to explain? He was paying the man, wasn’t he?

  For some stupid-assed reason the neutrality on Perkins’ face made him blush even harder. He huffed out a heavy breath. ‘Anyway, I just really need to find her.’

  ‘Moira?’

  ‘Yes, if that’s her real name. Unfortunately I don’t have her surname.’ For a long moment, Gerard studied the blinking lights on the Christmas tree, which he had not switched off since Moira had turned them on. Funny how something he hadn’t wanted, something he had grumbled about repeatedly had come to be so precious to him, a touchstone to Moira, and yet that was ridiculous. It was just a damned dying evergreen all tarted up. Nothing more. He turned his attention back to the PI. ‘My maid and butler have admitted to being in cahoots.’ That had been a difficult conversation. He was pretty sure they both thought he’d fire them. Under different circumstances, he might have. But as the situation stood, he’d have given them both a huge raise if they could have offered him Moira’s address or phone number. ‘As it turns out, they were of little help. They knew somebody who knew somebody. The whole set-up was by word of mouth, a very hush-hush, very exclusive business that specializes in gifts for the person who has everything.’ They must have paid a fortune. Somehow he’d see that they
were reimbursed.

  ‘By gifts, you mean …’ The PI nodded.

  ‘Yes … gifts,’ Gerard felt his ears burning as he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. Prostitute was not a word he would allow where Moira was concerned. It wasn’t that difficult to find someone to satisfy his cock, and sex was certainly something he would never have to pay for. On the other hand it was damn near impossible for him to get sex without an agenda. It became clear fairly early after Ella’s death that he was considered one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors, and the fact that he was a widower added every single woman under the age of fifty with an obsession to nurture him and heal his broken heart to the list of possible trophy wives vying for the position of the future Mrs Gerard Jasper. In the end a do-it-yourself hand job in the privacy of his own bedroom was easier than dealing with someone else’s agenda rubbing up against his own issues, of which there were plenty.

  He plopped down behind his desk and began to doodle on the blotter. ‘I was finally able to get in touch with someone who could make arrangements for such a gift, a Mrs Smith – no doubt not her real name.’ He nodded to Perkins’ notebook. ‘I’ve already given you that information. She said under no circumstances could she give out private information on any of the employees. So, I decided to go for broke and set up another meeting. But she said there was no Moira working there, that almost everyone was busy for New Year’s, but they’d be happy to send me a Mary.’

  ‘Mmm hm, uh huh, I see,’ the PI said, taking notes. ‘And could you describe Moira to me?’

  ‘I can do better than that,’ Gerard said. He took out his BlackBerry and pulled up the two images that he must have looked at a million times since Moira left. The first was a side pose with Moira pensively looking into the fireplace. She was wrapped in the chenille throw from the couch and her hair fell over her shoulder, threatening to obscure her face. He took it because he wondered what was going through her head while she sat there gazing into the flames. He had gone into the kitchen to bring back a couple of sandwiches and some fruit, and when he returned, she seemed a million miles away. His heart hurt as he watched her, knowing wherever she had gone, he had not been invited. It was then that he realized, once she left his flat, he might never see her again. It was then that he knew that was not something he could accept.