Christmas Ever After

Honey? Honey?

When did he ever call her honey?

Not wanting to make a public scene, Skylar walked forward.

Out of the corner of her eye she was conscious of Alec, his stillness setting him apart from the rest of the crowd. There was something remote and inaccessible about him. She knew that those perfect masculine features masked a sharp intellect and an equally sharp and sarcastic tongue. Most women found him insanely attractive. She found him superior and patronizing.

Leave, she thought. Go home. I don’t want you here ruining my night with your brooding scowl.

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he watched her with that intense, focused gaze that made her dress feel too tight.

Her skin prickled and heat whispered across her skin.

She nodded her head briefly in acknowledgment and then forgot about him because Richard took her hand.

Remembering Lily’s words, Sky looked into his eyes and tried to work out if her heart felt too big for her chest.

It didn’t.

As far as she could tell it was behaving as it should. Normal rhythm. Normal size.

Richard smiled. “A few weeks ago, I achieved a life goal. That achievement meant all the more to me because you were right there by my side.”

Forgetting about her heart, Skylar blinked in confusion.

This was her special night and he was talking about himself?

“Richard—”

“I promised myself that when I reached a certain point in my professional life, I’d turn my attention to my personal life. That moment has come. There’s something I want to say to you, and there is no better time than right now in front of our friends.”

Her only friends here had been Lily and Nik, and they’d left already.

The rest were acquaintances, high-profile clients and the press.

And Alec.

It niggled that he was here.

Good manners dictated that she speak with him, but what was she going to say?

Go home and stop ruining my fun.

No wonder you’re divorced …

All the options that came into her head were socially unacceptable and she knew that when the moment came she’d thank him for showing up. She’d offer him a glass of champagne and they’d make polite conversation about their friends.

Fake, fake, fake.

She wouldn’t mention the fact she knew he was here under sufferance, and no doubt he wouldn’t mention it, either. On the surface they’d be civil, even though neither of them felt remotely civil in one another’s company. She could keep up appearances. After all, she’d been trained by experts. She could talk about nothing for hours.

Richard lifted her hand to his lips. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to ask you.”

Trying to forget Alec, Sky forced herself to pay attention. “Ask me what?”

“I want you to marry me.” He’d had voice coaching and training in public speaking and it showed in the way he addressed the room. “I want you by my side for the rest of my life. From now on, we’ll be pursuing goals together.”

Sky gaped at him, wondering if she’d misheard.

She opened her mouth. No sound emerged.

“You’re in shock.” He was confident. Sure of himself. A man dazzled by the light of his own rising star. He was an only child, the sole focus of his parents’ ambitions. Unlike her, he’d exceeded their expectations. “I didn’t buy a ring. I thought you could make your own and give me a discount.” He included the crowd in the joke and there was a ripple of appreciative laughter.

Skylar wasn’t laughing. Nor was she appreciative.

Marriage?

She thought about the conversations they’d had over the past year. Intimate exchanges where she’d revealed her dreams.

Had he not listened to a word she’d said?

Apparently not, or he’d know that marriage didn’t interest her.

Love? Now, that was a different matter. She wanted love. What she didn’t want was a flamboyant public proposal. He was paying more attention to the guests than her, to the point that she wanted to wave her arms in the air and yell, Hello, I’m over here!

Beyond Richard’s shoulder she could see Alec Hunter and discovered he wasn’t laughing, either. He was standing in the same place, the collar of his black coat brushing against the dark shadow of his jaw. She would have drawn him as a vampire or a wraith, she thought. A creature of the night. Even still and silent he had presence, a quality that had no doubt contributed to his success as a TV presenter and his large female fan base.

Had he proposed to his ex-wife in public?

No, because despite his public persona, she knew he was intensely private.

“Skylar?” Richard’s smile was a little tense around the edges. “We’re all waiting for a response.”

All? She wondered at what point a proposal had become a group activity.

Her real response was, You have to be kidding me, but she didn’t want that to feature in the press reports of her event the following day.

Grateful for the years of practice in producing fake smiles, she gave one.

“This is a surprise.” Keeping the smile in place, she turned to the guests. “I hope you’ll excuse us. Richard and I need a little time alone.” She turned and walked through the gallery and into the storeroom that was next to an office.

Her heels tapped on the wooden floor. Her knees shook.

She hoped he was going to follow her because she didn’t want to say what needed to be said in public.

There was a click as he closed the door behind them. “Sky? What the hell are you doing?”

“No, Richard, the question is what are you doing?”

“I was proposing. All you had to do was say yes and you would have had great media coverage for your little party. Instead you have to go for drama.” He shot her an exasperated look. “Always with you, it’s drama.”

“I—” She was speechless. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

“The word you were looking for was yes, but you missed your cue.” He spoke through his teeth and then inhaled deeply and smiled the smile that had first attracted her attention. “You were in shock. This is a big night for you, I understand that.”

She relaxed a little. Reminded herself they’d been together a long time, and that no one was perfect. “Good, because for a moment I wasn’t sure you did.”

His phone rang. “Excuse me one second, this could be important.”

She stood, her arms wrapped round her waist, wondering what could be more important than talking about their future.

She glanced around her, trying to stay calm. The room was an Aladdin’s cave of creative endeavor. Paintings were stacked against the wall, there were several bronze figurines on a shelf and a rolled-up carpet stood next to a table stacked high with boxes.

Not the most romantic setting.

Richard checked the number and silenced the phone. “It can wait.” Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he glanced at her blankly. “Where were we?”

“You were working out whether your phone call was a higher priority than a conversation about our future,” she said flatly, “and telling me you understood that tonight was a big moment in my life.”

“Of course I understand. A marriage proposal is a big moment in every woman’s life.”

There was a ringing in her ears. “Excuse me? That’s what you consider to be my big moment?”

“Getting engaged is a big deal.”

“We’re not engaged, Richard.”

“We will be when you’ve answered my question.” He gave her his most winning smile but she felt nothing but frustration.

He wasn’t listening to her.

Apparently he’d never listened to her. He steamrollered over her in pursuit of his own goals.

He had a five-year plan and apparently she was part of it.

“I don’t remember a question. You said ‘I want you to marry me.’ Much the same way a child might say ‘I want that candy.’” Too stressed to stand still, she paced the length of the room. “In the last year, how much time do you think we’ve spent together?”

“It’s been a crazy year, I’m not denying that. Of course, we would have spent more time together if you hadn’t insisted on spending so much time in your studio and on that island. But all that’s going to change when we’re married.”

“I thought I’d made it clear that marriage isn’t on my wish list. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I heard you, but we both know you didn’t mean it. Why wouldn’t you want to get married?” There was a hint of impatience in his voice. “Your parents have been married thirty-five years and never share a cross word.”

And never a loving one, either.

Never, not once, had she seen her parents show affection.

They didn’t hold hands.

They didn’t kiss.

There were no lingering glances, no suggestion of a bond of togetherness.

She wanted so much more.

“What are you doing here? I mean, what are you really doing here?”

His smile lost some of its warmth. “I came to support you, although given the mood you’re in I’m starting to wonder why I bothered. I’m still finding my way around Capitol Hill. Coming here was the last thing I needed right now.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean—” He dragged his hand over the back of his neck. “You’re determined to misunderstand everything I say.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t understand. You told me you weren’t coming tonight, so what changed?” When he didn’t answer, she answered for him. “You saw the guest list and thought there might be people here who could be useful to you. Be honest. Tonight was never about me.” But she’d wanted it to be. And her creative brain had spun the facts into a scenario that she could live with.

Her mother was right.

She was a stupid dreamer.

Richard met her gaze head-on. “I’m not ashamed to admit the value of networking. You want honest? I’ll give you honest. This hobby of yours is fine, but you are wasting your life. You paint pictures and make jewelry and that wouldn’t matter except that you’re smart and there are so many other more useful things you could be doing. Things that would make me proud.”

She felt dizzy. “You’re not proud of me?”

“You’re not exactly saving the planet, Sky. Even you can’t pretend that what you do is important.” With a few words he’d dismissed what she did, tossing her dreams into the trash as her father had done with her first painting all those years before.

She felt as if she had emerged from a deep sleep.

“The last necklace I made was taken from a broach left to a client by her grandmother. It had been sitting in a drawer for a decade and she wanted it made into something contemporary that she could wear. Something relevant to her life that would remind her of someone she’d loved very much. It was important to her. Emotions are important.” But she knew he wouldn’t understand that.

To him, money, power and influence were the important things.

He was like her parents. Which was why they got along so well.

He made a conciliatory gesture. “This is a pointless conversation. We need to move on.”

“My work is not ‘pointless,’ and by ‘move on’ I assume you’re saying that your ambitions take precedence over mine.”

He frowned. “No, but you can’t argue with the fact that I’m serving a lot of people.”

“Are you? Or are you serving yourself? Because sometimes, Richard, I wonder if your career is about your ambition, not a selfless desire to dedicate your life to public service.”

His features hardened. “You want to talk about being selfish? What do you think your actions are doing to your parents? It’s time you stopped thinking of yourself and made them proud.”

“Since when do my parents have anything to do with our relationship?” A disturbing thought slid into her brain. “Why did you call my father?”

“I told him I was going to ask you to marry me. He and your mother were thrilled and they’re looking forward to celebrating when we join them on Christmas Eve.”

Was it really all about her parents?

Desperately wanting to be wrong about that, she took a step forward. “What if I said that this year I don’t want to spend Christmas with my parents? We could have Christmas by ourselves, just the two of us. Rent a little cottage on Puffin Island and spend our time playing games and chatting. Log fire, a real fir tree from the forest, walks in the snow, making love in the warm.” She’d said it to test him, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. “Let’s do it, Richard. Forget proposals, forget goals and careers—for once let it be the two of us and our friends. We’ll make a pact not to talk about work. Emily and Ryan are hosting Christmas at Harbor House and making it extra special for little Lizzy. Zach and Brittany will be there, too, and I’d love for us to spend more time with them. It will be perfect.”

“Perfect?” He looked appalled. “I can’t think of anything worse than Christmas on Puffin Island. What would be the point? Your parents have invited people who will be useful.”

“The point is it’s Christmas, Richard. It isn’t a business opportunity or an excuse to network, it’s Christmas.” How could she have been so deluded? They’d spent over a year together. She’d believed they had a future. “If not Puffin Island, how about Europe? We’ve always talked about going to Paris or Florence. Let’s do it!”

“This isn’t a good time.”

“It’s never a good time.” And she realized in a flash of painful clarity that she really had been fooling herself. When she cleared away the creative clouds of her imagination, the truth was right there, forming a stark picture. “When we first met I couldn’t believe how much we had in common. That first night—we stayed up until four in the morning planning a trip to Florence. Do you remember?”

He shifted. “Sky—”

“It seemed almost too good to be true, to meet someone who shared your dreams so exactly. There were so many things we were going to do, and we never did any of them. It seemed too good to be true, because it was.” She swallowed, finding it hard to look the truth in the eye because the truth made a fool of her. “My parents told you about me, didn’t they? You studied my interests so that you’d know exactly how to gain my attention.”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to know someone.”

“What’s wrong,” she said slowly, “is that it wasn’t genuine. Love isn’t a business deal, Richard, it’s an emotion. It isn’t about convenience or ambition, it’s about feeling. Genuine feeling, not something manufactured for the purposes of manipulation.”

“There you go again. You expect a fairy tale and when you get reality, you’re disappointed. It’s the same with your attitude toward Christmas. You’ve always romanticized Christmas and it’s just one day.”

They were the same words her mother had used, and she knew it wasn’t coincidence.

The thought that they’d discussed her was horrible.

Almost as horrible as realizing what a mistake she’d made.

She felt humiliated and betrayed, foolish and a little embarrassed, but at least she had her answer.

She wasn’t the sun, moon and stars to him. She wasn’t even a speck of cosmic dust on the bottom of his shoe.

“Maybe it is just one day, but it’s an important day and this year I’d like to spend it with my friends.”

“Precisely, they’re your friends. They’re no use to me.”

“Friends aren’t supposed to be of use.” She heard her voice rise and tried to control it. “That isn’t what friendship is. It’s about giving, not taking.”

“What can they possibly give you? Your situation is nothing like theirs. You have family, they don’t. Emily had an alcoholic mother, Brittany’s mother clearly knew nothing about responsibility and don’t even get me started on Zachary Flynn. I don’t want to risk my reputation by being in the same place as him. Can you imagine what the media could do with that story?”

It was like looking at a stranger and she realized that up until now, he’d carefully shown the side of himself he’d wanted her to see. Even with her, he’d controlled his image. The only times it had slipped were the occasions when he’d lost his temper.

“If you’re forcing me to make a choice between you and my friends, there’s no contest.”

He relaxed slightly. “That’s good to know. Obviously you’d pick me.”

“No! I’d pick them. I love my friends.” And she was incensed by what he’d said. Incensed, deeply hurt and furious with herself for being so deluded. “And a friend would never do what you just did.”

She knew now there was no going back. No fixing.

“I know you love your friends, and that love makes you blind. It’s thanks to them you’ve lost sight of what’s important in life. We’re going to your parents’ for Christmas. They want the best for you. And so do I.”

She felt numb. Disconnected.

How could she have possibly thought this might be love? “I’m the one who will decide what’s best for me.”

“That’s the theory, but you always make the wrong choices.”

Anger flickered to life inside her. “Thank you for making it easy for me to say no to the question you didn’t ask.”

“Oh, for—” He bit off the word and inhaled deeply. “Skylar Tempest, will you marry me?”

“Again, no!” Her voice sounded strangely flat. “And I can’t believe you’re still asking after the conversation we’ve just had. You wanted me to choose. I’ve chosen. Now get out.”

He swore under his breath. “My flight leaves tomorrow and I have to be back in DC on Monday. I don’t have time to play games. I want to spend the next few hours celebrating, not fighting. All I want to hear is two words, that’s all. Yes, Richard.”

“I’m not playing games. We don’t want the same things. Apparently we never did, but I’m only now realizing that. And even if we did have a single thing in common, I can’t be with someone who is so rude about the friends I love. They’re too important to me. It’s over, Richard.”

Her words fell into a simmering silence.

She saw the change in him and her heart kicked hard against her chest. She’d been with him long enough to be familiar with every shift in his mood. It was like watching the sky darken over Puffin Island, heralding an approaching storm.

His temper was the thing she’d liked least about him.

“I propose to you in public and your response is to break up with me? That’s not happening.” His tone was thickened. “You will not humiliate me. Next time we step out there it will be together and you’ll be smiling. This time you are going to make the right decision.”

“If you really knew me, you’d know that being proposed to in public would be the last thing I’d ever want. I don’t believe in fairy tales, Richard, but I do believe two people should be together because they love each other, not because it suits their career ambitions or because it’s part of a five-year plan.” She saw him take a step forward but she stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated. “You need to go now. If you’re worried about being seen then you can use the rear exit.”

“I’m virtually a member of your family.” His voice was an ugly growl. “Your father loves me.”

“Then marry my father and I hope you’ll be very happy.” She was calm, trying to diffuse a situation that was threatening to explode, but it was too late and she saw the moment his anger snapped the leash and bolted.

In the past she’d handled every incendiary moment with care, never allowing it to reach this point. She’d soothed, placated and occasionally walked out, putting distance between them.

But it was too late for any of those options now.

The pin was out of the grenade.

His shoulders hunched. His features were contorted and ugly and in that single split second she wondered how she ever could have thought him handsome. On the outside he was perfectly wrapped, but on the inside …

“Richard, you need to get control of yourself.” Her voice was sharp. “Take some breaths.”

“You are a spoiled bitch.”

She flinched as if he’d hit her and then realized in a moment of suspended disbelief that he actually was going to hit her.

His hand came up and instinctively she sidestepped to evade the blow. Her heel caught on the edge of a box and she fell heavily, smacking her head on the corner of the table.

Pain exploded in her skull. Her vision went dark and there was a distant humming in her head. Something warm and wet trickled down her face and she opened her eyes dizzily, trying to see through the pain.

He stood over her, hands raised to ward off the accusation he was clearly afraid she might make. “I didn’t touch you.” There was a hint of panic in his voice. “I didn’t touch you.”

He made no move to help her.

Showed no concern for her well-being, only his own.

Her sense of betrayal deepened.

“Get out, or I swear I will damage more than your career.” Her voice sounded strange and distant. The world around her had blurred edges.

Oh, God, she was going to pass out. Just when she needed to be strong and kick his ass, she was going to faint.

“It was an accident, Sky, a stupid accident because you didn’t look where you were going. You know how dreamy you are …”

“You wanted two words? I’ve got two perfect words for you. Fuck off.” She lifted her fingers to her head and they came away sticky. “Go. Now.”

Crap. Forget ketchup—she was going to get blood on her new dress.

“The press are out there.” He growled the words, his eyes wild as his brain computed the potential PR nightmare. “They’re supposed to be reporting our engagement. Instead you give them this? Damn you, Skylar. You did this, you deal with it. Maybe a blow to the head will wake you up. When you come to your senses, call me. I’ll think about whether or not you’re really what I want.”

Without looking back he strode out of the side entrance and into the night, leaving Skylar lying in her own blood.

WHAT THE HELL were they doing in that room?

Alec prowled round the exhibition, ignoring the other guests. The crowd was thinning out, people melting away, some speculating on the romantic scene that was going on behind closed doors.

The public proposal had taken him by surprise.

Brittany had described him as the “rat boyfriend,” which hadn’t sounded to him like a relationship on the edge of happy-ever-after.

He’d found the proposal uncomfortable to witness, but judging from the oohs and ahhs from the women in the audience, he was alone with that feeling. That was probably why he was single. What did he know about romance? According to his ex-wife, nothing. She’d wanted sweeping gestures and frequent public demonstrations of his love.

Her insecurities and endless demands had made him feel as if he’d been given a life sentence for a crime he’d never committed.

Trying to delete toxic thoughts, he grabbed a glass of champagne and calculated how soon he could make his escape.

As soon as they reappeared, he’d offer his congratulations and leave.

He needed to remember to say what was expected of him—Congratulations, so pleased for you, I hope you’ll be happy—and not what he was instinctively driven to say: Are you both insane?

He paused, his eye caught by a display of jewelry, intricate silver artfully placed on silk the color of a Mediterranean sky. The design was eye-catching and original and the historian in him recognized the nod to shapes and styles used in Bronze Age Greece.

A woman approached and sent him a smile, her intention unmistakable.

Alec turned away without returning the smile.

He didn’t care if she thought him rude. Better to be rude now than have to extract himself later.

Another legacy of his marriage was his aversion to over-polished, high-maintenance women. His relationship with Selina had been six months of sex, followed by an elaborate wedding and two years of bitter arguments that had culminated in an acrimonious divorce.

At her insistence he’d attended two sessions of marriage guidance counseling, ostensibly to “learn about himself.” What he’d learned was that he didn’t like his wife any more than she liked him.

He’d also learned that he was better off alone.

He was too selfish to make a commitment to a woman.

He liked his life too much to sacrifice it for a relationship.

He glanced across the gallery again. The door remained closed, so he moved on. No doubt Skylar and her boyfriend were locked in a romantic moment, promising to love each other forever.

With time to kill, he prowled around the gallery. He knew Skylar worked in a variety of mediums, and it was only as he studied the pieces on exhibit that he reluctantly began to appreciate the range and extent of her talent.

He paused by a large painting, recognizing the rocky coastline of Puffin Island. He was no expert, but even he could see the composition was good. She’d captured the feel of the island perfectly, the sweep of a sandy bay, the movement of the sea and the threatening hint of a storm in the sky. Looking at it, he could feel the salty spray on his face and hear the plaintive call of the gulls.

He felt a pang of longing for his cottage on the wild north coast of Puffin Island. In a few days he’d be going back there and he’d be staying for a month. Long enough, he hoped, to finish a draft of his book. He was looking forward to the solitude.

The painting had a red sticker, which meant that someone had bought it.

Good choice, he thought, and then saw the tall, elegant pot in a dazzling shade of cerulean blue placed under a spotlight against a whitewashed wall.

Instantly he was transported to Greece. He could almost feel the heat, and smell the scent of wild thyme and jasmine.

Of all the pieces in the room, this was the one he would have chosen to take home. He could see at a glance that her inspiration had been a combination of Greek mythology and early Minoan ceramics. She’d artfully combined the old with the new and created a piece of startling beauty.

The crowd thinned a little more, but there was still no sign of Skylar.

A movement in the street caught his eye and he saw a tall, dark-haired man stepping into a waiting car.

Recognizing him, Alec frowned. Why would Richard Everson be leaving alone?

He waited for Skylar to come running after him, wearing that skintight silver dress and a megawatt smile, but the car pulled away with only one passenger.

Ignoring the voice inside him that reminded him it was none of his business, he moved silently across the gallery toward the door he’d seen her enter.

He tapped lightly, received no answer and opened it anyway.

The room was empty.

It was clearly a storeroom. There were paintings against the wall, a table stacked with boxes and—

A body.

Shit.

“Skylar?” In two strides he was by her side. “What the hell happened here? Speak to me. Are you—?”

He tilted her face and his hand came away sticky with her blood.

Her beautiful white-blond hair was streaked with it, her lips bloodless in a face drained of color.

His heart pounded. Whatever he’d expected to find, it hadn’t been this.

“Sky? Open your eyes.” He tried to scoop her up and then dodged as she swung her fist toward his face.

“Touch me and I swear the next thing you feel will be my stiletto in your balls.” She slurred her words and Alec swore under his breath and captured her wrist in his hand before she could do him serious damage.

“You might want to work on that pickup line, princess.”

Her eyes fixed on him and focused. Confusion changed to recognition. “What are you doing here? Did you come to gloat?”

“I saw Richard getting into a car and came to check on you. Good thing I did. I’m taking you to hospital.” Questions rose in his mind. What had happened? And why had Richard Everson walked out leaving her like this? He delved in his pocket for his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. And the police. Did he do this?”

“No. I fell. And I don’t want you to call anyone.” She struggled to sit up, her efforts giving him a glimpse of long legs and silk underwear.

Her body is the biggest work of art in the place, he thought, and averted his eyes.

It irritated him that he found her attractive.

“You had a nasty blow to the head. You need to stay where you are.”

“People have to stop telling me what I need. I know what I need. Crap.”

He turned back to look at her and saw she’d closed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you have a twin? I’m seeing two of you.”

“That’s not good.”

“You’re not kidding. One Alec Hunter is bad enough. Two is my worst nightmare.”

He took it as a good sign that she recognized him. “I’m relieved you’re still able to make a joke.”

“It’s not a joke.”

He gave a grim laugh. “I know I’m not your first choice of rescuer, but unfortunately I’m all there is.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need rescuing.”

He wondered if she had any idea how badly she was hurt. “Let me take a look at your head before you stand up.” Leaning her back against the leg of the table, he gently moved her hair back so that he could take a closer look at her injury. He’d been on expeditions to some of the wildest parts of the world and his first-aid skills were more than competent. “You don’t need stitches, but you have one hell of a bruise and you might have a concussion. I’m taking you to hospital.”

“I’m not going to the hospital. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. They might take a photo.”

He felt a rush of impatience. “Don’t worry, you still look beautiful and I’ll make sure they only get your good side.”

The look she gave him should have fried him to a crisp. “I don’t care how I look, dumbass. I care about what questions the press might ask. And I care even more about seeing their theories expounded in public. But it’s always good to know I’m the fortunate beneficiary of your good opinion. You can leave now. I appreciate you checking on me. I hope you break your nose on the way out.”

He breathed deeply. “It was a stupid comment. I apologize.”