One Mistletoe Wish Page 5

  “Do you normally spend the holiday with the rest of your family?”

  Gray lifted his head to see Morgan standing right beside him. She’d put her glass down on the windowsill and he did the same before thinking about an answer to her question. He hadn’t thought of his siblings in the traditional sense of the word family. The fact that they each lived in different states could be the reason for that. They’d been born together and had lived together for eighteen years. They were the closest thing to friends Gray had ever had, and the only ones who shared the same dark disappointments of the past with him.

  “No. My sisters and brothers have their own lives,” he replied.

  “There are six of you—surely you find time to spend with each other at some point. I only have one sister and it seems like we’re never apart,” she told him.

  She looked across the room and Gray followed her gaze. More people had come in, filling up the tables. The sound of numerous voices had grown a bit louder. The instrumental holiday music still sounded over the guests’ voices and Gray found himself thankful for the partial privacy of this corner. He didn’t want to talk to any of the people out there, but here, on this side of the tree with all its twinkling lights reflecting off the window, he was content to stand with this woman.

  “Yes, there are six of us. I’m the oldest. Born almost immediately after me were Garrek, Gemma, Genevieve, Gage and Gia. Once we turned eighteen we all went our separate ways.”

  “And you don’t keep in touch? That’s not good. I mean, it’s kind of sad. I would think that you would be closer,” she said, then clamped her lips shut again.

  Gray shook his head. “It’s not a problem. A lot of people think a lot of things about the Taylor sextuplets. They have since the first airing of that damn television show. None of them know the truth.”

  “You sound as if the truth is sad,” she replied quietly.

  Gray shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  She nodded. “Just like you selling the buildings, I guess.”

  Her back was to the window and Gray moved to stand in front of her. He rubbed the backs of his fingers lightly over her cheek.

  “Those buildings mean something to you, don’t they?” he asked her.

  She shrugged this time, shifting from one foot to the other as if his proximity was making her nervous. Being this close to her was making him hot and aroused. He wondered if that’s what she was really feeling as well.

  “This town means something to me. There are good people here and we’re trying to do good things.”

  “That’s what my mother used to say,” Gray continued, loving the feel of her smooth skin beneath his touch. “Temptation was a good place. Love, family, loyalty. They meant something to the town. Always. That’s what she used to tell us when we were young. But that was after the show, after my father found something better outside of this precious town of Temptation.”

  Gray could hear the sting to his tone, felt the tensing of his muscles that came each time he thought about Theodor Taylor and all that he’d done to his family. Yes, Gray had buried his father two months ago. He’d followed the old man’s wishes right down to the ornate gold handles on the slate-gray casket, but Gray still hated him. He still despised any man who could walk away from his family without ever looking back.

  “Show me something better,” he said as he stared down into Morgan’s light brown eyes. “Show me what this town is really about and maybe I’ll reconsider selling.”

  “Are you making a bargain with me?” she asked. “Because if you are, I don’t know what to say. I’m not used to wheeling-and-dealing big businessmen like you.”

  “I’m asking you to give me a reason why I shouldn’t sell those buildings. Just one will do. If you can convince me—”

  She was already shaking her head. “I won’t sleep with you, if that’s what you mean by convince you.”

  Gray blinked. That wasn’t what he’d meant and the vehement way in which she’d made that declaration had scraped his ego raw.

  “I didn’t ask you to sleep with me,” he told her and took a step closer. “But if I did...” He purposely let his words trail off, the tip of his finger sliding closer to the edge of her lips.

  “I’d still say no. I don’t sleep with uptight businessmen,” she told him, that stubborn chin of hers jutting forward.

  If she could have, Gray was certain she would have backed all the way out of that window to get away from him. That wasn’t going to happen, especially not when he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, until she was flush against his chest the same way she had been last night when she’d bumped into him. He liked her right there, liked the heat that immediately spread throughout his body with her in this position.

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I won’t ask you. I don’t sleep with small-town women with chips on their shoulders.”

  “I’m not—” she began but Gray quieted her words by touching his lips immediately to hers.

  White-hot heat seared through him at the touch. His tongue swooped inside, taking her by surprise. A warm and delicious surprise that had him wrapping his other arm around her and holding her tight. Her hands came around to his back, clenching the material of his suit jacket as she opened her mouth wider to his assault. They were consuming each other, right here in the corner of this room at the hospital where Gray and his siblings had been born.

  He wanted to turn her just a little, to press her back against the wall and take her right here, just like this. He could feel how hot she was and could imagine that same heat pouring over him as she came. She would wrap her legs around him, her short but strong legs would hold him tightly, keeping him securely embedded inside her. They would be short of breath, but love every second of their joining. It would be the best sex...no, it would be really good sex, for Gray, something he hadn’t indulged in often enough.

  It would be... Something moved at his side. It made a noise and moved again. She stilled in his arms, then abruptly pulled back. Gray was cursing as he realized what was moving was his vibrating cell phone. With a frown Gray pulled it out of his pocket and looked down at the text on the lighted screen. He would have never considered that Morgan might look down as well.

  “I’ll let you go tend to Kym,” she said icily, before stepping around him and making a hasty exit.

  Chapter 4

  The Sunnydale Bed-and-Breakfast was a stately white colonial with black shutters nestled in the center of a cul-de-sac and surrounded by a number of beautifully mature trees. Gray admitted the next afternoon as he approached the dwelling that it looked as if it should be featured on a postcard boasting the simplicity of small-town living. The American flag flying high above the black double doors and brick walkway slammed home the patriotic angle, while chubby shrubs lined the perimeter with the precise planning of a Better Homes and Gardens portrait. Once inside, the historic charm continued with scuffed wood-planked floors, emerald-green-and-white textured wallpaper stretching throughout the front foyer and along the wall next to a winding glossed cherry-wood railing.

  There was just enough of the new world interspersed with the old, as the front desk clerk had spoken to Gray after hanging up the telephone and was taking an inordinately long time to type a reservation into a computer.

  “I’m here to see Kym Hutchins. I believe she has a room here,” Gray told the clerk, who was staring at him over gold wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” the older gentleman began. “Millie wasn’t lying after all.”

  “Pardon me?” Gray asked even though he had a hunch what was about to take place.

  The man shook his head before coming around the desk to stand right in front of Gray. He wore tan pants that were at least three sizes too big, held up by black suspenders, which again, didn’t really fit him well, but were d
rawn so tight they looked almost painful on his shoulders. His short-sleeved dress shirt was a lighter shade of tan, and a wrinkled handkerchief poked out of his breast pocket. His skin was a very weathered almond color, while his hair—what was left of it—was short, gray and curled close to his scalp.

  “You’re one of the Taylors, all right. Tall and broad just like your daddy was,” the man said as he continued to look Gray up and down. “Got some fancy clothes on, too. I know because no stores in Temptation even carry dress pants with studs at the bottom, or shirts with those fancy gold cuffs you’re wearing. Nowhere to go in town where you gotta be that sharp, unless it’s in your own casket.”

  Gray frowned. People in this town said whatever came to their mind, whenever they saw fit. It was a good thing Temptation was still somewhat thriving because its people wouldn’t make it in the big city.

  “Sir, if you’ll be so kind as to let Ms. Hutchins know that I’m here,” Gray said, again employing all his patience to deal with the older members of this town.

  “Oh, she’s already waiting in the parlor. Came down in her fancy dress and par-r-r-fume,” he said, mispronouncing and dragging the word out until it sounded totally ridiculous.

  Ridiculous and just a little bit funny, as the man’s face had contorted in a way that Gray presumed was his rendition of being upper class.

  “Then I’ll just go on in and see her,” Gray said and turned to the right to go through a walkway.

  “The parlor’s this way,” the man told Gray.

  He’d turned and walked, his posture a little bent over, toward double pocket doors to the left.

  “Guess you two got someplace to go all dressed up like you are,” he continued. “I don’t reckon any man around here wears suits and ties on a daily basis. And the women, they don’t wear skirts with matching jackets unless they’re going to church. Me, I don’t go anywhere I need to put on shiny suit jacket and shave. Used to tell my Ethel that all the time. If I go to church I put on pants and a shirt. I brush my teeth and my hair and I’m done. She never understood, but she never left me, either.”

  He was chuckling so hard, Gray thought he might actually tip over from the effort. He stood close just in case that did happen. Instead, the man began to wheeze just as they stepped into the parlor, which had a plush burgundy carpet.

  “Ma’am, you got a beau come to see you,” he told Kym.

  “Thank you, Otis,” Kym said when she stood from the spot where she’d been sitting.

  “You’re quite welcome, ma’am,” Otis replied and turned to leave.

  Gray glanced at the man once more, trying to figure out if he was really blushing or if there was some other health condition going on.

  “She’s a looker,” Otis whispered, his bushy eyebrows dancing up and down as he grinned.

  Gray couldn’t help but smile—the man might be old in years, but he hadn’t lost a step when it came to women.

  Kym Hutchins was indeed a good-looking woman. She was tall at five foot nine and a half inches, with a slim figure, a light golden complexion and long black hair that was always perfectly styled. Her makeup was flawless, as usual, her legs long in the knee-length navy blue skirt with the matching jacket, which perfectly accented her sophisticated and professional demeanor. She was a very intelligent woman and she was his executive assistant. None of which explained why she was here in Temptation.

  “Hello, Grayson,” Kym said when Otis had meandered away, leaving them alone in the cozy parlor.

  There were heavy-looking drapes hanging almost from floor to ceiling in a strange mustard color and four round mahogany tables with matching chairs around them. In the center of each table was a bouquet of roses, in the exact shade that was on Kym’s lips as she gave him a brilliant smile.

  “Hello,” he replied. “I’m not sure how you knew I was here. I didn’t put anything on my calendar.”

  With a flick of her hand, the large curls that had been draped over her shoulders were pushed back as her chin tilted slightly.

  “I came by your place to drop off the Miago contracts but you weren’t there. When I spoke to your doorman he indicated that you’d taken the Porsche and said you would return in a week. I know you’ve been handling your father’s estate so I took an educated guess,” she told him.

  “And you showed up without me inviting you? Without letting me know your intentions?” Gray wasn’t certain how he should feel about that.

  “Why don’t we have a seat, Grayson. Otis is going to bring us a beverage. I asked for wine spritzers but he politely informed me that this establishment does not sell or serve alcoholic beverages. Can you imagine?” she asked with a shake of her head.

  Kym was already taking a seat, crossing her long, bare legs as she did. Gray figured it made sense to sit and talk to her, even though he was still trying to figure out why she’d come all this way in the first place.

  “Did you know they don’t have any hotels in this town?” With that said, Kym let out a short sigh. “I don’t know what they do with the tourists, whenever they get them.”

  “They have two B and Bs and a resort,” he told her, keeping it to himself that the resort was actually a farm.

  “No four-star hotels, no wine. It’s a wonder they’re still functioning at all,” she replied.

  Gray didn’t speak, but let his hands rest on his thighs as he continued to stare at her. “Did you bring the contracts with you?”

  “My briefcase is in my room. Since you sent a text indicating that we would meet later, rather than first thing this morning as I’d presumed, I thought we’d have a drink and catch up first.” She talked as she pulled her tablet from a large designer bag that she had sitting in a chair next to her.

  Gray had taken his time getting over there, part of the reason being he still wasn’t certain why she’d come.

  “There’s a phone conference with Tokyo on Thursday. Are you still going to make that? Should I have them call you at...wait, where are you staying?”

  Kym looked up at him just as Gray was staring at a painting hanging on the wall between the two large windows. It was of an African American couple, perhaps taken in the early 1900s as evidenced by the style of dress the woman was wearing and the bowler hat worn by the man, who was sitting down. Trees and grass covered the background of the piece. The couple looked anything but happy and Gray found himself wondering who they were and what their story was. Normally, such a thing would not have intrigued him—the emotional state of people not being high on his list of priorities. He’d learned long ago that a person could go for years and years hiding their true feelings. Still, this couple piqued his interest. Enough so that Kym had reached over the table and was now pulling on his jacket sleeve as she called his name.

  “Yes?” he replied curtly to her and then had to take a deep breath and start over. “What were you saying?”

  She blinked several times as if he’d spoken a foreign language and then Gray could actually see her pulling herself together. It was in the straightening of her shoulders, the slow setting of her hands on the sides of her tablet and the careful way in which she spoke.

  “I asked where you’re staying. They said there was only one room left here when I checked in last night, but when I asked if you were here they said no. Actually, the woman who had been on duty just about laughed at my question,” Kym said.

  “I have a room at the resort,” he told her curtly. “I can sign the contracts today and you can head back to Miami. What time is your flight out?”

  Temptation did not have an airport so she had to have driven here, or taken a taxi from Dulles International Airport. It would have been a town car, he thought, and she would have charged it to her expense account because that’s how Kym rolled. No way was she driving—even though she owned a Mercedes S550, she never went farther than from her apartment to the office o
n any given day.

  “I didn’t book a return flight,” she replied. “I figured we’d return together and since I didn’t know your plans I waited. Are you finished wrapping up your father’s estate? I told Philip to be on standby in case you needed him.”

  Philip Stansfield had been Grayson’s personal and business attorney for more than ten years.

  “No. I’m not finished and I’ll contact Philip if I need him,” he told her.

  She reached across the table once more, touching Gray’s arm again. His gaze fell to her hand this time as she spoke quietly.

  “You do not have to go through this alone, Grayson. I’ve been with you for six years and I’ve never heard you mention your father. So I know this might not be the easiest task for you.”

  Gray was just about to respond. He was trying to figure out a cordial way to ask her to stop touching him. She’d never touched him this much in the past. Before he could speak another hand appeared. A smaller one, with light pink painted fingernails. She wrapped those little fingers around two of Gray’s and said, “Hello.”

  He looked over to see Lily standing there, her hair pulled back into one ponytail today, with a green-and-white ribbon at the top. When she looked at Gray she smiled. He couldn’t help it—he smiled, too.

  “Hello, Lily,” he said, moving his arm so that Kym’s hand slipped away and his grip tightened on Lily’s hand.

  “Are you having tea?” she asked.

  “No. I don’t think so,” Gray replied.

  “This is the room where people have tea. That’s what Nana Lou said.”