Christmas in the Billionaire's Bed Read online

  It was entirely possible that Aidan had not clung to the memories the way Emma had. She might be nothing more than a footnote in his past life. According to Maeve, he sounded like an entirely different person than the boy Emma had known.

  The fact that Emma had chosen to settle in Silver Glen permanently had more to do with the town’s charm than it did with Aidan. But her initial motive remained. Even if her apology meant nothing to him, it would clear her own soul of lingering regret.

  She couldn’t control his response. In fact, he might not even show up. But if he did, she was determined to do the mature, responsible thing and own up to her mistakes.

  Emma wanted to grill her visitor, but she had already overstepped the bounds of polite curiosity. “I’m sure he realizes how important it is.”

  Maeve gathered herself visibly. “You haven’t given me an answer. And I warn you in advance that I’ll only accept a yes.”

  “Then I will say yes with pleasure.” And a healthy dose of trepidation.

  “That’s wonderful, Emma dear. My invitation is selfish actually. Everything you say in that delightful British accent makes me want to listen to you for hours, but I have to fly.”

  “I’d say you’re the one who has the accent,” Emma teased. “You, and the rest of Silver Glen. I’ve practiced my drawl, but it never seems to come out right.”

  Heading out the door, Maeve shook her head, laughing. “Let’s face it, Emma. You’re the quintessential blue-blooded Englishwoman. Fit to marry a prince if Kate hadn’t snatched him up first. If you had a slow-as-molasses speech pattern, no one would ever believe you were an aristocrat.”

  In the sudden silence created by the departure of her vivacious guest, Emma felt her stomach curl. She had known this day would come eventually. It was a major reason she had chosen to roost in Silver Glen. That, and the fact that the town reminded her of the cheery Cotswolds village where she had grown up.

  Sooner or later, Aidan would appear. If not at Christmas, then in the spring. The thought of seeing him face-to-face both elated and terrified her. She knew they were far beyond second chances. Too much time had passed. His life experiences had no doubt changed him, especially the tragedy to which Maeve alluded. Too many turns in the road. But Emma wanted to speak her piece. And she would make him listen.

  He deserved to know that she had loved him beyond reason and sanity. That his leaving had nearly destroyed her.

  Perhaps she was kidding herself. Aidan might not even remember her. Maybe she had magnified the importance of their university romance. Aidan had come to Oxford the fall semester of his senior year for a term-abroad experience. He had literally bumped into Emma on the street in front of a pub frequented by students.

  They had both laughed and picked up their books and papers. Aidan offered to buy her dinner, and that was that.

  Her heart actually clenched in her chest, the pain of the memories still fresh after all this time. Would he look the same? Would he think she had changed?

  And what was she going to say to Aidan Kavanagh when she saw him again?

  Two

  Aidan braked carefully and rolled to a stop in front of the courthouse that reigned over the town square. Darkness had fallen swiftly, proof that they were nearing the shortest day of the year. All around him, buildings were decorated in lights...some twinkling white, some a rainbow of colors.

  New York City loved to deck itself out for Christmas. But nothing about Christmas in the city was as disturbing as this. As if it were yesterday, he remembered Danielle’s delight when he first brought her home to spend the holidays with his family. She had loved the decorations, the town itself and the fresh snow that had fallen.

  At least this year the roads were dry. Even so, the image of a long-ago snowball fight brought a small smile to his lips. Danielle had approached everything about her life with the enthusiasm of a puppy.

  He was surprised and grateful to find that at least a few memories of their last days together were good ones.

  Glancing at his watch, he knew he had lingered long enough. Though Dylan and Mia had invited him to stay with them, Aidan preferred the privacy of a hotel room up at the lodge. Then, it was nobody’s business if he couldn’t sleep.

  His mother had a nice condo in town, though his oldest sibling, Liam, still had a suite with his wife, Zoe, at the Silver Beeches Lodge. They were in the process of designing and building their dream home, but it wouldn’t be finished until the following summer.

  Liam would be sleeping with one eye open, waiting to make sure that Aidan showed up safely, even if it was almost 3:00 a.m. Why can’t you fly down here like a normal person? he had complained.

  Aidan wondered that himself. The grueling hours on the road were supposed to have prepared him for his upcoming ordeal. Well, hell, that was a little too melodramatic. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been back to Silver Glen time and again after Danielle was gone. But only once at Christmas. And then only to see his brother in the hospital and make sure he was okay. A little fruitcake, a few packages and as quickly as he could manage, he had returned to his home in New York.

  This trip, however, there would be no reprieve. Maeve had already warned him that she expected his presence at an assortment of events and activities. Her third son had strayed beyond her reach, and since she had wrangled his presence via the unexpected wedding invitation, she planned to make the most of it.

  Aidan put the car in gear again and cruised around town slowly, expecting at any moment for a cop to pull him over and demand an explanation for his nocturnal prowl. Things looked much the same as they had during his last visit. Except that his brother Dylan’s pride and joy, the Silver Dollar Saloon, was once again open for business.

  When Aidan had come home for the long 4th of July weekend, the Silver Dollar was still being repaired and renovated after a fire in June. Fortunately, no one had been injured, but he’d heard more than one person bemoaning the fact that the town’s most popular watering hole was closed indefinitely.

  He looped back toward the square, passing Silver Screen, the community’s one and only movie theater. Way back in the forties and fifties, someone had decided all the stores in Silver Glen should be named with the theme of silver. As a marketing ploy, it was brilliant.

  The town had grown and prospered, drawing visitors and business from all over the country. Despite his unease, Aidan found himself feeling distinctly nostalgic for this charming valley that had been his home for twenty-plus years.

  As he turned the car one last time and headed for the narrow road that would take him up the mountain to the lodge, his headlights flashed across a darkened storefront that didn’t look familiar. Silver Memories. From what he could see of the window display, the merchandise appeared to be antiques.

  He frowned, almost positive that the last time he’d visited, this particular spot had been a leather shop. Operated by an ornery old guy who made saddles and guitar straps to order.

  Odd. But then again, at Thanksgiving, he’d been in town barely twenty-four hours.

  When he made it up the mountain, he pulled onto the flagstone apron in front of the Silver Beeches Lodge. After grabbing his bag and handing off his keys to a sleepy parking attendant, he sent a text to his brother. I’m here. Go to bed, old man. See you tomorrow.

  A neatly uniformed employee checked him in. After that, it was a matter of minutes to make it onto the elevator, up to the top floor, down the hall and into his quiet, dark, pleasantly scented room.

  He kicked off his shoes, plugged in his phone and fell facedown across the bed, prepared to sleep until someone forced him to get up.

  * * *

  Emma kept one eye on her customer and the other on her laptop. The elderly woman came in a couple of times a month, mostly to window-shop. She actually sold Emma a few items from time to time, clearly in need of cash to supplement her social security check.

  Since the white-haired lady seemed content to browse, Emma refocused her attention on the website
she’d been perusing. Catriona’s Closet was a designer boutique in London that had been Emma’s go-to spot for special occasion clothes when she still lived in England. Fortunately for Emma, the shop now boasted a strong online retail presence.

  Trying to decide between a cream lace duster over a burgundy long-sleeved jersey dress, or a more traditional green velvet cocktail number with a low, scooped neck, was impossible. With a few quick clicks, she bought them both, with express shipping. If she were going to see Aidan face-to-face, she needed armor. Lots of it. From the cradle, she had been taught the finer points of social etiquette. Mingling socially with the well-regarded and diverse Kavanagh family would pose no threat to her confidence.

  But seeing Aidan again? That was another matter.

  Finally, the customer left without buying so much as an embroidered hankie. Emma sighed. Her father, if he had lived, would have been horrified at his only daughter stooping to something as bourgeois as trade.

  The Braithwaites were solicitors and clergymen and physicians, at least the menfolk. The females generally presided over tea, rode to hounds and threw dinner parties, leaving their offspring to be raised by nannies.

  Emma had been eight years old before she understood that her dear Baba was not a member of the family.

  Shaking off the bittersweet memories, she prepared to close the shop. This time of year, business fell off in the afternoons despite the holidays, so she rarely stayed open past four o’clock.

  Outside, people hurried about their errands, braced against the stiff wind and the swirling flurries of snow. Emma would have much preferred to go upstairs to her cozy apartment and snuggle under an afghan, but she was completely out of milk, and she couldn’t abide her tea without it.

  Bundling into her heavy, raspberry-pink wool coat, she wrapped a black-and-pink scarf around her head, tucked her billfold and keys into her pocket and walked quickly down the street.

  At the next block she shivered, impatient for the light to turn green so she could cross the street. So intent was she on making it to the other side that she didn’t notice the silver Accord running the light until it was too late.

  Her heart beat sluggishly, everything easing into slow motion as she hopped back. But not before the reckless driver clipped her hip, sending her tumbling airborne for several long seconds and then crashing into unforgiving pavement.

  Though she was aware of people crowding around her, she lost herself somewhere internally as she catalogued all the places that hurt madly. Teeth chattering, she forced herself to sit up. Nothing appeared to be broken. A man crouched beside her, his scent a mix of warm male, cold air and an oddly familiar cologne.

  “Don’t move,” he said, his honey-toned voice sharp with command.

  She was glad to accept his support behind her shoulders. The world swam dizzily. Vaguely, she heard the wail of sirens.

  Shortly after that, brisk strangers loaded her onto a gurney and lifted her into an ambulance. Though she protested as much as she was able, no one seemed prepared to listen to her. Her scarf had slid halfway over one eye. She was fairly certain her leg was bleeding.

  The EMTs wasted no time. The vehicle moved swiftly, cutting in and out of traffic. Closing her eyes, Emma winced as a pothole caused fresh discomfort. Fortunately, the hospital was not far away. Before she knew it, she had been whisked inside and tucked into an emergency room cubicle. The dizziness was getting worse. She had enough presence of mind remaining to wonder if she was in any kind of serious danger.

  A nurse came in to get vitals. Suddenly, the same deep voice with the bark of command sounded nearby. “How is she?”

  “She’s conscious. We’ll have to get her up to X ray.”

  “I’m fine,” Emma stated, her determination diluted somewhat by the high, wavering condition of her voice.

  The nurse left. Though Emma’s eyes were closed, she sensed the man standing nearby. His presence had a narcotic effect. She felt safe...as if he were keeping an eye on things.

  “Don’t go to sleep,” he snapped. “Let’s get this damned scarf out of your face.”

  She felt him untie it and draw it free. And then he cursed. “What the hell? Emma?”

  She struggled up on one elbow and stared at her white knight. Instantly, shock flooded her already compromised nervous system. Oh, God. “Aidan. I didn’t realize it was you. Thanks for helping me. I’m sure everything is okay. You can leave now.” The words tripped over each other as her limbs began to shake.

  He’d gone white, his eyes wide with what appeared to be a combination of disbelief and horror. “What are you doing here?”

  A smile was beyond her. Tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them back. This was not how she’d imagined seeing him again. Not like this. Not without warning. She swallowed hard. “I live here,” she whispered.

  “The hell you say. Is this some kind of a joke?”

  The outrage in his voice and on his face might have been tinged with a hint of panic.

  His fury was one blow too many. With a whimper of surrender, she fell back onto the exam table as the world went black...

  * * *

  Aidan strode out of the hospital at a pace little less than full-blown retreat. His heart slugged in his chest and his hands were ice-cold. Of course, that might have been the weather. He’d left his gloves in the car.

  Emma was here. And Danielle was not. Emma. He repeated her name in his head, still seeing the look of dazed comprehension that filled her wide-set gentian-blue eyes. He was very familiar with those beautiful eyes. Not to mention the porcelain skin, the perfectly curved pink lips, the patrician features, and the silky, fine blond hair that fell past her shoulders. Emma...Good Lord.

  The buzzing in his ears was probably a factor of the wind. But then again, his blood pressure might be in the danger zone. His emotions were all over the map. And how ironic was that? He’d made a science of becoming the superficial guy with no real emotions.

  The lie had been practiced so deeply and so well, he’d begun to believe it himself. But a chance encounter on the street had cut to the heart of his charade. He was injured, bleeding deep in his gut, raw with pain.

  Yet Emma was the one in the hospital.

  He had no obligation to go back inside. He’d done his part. She was in the hands of professionals.

  Standing beside his car, he slammed a fist on the hood...hard enough to bruise his fingers. He’d known that coming home at Christmas would be a test of how well he had healed from the past. But never in a million years had he imagined a confrontation with Emma Braithwaite. She was supposed to be in England, happily married to Viscount Supercilious. Raising upper-crust rug rats with Harry Potter accents and carelessly chic clothes.

  Damn, damn, damn...

  What would happen if he merely walked away? If he didn’t ask for explanations? Could he pretend that the last two hours were a dream? Or a nightmare?

  Another ambulance zipped into the admitting area. The flashing lights and ear-piercing siren shocked him back to sanity. He’d left Emma passed out on the exam table. True, he’d notified a nurse immediately, but after that he had fled. What would his brothers think if they could see him now?

  They already teased him about his city polish and his propensity for take-out every night of the week. Even Liam, who dressed as befitted his position as co-owner of the prestigious Silver Beeches Lodge, was most at home clambering about in the mountains. He’d already taken Zoe camping and made a new convert.

  The Kavanagh brothers, out of necessity, were physically and mentally tough. You didn’t grow up with six same-sex siblings and not learn how to handle yourself in a fight. But as much as Aidan loved his brothers, he had always felt a bit out of step with them. He’d wanted to travel the world. He’d been strangled by the small-town lifestyle.

  Regardless of the differences in personality and temperament, though, Maeve Kavanagh had taught her sons about responsibility and honor. Perhaps because their father had been lacking in that
area, the lessons had stuck. Only the worst kind of cad would leave a woman alone in a hospital with no one to look after her.

  Cursing beneath his breath, Aidan gulped in a lungful of icy air. This couldn’t be happening. What terrible sins had he committed in the past that karma was so very ready now to kick his ass?

  Minutes passed. All around him, people came and went. Hospital staff heading home for the night. Visitors walking toward the doors with worried faces. Aidan barely noted their presence.

  Though it shamed him to admit it, he was actually terrified to go back inside. What if Emma were badly hurt? What if even now she was slipping into a coma?

  As if it were yesterday he remembered pacing the halls of this very same hospital while Danielle struggled to live. It was a lifetime ago, but the agony was fresh and real. As if it were happening all over again.

  He wouldn’t allow that. Not on his watch. He had no clue why Emma was in Silver Glen. It didn’t matter. He would make sure she was okay, and then he would walk away.

  Just like he’d been forced to do ten years ago...

  Three

  Emma moved her shoulders and moaned. “My head hurts,” she whispered. When she tried to focus her eyes, rectangular ceiling tiles above her bed marched from one side of the room to the other. For some reason, that drunken motion made her think of the intricately plastered frieze in her childhood bedroom. She remembered trying to count the individual roses on days when she was ill in bed and stuck at home.

  Sadly, this generic space was not nearly as beautiful.

  At some point, an unknown set of hands had replaced her clothing with a standard issue hospital gown. The warm blanket tucked up around her shoulders should have felt comforting, but instead, she found it claustrophobic.

  Despite her discomfort, she shifted until both arms were free.

  An older nurse with kind eyes patted her hand. “You have a concussion. Try not to upset yourself. The pain meds will be kicking in any moment now.”