A Mummy for Christmas

“But they would be able to pretend,” she concluded.

He nodded. “They’re only little once. And maybe this will take the sting out of not having a mom.”

And whatever was coming next for her sons, Holly thought pensively.

Travis touched her hand, drawing her back to the conversation. The brief feel of skin on skin was as warmly reassuring as his presence. “So what do you think?” he asked softly.

At the thought of how much joy this would bring to their offspring, Holly felt a wave of excitement. She found herself suffused with the Christmas spirit once again. “Can we get it done in time?”

He nodded, confident as ever. “Sure. I’ll have both items built off-site in the warehouse where a lot of our custom cabinetry is done, and then delivered early on the twenty-fourth.”

The first glitch presented itself. “How will we be able to do that without the kids seeing?”

“We’ll keep them busy elsewhere until it’s dark on Christmas Eve, while the delivery is made. And probably also cover the structures with black construction tarp, to ensure they’re obscured from view. We’ll take that off while they are sleeping, replace with large ribbons. And when they wake up the next morning we’ll give them some time to enjoy what Santa left them under the tree, then take them to the backyard for the big reveal.”

“Sounds like a great plan!” Holly exclaimed.

Travis held out his hand for a fist-bump of victory. Holly fist-bumped back.

The receptionist nodded in their direction.

A minute later, they were settled in family law attorney Martin Shield’s private office, which was just as old-money-intimidating as the reception area of the venerable Texas law firm.

“I’m glad you agreed to come in,” said the distinguished, sixty-something lawyer in the two thousand dollar suit. “Cliff would like to keep this as informal as possible.”

Holly’s throat was so tight it was all she could do to get the words out. “What exactly does he want?”

“To see the kids.”

She had been afraid of that. Determined, however, to play it cool, she held Martin Shield’s gaze. “After all this time?” Did Cliff and his attorney not understand how ludicrous—not to mention selfish—this request was?

Cliff’s attorney did not bat an eye. “My client is well aware it’s been three years, five months and two days since he saw the twins.”

Anger surged inside Holly. She had thought the hurt and pain of her ex’s betrayal was well behind them. She wanted it to stay that way. “Cliff voluntarily chose not to exercise his right to visit the boys at the time we divorced—over my objections, I might add.” Back then, she had been desperate for him to do right by his kids.

“Things have changed. He was making plans to work and live in Europe at the time he divorced you. Now he’s in the process of moving back to the United States. His new position is in Connecticut.”

Holly wasn’t surprised to hear Cliff was on the move again. Frequent transfers were part of the process of climbing the investment banking career ladder. Had the two of them stayed married, she would have been prepared to adapt. Since they hadn’t, she was content to stay in Texas and rear her family in the lovely city where she’d grown up. Wanting as much information as possible, she prompted, “So his visit…?”

“Wouldn’t be for another fifteen days,” the attorney stated. “Handled any way you want.”

Despite her effort to play it cool, Holly tensed. “And if I don’t agree?” she asked in a brittle voice.

The esteemed attorney was ready to play hardball. “Clifford Baxter wants to see his sons. Legally, he has every right to do so.”

Holly said nothing. She was so furious at her ex’s mixture of presumption and disregard for their children’s feelings in all this that she didn’t trust herself to speak.

Abruptly, Mr. Shield became conciliatory. “My client is just asking for a couple of hours one afternoon. He wants to see his children, get an inkling of the little men they’ve become.”

Holly knew if she fought this, they’d end up in court. The result would be the same. Cliff did have every legal right to see his children. It was only a question of how, where and when. Making the process difficult for him would only make it tough on her kids. They had been disregarded enough already. “All right,” she conceded at last. “Two weeks from Saturday, Cliff can see the children in my home, under my supervision.”

“I will be there also,” Travis interjected.

Holly looked at him. Feeling as if she could drown in his empathetic eyes, knowing it would be all too easy to depend on his inherent kindness even more than she already did, she nodded her assent.

The lawyer’s brow furrowed. “And your relationship with Ms. Baxter is what exactly?” he prodded.

“A friend,” Travis replied, then reached over to squeeze her hand. “A very good friend.”

“WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT?” Travis asked, after ten minutes had passed and Holly had yet to say a word about what had gone on. Instead, she appeared deep in thought. A little sad. And a lot worried.

“I don’t think so.” She forced a smile as he parked next to the Carson Construction trailer that served as his private on-site office.

Travis got out of the Expedition and watched as she did the same. Damn, but she looked good today, in that feisty “I can handle anything that comes at me” way…

Not that he should be noticing, given the fact that their relationship was strictly platonic, he reminded himself sternly.

She strode purposefully to her minivan, released the latch and removed a garment bag from the cargo area. Her knee-length skirt and high heels seemed out of place in the dusty, rough-paved parking area.

He tore his eyes from her spectacular legs and visually instructed all the other workers in the area to do the same. “Need a place to change clothes?” he asked casually.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” She ran a hand down the skirt of her sexy, cardinal-red business suit. “I can’t really paint in this and I’ve got to finish the mural at the restaurant. I promised them it would be done today.”

He moved ahead of her to open the door. She took the two concrete steps into the mobile office that served as his command center. In the front room was a desk, drafting table, phone and several computers.

In the middle was a long table and chairs. Behind that, a private bath, complete with shower and a closet where he kept extra clothing.

“You can change in the conference room,” Travis said. “I’ll stand guard to make sure no one comes in.”

“Thanks.” She shut the door behind her.

Travis shrugged out of his suit coat, sat down at his desk, pulled up his e-mails. Made a few phone calls. Accepted a few more.

And still no Holly.

Wondering what was keeping her, he got up and went to the door. Rapped lightly. “Holly?”

There was no answer. Feeling his heartbeat picking up, he rapped again and spoke louder. “Everything okay in there?” Again, no answer.

So there was only one thing he could do.

HOLLY DIDN’T KNOW WHAT was wrong with her. She could not stop crying. And she had been trying for nearly ten minutes now.

Grabbing a hand full of Kleenex from the box on the bathroom counter, she opened the door and was startled to see Travis standing on the other side. Tall and indomitable, he sent her a brief, telling look that spoke volumes about his inherently understanding nature. The emotion still building inside her took another giant leap. “I thought this might happen,” he said gruffly.

The next thing she knew his arms were around her. Her head was on his chest, and the sobs she’d been holding back came out in harsh, ugly sounds that had been years in the making. And still they came—on and on and on, until she thought she would die of embarrassment.

Through it all, Travis simply held her, moving one hand over her spine, threading the other through her hair, the action as comforting as his presence.