A Mom For Christmas

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u35a27ed3-f15b-5e8a-b194-db29ad8017f4)

The air in the enclosed stairwell reeked of age, and the timeworn wooden stairs creaked with each step. The glass in the old-fashioned door rattled in protest when Bethany Montgomery grasped the knob and pushed it open.

She stepped from the narrow staircase leading to her apartment above her mother’s real estate office and inhaled deeply. Even here in the broad recessed entry of the downtown building, the air was tinged with the scent of degrading metal and aged wood. The tiny black-and-white octagonal tiles on the floor from over a hundred years ago completed the picture. Everything in her hometown of DoOver, aka Dover, Mississippi, was old. And at the moment she felt the same. Old, worn-out and irrelevant. And in need of a major do-over.

Unlocking the door to the right, she entered the office of Montgomery Real Estate, her mood sinking another level. She didn’t want to be here. Not in Dover, not in the office and not in Mississippi. Her life was in New York, dancing with the Forsythe Ballet Company as principal ballerina for the last six years. She’d been living her lifelong dream, the culmination of a journey started when she was five and her mother had taken her and her sister to see a production of The Nutcracker in New Orleans.

Now it was all gone. Ended by a torn ACL complicated by years of overuse and damage she’d paid little attention to. Her neglect had finally caught up with her. There would be no lead roles from here on, and even a spot in the corps de ballet was doubtful. Instead she was forced to come home and work for her mother. The doctors and physical therapists had all declared her days of classical ballet over.

She refused to accept that. Others had recovered from this kind of injury and gone on to perform for years. She would be like them and she wouldn’t stop working until she was on stage, en pointe, and once more at the top of her profession.

Beth switched on the lights, booted up the computer and scanned the small office, her gaze landing on the wall of family photos. Her throat tightened as she looked at her portrait. It was her first professional photo, and she was dressed in a white tutu, en pointe posed développé croisé devant, looking like a graceful bird. Absently she rubbed her leg, remembering the pain of the last nine months and that moment when she’d landed and heard the horrible popping sound in her knee.

Her heart dropped into her stomach, leaving a cold emptiness in its place. How was she supposed to go on from here? What was she supposed to do with her life? A sob formed in her chest, but she fought it down. She’d cried and raged enough since the accident. It hadn’t changed anything and only made her feel more like a failure.

“Good morning, sweetie. I’m glad to see you up and here on time.”

Beth put a smile on her face before turning to face her mother as she breezed into the office. “Did I have a choice?”

Francie Montgomery patted her shoulder before taking a seat at the desk. “Of course you do. Where you work is up to you. What you do with your life from now on is in your hands. You could open up a dance studio here in Dover.”

No way. She was not going to be one of those failed dancers who goes home and opens up a dance school for every mother who thinks her child is the next movie star. “What I want is to dance again.”

Her mother exhaled a soft sigh. “Beth, sooner or later you’ll have to accept that your professional career is over. Longing for something you can’t have is pointless.”

“It’s not over. Once I’m fully recovered, I will dance again. Somewhere.”

Her mother came and stood in front of her. “I hope and pray that’s true. But your doctors and your physical therapist think differently. You have to face the facts, sweetheart. And the sooner, the better.”

It was an old argument and one of the reasons Beth had moved out of her mother’s house. Though well-intentioned and motivated by love, her mom’s advice had quickly grown old. Being back in the family home, where the presence of her late father lingered, had added to her distress. There was only so much heartache and sadness she could endure. With her sister, Tori, in California for an indefinite amount of time, Beth had moved in to her apartment above the real estate office to maintain her sanity.

With her mother occupying the desk, Beth moved to the front window and stared at the early morning activity along Main Street in the small town. Her mother was right. She had to face reality. But how did she begin to accept that? How did she face each day with no direction? What could possibly fill the dark, aching void left inside that ballet had always filled?

As she turned away, movement from the office across the entryway drew her attention.

Her mom had bought the entire building when she’d opened her real estate business decades ago. The ground floor consisted of two office spaces, one on either side of the entry, each with windows facing the street and each other. In the four days since she’d moved in to the apartment, she’d assumed the other office was vacant. But now a man was moving about inside. Curious, she stepped closer to the window.

He disappeared into the back room. When he reappeared, Beth strained for a closer look. Even with his back to her, it was impossible to miss how attractive he was. He had broad shoulders beneath a long-sleeved polo shirt of deep red that highlighted his muscular back as he bent and moved. Dark jeans hugged long legs. A warm trickle of appreciation oozed along her skin. Something about the dark hair curling along the nape of his neck bumped up her interest. She peered closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Beth, I need to show houses this morning. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Is there anything you need to know before I leave?”

She tore her gaze from the intriguing figure in the other office. “I don’t think so. Nothing much has changed since I worked here in high school.”

Her mother smiled. “True. Change comes slowly to Dover. But we’re getting better. I can’t wait for you to see the Christmas celebrations Gemma introduced last year.”

Beth had only come home for a few days last Christmas, and had left as soon as possible. She’d been eager to get back to prepare for the London tour, and looking at the extensive decorations and events her sister-in-law had orchestrated hadn’t been of interest to her.

With her mother gone, the office grew silent, allowing Beth too much time to dwell on the losses in her life. Thankfully the phone started ringing, and the next few hours passed quickly. The man next door hadn’t reappeared, but she’d been unable to get him out of her thoughts.

At noon, Beth hung the out-to-lunch sign on the door, set the lock and stepped out into the entryway. She looked forward to going upstairs and hiding in her room for a while. Maintaining a happy face for the walk-in customers and a cheery tone for the call-ins inquiring about homes for sale took a toll on her emotional reserves.

She inserted her key into the lock as the door to the other office opened, and she glanced over her shoulder. Finally she would get a glimpse of the intriguing man she’d seen this morning. The smile on her face faded when she looked at him. There was something familiar about the sky blue eyes and the angle of the chin.

“Hello, Beth.”

She inhaled sharply. “Noah? Noah Carlisle. Is that you?” She took a closer look. It was him, but he was different. Very different. This wasn’t the rail-thin, awkward, nerdy friend she remembered. The thick dark glasses were gone, exposing the rich blue eyes with lashes long enough to touch his brows. The planes of his face were still angled, but maturity had added a depth to his features and a sensuous fullness to his lips. Heat flooded her cheeks at the direction of her thoughts, along with a rush of delight. She reached out and gave him a hug, only to pull back when she realized he wasn’t returning the gesture. In fact, he wasn’t saying anything at all. There was no warmth in his blue eyes, no welcoming smile.

“I’m surprised you remember me.”

“Of course I remember you.” How could he say that? Her mind flooded with wonderful memories of their friendship. It had been the most important one in her life. She’d fallen in love with him, but he’d made it painfully clear he hadn’t returned her feelings. Her warm recollections drained away into a dark pool of humiliation. Suddenly self-conscious, she swallowed and brushed an errant strand of hair off her cheek, attempting to collect herself. “I was thinking about you the other day.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed rapidly. “Just the other day?”

What was he saying? “Yes. I mean, I’ve thought about you several times over the years.” His eyes were hard and cold, and there was no warmth in his tone. Noah had changed in more than looks.

A sardonic grin shifted his mouth. “That often in twelve years.”

Her conscience burned. She had thought about him, but she’d never bothered to do anything about it. Gathering her composure, she lifted her chin. “You look good.” Good didn’t come close. The scrawny young man she remembered had grown into a dangerously attractive man.

The bony shoulders had broadened into an impressive width above a muscular chest and biceps strained at the fabric of his shirt. His clear blue eyes were more vibrant above the high cheekbones. His thick, dark chocolate hair still persisted in falling over his forehead. But it was his air of confidence that was the most striking difference. The once shy, hesitant boy now carried himself with a confident masculinity that radiated from every pore.

“You’ve changed.”

“I grew up.” He held her gaze a long moment. “I heard you were back in town.”

The disinterested tone in his voice hurt. They’d been best friends. Why was he so distant and angry? True, she hadn’t stayed in touch. Her career had taken all her time and attention. Surely he understood that. She refocused on his comment. “I am. For the time being.”

Noah set his jaw. “Don’t you think you’ve chased this foolish dancing dream of yours long enough?”

She clamped her teeth together and fisted her hands to keep a lid on her anger. She didn’t know what his problem was, but she’d had enough. “Foolish? I’m a professional dancer with a world-renowned ballet company. I’d hardly call that a dream.”