The Christmas Baby Bonus

Faye felt inexplicably helpless and that was something she generally avoided at all cost. Not being in control or being able to direct the outcome of what was going on around her was the tenth circle of hell as far as she was concerned. Where was her mobile? She had a flashlight app she could use. Better yet, she could use Piers’s. His was undoubtedly closer.

“Give me your phone,” she demanded.

“No reception, remember?” he drawled.

She could just make out that he was still playing with the baby, who remained completely unfazed by this new development. Mind you, after being abandoned by your mother, facing a power outage was nothing by comparison in his little world.

“It has a flashlight function, remember?” she sniped in return.

Piers stood, reached into his pocket and handed her the phone.

It held the warmth of his body and she felt that warmth seep into the palm of her hand, almost as intensely as if he’d touched her. She swapped the phone into her other hand and rubbed her palm over the soft cotton of the track pants, but it did little to alleviate the little tingle that warmth had left behind. The realization made her exhale impatiently.

“Faye, they’ll get the power back on soon, don’t worry. Besides, I have a backup generator. I’ll get that going in a moment or two. In the meantime, relax—enjoy the ambience.”

Ambience? On the bright side, at least the Christmas lights were also out and the carols were no longer playing. Okay, she could do ambience if she had to.

“I’m not worrying, I’m making contingency plans. It’s what I do,” she replied.

After selecting the right app on his phone, she made her way into the kitchen and searched the drawers for flashlights. Uttering a small prayer of thanks that Meredith was such an organized soul that she not only had several bright flashlights but spare bulbs and batteries, as well, Faye returned to the main room. Piers was right, with the firelight it didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust to the cozy glow that limned the furnishings. But the flickering light reminded her all too quickly of another time, another night, another fire—and the screams that had come with it.

Forcing down the quiver juddering through her, Faye methodically lined up the flashlights on the coffee table, then sat.

“I guess you’re not a fan of the dark, either, then?” Piers commented casually, as if they’d been discussing her likes and dislikes already.

“I never said that. I just like to be prepared for all eventualities.”

In the gloom she saw Piers shrug a little. “Sometimes it pays to live dangerously. To roll with the unexpected.”

“Not on my watch,” she said firmly.

The unexpected had always delivered the worst stages of her life, and she’d made it her goal to never be that vulnerable to circumstances again. So far, she’d aced it.

Across from her, Piers chuckled and the baby made a similar sound in response.

“He seems happy enough,” Faye observed. What would it be to have a life so simple? A full tummy, a nap and clean diaper, and all was well with the world. But the helplessness? Faye cringed internally. No, she was better off the way she was. An island. “What are you going to do with him?” she asked.

“Aside from keep him?” Piers asked with a laconic grin. “Raise him to be a Luckman, I guess. According to the note, he’s mine.”

Faye shot to her feet again. “We both know that’s impossible. You weren’t even going out with anyone around the time he was conceived. You’d broken up with Adele and hadn’t met Lydia yet. Unless you had a casual hookup over the Christmas break?”

Piers snorted. “I can’t believe you know exactly who and when I was going out with someone.”

“Of course I keep track of those details. For the most part I’ve had a closer relationship with any of those women than you have, remember?”

“I do remember, and you’re right. I wasn’t with anyone, in any sense, that holiday.”

“Then why would his mother say he’s yours? Surely she knew who she slept with that holiday?”

Or had she known?

Piers’s twin had been at the lodge since before that New Year’s Eve when Piers had flown to LA for two days to countersign a new deal he’d been waiting on. While Quin had always been charming enough, he’d very clearly lacked the moral fiber and work ethic of his slightly older twin. Faye privately thought part of Quin’s problem was that everything in his life had come too easily to him—especially women—and that had left him jaded and often cynical. Not for the first time she wondered if he’d masqueraded as his brother sometimes, purely for the nuisance factor. And this baby development was nothing if not a nuisance.

“If we ever track her down, I’ll make sure to ask her,” Piers said with a wry twist to his mouth. “We don’t have much to go on, do we?”

No, they didn’t. Faye made a mental note to add speaking to their private investigators to her to-do list the moment she returned to civilization.

Piers shifted Casey into the crook of his arm and the baby snuggled against him, his little eyes drifting closed again. The picture of the two of them was so poignantly sweet it made Faye want to head straight out into the nearest snowdrift and freeze away any sense of longing that dared spark deep inside her.

She moved toward the fireplace and put her hands out to the flames.

“Still cold?” Piers asked.

“Not really.”

“I should get that food I promised you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get it. You hold the baby,” she said firmly and grabbed a flashlight from the table. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

* * *

Piers watched her scurry away as if the hounds of hell were after her. Why was his super-efficient PA so afraid of babies? It was more than fear, though, he mused. On the surface, it appeared as if she couldn’t bear to be around the child, but Piers wasn’t fooled by that. He hadn’t doubled the family’s billion-dollar empire by being deceived by what lay on the surface. His ability to delve into the heart of matters was one of his greatest strengths, and the idea of delving into Faye’s closely held secrets definitely held a great deal of appeal.

Casey was now fast asleep in his arms. He settled the baby down inside the cushion fort he’d created earlier and covered him with his blanket. As Piers fingered the covering—hand-knitted in the softest of yarns—he wondered if the baby had other family who cared about him. Family who might be wondering where he was and who was caring for him.

While Piers projected the image of a lazy playboy, beneath the surface he had a quick mind that never stopped working. It frustrated him that there was nothing further he could do to solve the question of how Casey had come to be delivered to his door.

But he could certainly delve a little deeper into Faye’s apparent phobia when it came to infants. She intrigued him on many levels. Always had. He’d always sensed she bore scars, emotional if not physical, because she was so locked down. But now he knew she had scars on her body, too, and suddenly he wanted to know why. Were the two linked? And how did she know her way around a diaper bag so well?

Satisfied the baby was safe where he was placed, Piers rose and made his way through to the kitchen, where he could hear Faye clattering around. From the scent that tweaked his nostrils, she’d found one of Meredith’s signature rich tomato soups in the freezer and was reheating it on the stove top, tiny blue flames dancing merrily beneath the pot. Ever resourceful, she’d lit some candles and placed them in mason jars to give more light.

Faye was in the middle of slicing a loaf of ciabatta and sprinkling grated cheese onto the slices when she became aware of his presence.

“Bored with the baby already?”

“He’s asleep, so I thought I’d come and annoy you instead.”

“It takes a lot to annoy me.”

“Casey seemed to manage it,” Piers said succinctly, determined to get to the root of her aversion to the infant.

“He doesn’t annoy me. I’m just not a baby person,” she said lightly, turning her attention back to putting the tray of sliced bread and cheese under the broiler. “Not every woman is, you know.”

“Most have a reason,” he pressed. “What’s yours?”

Sometimes it was best to go directly to the issue, he’d found. With Faye, it was fifty-fifty that he’d get a response. Tonight, it seemed, he was out of luck.

“Did you want a glass of wine with the meal?” she asked, moving to the tall wine fridge against the wall.