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“Not enough to come back, though,” Millie continued with a shake of her head. “But tonight’s about new beginnings. We all start afresh with the New Year, so this charity dinner gives us a head start. You know, moneywise.”
Gray nodded because that was another point Millie had made sure to hit home. The town needed money.
“Really,” Gray said, coming almost to a stop before they could get closer to the doors. “I should get going. I have emails to send and calls to make.”
Millie shook her head. “Always got something better to do. Just like your father. It’s just a dinner, Grayson. And you said you were hungry, so come in, sit down and have a bite to eat. Then you can rush on and do what you have to do. But I’ll tell you, if you’re thinking of selling these buildings and running out on this town again, I beg you to think again. Whether you like it or not this is your heritage. It’s where you were born and where your children should have a chance to grow up and experience all the things you never did.”
“I don’t plan on having children,” Gray replied immediately.
He had no idea why he’d told her that, just felt the words slipping out without his permission.
Millie’s smile spread slowly. “You never know what this world’s got in store for you. Despite what your mother thought at first, she soon found out that everything doesn’t always go as planned.”
Gray was just about to tell her he was totally different from both his parents. He was going to assure her that she was wrong and that he would definitely not be getting married or having any children. Ever.
Then she approached. He’d heard the clicking of heels across the floor but hadn’t bothered to look away from Millie until the other woman was standing right there behind the older one. He’d glimpsed at the bright red of her dress first, then realized how little material there actually was as his gaze soon rested on her stocking-clad legs. Then moved slowly to the swell of her pert breasts over the bodice. Her hair was tapered on the sides and curly on top, her makeup light, but alluring.
There was another woman with her, Gray noticed when he figured staring was probably just as rude as it was embarrassing on his part.
“Hi, Millie. You trying to keep all the handsome men out here with you tonight?” the third woman asked, her smile wide and her eyes cheerful as she looked at Gray.
She was a couple inches taller than Morgan, who he had noticed was wearing some pretty sexy heels tonight. The other woman also had on heels. Her hair was longer, curls relaxing on her shoulders as long, icicle-like earrings dangled and glowed. Pretty wasn’t a bold enough word for this one and the tight black dress she wore, with a festive red choker that had small jingle bells dangling from it, was definitely something to stare at. Still, Gray’s gaze went right back to Morgan.
“Not at all,” Millie said, her smile faltering. “This is Grayson Taylor. You know, he’s one of the Taylors of Temptation.”
Gray didn’t like that title any more than he liked the way Millie had said it—as if he was the Dracula of Transylvania.
“Hello, Grayson Taylor,” the woman said as she extended her hand to him. “I’m Wendy Langston. I’m one of the Langstons of Temptation. We’ve been here forever, too, but most of us have done the smart thing and escaped as well.” She chuckled and so did Gray, liking her instantly.
“Please,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it. “Call me Gray.”
“Well, Gray, you should come on in and join the fun. You can sit with me and my sister, Morgan. I hear Magnolia Daniels was this year’s caterer. She just graduated from some fancy culinary college in New York, so she was anxious to come back home and show us all her skills,” Wendy told him.
“My sister attended a culinary school in New York as well,” he said. “She owns her own restaurant now and teaches at the college. I wonder if it’s the same school Magnolia attended.”
“There’s only one way for us to find out,” Wendy said as she easily stepped in front of Millie to snag Gray’s arm.
This time, Gray wasn’t as irritated. In fact, he thought, he could appreciate Wendy’s cheerful demeanor. He could also like the fact that Morgan had looked a bit chagrined at the way her sister so easily stepped up to him.
They walked through the double doors that Gray had sworn he hadn’t wanted to enter and he was pleasantly surprised, at least for a few moments. The lights were dim and there were tables all around the floor, covered in festive red cloths with what looked like little gingerbread houses in the center. Holiday music played softly in the background as fifty or so people walked around or hovered over the punch table.
“I’m going to get something to drink,” he heard Morgan say and then looked up in enough time to see her walking hastily away from the table where Wendy had led him.
“I believe you’ve met my younger sister already,” Wendy said as she took a seat in one of the folding chairs.
Gray sat in a chair beside her after he’d forced himself to look away from Morgan’s retreating body.
“Yes. We met last night at the community center,” he replied.
Wendy nodded. “You interrupted Jacob Marley’s grand entrance in Mountainview Elementary’s first-grade-class presentation of A Christmas Carol.”
“Is that what they were doing?” he asked, then recalled the little boy named Ethan saying something about “bah, hamburger” when he’d taken his place on the stage after Gray first arrived.
“Yes. It’s one of Morgan’s favorites, so she begged the town council to let her class present the play, as opposed to the older members of the theater club, who had wanted to perform The Sound of Music. I think we’re better off with the kids and that has nothing to do with my sister being the director,” Wendy continued, chuckling again.
“I hope it turns out well,” Gray responsed.
He’d been wondering how long it was going to take Morgan to return. Not that he didn’t like talking to her sister. Well, actually, Gray wasn’t really in the mood to talk any more tonight. He did, however, want to be near Morgan Hill once again. That thought hadn’t occurred to him earlier when he’d been busily immersed in his work. Yet, the moment he saw her, he was unable—or unwilling...he couldn’t figure out which one just yet—to think about anything else.
“It’s going to be fun. You should think about sticking around town to see the finished product.”
This sister liked to talk. Gray was certain he hadn’t gotten this many words out of Morgan the night before and they’d been together longer. He looked at Wendy now, and asked, “When is the production taking place?”
“Christmas Eve,” she told him. “You weren’t planning on selling the community center before then, were you?”
Gray didn’t immediately respond. Christmas was weeks away. There was no way he planned on staying in town for that long, and while he was immediately going to put the buildings on the market, he wasn’t optimistic that they would sell so quickly. Who would want to buy run-down buildings in this small town? There was no market value to the purchases, only sentimental value, which he’d figured out from his talk with Millie, and Morgan’s immediate reaction to finding out who he was.
“I don’t think they’ll be sold before Christmas,” he answered. “Maybe I’ll go help Morgan with the drinks.”
Wendy had seemed to look at him knowingly as she replied, “Sure. You go right ahead and do that.”
Regardless of what she said or thought about Gray as he walked away, he kept moving. Too many people wanted to chitchat with him in this town and he didn’t want any of that. What he wanted... Gray wasn’t quite certain. Sure, he’d thought he knew, just last night when he’d driven into town, and earlier, when he talked to Gemma, but at this moment...
Morgan turned away from the punch table just as he walked up behind her. Quick footwork had him moving just before she could turn with her outstretched hands, which held two glasses filled with red punch. The red punch that Gray had no doubt would have splashed all over his white shirt had they collided in the way they’d seemed destined to do.
“Let me help you with that,” Gray offered and reached for one of the glasses.
She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, then clapped her lips closed and allowed him to take the glass from her hand.
“Why don’t we enjoy this over there near the tree,” he said.
“That one is for my sister,” she said, nodding toward the glass in his hand.
He shook his head and did not hesitate to lie. “She said she’d get something later.”
“Why do you want to go over there? We can go back to our table,” she said before lifting her glass to her lips and taking a sip.
“I want to be alone with you,” he said, again without any hesitation.
Or any thought to what he was doing. All Gray could admit to with any sort of definitiveness was that he wanted to be with Morgan. His salacious thoughts from last night were at the forefront of his mind as he stood close to her, the light scent of her perfume wafting through the air.
“And I like Christmas trees,” he continued when she only glared at him, one brow lifted in silent question.
“Lily said you didn’t like Christmas,” she replied after another few moments of silence.
“Your daughter,” he said when he remembered the solemn-faced little girl from last night. “She and your son are twins, correct?”
Morgan nodded. “They’re the loves of my life,” she replied, then looked up quickly as if she hadn’t meant to say that.
Gray decided to let it slide because there was another pressing question he wanted an answer to. “And their father? Is he also the love of your life?”
For the first time ever Gray held his breath as he waited for the answer.
Her fingers seemed to tighten around the glass she held before she replied, “My husband died in Afghanistan.”
It was a simple statement and yet it held as much power as if she’d reached out and socked him herself.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
Gray moved beside her then, taking her elbow lightly, and began to walk toward the tree. “Do you like Christmas?”
“What?” she asked as they moved.
“Do you like Christmas? That’s what Lily asked me last night. Now I want to know your answer.”
“Yes, I love Christmas,” she said before taking another sip of her punch.
Gray hadn’t bothered to sip his.
“It’s a wonderful time of year. A time for family and fellowship, miracles and happiness.”
“You sound like one of those greeting-card commercials,” he replied.
“And you sound like the star of my play, Ebenezer Scrooge,” she snapped back.
They’d come to a stop near the huge Christmas tree that was nestled in a far corner of the room. It had to be at least ten feet tall and was decorated with what looked like every sort of bulb, bell, ribbon and light ever created for this season.
“I don’t have anything in particular against the holiday,” Gray confided. He’d walked farther around the tree toward the side that was facing two large windows.
The old window shades were tattered at the edges and if anyone attempted to pull them down farther, they’d surely crumple into pieces. So more than half the window was bare, leaving a view of the side street, where only two cars were parked and the sidewalk was clear. At this time of evening on a Sunday night, if Gray had looked out the window of his penthouse in Miami he was sure to see lines of traffic and people headed toward the clubs or the beach. There was always something going on in the city, some party or meeting, a huge wedding, or a celebrity sighting. Never a dull moment, and never a quiet street like this.
“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 (#u2c9b3b18-08d8-54c5-8f46-d7460f2900d8)
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.
