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Laura lifted a skeptical brow.
“Just friends,” Travis repeated, as much to himself as to the P.I.
“Mmm-hmm.” Laura grinned, still not buying his denial. She stood, all business once again. “I’ll call you as soon as I figure out what’s going on.”
“Thanks.” Travis circled around his desk.
He and Laura were nearly to the exit when the door opened, and Holly walked in. “Oh!”
Travis thought he saw a fleeting glimpse of jealousy in her eyes. Aware that he had jumped to conclusions about the depth of her interest in him the day before, and been wrong, he pushed the tantalizing notion away.
She smiled and tucked a strand of long, golden-brown hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know you were busy.” Her tone was casual.
Trying not to notice how great she looked in her loose blue chambray painting shirt, snug-fitting white T-shirt and jeans, Travis welcomed her in with a matter-of-fact smile. “It’s okay. We’re finished.” Thank God.
“Hey, Holly,” Laura said, smiling as well.
To Travis’s relief, the private investigator looked as innocent as the day was long as she headed for the exit.
“Hey, Laura,” Holly said, just as nonchalantly.
The two women exchanged easy glances and then Laura slipped out, closing the door behind her.
Travis drank in the alluring, feminine fragrance of Holly’s perfume as she neared. Putting a damper on his reaction, he forced himself to focus on the reason for her unexpected appearance. He searched her aquamarine eyes. “Everything okay?”
She nodded, but he could tell from the excessive ease in her manner that she was putting on an act for his benefit.
Her next smile was even more maddeningly aloof. “I just wanted to see if we were still on for Christmas tree shopping tomorrow,” she said.
Travis pushed aside his remorse, at having gone behind Holly’s back to protect her and the kids. He focused on the weekend, and the fun they usually had together,
instead, reminded of what a good team they made. “Absolutely. The girls and I are looking forward to it.”
Holly continued looking at him, her expression becoming inscrutable. “Okay,” she said finally, backing out with a shrug. “I’ll see you then.”
THE WORST HAD HAPPENED, Holly thought to herself as she drove home that evening after work. Travis had kissed her—and she had kissed him back—and now he was acting weird around her, when all she wanted to do was move forward as if nothing had happened.
Fortunately, she had the evening to pull herself together.
She did two loads of laundry, changed the sheets on her bed. Then spent the night alternately worrying about what Cliff was really up to and obsessing over the kiss that should never have happened.
She awakened early, dreaming about Travis’s soft, sure lips, her pillow clasped tightly in her arms.
Telling herself to get a grip, she rose and headed for the shower.
She had just walked into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the boys when the phone rang. Caller ID said it was the man who’d never been far from her thoughts. Smiling despite her worries, she picked up the receiver.
“Help,” Travis said, his husky baritone a balm to her ravaged nerves. He whispered into the phone. “I’ve got a blueberry muffin emergency.”
He sounded so distressed, Holly couldn’t help but chuckle. “A what?”
“Just come over here.”
Finally, it seemed, they were back to normal. “I’ll get the boys and be right there,” Holly promised.
Tucker and Tristan were delighted to be going next door, so it was no problem to get their jackets on and hustle right on over. They slipped through the back gate of Travis’s picturesque cottage-style home.
Like hers and most of the others in the neighborhood, it was approximately three thousand square feet, and was filled with overstuffed sofas and chairs upholstered in kidfriendly fabrics, plus sturdy wood furniture. The rear of the house had sunlight streaming in the many windows, lighting up the large open area that was kitchen, breakfast room and family room combined. Next to the carpeted play area, where Mia and Sophie were busy with a big box of building blocks, an armoire held a flat-screen television. Instead of a coffee table, there was a long, rectangular ottoman that opened up for storage. The large fireplace took up most of one wall, and matched the collage of charcoal and light gray stone on the outside of the house.
Tucker and Tristan said a distracted hi to Travis as they struggled out of their jackets, then made a beeline for the girls.
“So what’s going on?” Holly asked.
Travis looked great in a soft evergreen pullover and jeans. Wool socks and handsome suede moccasins covered his feet. He waved her to the kitchen, nicely outfitted with white cabinets, speckled black granite countertops and pale gray walls. He turned on the oven light and opened the door slightly so she could peer in.
“Are you cooking biscuits or muffins?” Holly murmured, noting the specks of blueberries poking through the pale, rubbery looking dough.
“Muffins!” Travis said in frustration. “The girls wanted them, and we didn’t have any boxed mix. But we had blueberries, so I got out the cookbook and decided to make ‘em from scratch.”
Holly checked out the recipe, which looked fine. She looked at the ingredients spread out on the counter, spotting a familiar yellow box, but no can. “Did you use baking soda or baking powder?” she asked.
Travis hesitated.
Realizing how rarely he looked uncertain about anything, she smiled.
“There’s a difference?” he asked.
Oh, yeah. Holly moved closer and kept her voice low as she instructed, “Show me what you used.”
He handed her the baking soda.
She peered into his cupboards, which were as familiar as her own, and pulled out a small red can. “This is baking powder. This is the leavening agent you put in cakes and muffins to make them rise.”
“Oh.” He went to back to check the muffins, which were looking sicker and paler and more rubbery by the moment. “So now what?” He scowled, considering, then turned back to face her, his arm nudging hers in the process.
Warmth filtered through her at the brief, accidental contact.
While she savored the sensation, Travis concentrated on the mistake he had made and the dilemma at hand. “Do you think it would help if we sprinkled some baking powder on top of the muffins or stirred some in?”
Holly shook her head, sorry to deliver the bad news. “Not at this point in the baking process.”
“Daddy, we’re hungry!” Sophie declared.
“Are the muffins ready?” Mia asked, looking hopeful, hungry and excited all at the same time. “Tucker and Tristan want some muffins, too!”
He shrugged. “Well…?”
Holly took the oven mitt from him, reached past him, hit the off button on the control panel and took the muffin pan from the oven. “Get your shoes on, kids!” she instructed.
Travis read her mind and went to get jackets for all. “We’re going out for breakfast today!” he announced cheerfully.
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, Holly and Travis were seated at a hard plastic table, enjoying their premium coffees and apple Danish pastries, while the kids—who had downed their own breakfasts in record time—climbed on the indoor playground. “You see, for every culinary disaster there’s a silver lining,” Holly teased.
Travis exhaled in frustration, still a little embarrassed by the mistake that had brought them here. He shook his head wryly. “I really thought I had it this time.”
She reached over and gave him a friendly pat on the arm. “You almost did,” she told him with a smile.
Travis shot her a level look. “If I built buildings the way I follow recipes,” he acknowledged dryly, “I’d be in big trouble.”
Holly held up a slender hand, cutting off his self-deprecating remarks. “You’re a very capable man.” She paused and wrinkled her nose at him playfully. “You just can’t cook anything that doesn’t come out of a box or a jar or a plastic bag.”
Travis waved at the kids, who were peeking through a mesh safety barrier at them, then turned back to Holly. “You do it with aplomb. So do a lot of other single parents—men included. My friend Jack, for instance, is an excellent cook. Jack’s daughter loves his cooking, the more gourmet the better.”
Holly’s eyes sparkled as she met his gaze. She leveled him with a look of her own. “First of all, it’s not a competition, between you or me and you and Jack or anyone else, okay? You parent in your own way, just as I do, and furthermore—” a self-conscious pink crept into her cheeks “—you’re a fantastic dad.”
Looking at her determined expression, Travis could believe it. Still, he didn’t like falling short in any category, and that went double when it came to anything pertaining to his kids. “Maybe I should take some cooking lessons,” he murmured.
“You really want to do that?” Holly looked surprised.
A little irked that in some ways she knew so little about him, and what made him tick, Travis tapped the center of his chest and countered, “What? Are you worried I’ll flunk out of the class or something?”
“No. Of course not. I just didn’t think you’d have time for something like that right now, with the holidays and the Trinity River Place project. And isn’t there something else you fellows are bidding on?”
Travis nodded. “A steering committee was just formed by some of the city’s leading philanthropists. They want to build a new opera hall if the funds can be raised, and we want to be ready if the project comes to fruition.” He paused. “And speaking of business, what’s on your schedule for the next two weeks, now that you’ve finished the restaurant mural?”
“Next week I’m doing murals for three exam rooms in a new pediatrician’s office. And a nursery mural for Grady and Alexis’s new baby after that, although I’m still waiting for Alexis to okay the design. We’re supposed to meet at her office next week.”
“You sound busy, too.”
Seemingly as reluctant to break up the cozy tête-à-tête as he was, Holly glanced at her watch. “Which is why we better get a move on if we want to get both our Christmas trees up and decorated today.”
SIX HOURS LATER, THE trees were up and twinkling in both their family rooms. Dinner and dishes were over. It was breaking up the four kids that was proving to be the problem.
“I don’t want to go back to our house, Daddy,” Sophie said with a pout.
“Me, either.” Mia stamped her foot. “I want to stay here with Tucker and Tristan and Holly.”
“You all need baths and pajamas,” Holly decreed.
“Why can’t they take their baths here?” Tucker asked.
“Yeah, they’ve done it before, plenty of times,” Tristan argued.
Holly looked at Travis. He, too, seemed to be wondering if this was a battle worth fighting. Suddenly, wordlessly, they were in agreement. “Okay,” he told the four kids. “You all can have your baths here, but they’re going to be quick ones tonight.”
“And then we get to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas together like you promised!” Sophie reminded him.
They had promised, Holly recalled. Hours ago. When they’d had no idea how long it would actually take to do all they had done.
Travis lifted his hands in surrender. A promise was a promise…
“Okay.” Holly relented, too. She and Travis exchanged empathetic looks before she continued. “And then everyone is going to go to sleep in their own beds.”
“Are we going to get new Christmas pajamas this year?” Tucker asked, once all four kids were back downstairs again, getting settled on the sectional sofa.
“Yeah, ones that match!” Tristan said.
“Of course,” Holly replied. That was one wish that was easily granted.
Travis looked at her with a question in his dark eyes. “It’s a family tradition,” she explained. “The kids get new pajamas on Christmas Eve and wear them to open their presents Christmas morning.”
“Well, we want to do that, too,” Mia said.
“Yeah, and we want ours to look just like Tucker’s and Tristan’s,” Sophie added.
Holly had no earthly idea what to say to that. For one thing, boys’ and girls’ pajamas were usually quite different in color and style. And Travis’s daughters favored pink!
“Can we?” all four kids said at once. “Please…can we?”
Yet again, Holly looked at Travis. And once more, he took the lead. “Sure,” he said, turning on the TV. The video started, and all four kids fell silent.
“DO YOU EVER THINK our families are a little too integrated?” Holly asked, when the two of them had retired to the kitchen.
Travis watched her spoon fragrant decaf French roast coffee into a paper filter. Like their kids, he found himself wishing the evening would never end.
Aware that Holly had paused, waiting for an answer, he said adamantly, “No. I don’t think our lives are too enmeshed.” In fact, there were nights—long, lonely evenings like the night before, when they each did their own thing with their own kids—when he wished they were more entwined.
Holly set the coffee on to brew, then turned around. She lounged against the edge of the granite counter, her hands braced on either side of her, and searched his face. “You never wonder what will happen if one of us moves away?”
Travis moved so they were a foot apart, and his arms folded in front of him. “I’m not going anywhere.” He thought of Cliff’s sudden reappearance in her and the twins’ lives. Uncertainty made him tense. “Are you?”
Her expression said that was a ridiculous question. “Well, no…”
Travis shrugged and held his ground. “Then it isn’t an issue,” he said flatly, wondering when things had gotten so personal between the two of them.
A pulse throbbed in Holly’s throat. “It could be if you started dating someone.”
“I’m not interested in remarrying. You know that.” Or at least, Travis amended silently, he hadn’t been until he’d kissed her. That had opened up such a realm of possibilities he no longer knew what the future held. Except for one thing. The woman next door. His best friend. “Are you?” he persisted.
“No,” Holly answered, just as quickly and resolutely. Her soft lips compressed stubbornly. “I decided long ago that’s not in the cards for me, either.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Travis asked softly, wondering what suddenly had her so on edge.
Holly winced and rubbed her temples. “I don’t know.”
Travis was pretty sure she did know—but didn’t feel comfortable sharing all her concerns with him.
Looking as if she wished the conversation had never started, Holly shrugged off her melancholy mood and moved away from him toward the family room, where the TV was flickering. Her tender smile turned into a quiet laugh and a shake of her head. She put a finger to her lips, then motioned for him to join her.
