The Christmas Love-Child

In three leaping steps Maksim had run up the stairs and grabbed him by the throat. “Are you calling Grace a whore?”

“Let me go!” the slender man croaked.

Maksim released him with a growl. “Apologize.”

“Oh, so now you’re her protector?” The blond man gasped, rubbing his neck. “You did this. You seduced and betrayed her. Not me.”

“I never betrayed her,” Maksim said, even as that strange, unpleasant prickle snaked down his spine. Guilt?

“Why bother denying it now?” Barrington snarled. “You’ve won. You’ve taken the merger. You’ve taken Francesca. You’ve gotten your payback—you’ve gotten rid of me for good. My shareholders have already issued a statement asking for my resignation.”

“Good.” But at this moment, Maksim’s revenge didn’t feel very satisfying.

“What do you care about some secretary?” Barrington looked at him with shrewd, beady eyes. “You have Francesca.”

Right. Francesca.

Maksim’s capricious ex-lover had shown up at his penthouse that morning, offering him Barrington’s head on a silver platter. “I’ve just told my father the truth,” she’d said, weeping artful tears from her lovely green eyes. “I never wanted Alan. It was you, Maksim, always you!”

Maksim’s furious retort had been interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Francesca’s father had moved swiftly. He’d always preferred that his company accept the offer from Rostov Oil; only his daughter’s fake engagement had made him consider Cali-West. Within half a day the merger proceedings had been well started, although it would take another several weeks before they would be fully signed, sealed and delivered.

Maksim had accepted the deal. But he’d chosen Grace. He’d never used the information she’d shared. He’d never betrayed her.

But he realized now it’d worked out exactly the same as if he had.

He clenched his fists. “Just tell me where she is.”

“Flying to Los Angeles, I expect, with the plane ticket I bought her. I hope it crashes.” Barrington slammed the door.

Coming down the steps from the Knightsbridge town house, Maksim dialed his private investigator to get her address. But that wasn’t all he discovered about her family’s situation.

An hour later he was on his private jet en route to California.

The little yellow cottage gleamed in the predawn darkness, a shining beacon on the cliff above the soft roar of the Pacific Ocean.

Breathing heavily after her uphill walk, Grace crept back into her house, tiptoeing as she walked past the artificial Christmas tree decorated with ornaments from her childhood, gleaming with colored lights.

“Gracie?” Her mother suddenly peeked around the kitchen door. “You’re awake early. I expected you to sleep in this morning.”

Grace hid the small purchase she’d bought at the twenty-four-hour drugstore half a mile away. “Um. Jet lag. I couldn’t sleep, so I went on a walk.”

“Oh, poor dear,” her mother said sympathetically, then brightened. “I’ll make you some coffee. Come chat while I baste the ham.”

“I’ll be right there, Mom.” Grace tried to calm her rapidly beating heart as she went to her childhood bedroom. She changed out of her jeans and back into her soft, comforting flannel pajamas and red chenille robe.

She set the bag down on her nightstand.

Her mother had been so happy to pick her up at L.A. airport last night, so joyful that she’d come home even earlier than expected. The boys had jumped up and down as they got her luggage from the carousel, and even seventeen-year-old Josh had hugged her, saying in a low voice, “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Her mother had driven them in the minivan back home to the northern beach town of Oxnard, an hour away, then made them all hot chocolate at midnight with marshmallows. Everyone finally went to bed to dream happy Christmas dreams.

Except Grace.

She hadn’t been able to tell them that they were about to lose the house they were sleeping in. She’d lied. No, not lied, she told herself angrily. Lying was for selfish bastards like Maksim. All she had done was put off the truth that would break their hearts. But she’d barely been able to stomach the hot chocolate, which was usually her favorite. A low-grade nausea had been with her for two days. As she went to bed late that night in her old bedroom still decorated with posters of rock bands and old teddy bears, even her breasts hurt.

That’s when the dreadful thought first occurred to her.

Nausea…dizziness…exhaustion. Painful breasts.

And so she’d sneaked off before dawn to buy a pregnancy test.

It’s a waste of money, she told herself firmly. She and Maksim had only had sex a few times—all right, many times—but only just that once without protection. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel, would it?

She’d been too carried away, too overwhelmed by sensation to even think of using protection that first time. If she’d thought about it, she would have assumed that a playboy like Maksim would naturally make sure he didn’t get his many lovers pregnant. Especially lovers he intended to betray.

Her heart still hurt to think about it.

But the pregnancy test would have to wait. She couldn’t take it now, knowing her mother was awake and waiting for her.

Grace went slowly into the kitchen. Sitting at the dining table, she could barely tolerate the smell of the creamy, sweet coffee her mother happily served her. But that was nothing compared to being forced to listen to her mother’s delighted praise as she tearfully thanked Grace for saving their family.

“I was silly to live in denial and hide from our problems. You’ve inspired me with your career, Gracie. I’ve run this home for twenty years,” Carol Cannon said as she put homemade biscuits in the oven. “After raising you four children, I can do anything!” She paused thoughtfully. “I might go back to school to become a tax accountant. I was always good at math.”

Grace gulped down a single sip of hot coffee, scalding her tongue. The coffee made her feel nauseous, so she put it down immediately. “I know you can do anything you want, Mom.”

Her mother’s eyes glistened at her. She leaned forward to kiss the top of Grace’s head. “I’m so proud of you, Gracie. I want to come with you tomorrow when you take the check to the bank. I’m so grateful to have such a strong daughter to lean on.”

Grace rubbed her temples, feeling like a fraud.

They had no savings. No income now that she’d lost her job. In just one week, they would have to leave their beloved seaside cottage and beg their friends and family for a place to stay. And as there were five of them, including three boisterous teenage boys, they would soon wear out their welcome with even their most devoted friends.

I’ll tell Mom tomorrow, Grace promised herself over the lump in her throat. I just want her to enjoy Christmas.

The rest of the morning was agony for Grace, as she watched her younger brothers open their presents and saw their joy and the grateful hugs they gave their mother. The gifts would all have to be returned to the store tomorrow. They would need every penny to survive. Seventeen-year-old Josh would have to say farewell to his long-desired iPod. Fourteen-year-old Ethan would be forced to give back his new guitar. And twelve-year-old Connor would tearfully have to return his new drums. Even their mother would return the expensive cashmere sweater the boys had bought for her with their own money earned mowing the lawns of neighbors throughout the fall. When Grace opened her own present from her family, she found a large hardcover picture book about the Trans-Siberian Railroad. Looking up at their beaming faces, she felt like crying.

“Thank you,” she said over the lump in her throat. “I love you so much.”

“It’s ’cause you’re such a world traveler,” her youngest brother said happily. “I helped pick it out.”

At brunch Grace watched her mother serve the platter of ham and scalloped potatoes. The boys cheered the food, but all she could think was that the ham alone was worth two weeks of cheap dinners like ramen noodles and frozen bean burritos.

Tomorrow, she repeated to herself, pasting a frozen smile on her face. I’ll tell them tomorrow.

But after brunch, when her mother and brothers got ready to attend a Christmas-morning service of songs and carols, Grace pleaded jet lag and stayed home.

Now, finally alone, she stared at the pregnancy test, waiting for the results.

Be negative, she willed with every creative visualization technique she’d ever heard about on morning talk shows. Be negative.

Her hands shook as she waited for the results. She squinted in the dark bathroom. Would there be one line? Or two? She thought she saw the lines start to form. She couldn’t see.

She ran out into the front room with the sunny windows overlooking the sea. The prewar cottage was small and bright and cozy, with old striped couches and cushions they’d had since Grace’s childhood.

She looked down at the test. Negative. It would be negative….

Two lines. Oh my God. Two lines. Positive.

She was pregnant!

She heard a sound and turned to look.

Maksim stood in the open doorway. Brilliant sunlight cast him in silhouette, leaving his features dark. His wide, powerful frame filled the door, instantly filling their cliffside cottage with the force of his presence.