More Than Anything

“Please call me Allie,” I replied as she set the coffee down. “This looks good.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Braden. “McGuire arrived late last night, and we put him in the guest house.”

Braden nodded. “That’s fine.”

She turned back to me. “You left your phone downstairs. Sam charged it this morning, and it’s been ringing up a storm, but I thought you might want to deal with it after breakfast.”

My face fell as I thought of all the people who would be trying to reach me. I thought of the life I’d left behind, and I was in no hurry to open the door to let them into the way I was feeling now.

Happy. Content. Peaceful.

I looked at Braden. “I’ll deal with it after breakfast.”

Colleen nodded and left.

“My publicist and my agent are probably going crazy wondering where I am,” I said as I buttered a piece of toast.

“You’ve never done this before? Just walked away?”

“No.” I laughed. “I’m a good girl, all the time.”

“All the time?” There was a teasing note in his voice, but his eyes were dark with a feeling I recognised, because ever since I set eyes on him, I’d been feeling it too.

“Maybe not all the time,” I said, my mouth a little dry.

He grinned wickedly, and my stomach knotted. “Good.”

Seven

Braden

I could barely keep myself from reaching out to touch her. I wanted to lick off every crumb that lingered on her lips. I wanted to kiss each one of her fingers. Since that moment in the bathroom when she’d looked at me with a hunger I recognized, I’d been in a state of irrepressible desire, wanting her with an intensity that surprised me.

But, I was willing to wait, willing to watch her enjoy little things like breakfast, to listen to her talk, to watch her smile when I teased her.

My phone rang just as we finished eating. It was my mother.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” she said. “We’re having the time of our lives, but I couldn’t go the whole day without talking to you.”

I chuckled. I was very close to my mother, to both my parents. My mother was a fifth-generation heiress, an aimless socialite until she met my father, then a penniless journalist from a vastly different background.

Somehow, they made it work. I grew up with no idea that my parents came from different backgrounds. My father’s career rose, as did my mother’s in charity work. It was important to her from the start that I learn to stand on my own feet and not end up as adrift as she’d been in her youth.

It worked. Aside from the marvelous education they’d paid for, everything else I owned I’d built with my own hands. It made her very proud.

“Merry Christmas, mother.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“My house.”

“Long Island? Great. At least you’re not in that soulless apartment. Please tell me you’re not alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Oh.” I could almost hear the smile of relief in her voice. “Is it serious?”

“Mother.” I laughed and watched as Allie spooned a little yogurt into her mouth and made a sound of utter contentment before smiling at me, and I knew the answer to the question.