When she finished the tree and plugged it in, she expected at least a token comment. Her boss was mute. He had to have noticed the cheerful Christmas tree. It upped the cozy factor of the den tenfold. But maybe Nathaniel just didn’t care. Stubborn, gorgeous man. She didn’t know whether she wanted to kiss him or smack him.
Subdued and disappointed, she tweaked a branch and turned to walk out of the room. “Dinner in twenty minutes,” she said over her shoulder.
“Wait, Dani,” he said.
She turned around, bracing herself for criticism. “What?”
He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind the tree. But don’t expect too much from me. This holiday stuff isn’t my thing.”
A man knew when he was being an ass. Dani walked out on him without another word. Nathaniel was fully cognizant that he was exhibiting every characteristic of a bad host. The stupid Christmas tree was charming. And festive. Even Peaches cooed when she saw it. So why had he deliberately downplayed Dani’s efforts?
Why were the aromas wafting from the kitchen both tantalizing and unsettling? He didn’t want his condo to smell like Christmas. He didn’t want a tree. He didn’t want Dani.
What a liar you are. His libido was more honest than he.
In barely twenty-four hours, Dani had transformed Nathaniel’s hideout from the world into a warm, holiday-scented, incredibly appealing home. How she had done it so quickly and so well, he couldn’t exactly say. It was more than the groceries and the tree, though he couldn’t put his finger on what was so different with her here.
Maybe it was the baby. Everyone knew that babies were precious and cute. Perhaps little Peaches was bachelor kryptonite. He sniffed her hair, wondering for the millionth time if he was her biological father. Shouldn’t he be able to tell instinctively? Wasn’t there some sort of parental bonding moment when all became clear?
If there was, he hadn’t experienced it yet.
Dani didn’t bother calling him to dinner. His phone dinged with a blunt, unemotional text. It’s ready...
Standing up with a sigh, he took the baby to the tree. “Do you like it?” he asked softly. “It’s supposed to have ornaments, but I don’t have a single one.”
The baby reached out to grab the lights. She’d probably chew the cord in two if he let her. Those bottom teeth had to be poking through soon. “No touching,” he warned, nuzzling the top of her head with his chin. “We’d better go wash up for dinner before Dani loses patience with us.”
The kitchen was filled with steam, delightful smells and a woman who resembled his efficient executive assistant, but in this setting looked more like a wife. The knot in his stomach grew.
Dani glared at him, clearly upset that he hadn’t appreciated her efforts with the tree.
“Smells wonderful,” he said, hoping to win a few points with genuine appreciation for her culinary efforts.
“We’re eating in the dining room,” she said, her tone frosty. “We may as well serve our plates in here. That way things won’t get cold. I took the liberty of opening a bottle of wine. Let me have the baby. After you fix your plate, I’ll do mine. There’s plenty, but save room for dessert.”
The solid meat-and-potatoes meal reminded him of something his grandmother might have prepared. His mother had grown up in her aunt’s home, an orphan by the age of eight. But Nathaniel had substantial memories of his paternal grandmother. She had come over from Italy and spoke heavily accented English. Her cooking had been sublime.
He piled food onto his plate unapologetically. After his marathon trip in the snow today, a few extra calories were neither here nor there. Once he had set his plate in the dining room, he took the baby back. “Your turn, Madam Chef,” he said lightly. To his surprise, Dani disappeared and came back lugging the Fraser fir—stand, lights and all.
“That’s the advantage of a small tree,” she said smugly. “They’re sort of portable.”
She plugged in the lights and sat down. At the last moment, she took her phone from her pocket and cued up Christmas music. Soon, they were eating in silence, save for the holiday tunes playing softly in the background.
With every bite Nathaniel took, his stomach tightened. The food was spectacular. The baby behaved. It was something else, something powerful and dangerous that stole his appetite and tightened his throat.
In this room, here and now, was everything he had never had, everything he told himself he didn’t need. Family time. Cozy holidays. A beautiful, capable woman willing to work at his side to create a home.
He forced himself to clear his plate in deference to Dani’s efforts on his behalf. Two glasses of wine didn’t still his unease. They chatted lazily during the meal about the weather and the bowl games and whether the thaw would start Monday or wait until Tuesday.
Eventually, the baby fell asleep in Dani’s arms. The two females were flushed and beautiful, Madonna and child.
“I feel terrible about this,” Dani said suddenly, her expression troubled.
“About what?” There was no way she could have read his mind.
“About Peaches’s first Christmas. She should have a stocking and leave cookies for Santa. That’s how it’s done, or so I’m told. Her mother’s selfish behavior is robbing her of a special occasion.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “As far as that baby’s concerned, today might as well be April Fools’. The kid doesn’t know the difference.”
“I know,” Dani said stubbornly.
“There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“If this was Little House on the Prairie, I’d make her a pinafore out of a flour sack, and you’d carve her a toy train with your pocketknife.”
Even in the midst of his turmoil, he was amused. “I don’t own a pocketknife.”
“Well, I should have bought you one for Christmas.”
An awkward silence fell. Nathaniel wished he was holding the baby. Peaches was a helpful decoy and a place to focus his attention.
In a few hours, it would be Christmas Day. If this was how Dani did Christmas Eve, what did she have up her sleeve for the following morning?
For the briefest of moments, he caught a flash of the two of them in bed, laughing, the baby between them. At the table eating breakfast. In front of the tree, opening presents. Panic shot through him with the force of an erupting geyser.
“This isn’t real,” he said, concealing his desperation beneath a veneer of calm.
Dani looked at him with a frown. “What’s not real? The food? The baby? The tree? I’m confused.”
He stood up to pace, tossing his napkin on the table. “We need to talk, Dani.”
Her face went white, and she clutched the baby closer. “Go right ahead. Say what you have to say.”
“None of this is real,” he said doggedly. “We’re not a family. This isn’t a Norman Rockwell Christmas Eve. You and I are business associates. Peaches being with me is a big misunderstanding.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Dani said quietly. She watched him with big blue eyes that saw far more than he wanted her to see.
Seeking to temper his anxiety and his distress, he sucked in a huge breath and turned his back for a moment on the sight of Dani and the baby sitting at his