Janice Maynard - Christmas in the Billionaire's Bed

December 20th. That meant Aidan would need to be in Silver Glen no later than the weekend before. Knowing his mother, she would undoubtedly have planned a series of social events to fill the days leading up to the wedding. And then he would be expected to hang around until the family celebrated Christmas together on the 25th. Almost two weeks. Might as well be a lifetime.

He glanced at the paper calendar his assistant kept updated on the corner of his desk. She was as tech savvy as the next person, but she had discovered that Aidan liked to keep tabs on his schedule in more than one medium. The month of December was notably blank.

No one, with very few exceptions, shopped for high-dollar real estate during December. His clients were too busy hosting parties, overspending on their spoiled children and taking trips to exotic locations. Which meant, unfortunately, that Aidan was free to do as he pleased.

Or in this instance as he did not please.

For a moment, he flashed back, his vision blinded to the present but very aware of the past. Two young women. Both beautiful. Both charming. Both full of life and fun. And he had lost each of them.

The familiar burning sensation in his gut was more than a mix of guilt and regret. It was a longing for what he would never have. Absolution. A woman and a family to call his own.

Spending Christmas at Silver Glen would undoubtedly resurrect a host of old memories that he’d rather not face. But if he were honest, the memories lived with him everywhere. The painful part of going home was having other people share the memories. The empathy and concern on the faces of his siblings and his mother would be his downfall.

He didn’t want their love to heal him. He didn’t deserve that. And he didn’t want to feel anything. Family knew his weak spots. Family refused to let him cling to the cloak of indifference that made it possible to live from day to day.

Aidan Kavanagh was a charming shell of a man, interested only in closing a deal or cashing a check. Ask anyone. The persona was one he had crafted carefully to keep people away. After loving and losing three times in his life, he was through with emotion...with caring.

In Silver Glen, especially at the holidays, he would have to be himself—the young man who had enjoyed life and reached for happiness with the careless naïveté of the innocent. He would be forced to open himself up to the warmth of family celebrations that would make him terribly vulnerable.

Could he do that and still survive?

Doggedly, he reached for the peace he had created here in the city. Emotional anonymity. A pleasant shield that kept other people from inflicting hurt.

He didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t hurt. Loving his family was a given. But beyond that, he had nothing to offer. Loving and losing meant vicious, unrelenting pain. Only a fool would walk that path again.

* * *

Emma Braithwaite leaned into the bay window, perched precariously on a stepladder that had seen better days. Creating the shop’s storefront display was usually the highlight of her workweek. Today’s theme, not exactly original, was teapots. Twitching the edge of a lace drape into place, she tried to visualize what her handiwork looked like from the street.

On the other side of the glass, a woman stopped and waved madly. Emma smiled. Even through the reverse gold lettering that spelled out Silver Memories, she recognized her visitor. Maeve Kavanagh, matriarch of the Kavanagh family—mother to seven sexy, über-masculine, wildly attractive grown men, and heir to the Kavanagh fortune.

Maeve’s husband’s ancestors had literally created the town after discovering a rich vein of silver deep in the mountain. The family story took a tragic turn when Maeve’s feckless husband, Reggie, became obsessed with finding the remnants of the mine. One day he climbed into the hills and never returned.

But that bit of local color was from long ago. Maeve was now a vibrant woman in her early sixties who managed to keep tabs on her brood and run a thriving business up at the Silver Beeches Lodge. A little bell tinkled over the door as Maeve entered. Her dark auburn hair—with only slight traces of silver—was done up in a stylish bun.

Emma climbed down from the ladder and straightened her skirt.

Maeve waved an envelope at her. “I know etiquette dictates I mail this to you, but I couldn’t wait. Here. Take it.”

Emma accepted the cream-colored envelope with a grin. The missive was thick, the paper expensive. When she opened it and examined the contents, she understood the older woman’s enthusiasm. “Another wedding?”

Maeve’s smug smile said everything. “Indeed. And this time right here in Silver Glen. I know it seems hurried, but Dylan’s adoption of Cora will be final on the day after Christmas. He and Mia want to be married and have their family complete.”

Emma tucked everything back in the envelope. “I’m honored to be invited.”

Emma and Mia had met several months ago at a coffee shop around the corner from Silver Memories. Since then they had become friends. Emma knew Maeve had been extremely kind in including Mia’s parents as hosts for the wedding. The Larins had given birth to Mia late in life and now lived in Florida on a fixed income.

Maeve waved a hand. “Don’t be silly. You’re practically part of my family now. Mia raves about you, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know you these last few months.”

Not long after Emma opened her store, Maeve had dropped by to shop for a set of occasional tables to use in a lounge at the Silver Beeches. It was thanks to Maeve that word had spread and the small shop had become a success so quickly.

“May I ask you something personal, Maeve?”

“Of course.”

“Is the baby’s father in the picture? Mia never speaks of him, and I didn’t want to upset her by asking.”

Maeve shook her head. “Dear Mia chose to have a baby via a sperm donor. When she and Dylan got together, he fell in love with little Cora. They make a beautiful family, don’t you think?”

Emma smiled wistfully. “They certainly do.” She had often seen Dylan and Mia and the baby out walking on afternoons when the weather was still warm.

Silver Glen was a small, cozy town, even though it boasted a strong tourist economy. Movie stars shooting on location often took up residence, as well as wealthy travelers who loved the peace of the mountains. The town’s alpine flavor reminded Emma of a Swiss village.

“There’s one more thing,” Maeve said, her expression cajoling. “Mia told me you’re not going home to England for Christmas, is that right?”

“Yes. I spent two weeks in September with my mother for her birthday. She’s handling the loss of my father better than I expected. And she has plans to tour the Greek Isles during the latter part of December with a group of her friends.”

“Then I want you to spend the holidays with us. Mia’s parents are coming only for the wedding itself. So I know Mia would enjoy having you around. We’re gathering for several occasions at Dylan and Mia’s home. My older son and his wife are still building their new house. And of course, we’ll have some special events up at the lodge, too. What do you think?”

Emma didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t afraid to be alone. In fact, her childhood had been solitary more times than not. She enjoyed the peace and tranquility of her own thoughts. And she was not a Kavanagh. Surely her presence would be awkward.

Maeve spotted a silver rattle and a matching small cup from the 1950s. “I knew I remembered seeing these,” she said triumphantly. “One of my college sorority sisters just became a grandma for the first time. This will be the perfect gift.”