Kelly Hunter - All He Wants For Christmas... - Flirting With Intent / Blame it on the Bikini / Restless

Poppy picked up on his silent cue and didn’t add to the conversation, but he could tell by her frown that they’d be discussing what to tell Lena and what not to tell her later. Nothing being Damon’s preference by far.

‘I’ll bring the car around,’ he said and nodded towards the nearest door and fled with the luggage before either of his sisters could stop him. He didn’t cope well with the battering Lena had taken. He couldn’t look at her without remembering just how close they’d come to losing her, and if he knew his response was childish and unhelpful, well … Jared’s had been worse.

Jared had damn near lost his mind when the doctor had told them that if Lena lived, chances were she wouldn’t be able to walk.

Lena had been under Jared’s command when she’d been injured—a simple recon of a suspected biological weapons lab in East Timor had gone badly wrong. The last thing Lena remembered was heavy crossfire, sticky blood, and lying in the dirt and looking up at the sky. God only knew what Jared remembered about the way things had gone down, or what he held himself responsible for.

Jared had haunted the hospital until Lena had regained consciousness. He’d told Lena that the mission had been compromised from the start and that he had some business to attend to. He’d told her he’d be back as soon as he could.

That had been six months ago.

Damn right ‘Have you heard from Jared?’ was the first question everyone in this family asked.

Supper that evening had a festive note to it, thanks in no small measure to Ruby Maguire’s pampering.

A tree had appeared in the atrium. A fibre-optic plastic fantastic, with a scattering of perfectly wrapped presents beneath—including one for him from his father that Damon knew full well meant that Ruby had shopped again for him on his father’s behalf.

The tree should have looked gaudy but dim the regular lights and set it to shining and it looked magical instead. Fine wine filled the wine chiller and the light supper fare Russell pulled from the fridge found immediate favour with the girls.

‘Dad, is there something you’re not telling us?’ asked Lena from her perch on the sofa as Poppy beat an unhurried path to the bar, poured two glasses of wine and took one over to Lena with low-key grace and unobtrusiveness. ‘Supper is perfect, Poppy’s just handed me a glass of my favourite white, there are fresh flowers everywhere, and are those fairy lights out on the terrace? They are, aren’t they? I’m sensing a woman’s touch. And not just a housekeeper.’

‘Ruby’s been in,’ said Russell, offhand, and Damon smothered a grin as Lena tried to digest that little snippet without giving in to rampant curiosity.

‘Ruby’s Dad’s social planner,’ Damon murmured helpfully.

‘His what?’

‘She’s doing Christmas for him,’ he added, unable to resist winding his sister up just that little bit more.

‘Ruby’s the daughter of an old colleague of mine,’ said Russell evenly. ‘She needed a job. I gave her one. You’ll meet her tomorrow. I’ve invited her to dine with us.’

‘As your … companion?’ asked Poppy delicately as she handed their father a G and T and dangled a beer in front of Damon. A beer Damon ignored, so intent was he on hearing his father’s reply.

‘Ruby’s younger than you are, Poppet. Credit an old man with some sense.’

Poppy wiggled the beer in front of Damon’s face. Damon took it and remembered how to breathe.

‘So why is she joining us for dinner?’ asked Lena.

‘Ruby’s on her own this Christmas due to … unforeseen circumstances,’ said Russell. ‘I thought you’d enjoy her company and she yours. Damon’s met her.’

Yes, he had. And he hadn’t exactly come away unscathed.

His sisters were eyeing him speculatively. ‘What?’ he asked warily.

‘What’s she like?’ asked Lena.

‘Organised.’ And because he knew his sisters well enough to know that they’d be wanting more, he added, ‘Confident.’

‘Attractive?’ asked Poppy.

‘I guess,’ he muttered and watched in dismay as Poppy and Lena exchanged glances.

‘What?’

‘He likes her,’ said Lena. ‘Yeah, I’m getting that too,’ murmured Poppy.

‘How?’ he wanted to know. ‘How could you possibly get that from this conversation?’

‘Instinct,’ said Lena sagely.

‘Not exactly an accurate science,’ he countered.

Poppy just smiled.

‘So what was Ruby before she became a Christmas elf?’ asked Lena. ‘A stranded socialite?’

‘A corporate lawyer,’ said his father. ‘She’ll go back to practising some form of law soon, I believe. Just not corporate.’

‘Why not corporate?’ asked Lena.

‘Why not ask her yourself?’ Damon murmured and earned another set of curious glances for his efforts. So much easier to dissect someone else’s life as opposed to examining one’s own. ‘Alternatively, don’t be nosy.’

‘He knows,’ Lena said to her sister. ‘Yep,’ agreed Poppy.

‘All I’m saying is that everyone’s entitled to their secrets,’ offered Damon. ‘Why not let Ruby keep hers?’

‘He really likes her,’ said Lena, staring at him in amazement.

Poppy just looked at him and smiled her gentle smile.

Ruby prepared for dinner with Russell West and his family on Christmas Eve with a great many misgivings, most of them centred around seeing Damon again. She toyed with the idea of phoning Russell and pleading ill for the evening. Lies were useful, at times. Everybody lied.

Except she’d made honesty her platform when it came to dealing with Damon West, and how could she demand something from him that she wasn’t prepared to give?

Opening up her wardrobe at 5:00 p.m. with almost two hours to go until pick-up gave some indication of her state of apprehension. The restaurant encouraged formal evening wear. Suits for the gentlemen, couture for the ladies. What would Poppy and Lena be wearing? Not colours, if Damon could be believed, and in this he probably could.

‘What’ll I wear, C?’ she asked the little tortoiseshell beast who hovered in the doorway behind her, hedging his bets as to whether he would come into the room or stay out. ‘Little black dress?’ She pulled two from her cupboard, one strapless and fitted, the other one more modest but still fitted. Not really one for hiding her curves, Ruby.

Curves were assets and assets worked best when seen.

‘Too bleak for a Christmas dinner? I agree. What about the purple? Gorgeous cut, not too daring and there’s a matching headband. Damon’s going to love that. It’ll give him something external to focus on, as opposed to worming his way inside my head and digging around. Excellent idea.’

Showering and dressing for dinner didn’t take Ruby long. Six o’clock arrived, bringing with it yet another bundle of nerves for her to carry to the dinner table. Six-fifteen arrived and Ruby’s patience with waiting and stewing, and stewing and waiting, ran out.

She rang Russell and told him she had a few errands to see to and that she would meet them at the restaurant at seven, no need for anyone to pick her up. Russell agreed and Ruby breathed a sigh of relief because arriving separately gave her mobility and options when it came to ending the evening on her terms.

‘Win for Ruby,’ she told the little cat when she got off the phone. ‘Russell must have been distracted.’

At exactly 7:00 p.m., Ruby walked into the restaurant to find the Wests taking possession of narrow flutes of champagne in the pre-dinner area. They made a pretty picture, all of them together, although the family resemblance was not that strong. Damon had black hair and so did Lena. Poppy’s hair was a honey-blonde colour, and Russell’s had salted to grey.