Beth Kery - If I Trust You

“Look at these old-fashioned lights! I love these. They’re so retro,” she said, grinning as she withdrew large, colored bulbs from the bag. Nick removed his head from beneath the tree and glanced back at her. She couldn’t help but notice he was awesome to look at, lying on his side with his back to her, his hands beneath the tree, tightening the screws on the base. His body was long, his hips were lean, his thighs strong-looking. His back muscles flexed interestingly beneath the blue-and-white plaid fitted shirt he wore. She dragged her gaze off the vision of his butt outlined in a pair of jeans.

Her cheeks heated when she noticed his strange expression. Had he noticed where she’d been staring?

“What’s wrong?” she asked when he continued to look at her.

“Nothing. It’s just—Lincoln liked that kind of bulb, too. He never gave a damn about new trends. Not when it came to Christmas. He put up an old-fashioned Christmas tree at The Pines—large, colored bulb lights, garland, tinsel...always the biggest, most gorgeous tree on the lake,” he mumbled. He stuck his head beneath the tree again.

Deidre walked toward him, still holding the box of lights.

“Would Lincoln have the staff put up the tree?”

“The staff helped, but Linc was always in the middle of things. He’d make a party of it,” she heard him say from beneath the boughs. “Sasha, Linea, Otto and Linda joined us last year,” he said, mentioning Lincoln’s chef, administrative assistant, driver and one of his nurses. “Linc insisted on being brought downstairs and overseeing things from his wheelchair.”

“So you were always there for the Christmas decorating ritual?” Deidre asked, running her fingers over the supple needles of the tree.

“Yeah, I usually made a point of trying to clear my schedule to be there.”

She imagined the staff, Nick and Lincoln, the festive mood lightening their spirits, Lincoln directing them on their decorating and encouraging them to partake of food and drink. “Of course, you must have put the tree in front window of the great room. It must have looked fabulous.”

“Yeah. Lincoln was like a kid at Christmastime. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked the architect to design The Pines with that huge window so that he could get himself a twenty-five-foot pine to put in it every year. How’s that look? Is it straight?” he queried.

Deidre stepped back and walked in a half circle, inspecting the tree—and Nick—beneath it. “It’s perfect.”

He backed out and stood. She waved toward the kitchen. “I bought some hot chocolate earlier. It’s just instant, but—”

“I’d love some.”

“Oh...okay, great, then I’ll just—”

“Here. I’ll start to put on the lights and you get the hot chocolate,” he said, coming toward her. She handed him the box of bulbs. When he didn’t move back and Deidre didn’t immediately head toward the kitchen, a strange combination of awareness of his nearness and awkwardness struck her at once.

“What about music?” he asked.

She started. “Music?”

“Yeah. You know...‘White Christmas,’ ‘Jingle Bells.’”

Deidre laughed. She couldn’t help it. Something about the idea of scowling, bottom-line, business-mogul Nick Malone getting into the Christmas spirit was funny, and yet...right somehow, too.

She ignored his bewildered expression at her laughter and walked toward the bedroom, where there was a radio. “I’ll see if I can’t find a station playing some.

“Was Lincoln responsible for this?” she mused a few minutes later when she walked into the living room with two steaming mugs. “We Three Kings” played softly on the radio while snow drifted down at a lazy pace outside of the window.

“For me bringing over the Christmas tree?” Nick asked as he strung on lights.

“No. For this unexpected proclivity for Christmas spirit in Nick Malone,” she said, turning the handle of his mug so he could grasp it with one hand.

He took a sip, studying her from over the rim.

“You assumed I’d be a Scrooge, I guess.”

“All I have to go on is precedent.”

A shiver went through her at the sound of his deep, gravelly laughter.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, handing the cup back to her after a moment. “I have a lot of really good memories from Christmases at The Pines. After we met, Linc invited me over every year for the decorating party and also on Christmas Eve. When I got older, he was always encouraging me to lighten up at that time of year...enjoy the holiday...try to reflect on what it was I was working so hard for. What about you?”

She set his mug on the mantel and glanced back at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged and resumed his task. “How’d you get to like Christmas so much?”

“My family was always big on Christmas,” Deidre said, poking through the bag and beginning to unwrap some garland. “Although as a kid, I might have been the most avid Kavanaugh Christmas devotee.” She glanced up to see his gaze was on her face even as his hands moved in the branches. “I adored Christmastime. It was just...” She shrugged sheepishly. “Magical.”

He said nothing as he continued to string on the lights, but she didn’t have the impression of being dismissed for her whimsy.

“You’re really going to miss Lincoln, aren’t you?” she asked softly after a moment. He paused in his actions and met her stare.

“Yeah,” he said. “I really am.”

Deidre admitted to herself that Nick had known her guard would be breached by the gift of the Christmas tree. She should have been alarmed by that knowledge. But it was difficult to think of him as her enemy as they sat on the couch, admiring the pretty, glowing tree they’d decorated together while snow fell outside the window. A big band rendition of “Winter Wonderland” played on the radio and the fire kept the room toasty.

Her respect for him grew as she drew him out about his work at DuBois Enterprises. Lincoln had informed her that Nick was a brilliant business leader—instinctively knowing when to strike aggressively, but also understanding when caution and restraint were required. Nick clearly considered himself a servant to the larger cause of a healthy, vibrant business.

The truth was, she was having a nicer time than she’d experienced in years spending the evening with Nick. He could potentially turn on her tomorrow. She would fight him if he tried to contest the will on the grounds that she’d coerced Lincoln. She didn’t want to run DuBois Enterprises, but she refused to have Nick sully the fact that Lincoln had believed heart and soul she was his child. Lincoln’s revised will was tangible proof of that. She couldn’t let Nick take that from her.

She wouldn’t.

Maybe she was being foolish by not fighting him tonight. Maybe she was being weak. But maybe she just really needed a nice evening with an intelligent, attractive, sexy man.

Even if that man was Nick Malone.

She asked him about the acquisition deal he’d mentioned on the first night he’d come to Harbor Town. He filled her in on the details. The owner of a media company called Vivicor, Inc., had been toying with the idea of selling to DuBois for months now. Nick liked the company’s price and earning potential and wanted to expand DuBois Enterprises’s market share in media. He’d been wooing the owner for close to a year. However, Vivicor was a family-owned company and the president was wavering. Just after Lincoln had died, Nick had received a call from the owner that he was ready to sell on the original terms.

“I’d like to strike while the iron is hot. The owner has been known to stall in the past,” Nick explained as he held up the carton of lemon chicken, offering her more. Deidre shook her head. They’d ordered Chinese and talked almost nonstop as they ate, both of them avoiding potentially volatile topics like Lincoln’s will or the genetic testing. Deidre thought Nick would pursue the topic of acquiring Vivicor, Inc., angling for her agreement to complete the deal, but to her surprise, he changed the subject.