Her Holiday Prince Charming by Christine Flynn

Author:Christine Flynn [Christine Flynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460322826
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-04-27T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Rory left the door to Tyler’s room halfway open and paused at the top of the stairs. Her little boy had fallen asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. No surprise considering how exciting the day had been for him and how hard he’d fought to stay awake after supper to finish the tree.

From downstairs, the television’s barely audible volume told her Erik had switched from How the Grinch Stole Christmas to the news.

She hated the ambivalence creeping back as the low tones mingled with the beat of the sleet on the roof, the muffled sound of it pinging against the upstairs windows. The thought of riding out the ice storm in a still unfamiliar house would have had her anxious on a number of levels, had it not been for Erik.

She felt safe with him there. Physically, anyway. And there wasn’t a single part of her being that didn’t want exactly what he had just helped her provide for Tyler: an afternoon and evening of moments he might always remember as special.

That, in a nutshell, was her problem. His presence provided as much comfort as it did disquiet. Tyler had turned to her every time he’d had a question about where an ornament should go, but it had been Erik’s assistance or advice he’d sought if he couldn’t get it on a branch, and his approval he’d wanted with nearly every accomplishment.

She didn’t want him being so drawn to the man.

She didn’t want to be so drawn to him herself.

Wishing she still had her chatty little boy as a buffer, she headed down the steps, stopping when she reached the foyer.

Erik stood with his back to her, his heavy charcoal pullover stretched across his broad shoulders, his hands casually tucked into the front pockets of his jeans as he faced the talking head on the television. The size of the blaze in the fireplace indicated that he’d added another log. Strewn around him were empty bins and ornament boxes. In front of the sofa, the large, square coffee table held a red candle in a beribboned glass hurricane and the last of the crystal icicles waiting to be hung on the brightly lit tree.

As if sensing her presence, Erik turned toward her. She immediately turned her attention to cleaning up the mess.

“Is he asleep?” he asked.

“We barely got through brushing his teeth.”

“I’m surprised he made it that far.” Seeing what she was doing, and how deliberately she avoided his eyes, he picked up a bin that had held the faux evergreen boughs now draped over the stone fireplace mantel, set it in the entry and put another on the coffee table for her to fill with what she collected.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“Sure,” he replied, and finally found himself faced with what he’d managed to avoid the past few hours.

It had felt strange decorating her tree. Partly because he’d never helped decorate one with a small child buzzing around his knees, partly because the feel

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