Maid Under the Mistletoe Read online

  Joy knew he used to be a painter, and she’d actually seen a few of his paintings online. Judging by the art he created, she would have guessed him to be warm, optimistic and, well, nice. According to Kaye, though, the man was quiet, reclusive to the point of being a hermit, and she thought he was lonely at the bottom of it. But to Joy’s way of thinking, if you didn’t want to be lonely, you got out and met people. Heck, it was so rare to see Sam Henry in town, spotting him was the equivalent of a Bigfoot sighting. She’d caught only the occasional rare glimpse of the man herself.

  But none of that mattered at the moment, Joy told herself. She and Holly needed a place to stay for the month, and this housesitting/cooking/cleaning job had turned up at just the right time. Taking Holly’s hand, she headed for the front door, the little girl skipping alongside her, chattering about princesses and castles the whole way.

  For just a second, Joy envied her little girl’s simpler outlook on life. For Holly, this was an adventure in a magical castle. For Joy, it was moving into a big, secluded house with a secretive and, according to Kaye, cranky man. Okay, now she was making it sound like she was living in a Gothic novel. Kaye lived here year-round, right? And had for years. Surely Joy could survive a month. Determined now to get off on the right foot, she plastered a smile on her face, climbed up to the wide front porch and knocked on the double doors.

  She was still smiling a moment later when the door was thrown open and she looked up into a pair of suspicious brown eyes. An instant snap of attraction slapped at Joy, surprising her with its force. His black hair was long, hitting past the collar of his dark red shirt, and the thick mass lifted slightly as another cold wind trickled past. His jaws were shadowed by whiskers and his mouth was a grim straight line. He was tall, with broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs currently encased in worn, faded denim that stacked on the tops of a pair of weathered brown cowboy boots.

  If it wasn’t for the narrowed eyes and the grim expression on his face, he would have been the star of any number of Joy’s personal fantasies. Then he spoke and the already tattered remnants of said fantasy drifted away.

  “This is private property,” he said in a voice that was more of a growl. “If you’re looking for town, go back to the main road and turn left. Stay on the road and you’ll get there in about twenty minutes.”

  Well, this was starting off well.

  “Thanks,” she said, desperately trying to hang on to the smile curving her mouth as well as her optimistic attitude. “But I’m not lost. I’ve just come from town.”

  If anything, his frown deepened. “Then why’re you here?”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Joy said, half tugging Holly behind her. Not that she was afraid of him—but why subject her little girl to a man who looked like he’d rather slam the door in their faces than let them in?

  “I repeat,” he said, “who are you?”

  “I’m Joy. Kaye’s friend?” It came out as a question though she hadn’t meant it as one.

  “You’re kidding.” His eyes went wide as his gaze swept her up and down in a fast yet thorough examination.

  She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. But when his features remained stiff and cold, she went for insulted.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked. “Kaye told me you’d be expecting me and—”

  “You’re not old.”

  She blinked at him. “Thank you for noticing, though I’ve got to say, if Kaye ever hears you call her ‘old,’ it won’t be pretty.”

  “That’s not—” He stopped and started again. “I was expecting a woman Kaye’s age,” he continued. “Not someone like you. Or,” he added with a brief glance at Holly, “a child.”

  Why hadn’t Kaye told him about Holly? For a split second, Joy worried over that and wondered if he’d try to back out of their deal now. But an instant later she assured herself that no matter what happened, she was going to hold him to his word. She needed to be here and she wasn’t about to leave.

  She took a breath and ignored the cool chill in his eyes. “Well, that’s a lovely welcome, thanks. Look, it’s cold out here. If you don’t mind, I’d like to come in and get settled.”

  He shook his head, opened his mouth to speak, but Holly cut him off.

  “Are you the prince?” She stepped out from behind her mother, tipped her head back and studied him.

  “The what?”

  Joy tensed. She didn’t want to stop Holly from talking—wasn’t entirely sure she could—but she was more than willing to intervene if the quietly hostile man said something she didn’t like.

  “The prince,” Holly repeated, the tiny lisp that defined her voice tugging at Joy’s heart. “Princes live in castles.”

  Joy caught the barest glimmer of a smile brush across his face before it was gone again. Somehow, though, that ghost of real emotion made her feel better.

  “No,” he said and his voice was softer than it had been. “I’m not a prince.”

  Joy could have said something to that, and judging by the glance he shot her, he half expected her to. But irritating him further wasn’t going to get her and Holly into the house and out of the cold.

  “But he looks like a prince, doesn’t he, Mommy?”

  A prince with a lousy attitude. A dark prince, maybe.

  “Sure, honey,” she said with a smile for the little girl shifting from foot to foot in her eagerness to get inside the “castle.”

  Turning back to the man who still stood like an immovable object in the doorway, Joy said reasonably, “Look, I’m sorry we aren’t what you were expecting. But here we are. Kaye told you about the fire at our house, right?”

  “The firemen came and let me sit in the big truck with the lights going and it was really bright and blinking.”

  “Is that right?” That vanishing smile of his came and went again in a blink.

  “And it smelled really bad,” Holly put in, tugging her hand free so she could pinch her own nose.

  “It did,” Joy agreed, running one hand over the back of Holly’s head. “And,” she continued, “it did enough damage that we can’t stay there while they’re fixing it—” She broke off and said, “Can we finish this inside? It’s cold out here.”

  For a second, she wasn’t sure he’d agree, but then he nodded, moved back and opened the wide, heavy door. Heat rushed forward to greet them, and Joy nearly sighed in pleasure. She gave a quick look around at the entry hall. The gleaming, honey-colored logs shone in the overhead light. The entry floor was made up of huge square tiles in mottled earth tones. Probably way easier to clean up melting snow from tile floors instead of wood, she told herself and let her gaze quickly move over what she could see of the rest of the house.

  It seemed even bigger on the inside, which was hard to believe, and with the lights on against the dark of winter, the whole place practically glowed. A long hallway led off to the back of the house, and on the right was a stairway leading to the second floor. Near the front door, there was a handmade coat tree boasting a half-dozen brass hooks and a padded bench attached.

  Shrugging out of her parka, Joy hung it on one of the hooks, then turned and pulled Holly’s jacket off as well, hanging it alongside hers. The warmth of the house surrounded her and all Joy could think was, she really wanted to stay. She and Holly needed a place and this house with its soft glow was...welcoming, in spite of its owner.

  She glanced at the man watching her, and one look told her that he really wanted her gone. But she wasn’t going to allow that.

  The house was gigantic, plenty of room for her and Holly to live and still stay out of Sam Henry’s way. There was enough land around the house so that her little girl could play. One man to cook and clean for, which would leave her plenty of time to work on her laptop. And oh, if he made them leave, she and her daughter would end up staying in a hot
el in town for a month. Just the thought of trying to keep a five-year-old happy when she was trapped in a small, single room for weeks made Joy tired.

  “Okay, we’re inside,” he said. “Let’s talk.”

  “Right. It’s a beautiful house.” She walked past him, forcing the man to follow her as she walked to the first doorway and peeked in. A great room—that really lived up to the name.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows provided a sweeping view of the frozen lake, a wide lawn and a battalion of pines that looked to be scraping the underside of the low-hanging gray clouds. There was a massive hearth on one wall, where a wood fire burned merrily. A big-screen TV took up most of another wall, and there were brown leather couches and chairs sprinkled around the room, sitting on brightly colored area rugs. Handcrafted wood tables held lamps and books, with more books tucked onto shelves lining yet another wall.

  “I love reading, too, and what a terrific spot for it,” Joy said, watching Holly as the girl wandered the room, then headed straight to the windows where she peered out, both hands flat against the glass.

  “Yeah, it works for me.” He came up beside her, crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Anyway...”

  “You won’t even know we’re here,” Joy spoke up quickly. “And it’ll be a pleasure to take care of this place. Kaye loves working here, so I’m sure Holly and I will be just as happy.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  She ignored his frown and the interruption. On a roll, she had no intention of stopping. “I’m going to take a look around. You don’t have to worry about giving me a tour. I’ll find my own way—”

  “About that—”

  Irritation flashed across his features and Joy almost felt sorry for him. Not sorry enough to stop, though. “What time do you want dinner tonight?”

  Before he could answer, she said, “How about six? If that works for you, we’ll keep it that way for the month. Otherwise, we can change it.”

  “I didn’t agree—”

  “Kaye said Holly and I should use her suite of rooms off the kitchen, so we’ll just go get settled in and you can get back to what you were doing when we got here.” A bright smile on her face, she called, “Holly, come with me now.” She looked at him. “Once I’ve got our things put away, I’ll look through your supplies and get dinner started, if it’s all right with you.” And even if it isn’t, she added silently.

  “Talking too fast to be interrupted doesn’t mean this is settled,” he told her flatly.

  The grim slash of his mouth matched the iciness in his tone. But Joy wasn’t going to give up easily. “There’s nothing to settle. We agreed to be here for the month and that’s what we’re going to do.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”

  “You can’t know that, and I think you’re wrong,” she said, stiffening her spine as she faced him down. She needed this job. This place. For one month. And she wouldn’t let him take it from her. Keeping her voice low so Holly wouldn’t overhear, she said, “I’m holding you to the deal we made.”

  “We didn’t make a deal.”

  “You did with Kaye.”

  “Kaye’s not here.”

  “Which is why we are.” One point to me. Joy grinned and met his gaze, deliberately glaring right into those shuttered brown eyes of his.

  “Are there fairies in the woods?” Holly wondered aloud.

  “I don’t know, honey,” Joy said.

  “No,” Sam told her.

  Holly’s face fell and Joy gave him a stony glare. He could be as nasty and unfriendly with her as he wanted to be. But he wouldn’t be mean to her daughter. “He means he’s never seen any fairies, sweetie.”

  “Oh.” The little girl’s smile lit up her face. “Me either. But maybe I can sometime, Mommy says.”

  With a single look, Joy silently dared the man to pop her daughter’s balloon again. But he didn’t.

  “Then you’ll have to look harder, won’t you?” he said instead, then lifted his gaze to Joy’s. With what looked like regret glittering in his eyes, he added, “You’ll have a whole month to look for them.”

  Two

  A few hours in the workshop didn’t improve Sam’s mood. Not a big surprise. How the hell could he clear his mind when it was full of images of Joy Curran and her daughter?

  As her name floated through his mind again, Sam deliberately pushed it away, though he knew damn well she’d be sliding back in. Slowly, methodically, he ran the hand sander across the top of the table he was currently building. The satin feel of the wood beneath his hands fed the artist inside him as nothing else could.

  It had been six years since he’d picked up a paintbrush, faced a blank canvas and brought the images in his mind to life. And even now, that loss tore at him and his fingers wanted to curl around a slim wand of walnut and surround himself with the familiar scents of turpentine and linseed oil. He wouldn’t—but the desire was always there, humming through his blood, through his dreams.

  But though he couldn’t paint, he also couldn’t simply sit in the big house staring out windows, either.

  So he’d turned his need for creativity, for creation, toward the woodworking that had always been a hobby. In this workshop, he built tables, chairs, small whimsical backyard lawn ornaments, and lost himself in the doing. He didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to remember.

  Yet, today, his mind continuously drifted from the project at hand to the main house, where the woman was. It had been a long time since he’d had an attractive woman around for longer than an evening. And the prospect of Joy being in his house for the next month didn’t make Sam happy. But damned if he could think of a way out of it. Sure, he could toss her and the girl out, but then what?

  Memories of last December when he’d been on his own and damn near starved to death rushed into his brain. He didn’t want to repeat that, but could he stand having a kid around all the time?

  That thought brought him up short. He dropped the block sander onto the table, turned and looked out the nearest window to the house. The lights in the kitchen were on and he caught a quick glimpse of Joy moving through the room. Joy. Even her name went against everything he’d become. She was too much, he thought. Too beautiful. Too cheerful. Too tempting.

  Well, hell. Recognizing the temptation she represented was only half the issue. Resisting her and what she made him want was the other half. She’d be right there, in his house, for a month. And he was still feeling that buzz of desire that had pumped into him from the moment he first saw her getting out of her car. He didn’t want that buzz but couldn’t ignore it, either.

  When his cell phone rang, he dug it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. His mother. “Perfect. This day just keeps getting better.”

  Sam thought about not answering it, but he knew that Catherine Henry wouldn’t be put off for long. She’d simply keep calling until he answered. Might as well get it over with.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “There’s my favorite son,” she said.

  “Your only son,” he pointed out.

  “Hence the favorite,” his mother countered. “You didn’t want to answer, did you?”

  He smiled to himself. The woman was practically psychic. Leaning one hip against the workbench, he said, “I did, though, didn’t I?”

  “Only because you knew I’d harangue you.”

  He rolled his eyes and started sanding again, slowly, carefully moving along the grain. “What’s up, Mom?”

  “Kaye texted me to say she was off on her trip,” his mother said. “And I wanted to see if Joy and Holly arrived all right.”

  He stopped, dropped the sander and stared out at the house where the woman and her daughter were busily taking over. “You knew?”

  “Well, of course I knew,” Catherine s
aid with a laugh. “Kaye keeps me up to date on what’s happening there since my favorite son tends to be a hermit and uncommunicative.”

  He took a deep breath and told himself that temper would be wasted on his mother. It would roll right on by, so there was no point in it. “You should have warned me.”

  “About what? Joy? Kaye tells me she’s wonderful.”

  “About her daughter,” he ground out, reminding himself to keep it calm and cool. He felt a sting of betrayal because his mother should have understood how having a child around would affect him.

  There was a long pause before his mother said, “Honey, you can’t avoid all children for the rest of your life.”

  He flinched at the direct hit. “I didn’t say I was.”

  “Sweetie, you didn’t have to. I know it’s hard, but Holly isn’t Eli.”

  He winced at the sound of the name he never allowed himself to so much as think. His hand tightened around the phone as if it were a lifeline. “I know that.”

  “Good.” Her voice was brisk again, with that clipped tone that told him she was arranging everything in her mind. “Now that that’s settled, you be nice. Kaye and I think you and Joy will get along very well.”

  He went completely still. “Is that right?”

  “Joy’s very independent and according to Kaye, she’s friendly, outgoing—just what you need, sweetie. Someone to wake you up again.”

  Sam smelled a setup. Every instinct he possessed jumped up and shouted a warning even though it was too late to avoid what was already happening. Scraping one hand down his face, he shook his head and told himself he should have been expecting this. For years now, his mother had been nagging at him to move on. To accept the pain and to pick up the threads of his life.

  She wanted him happy, and he understood that. What she didn’t understand was that he’d already lost his shot at happiness. “I’m not interested, Mom.”

  “Sure you are, you just don’t know it,” his mother said in her crisp, no-nonsense tone. “And it’s not like I’ve booked a church or expect you to sweep Joy off her feet, for heaven’s sake. But would it kill you to be nice? Honestly, sweetie, you’ve become a hermit, and that’s just not healthy.”