Christmas Dinner (Crimson Romance) (7 page)

The front door suddenly shut. Tate glanced up to see a tall guy standing in the foyer. He looked to be his age—maybe slightly younger—and was wearing a police uniform. The uncomfortable expression on his face was a dead giveaway. This must be the scumbag ex.

Amanda whipped around and faced the police officer. “Hi, Brad,” she said flatly, still clutching the poker.

“Amanda.” Brad walked over and removed his police hat. “It’s nice to see you. Did you just get in?”

Tate rose from the couch and stood beside Amanda. He reached for the poker and set it next to the fireplace. Grabbing her hand, he threaded his fingers through hers. He could feel her tiny fingers shaking. He wish he could pull her into a warm hug and protect her from what was about to go down.

“Brad, this is Tate, er, um . . .” Amanda stammered. “He’s my . . . we’re . . . have been for six months…”

“Hey, Brad. I’m Tate Ryan.” He gave her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze—something he wished he could have done underneath the anchor desk when the teleprompter malfunctioned. “Her boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry to hear about the fire,” Amanda offered.

A petite woman joined them in the living room, removing a green wool hat and shaking her long red mane. Brad immediately put his arm around her. “Sweetheart, this is Amanda and her boyfriend, Tate. This is my fiancée, Melanie. Melanie Clearwater.”

Pain radiated through Tate’s hand. He looked down to see Amanda squeezing it hard. Did he just hear Brad correctly? Melanie Clearwater?

It couldn’t be.

Could it? The camp he’d gone to as a boy wasn’t far from this town. It didn’t help that she had the flaming red hair and bright blue eyes he remembered.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Melanie studied Tate. “You look really familiar. Have we met before?” She removed her black pea coat and handed it to Brad.

He nodded. What were the odds that Melanie Clearwater was standing in front of him?
Just act normal.
“It’s been a long time, you look really—”

“Huge!” Amanda gasped. She let go of Tate’s hand and covered her mouth.

His gaze followed Amanda’s down to Melanie’s very round belly. Unless there was a Christmas goose in there, it was going to be a long weekend.

“Amanda, would you please stop?”

Amanda ignored Tate’s pleas and hurried inside Ira Davenport Hospital. She wanted to see her sister and the new baby. She was also anxious to block out what had just happened at her parents’ house.

Little chance of that happening. Brad was going to be a dad—and, by the looks of Melanie’s belly, very soon.

“Would you at least slow down?” Tate was hot on her heels. “Okay, enough of the silent treatment. You can’t be mad at me for this one.”

She stopped short in front of the elevator. “I’m always mad at you.” She shook her head. “What are the odds that Brad’s fiancée would be your middle school crush?”

“Well, given we’re from neighboring towns with small populations, the odds were probably quite good. What does it matter anyway?”

“It doesn’t.” Amanda looked up at the ceiling. “What did I do in a past life that was so terrible to deserve this?” The elevator opened. “And what is this about you growing up in Hammondsport? You’re from the area?”

“We didn’t live here very long.”

“Still, we’ve been dating for six months and this
never
came up?”

“Don’t you mean working together for a year?” Tate leaned back on the elevator’s wall.

“You know what I meant.” She pushed the third floor button.

The elevator doors opened to the maternity ward and Amanda made her way down the hallway, Tate following closely behind. “I’m tired and still in shock. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

They passed by a long window. Tiny pink and blue blankets caught her eye. She peered in at the newborn babies sleeping inside their cribs and rested a hand on the glass. How tiny they were. Brad’s would soon be in there too. Her eyes welled up again at that realization.

Tate’s hands were on her shoulders, twirling her around. “Oh, no you don’t. Not again.” He gently laid a finger under each eye. They caught her tears. “I know this is hard, but you’ve got to stop playing the victim, Ace.”

“I know. I am trying to get a grip.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Really, I am. It’s not like I’ve been pining over him. I knew it was over. It’s just hard seeing that he’s moved on. I mean, first he’s engaged. Now he’s going to be a father.”

“Well, technically, I think the pregnancy came first.”

“Still, it was only two years ago. Did you see the way he looked at her? He’s completely smitten.” She sighed. “Who can blame him? She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s not that pretty.”

“You really think so?”

“I like blondes.” He reached behind her and gently yanked her ponytail. “Spunky ones.”

She laughed. “Apparently not at summer camp that year.” Her heart began to tighten, and she turned away and looked back at the newborns. She really had meant what she said—she wasn’t pining over Brad. But why hadn’t he seen his future with her? Was she not wife material?

“Mandy!”

Amanda recognized that voice and spun on her heels. Her younger brother approached them. “Alex!” She hugged him. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She pulled back and brushed the last of her tears with the back of her hand. “Didn’t mean to get you wet.”

“Is everything okay?” Alex cocked his eyebrow and studied Tate.

“Fine. Everything’s fine,” Amanda said. “Alex, this is Tate Ryan.”

“Mom said you were bringing someone home.” He extended his hand, but shot Amanda a questioning look.

Tate shook it. “Hey, I’m going to go grab us some coffee. Can I get you anything, Alex?”

“No, I’m headed out. The cafeteria’s on the first floor, to the right.”

“Thanks, Tate,” Amanda said.

“Be right back.” Tate strolled down the hall.

She turned to Alex. “It’s been a long day.”

“You sure you’re all right?” He stared off in Tate’s direction, watching him get on the elevator.

“I will be.” She squared her shoulders determined not to let her heartache show. “How’s Quinn?”

“She’s good. There’s our niece.” He pointed to a tiny baby in the middle wrapped in a pink blanket.

Amanda peered in the window again. They’d all known Quinn was having a girl. Their sister could never keep a secret. “Oh my gosh! When was she born?”

“12:01
A.M.
”

“She’s a Christmas Eve baby! How fitting for the Turner family.” She and Alex stood in silence for a few minutes watching the sleeping baby.

“Where’s Quinn?”

“Room 322. Mom and Dad just left.”

“She must be exhausted.”

“She could use some sleep.” He zipped up his jacket. “So how long have you been dating?”

“Dating?”

“Tate?”

“Oh, right. Since June.”

“Really?” Alex frowned. “Isn’t this the co-anchor you can’t stand?”

Crap!
How could have she forgotten? She’d confided in Alex on more than one occasion that she thought Tate was arrogant and that he got on her nerves. This could ruin everything.

Play it cool, Amanda
. God, she wished she were better at thinking on her feet. She’d never admit it to Tate, but he probably could give her a few pointers. It was like the teleprompter jam all over again.

She took a deep breath.
Here goes nothing
. “That was before I got to know him. He really is quite wonderful.”

There. That wasn’t so hard. She didn’t need Tate to swoop in and save the day.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Really, but didn’t you just say last week you thought he was a flirt?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Did I?”

He nodded. “More than once.”

“Well, what I meant was he has a way with our female viewers. It’s good for ratings. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier. Tate’s the best thing to ever happen to me,” she added for good measure.

Her brother shot her a look of disbelief. “Well, I need to hit the hay. Big day tomorrow. Did you tell Tate that he’ll be helping us?”

“Sort of.” She patted him on his back. “He’ll be ready in the morning. Promise you’ll take good care of him.”

“Oh, I’ll take good care of him all right. You can count on it.”

• • •

“So, we might have a tiny little problem.” Amanda walked into her childhood room and flipped on the light switch, dropping her suitcase.

“What would that be?” Tate followed her in and set his duffle bag down. The upstairs of the cabin was just as rustic and charming as the downstairs. He was going to love spending the weekend here pretending to be Amanda’s boyfriend. Not a bad way to spend his holiday as far as he was concerned.

“I forgot that I’ve pretty much given my brother a play-by-play of our altercations since day one and that I pretty much despise you.” She reached for a pillow from off the bed and dropped it on the floor. “He called me out on it tonight.”

“So we’ve had a few disagreements.”

She laughed “Yeah. Every week.”

“We do fight often, don’t we?”

She nodded. “It’s usually your fault.”

“You don’t really
despise
me, do you?”

“I guess not.” She grabbed a blanket lying over a rocking chair and handed it to Tate. “Here you go.”

He sat on the bed. “You’re seriously going to make me sleep on the floor?”

Amanda nodded with conviction then shook her head. “I guess that would be mean. We’re adults.” She waved a finger his way. “You’re sleeping above the comforter, though, and if you touch me, I’ll scream.

“Fine.” Tate chuckled. There were other, more pleasurable ways he’d like to make her scream.

Amanda picked up the pillow and threw it at Tate. “Anyway, my brother is overprotective. I’m sure he doesn’t want me to get hurt again.”

“Understandable.” He propped the pillow up on the headboard. “If I had a sister, I’m sure I’d look out for her, too.”

“We’ll need to prove to him we’re in love.”

He raised an interested eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know.” Amanda came over and sat next to him, stretching her legs and arching her back.

Tate slipped off his shoes, exhaustion finally setting in. Could he convince her that giving him a massage would be a great way to start? He doubted it. Leaning back, he crossed his feet and laid his head on the pillow. “So, Amanda. What will we be doing tomorrow? Is your dad Santa Claus?”

“No.” She pulled the elastic band out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. “Well, at least he’s not
the
Santa Claus. The trees at the bottom of the hill—it’s our family business. We grow and sell them.” Amanda shot up and moved to the window, pushing back the ruby red curtains. “All of this is a Christmas tree farm. Did your family not get their tree from us?”

“No, we didn’t live here very long.” His heart tugged at the memory of his parents. He rolled over on his side and propped up on his elbow.

“Oh, that’s right. You said that earlier.”

“Is selling Christmas trees a fulltime business?”

“It can be, and for my family it is. The next few days are often two of our busiest.”

“I would think most people have their trees by now, don’t they?”

“Yes, but Christmas Eve for the Turners is always about making sure every family that wants one in this county has a tree. My family works overtime to make that happen.”

“That’s really awesome. How come you’ve never mentioned this before?”

She shrugged and straightened her sweater. “I guess I don’t share much about my personal life with my colleagues.” She peered outside the window. “Well, isn’t that interesting . . . .” She spun around. “Come here,” she demanded. “Quick.”

“What’s wrong?” He jumped off the bed.

“Don’t look.” She moved from the window. “Brad’s outside drinking a beer. He’s looking right up here.”

Tate grinned. “Why that Peeping Tom. Want me to go down and kick his ass?”

“I’ve got a better idea.” She grabbed the bottom of her sweater and yanked it over her head.

Tate blinked. “Amanda?” She was standing in front of him in a black satin bra. He stared at her breasts, wanting to reach out and unhook the material that stood between him and them.

“I’m tired of playing the victim.” She reached for his arm and positioned him so they were face to face in front of the window. Her eyes revealed a seductive glint.

“What are you doing?” Her hands were gently tugging his sweater.

“Oh, I think Tate Ryan knows exactly what I’m doing.” She yanked his sweater up.

He certainly did and helped her pull it over his head. Before it hit the floor, her lips were on his. Was Christmas coming early for him?

She jumped up and latched her legs around his hips.

Apparently it was.

He spun her around, gently cupping her round bottom. She was planting soft kisses on his neck while her hands ran up and down his back. This was way too good to be true.

“Is he looking?” She nibbled on his earlobe.

“Who?”

“Brad,” she muttered. “Is he still watching?” Her tongue probed his ear.

He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan. “I’m sure of it,” he whispered. His lips crashed into hers for another long kiss.

She broke contact. “Take me to the bed.”

He carried her from the window and gently laid her down on the satin red comforter. He leaned in to resume the kiss. His lips needed to be back on hers, to show her just how much he wanted her . . .

She squirmed from his grasp, crept over to the light switch, and flipped it off. Flopping back on the bed, she giggled and brought her knees up, covering her chest. “That was awesome!”

Tate cocked an eyebrow. It was a phrase he’d heard before, but usually it came after sex, not before.

“I’m sure Brad saw
all
of it. Thank you.” She reached out to high five him. “By the way, nice moves.”

Tate’s heart sank. The window show was all a charade. Of course, he’d known that, but somewhere between her straddling him and his groin tightening, he’d forgotten. All in a day’s work,” he mumbled and high fived her back. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

She swung her legs around to the floor and picked up her sweater. As quickly as it had come off, she slipped it back on.