The Billionaire's Christmas Son - Leslie North Page 0,19

think about this project ending.

Jonas kicked off his boots and moved to stand beside her at the desk where she was working. His hand came down on her shoulder, gentle and strong, and it took everything she had not to lean into it and lean into him. It must be the holidays getting to her head. Everyone wanted closeness and warmth this time of year, so it was only natural. It had nothing to do with how ridiculously attractive he was, or the hard fall of his muscles beneath a gray sweater that brought out his blue eyes.

“It looks great,” he commented, after a long look at the pages. “She’s going to love it.”

It seemed like Jonas wasn’t saying everything he wanted to say. He went over to the sofa and sank down into it, and Rachel swiveled to face him. “What’s on your mind?”

“There’s been a change of plans for the photos tonight,” he said lightly, but the way he watched her left her thinking it wasn’t such an easy decision. “I thought we’d have the portraits taken at dinner instead of in the lounge.”

“At dinner?” Her nerves fired up. Rachel had taken many pictures at formal meals before. So why the prickling sensation at the back of her neck? “I’m happy to take the photos wherever you want.”

Jonas pushed a hand through his hair. “I’d actually like you to come to dinner with the family.”

Oh. “How will I take photos if I’m eating?” This wasn’t at all what she expected.

“We can take them beforehand, or after. Probably before, so everyone doesn’t feel overfull while we’re arranging ourselves for portraits.” A smile flashed across his face, so intensely beautiful that Rachel’s knees went weak even though she was sitting. She had to get a grip. Her ex-fiancé’s treatment of her was a constant reminder that rich men like Jonas weren’t to be trusted. People weren’t to be trusted.

“Scott might have a tough time sitting through dinner,” she pointed out. “And I thought you didn’t want them to see much of him?”

“I thought he could stay with Lisa. There’s no need to make a big announcement about Scott or us just yet. Don’t you think?”

Rachel swallowed hard, emotion coming to grip her throat. But which emotion? Part of her was reassured—there wouldn’t be any awkward discussions while she was working. And part of her was disappointed. The way things had gone last night had been good. Easy. She’d been comfortable at Jonas’s table and in his house. After she’d put Scott in his crib and crawled into bed, she’d been filled with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“We could do that,” she agreed.

“You don’t seem convinced.” Jonas’s eyes swept over hers. “If this plan doesn’t work for you, then tell me—I’ll change it.”

That made her breath catch. Jonas was a client, but obviously, he was more than that—and obviously, it was complicated. Way more complicated. “There’s nothing you need to change,” she insisted. “Whatever works best for your family is what we’ll do.”

“You’re my family, in a way.”

Rachel’s heart stopped, then stuttered to a start again. Of all the things she’d expected when she signed on for a rush holiday job like this, an intense conversation of this nature hadn’t been one of them.

Jonas looked away. “Maybe that was going too far. What I meant is that I want what’s comfortable for you, too. And Scott. We’re still working on this project together—and it won’t be done for a few days, right?” He was trying to back out of the unexpected admission.

“That’s correct. We still haven’t taken all the photos. This is supposed to go through New Year’s. You wanted those too if I remember correctly.”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I want all of them.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to regain some equilibrium. It was as if he were saying one thing and thinking another. “Okay. Photos at dinner tonight. More photos tomorrow, and I’ll keep working on the book until New Year’s.” Those words were tougher than others. “You’ll have the whole holiday season captured and in the book by the time I leave.”

“Perfect,” Jonas said.

“Perfect,” she echoed.

“Dadadada,” Scott called out from the bedroom, letting the grown-ups know he was awake.

“Oh,” Jonas started upright, joy bright in his eyes. “I know he’s not calling me, but it sure sounds like it.”

“Maybe he is,” she said, smiling. “Go and get him.” She waved Jonas off and turned back to the scrapbook, her heart beating fast. If she wanted Jonas