A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,115
know what made her laugh. To know what made her cry. To glory in the bliss she found in her work, and bask in that glow. She had the heart of an artist, which she was still discovering, and an intellectual’s mind. She appealed to his earthy side, as well as to the part that yearned to share his professional successes with someone who could grasp the complexity of what he did. He had to be creative, too, only in an entirely different way. One he suspected she’d understand and appreciate.
He’d never once felt compelled to tell anyone about his past, nor to discuss what he did. He was generally too busy to think about the former, or to talk about the latter. He’d known her such a very, very short time ... but there was something to her that had his full and complete attention. He’d no business wasting an evening, much less a whole night, with all the work he had in front of him. Yet, he wouldn’t change the events of that day and night for the world.
That he’d put pleasure before work—hell, anything before work—was a miracle of noteworthy proportions.
One day. How could anyone feel so changed by a person they’d known for a single day? Her impact on him had been instant. It made no rational sense whatsoever, but there he was. And there she was. And he’d give almost anything not to have to leave.
Her. Hamilton. He resented anything that would deprive him of the time it would take to find out if their instant combustion could sustain itself. He’d never before cared enough to find out. In business he was always on the hunt, always the pursuer. But when it came to relationships, it had always been the other way around.
It occurred to him then the only other time he’d felt so certain of something was when he found a new project that would benefit from his attention. One he knew would be profitable for him and a remarkable new start for the people he wanted to help. He rarely, if ever, secondguessed his gut instinct on those occasions . . . and he was rarely, if ever, wrong.
Perhaps his certainty now wasn’t such an odd, inexplicable thing after all. Maybe his gut just knew.
The problem was ... what in the bloody hell could he do about it?
“You know, if you wind my hair any tighter around your finger, I’ll have a perm,” she said on a soft laugh, startling him from his thoughts.
She hadn’t moved from where he’d cradled her, and she was presently tracing aimless patterns on his abdomen with her fingertips. It felt good.
He smiled as he untangled the lock of hair from his finger. “Sorry. What’s a perm?”
She lifted her head then, and if he’d thought her eyes were deep blue pools he could drown in before, they were downright bottomless now. Suddenly drowning didn’t seem like such a bad way to go.
“Seriously? Don’t Irish women get their hair curled?”
“I wouldn’t know, never really paid attention. If you mean those rollers they put in—”
She laughed. “Close enough.”
He massaged her scalp a little, liking the feel of her hair sliding over his hands. “I didn’t mean to tug it out.”
“It felt good, actually, until right at the end.” She shifted a little, rolled into him so she could prop her chin and hands on his chest. “Why did you stay?”
“Stay . . . you mean now?” His heart sank, and it shouldn’t have. Of course she wanted him out of there. She still had work to do, and he wouldn’t be the least surprised if she headed straight back down the stairs to do it.
“No,” she said, smiling up at him. She slipped her hand up and tracked her fingers over his cheek, along his jaw. “I like you right where you are.”
Hearing that shouldn’t have been the heady rush that it was. “I’m growing rather partial to the spot myself. So . . . what did you mean, then?”
“Tonight. In the kitchen with me. I know you said you wanted to talk to me, explain the situation, but you could have just laid it all out there in five, ten minutes. You certainly didn’t have to put in the work you did.”
“I believe you told me I had to work if I was to talk.”
She grinned. “You bought that?”
He smiled, too, and tousled her hair. “I’ll remember that for next time.”