'Tis the Season by Jennifer Gracen

I’m sorry I’ve been gone so much . . . I’m going to try to be better about that.”
    Thomas looked wary, but he nodded. Charles exhaled; maybe he’d gotten through to him a little. It was a start.
    Then he looked at Lisette, whose big brown eyes were warm and . . . approving. Well, that was a nice bonus. His gaze quickly traveled over her, drinking her in. Her curves were hidden by a long orange sweater, black yoga pants, and multicolored sneakers. Small, simple gold hoops hung from her ears, the only jewelry she wore besides a thin gold watch. As usual, her dark hair was pulled back in a long French braid and her face was devoid of makeup, except for what looked to be tinted lip balm on her luscious mouth. She didn’t need any makeup. Her long lashes were black as night, her smooth olive skin glowed, and that kissable mouth . . . She really was, as Dane had said, a natural beauty.
    And Charles enjoyed looking at her, much more than he should. In fact, just looking at her made his heart beat a little faster, made his blood pulse a little hotter, and made him want things that he shouldn’t.
    He tore his gaze from her and said to the kids, “Give me two minutes to change out of this suit. You all go ahead to the car; I’ll be right there.”
    * * *
    It was almost ten o’clock by the time the kids fell asleep. An afternoon of walking around Edgewater should have worn them out, but the excitement of Halloween—and the sugar rush from the candy they gobbled—had them buzzing way past their normal bedtime.
    When the hallway was soundless, and Lisette was sure they were all sleeping, she went down to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea. A hot cup of orange spice tea, along with the new book waiting on her e-reader, after the frenetic noise and energy of the afternoon and evening, was all she wanted. That and quiet, to sit and read until she fell asleep.
    The spacious kitchen was dark and empty. She flipped on the lights and hummed to herself as she filled the white teakettle with water. The last song that had been playing in the minivan on the way home was stuck in her head.
    â€œI can’t get that damn song out of my head either.”
    â€œOh!” She whirled around in surprise, sloshing water from the open kettle onto the tiled floor. Charles stood a few feet behind her. Wide-eyed, she clutched a hand to her chest.
    â€œI’m sorry!” he said. “Wow, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
    â€œI—I didn’t hear you come in.” She turned off the faucet and glanced at the puddle on the floor.
    â€œHere, give me that.” Charles strode to her and took the kettle from her, his fingers brushing hers as he moved away to place it on the stove. “Enough water in here for me to join you? I assume you’re making tea.”
    â€œYes. I mean, yes, there’s enough water, and yes, I am.” Still flustered, she hurried to the paper-towel rack, tore off a few, and went back to the puddle, dropping to her knees to wipe it up.
    After setting the kettle on the stove and flicking on the gas, Charles watched her, casually leaning against the marble counter of the center island. “You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”
    â€œNot yet,” she said, throwing the sopping pile of paper towels into the trash.
    â€œMe either. But it was a nice evening.” Charles smiled warmly and crossed his arms over his chest. “The kids had fun, and it was good to be out with them. Thanks for letting me tag along.”
    â€œTag along?” Lisette frowned at him, puzzled. “They’re your children.”
    â€œWell, you didn’t expect me to show up. I infringed on your plans.”
    â€œWhat? Charles . . .” She wiped her damp hands on a cloth kitchen towel. “This is your home, your family. You don’t ever infringe on plans. You do whatever you want.”
    â€œI know all that. But I know if I made a plan