Page 13 of Brant
"Well? What do you think?"
"It's big."
"Your living room is huge. A smaller tree would have been dwarfed. And it's not like you're going to have to take the thing down. The company does that too."
"Good to know." Tilting his head, he gazed up at the sparkling angel on top.
"Not a star?"
"I prefer angels. You wanted a star?"
"I wanted nothing at all, but it does make a difference." He strolled into the room and stood next to her to examine the glitter of lights, hundreds of them! Good God! And the bulbs and silvery, gold, green, and red streamer things clinging to the glossy green of the tree.
"How long did it take them to do all of it? I mean I left here this morning-" He turned his head to look at her. "And you were supposed to go to the store. You didn't go?"
"I went of course. There's such a thing as the phone. I called them from the store and told them what I needed. They happen to be experts, so they needed little or no input. What are you doing home?" She seemed unaware that she had automatically referred to his place as her home, and he wondered at the fact that it felt right.
"My meeting got canceled. It's the holiday or near to." He did not add that his first instinct was to head home. They had been married a week now and aside from the weekend they had spent together, they had barely seen each other. He found curiously that he missed her, missed hearing her voice and her sultry laugh.
"The place looks a lot different."
"Not too much?"
"Oh, it's a lot," he said with a chuckle. "How about we have some dinner right here so we can admire the very big tree and all the lights?"
"Sounds wonderful. I think Mrs. Holt made filet mignon, I think. I'll go and-"
"No." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let me."
She watched as he left the room, leaning her head to the side to admire very nice and taut buns shown to advantage in his well-fitted tan trousers. He had shed his jacket when he came in, and the winter green sweater stretched taut across broad shoulders.
Sighing softly, she rubbed a hand at the back of her neck. Not the direction she wanted her thoughts going. He was just being nice, and she should not mistake it for anything else. He was a nice guy who felt sorry for her and helped her out of a terrible jam. It would be a mistake, a colossal one, to think of it as anything else.
She put it out of her mind, determined to have a normal dinner with a man who was turning out to be a friend. He spoke to her about his work and the board's reaction as they dined on the delicious meal and drank excellent Cabernet.
"So, are you CEO yet?" Spearing into the asparagus, she popped it into her mouth and waited for his answer. "You said that they were waiting on you to get married for them to decide. So?"
"They're debating."
A frown touched her brow. "What the hell is there to debate about? You're married. Did you show them the certificate? If they want proof, you should-" She sputtered to a stop when he started grinning at her.
"What?"
"You're fierce and I admire that."
She glowered at him and reached for her glass. "You're making fun of me."
"No." He shook his head, his grin widening. "It's fascinating how your eyes fire up and you get that glower on your face." He shook his head as she glowered even more. "It's a process. Yes, they believe that I'm married, but the transition will take a little time. I don't mind the wait as long as I know the office and the title will be mine."
"Your mother?"
"She cannot wait to hand over the reins."
"That's good. This is also very good. Your housekeeper is a genius in the kitchen. She's also very territorial."
"She had a problem with you doing the laundry the other day?" He already knew the answer to that because the housekeeper had come to him in a huff, asking if his wife was going to replace her.
Picking up her glass, she waved it in the air. "She was upset because I decided to do the laundry. I just went into the laundry room, which is as big as crap and whoever heard of a laundry room with sofas and a flat-screen television? Anyway, I just wandered in there and was looking around when I noticed the clothes in the hamper. I cannot help it if I'm a clean person. And I'm not used to someone picking up after me."
