teaching Cole a song about monkeys jumping on a bed. Charlie stopped singing when he saw her and raced across the room.
“Aunt Meg, I lighted the fire all by myself.” With a big grin splitting his face, the boy pointed to the hearth where a fire now burned.
She glanced at Cole and raised a brow. Surely he knew that Charlie was much too young to be playing with matches.
Cole smiled as if he could read her mind. “Tell Aunt Meg what you used to start the fire.”
The boy picked up a tan-colored remote control from the side table. “This.”
Of course. A gas log. Energy efficient. Clean. Most of all, so safe a child could “fire” it up.
“It’s nice and—” her word faltered as she caught Cole staring “—warm in here now.”
Warm wasn’t really the word that sprang to mind. Intimate. Cozy. Perhaps even a bit seductive.
Between the crackling fire and the falling snow visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows, there was a feeling of closeness that Meg hadn’t expected to experience here.
Charlie pointed to the equipment in her arms. “What’s that?”
The boy moved close, touched a finger to the metal. He jumped back as if it was red-hot then giggled.
Meg smiled at the boyish antics. She turned to place the item on the floor by the sofa. “This is going to help make Uncle Cole strong again.”
“It looks hard.” Charlie’s face scrunched into a frown as Meg placed the CPM machine on the floor.
“It is hard,” Cole agreed. “Can I count on you to help me?”
“Yes, sir.” Charlie nodded vigorously up and down then slanted a glance at Meg before turning back to Cole. “You can count on both of us.”
“Is that right, Meg?” Cole lifted a sardonic brow. “Can I count on you…this time?”
The words stung as much as if he’d slapped her. Yet, for Charlie’s sake, she managed to keep a smile on her lips.
The nerve of the man. He acted as if it was her who’d let him down all those years ago rather than the other way around.
Snapping the last piece of the equipment into place, Meg scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to him. She met his gaze. “Of course you can trust me, Cole. Every bit as much as I can trust you.”
Cole saw the anger in her eyes, heard it in the bite of her tone. Too subtle for Charlie to catch; nevertheless the exchange had brought a chill to the room that no fire could warm.
Though he wanted to tell her that they both knew she was the one who couldn’t be trusted, he kept his mouth shut. He remembered all too well how hard it had been for him as a child to listen to his mom bicker with her new husband.
There was a child in the house. This meant any animosity between him and Meg had to be put to bed. At the very least while Meg was living under his roof and probably until he could sever her custody ties with Charlie.
It wasn’t fair for the boy to be put in the middle of adult business. Besides, what happened between Meg and him had been a lifetime ago. While it was doubtful he’d ever trust her again, they were two adults. For Charlie’s sake they should be able to put the past behind them. Which meant no sniping at each other.
“Uncle Cole.” Once again at his side, Charlie tugged on his sweater. “Aren’t you going to take Aunt Meg’s hand? She’s had it out there a long time.”
“Worried I’ll let you fall?” she softly taunted, a smile on her lips.
“Not in the least.” Cole closed his fingers around Meg’s, disturbed by the intensity of emotions the touch aroused.
He met her gaze. Despite his earlier gibe, he wasn’t worried she’d let him fall. From what he’d seen, she was too much of a professional to let personal feelings influence her job performance.
In less than a minute Cole was settled on the floor, strapped into the machine, feeling it work its magic.
Meg, with some enthusiastic help from Charlie, had propped him up with pillows against the back of the sofa.
“Now what?” Charlie asked.
Cole opened
“Aunt Meg, I lighted the fire all by myself.” With a big grin splitting his face, the boy pointed to the hearth where a fire now burned.
She glanced at Cole and raised a brow. Surely he knew that Charlie was much too young to be playing with matches.
Cole smiled as if he could read her mind. “Tell Aunt Meg what you used to start the fire.”
The boy picked up a tan-colored remote control from the side table. “This.”
Of course. A gas log. Energy efficient. Clean. Most of all, so safe a child could “fire” it up.
“It’s nice and—” her word faltered as she caught Cole staring “—warm in here now.”
Warm wasn’t really the word that sprang to mind. Intimate. Cozy. Perhaps even a bit seductive.
Between the crackling fire and the falling snow visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows, there was a feeling of closeness that Meg hadn’t expected to experience here.
Charlie pointed to the equipment in her arms. “What’s that?”
The boy moved close, touched a finger to the metal. He jumped back as if it was red-hot then giggled.
Meg smiled at the boyish antics. She turned to place the item on the floor by the sofa. “This is going to help make Uncle Cole strong again.”
“It looks hard.” Charlie’s face scrunched into a frown as Meg placed the CPM machine on the floor.
“It is hard,” Cole agreed. “Can I count on you to help me?”
“Yes, sir.” Charlie nodded vigorously up and down then slanted a glance at Meg before turning back to Cole. “You can count on both of us.”
“Is that right, Meg?” Cole lifted a sardonic brow. “Can I count on you…this time?”
The words stung as much as if he’d slapped her. Yet, for Charlie’s sake, she managed to keep a smile on her lips.
The nerve of the man. He acted as if it was her who’d let him down all those years ago rather than the other way around.
Snapping the last piece of the equipment into place, Meg scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to him. She met his gaze. “Of course you can trust me, Cole. Every bit as much as I can trust you.”
Cole saw the anger in her eyes, heard it in the bite of her tone. Too subtle for Charlie to catch; nevertheless the exchange had brought a chill to the room that no fire could warm.
Though he wanted to tell her that they both knew she was the one who couldn’t be trusted, he kept his mouth shut. He remembered all too well how hard it had been for him as a child to listen to his mom bicker with her new husband.
There was a child in the house. This meant any animosity between him and Meg had to be put to bed. At the very least while Meg was living under his roof and probably until he could sever her custody ties with Charlie.
It wasn’t fair for the boy to be put in the middle of adult business. Besides, what happened between Meg and him had been a lifetime ago. While it was doubtful he’d ever trust her again, they were two adults. For Charlie’s sake they should be able to put the past behind them. Which meant no sniping at each other.
“Uncle Cole.” Once again at his side, Charlie tugged on his sweater. “Aren’t you going to take Aunt Meg’s hand? She’s had it out there a long time.”
“Worried I’ll let you fall?” she softly taunted, a smile on her lips.
“Not in the least.” Cole closed his fingers around Meg’s, disturbed by the intensity of emotions the touch aroused.
He met her gaze. Despite his earlier gibe, he wasn’t worried she’d let him fall. From what he’d seen, she was too much of a professional to let personal feelings influence her job performance.
In less than a minute Cole was settled on the floor, strapped into the machine, feeling it work its magic.
Meg, with some enthusiastic help from Charlie, had propped him up with pillows against the back of the sofa.
“Now what?” Charlie asked.
Cole opened
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