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“My son has had his share of frivolous girlfriends, but between us, he deserves someone talented and driven. Someone like you.”
I fidgeted. Was she trying to set us up? I had no time for a relationship while policing the streets. But I ached for something more than fleeting moments of pleasure. Something longer-lasting and meaningful—though what that meant was still unclear. How long had it been since I’d opened myself up like this? Too long to remember, much less admit.
“So...you’re saying James is really single?”
“Yes, and he’s adamant it will stay that way.”
My heart sank a little, and I’m not sure why.
“But you could change that,” she said.
My head snapped up.
“You can’t make someone want something.”
“What if they don’t know whether they want it?” Teresa lifted a brow.
All right. So she was trying to set us up.
“James is an adult. He should know what he wants.”
She puffed out a fresh laugh and stepped down the ladder. “The Silver men don’t know what they want until it stares them in the face. I should know - I have three sons and four brothers, all of them private detectives. It takes a special woman to fill their lives.”
Was she suggesting I was the right woman for him? I was up for a fling, but that’s where my fantasies about James Silver stopped. Right between the sheets. All right, I’ll admit it. Maybe I wanted more than a fling - like a couple of flings, or maybe a few more?
I sighed, because deep down, I knew I could never get enough. Not after what he’d done to me yesterday. And the way he looked at me guaranteed all sorts of feelings each time.
I peeked from behind the Christmas tree, looking for Kensi. She was sticking her face up the unlit chimney, checking for Santa. “And Kensi’s mom is not the right woman?” I asked.
“Tiffany? They’re good co-parents and awful partners, so that makes it a no.”
“Did they...did they end on bad terms?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
Teresa set the stepping stool against the wall. “They realized they weren’t good together. Tiffany’s an interior decorator and she can be...difficult. And James can be...difficult in his own ways. But they both love Kensi, and that’s what matters most.”
Difficult, huh? That didn’t sound promising.
“Come on, Kensi, it’s time for the finishing touches at the cookie station.”
She waved over at her granddaughter to join us by the window.
As we set out scoops of sugary glaze and confetti-colored glitter, Teresa told me about James and his siblings, painting a vivid portrait of a spirited yet unified family.
“Sounds like James was quite the handful,” I said.
“Ha!” Teresa snorted. “That’s an understatement. By the time he was four, James was climbing trees, furniture and walls. He broke his arm on the swings one year, then his left wrist snapped when he claimed he could jump off the roof. I don't even know how he got there, but when he set his mind to something, nothing could stop him. He was always a good kid at heart. And now he’s grown into a wonderful father.”
Once we’d finished setting up the station, I helped Kensi wash the soot off her face, and she fell asleep on the couch. Tristan lit the fireplace, where we sat with cups of tea. It was only one o’clock, and the house already smelled like Christmas.
“Is the family always this excited about Santa?” I asked.
“Every year, and it never gets old.”
I leaned in closer and lowered my voice. “And who plays Santa?”
Teresa winked. “Ah, now that’s a secret.”
I snuck a sidelong glance at James as he playfully joked with his brothers. He’d make the perfect Santa.
