A Christmas Family Miracle: Snowbound with Her Hero / Baby Under the Christmas Tree / Single Dad's Christmas Miracle. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.
would make him open up. Naturally, when they’d first come back to Breckenridge, she’d tried to re-create Philippe’s bedroom to make him feel at home, but if he saw everything else, maybe that’s what he needed. It had to work. She was desperate!
Crystal drove into the town center of Breckenridge and parked around the back of the store. “Come on, honey.” Grabbing his hand, she led them inside the rear entrance. They walked over to the load of new parkas hanging on the rack ready to be rolled out on to the floor.
She lifted two and held them in front of Philippe. “Which do you like better, the blue or the green?”
He studied them for a minute. “I guess that one.” He touched the navy coat. It would be a nice match with his blue eyes, a shade darker than Eric’s.
“All right. Let’s see how it looks on you.”
When he’d shed his other coat, she put it on him. “This looks terrific on you. Come on. Let’s go find Grandpa and see what he thinks.”
The store had at least a dozen customers keeping the staff busy. Molly was with a group of skiers, but she was the first to notice them come out of the back room. “Hey, Philippe. I like that parka on you. It fits you perfectly.”
He muttered something indistinct and averted his eyes.
Crystal sent Molly a silent message that she was sorry for her son’s lack of manners and looked around for her father. “Where’s Dad?”
“He said he had an errand, but he’ll be back.”
She’d heard that before. When he got talking to one of his friends, it might be several hours. “I guess we’ll go on home and show Nana. He’ll be there later.”
As they turned to walk into the back room, Crystal heard a male voice behind them say, “Eh bien, mon gars. Tu me souviens?”
The French spoken in a deep, familiar voice caused the blood to pound in Crystal’s ears.
Raoul.
Philippe could never have forgotten him. As for Crystal …
Both of them swung around at the same time. “Oncle Raoul!” her son cried out in sheer happiness, echoing her unspoken response.
Philippe had said his name so loudly, every head in the store turned in his direction. He pulled his hand away from Crystal’s and flew into the arms of Eric’s thirty-two-year-old brother. Her son threw his arms around his neck, clutching him for dear life. The next thing she knew Raoul was rocking him. She didn’t know which one of them was squeezing harder.
Over Philippe’s shoulder Raoul shot her a glance from eyes she’d always thought of as midnight-blue. At the moment they were neither friendly nor hostile, yet she felt their deep penetration like she’d been injected with a near fatal dose of electricity.
“I was hoping to find out you hadn’t left for the day.” He spoke English in a cultured voice with less of a French accent than Eric had done. “The family told me you’ve been working for your father since you returned from Chamonix.”
“Yes.” She was so astonished to see him, she couldn’t find the words.
“I’m surprised.”
She took an extra breath, wondering what he’d meant by that remark, which could be taken several ways.
As if reading her mind he said, “I’d imagined that if nothing else, you would have gone into coaching some new upcoming sports star.” He flashed one of his beautiful rare smiles. “There isn’t a female champion who skis like Crystal Broussard. You have a style no one’s been able to imitate.”
“Had, you mean.”
“No,” he responded on a more sober note, not letting it go. “It will always be there because you honed it into an art form. The ski world lost a true star when you stopped competing. I, for one, am sorry that happened.”
Crystal found it hard to swallow because his comment stunned her. With the problems in her marriage followed by Eric’s death, that part of her life seemed to have taken a backseat. For Raoul to bring it up now wasn’t only a surprise, it was … flattering, especially coming from him.
That was because he was such a revered athlete in his own right and always meant what he said. Little did he know the idea of becoming a coach had touched on one of her secret dreams. It shook her to realize he was the first person to recognize that need inside her.
In the past, while Suzanne had been alive, they’d often been on the same wavelength and she’d enjoyed that aspect of their relationship. Sometimes it had even upset her because she hadn’t experienced it with Eric and didn’t like feeling guilty about it.
“Thank you for the compliment, Raoul, but I’ve had my son to worry about.”
“That’s understandable, but it seems to me you could still do both. In fact I wondered why you didn’t go back to competition after Philippe was born.”
“You mean in Chamonix?”
“Naturellement.”
“I wanted to, but being a mother is a full-time job.”
“For some women maybe, but you could have managed both.” His dark eyes flashed. “You’re too gifted.”
Raoul really believed in her.
But when she’d talked to Eric about it, he’d clutched her under the chin. “You’re the one who didn’t mind us getting pregnant before we’d planned to,” he’d said. “If we’re both gone, who’ll take care of the baby? I’m not keen on hiring a nanny.”
Soon after Philippe was born, Eric hadn’t been keen on much of anything but skiing. It eventually ruled his life. Without conscious thought she’d tried to be mother and father to their son.
All the while she was remembering the past, she’d been staring at Raoul. She couldn’t help it. His black hair was longer than she remembered. It had a tendency to curl and looked slightly ruffled from the wind outside. He was an inch taller than Eric, who’d stood six feet two—the brothers were quite different in body build and coloring.
Eric had been born with the natural lean body of a skier. He and their sister, Vivige, a terrific skier in her own right, resembled their father in that regard and were dark blondes.
On the other hand Raoul, standing there in his black bomber jacket, possessed a more powerful build and had a darker olive complexion like their mother. Both men had the stamp of the good-looking Broussard family, and it had been bequeathed to her adorable Philippe, who clung to his uncle.
The sight of Raoul brought intense pleasure and pain in equal waves, plus too many other emotions Crystal didn’t dare examine right now. She noticed the lines around his wide mouth had deepened since the last time she’d seen him. A year ago the whole Broussard family, including Philippe’s three cousins, had driven to the airport in Geneva to see her and Philippe off to the States.
There was a haunted look about his Gallic features that was new. If she wasn’t mistaken, she thought he’d lost a few pounds. The changes only made him more attractive, resurrecting more feelings of guilt for finding him so terribly appealing. That guilt had lain dormant while she’d been here in Colorado.
Where Eric had been dashing, Raoul was drop-dead gorgeous, a comment her friends on the ski team had pointed out many times. The Broussard brothers had a female following that extended throughout the sporting world.
“It’s good to see you, Raoul,” she finally managed to say, but she had to fight to keep her voice steady.
“Is it?” he challenged. She recognized the clipped, off-putting tone of voice he always seemed to use with her when he phoned to speak to Philippe.
Was that accusation she heard, or was she simply overreacting to the unexpected question? She