Winter Magic: 4 (The Hawks Mountain Series) Read Free

son.
    Cringing inwardly at the old man’s persistent use of boy when addressing him, Jonathan waited for the inevitable. Ever since Henry Prince retired from Prince Publishing and let his son take over, he’d filled his abundance of idle time with harassing Jonathan about producing a grandchild. When no mention was made of an heir today, Jonathan concluded that this time his father was allowing his only son the benefit of marriage first.
    Avoiding Jonathan’s censuring gaze, Henry searched the pockets of his tan smoking jacket for the nonexistent, expensive Havana cigars he’d carried with him for half a century, but which the doctor had recently declared off limits.
    Finally, he gave up and focused on his son again. “The way you carry on, you’d think we were asking you to sever a limb. All we want for you is a wife.”
    “ But, I  . . . don’t  . . . want  . . . a  . . . wife,” Jonathan ground out. Ingrained respect for his elders was the only thing keeping his temper in check.
    How many times, and in how many ways, did he have to say that? Perhaps one day, these two would realize that being single didn’t constitute the crime of the century.
    He looked from one to the other of his dearest relatives. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you say that you two came here to discuss the arrangements for the Christmas gala, and not my marital status?”
    Sarah waved a hand in his general direction. “All in good time,” she said, effectively dismissing his protest. “You’re taking our concerns all wrong. Your father and I just want to see you happy, Jonny.”
    Though he’d outgrown the nickname years ago, when the woman who’d raised him from age twelve used it, it never failed to send a shaft of warmth through him. He reached across the desk and then squeezed her hand. “I am happy, Aunt Sarah. I have my work, and that keeps me busy enough to fill three lifetimes.”
    Sarah shook her head and reclaimed her hand from his grasp. A wisp of her snowy hair broke the bonds of the loose bun at her nape. “You know, Jonny, there is life beyond the corporate headquarters of Prince Publishing.” With an unconscious, impatient gesture he’d seen a million times, she tucked the hair back in place. “Besides, you’re thirty-four years old. You should have a wife and several children by now.” Her eyes clouded over, and he knew Aunt Sarah’s thoughts had veered to the young husband she’d lost early in her marriage and to the children they’d never had. A gentle smile, colored with a hint of sadness, curved his aunt’s lips. “Take my word for it. After a while, this single life gets pretty tiresome.” She pointed her finger at him. “You need a woman.”
    “I do date.” Jonathan smiled lovingly at his aunt. “And besides, I have you, Aunt Sarah, and that’s woman enough for me.”
    “I’m flattered, but you won’t always have me, Jonny, and transient relationships don’t warm an empty bed for long.”
    Not about to launch into a conversation about his sex life or lack thereof, especially with his aunt, Jonathan rose and walked to the large window overlooking Lake Hope.
    He’d had his share of women who understood that  . . . well  . . . that understood him and his boundaries where relationships were concerned. That arrangement suited him fine. Besides, he neither wanted nor needed those simpering females who tried to stroke his ego with fabrications about how much they admired him and cared for him while dollar signs rang up like runaway cash registers in their heads. Jonathan had had his fill of secrets and lies from enough women in his life. He didn’t need theirs.
    What he did need was to get through the holiday season one more time.
    To clear his thoughts, Jonathan focused on the scene beyond the window. Most days he loved working from his office in the big, new house that stood proudly on the cliffs above the lake. In the summer, the leaves would obscure most of the view.