Christmas In The Country

by Muriel Jensen

  Without warning, Liza felt her upper body lifted off her coat and an arm slipped under her. At the same moment another arm came around her waist and pulled her into the curve of Jeff’s body. He readjusted his coat over them and settled her so that she rested her head on his upper arm.

  “You say one word,” he warned, “and I won’t stay. Just be quiet and go to sleep.”

  Jeff was surprised when she complied. He closed his eyes and tried to turn off all sensory observation—to ignore her fragrant hair under his nose, the curve of the underside of her breasts just above his arm, her bottom pressed against that part of him that yearned painfully for her. He was just beginning to think he might make it through the long hours ahead when she ran the sole of her foot against his shin.

  The fabric of his slacks and her stockings lay between her skin and his, but he still found the touch erotic.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in the most discouraging tone he could muster.

  “My feet are frozen,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I can’t tuck them high enough to get them under the coat.”

  He sighed, resigned to his fate. This night would be worse than anything he’d faced in captivity. “All right. Put them on me, but stop moving.”

  She put her feet against him without hesitation.

  He gasped against the frigid feel of them, even through the fabric of his slacks.

  “Have you no circulation below the knees?” he grumbled.

  “Apparently not,” she said with a dignity that belied their circumstances. “I’m trying to not even think about anything below the waist.”

  He raised his head to look down at her face resting on his arm. “That’s suggestive. I thought you didn’t want to make love with me.”

  She blew air scornfully. “You really aren’t as intelligent as you claimed, are you? Go to sleep.”

  JEFF AWOKE to a thunderous banging on the cabin door. The fire still flickered, but the room was dark and frigid.

  “Jeff?” a voice called between thumps. “Liza! Are you in there?”

  Liza lifted her head sleepily and Jeff eased his cramped arm out from under her. “What…is it?” she asked.

  He got to his knees and pulled her to a sitting position. “Rescue,” he said, recognizing Bill’s voice in the shouts. “Come on, get up. Get your coat on.”

  Jeff jammed his arms into his own coat, then helped her with hers.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, a reluctant note in her voice. “How did they find us?”

  “The smoking chimney, I imagine,” he said, lifting her to her feet. He eased her onto the bench, then went to the door.

  Two policemen burst into the room, along with Bill and Whittier.

  Bill took Jeff by the shoulders. “Thank God,” he said with obvious sincerity, then spotted Liza and ran to her. He took her in his arms, the gesture genuine, Jeff was sure, and not simply for Whittier’s benefit.

  But Whittier smiled as he watched them, apparently taking Bill’s relief at finding Liza safe as a husband’s loving gratitude. Then Whittier clapped Jeff on the shoulder. “Seems you’re a hero a second time.”

  Jeff laughed lightly. “But you’re rescuing us,” he observed.

  “But you protected Kowalski, found shelter, kept Liza safe.”

  “Kowalski?”

  “The sleigh driver. His people found him a couple of hours ago. It was obvious you’d taken the horse, but when you didn’t show up in town, we all went a little crazy. Where is the horse?”

  Jeff pointed in the direction of the barn.

  One police officer went back to the car and the other went to the barn.

  “I made him turn the wrong way when we got to the road,” Liza said as she and Bill joined them. “If we’d gone the way he wanted, we’d have been back at the dance before it ended.”

  The dance. Bill’s eyes met Jeff’s, a trace of grudging amusement in their depths. Jeff guessed that when Bill had taken Liza into his arms by the fireplace she’d used the opportunity to explain that the secret was out—at least partially. And that this eventful night was all the result of Jeff’s misunderstanding of the kiss between Bill and Sherrie.

  “The two of you picked a strange time to sightsee,” Whittier observed.

  Jeff saw the resignation on Liza’s face, the firm grip Bill took on her shoulder as they waited to be exposed as frauds.

  “I’d been telling Liza,” Jeff said, “how the dry, desert landscape of Lebanon had gotten to me. She’d noticed the sleigh rides and thought I’d enjoy a drive in the snow as a sort of welcome home.” He shrugged. “It was supposed to last half an hour. You know what they say about the plans of mice and men.”

  Liza and Bill looked at each other in surprise, then at him. He looked away.

  Whittier laughed. “They also say that all’s well that ends well. Come on. Let’s get you two home. It’s just after three. The film crew’s due at nine and they’ll be pretty noisy, so if you’re going to get any sleep in, it’ll have to be soon.”

  Jeff pointed to the fireplace. “You go ahead. I’ll just make sure the fire’s out.”

  “Hurry up,” Bill advised. “We’ve got a thermos of coffee in the car, and Sherrie sent along some muffins.”

  Jeff hunkered down in front of the fireplace, spread out the dying coals of the fire and turned them to put them out. He stared into the now-dark hole and remembered what it had been like when the fire had burned brightly, when Liza had been asleep in his arms, trustingly content despite his annoyance with her and the harsh deal he’d tried to make and been unable to carry through.

  What now?

  He had to admit he hadn’t a clue.

  He braced his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet, thinking that he was going to miss this little cabin.

  Cold air rushed in through the open door and he hurried toward it. A cup of coffee was going to taste like heaven.

  Liza stood in the doorway, blocking his exit. Bill, Whittier and one of the policemen were in the car, waiting for them.

  The other officer had mounted the horse and had already started up the road.

  “What?” Jeff asked.

  She’d pulled her hood up and her hands were jammed in her pockets. She looked pale and tired. “You didn’t tell,” she observed.

  “Yet,” he said, impatient with her need to make a point of the fact. “I’m looking forward to torturing you all day long with the possibility that I might spill it all at any moment.”

  He saw her resist the impulse to smile. Now he was irritated as well as impatient.

  “Then I’d like to make a deal with you,” she offered.

  Déjà vu, he thought, only now the vu was on the other foot—so to speak.

  “And what are the terms?” he asked.

  “If you’ll remain silent about what you know until after the show,” she bargained, “I’ll make love with you when it’s over.”

  His heart’s desire neatly wrapped and handed to him. Only a curious evolution had taken place in him overnight, and now that was no longer enough.

  Also, this woman had driven him insane with wanting her while letting him think she was Bill’s wife, and she still thought she could call the tune. “No, thanks,” he said, and tried to push past her.

  She looked up at him, clearly stunned, and remained in the doorway.

  “What do you mean?” she demanded in a whisper.

  “I mean no,” he said, putting a hand to her shoulder and pushing her gently backward until he could close the door. “It’s the opposite of yes. A negative, a refusal, a denial.”

  She remained with her back to the car. “I understand the word,” she said, her pallor turning to a flush, “but why are you using it? Last night you proposed the same deal to me!”

  “Last night it was in my favor,” he said, taking her arm and smiling so that the observers in the car would think it was a simple conversation being shared by two people who’d been through a lot together. “Today it’s in your
s, and after the way you lied to me and used me, I’m not in the mood to give you any advantages.”

  He walked her around the back of the car to the other side.

  “You mean,” she asked stiffly, “that you would only make love to me if you had the advantage in the encounter?”

  “Of course, if it was part of a deal.”

  She reached for the door handle at the same moment that he did, stopping him from opening the car door. “And if it wasn’t part of a deal?”

  “That would be another story,” he said. “But that wasn’t what you offered me. Get in.”

  They were home in twenty minutes. Sherrie burst into tears and hugged Liza, then Jeff, then drew them both to the fire.

  “We were frantic!” she exclaimed, hugging Liza again. “Then when they found the sleigh driver and there was no sign of the two of you…!”

  Whittier patted Liza’s shoulder. “Apparently our little country girl has a very poor sense of direction. Bill says she’s always been like that.”

  Sherrie nodded. “She gets lost in office buildings, department stores, shopping malls. Theme parks are out of the question.”

  Whittier laughed, then hugged Liza awkwardly. “I guess that’s why she prefers the country. She’s just a sweet, uncomplicated hearth mother.”

  Sherrie coughed. “Yes, that’s our Liza.” She turned Whittier toward the stairs. “Why don’t you go up to bed, Mr. Whittier? I’m going to try to warm up these two with some soup. You’ll have to be fresh when the film crew arrives.”

  “Right. If you’re sure there’s nothing I can do.”

  “Nothing. Thank you.”

  “Well.” Whittier sketched a wave at Liza, then at Jeff. “See you in the morning. Tomorrow’s our big night. Have to admit you two had me a little worried there.”

  “No need to worry, Mr. Whittier,” Liza said with a challenging stare in Jeff’s direction. “The show will be great.”

  “I know it will.” He waved again from the railing as he turned down the upstairs corridor to his room.

  Sherrie took Liza’s coat from her, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and pushed her into one of the red wing chairs pulled up to the fire. “Just relax, and I’ll get that soup. Jeff, give me your coat.”

  Bill helped him off with it, then took Liza’s coat from Sherrie and went to the hall closet with them.

  Liza eased her stiff and frozen feet out of her pumps and held them up to the flames with a wince of pain. “I’m never wearing anything but tennies again,” she declared, gingerly wriggling her toes. “Or maybe boots.”

  “Well, that’s what you get for haring off in a sleigh in a snowstorm!” Sherrie barked.

  Jeff guessed that residual stress was making itself felt now that her sister was safe and sound in front of a fire. Then she seemed to realize there was no reason to shout and cleared her throat self-consciously.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s been a very long six hours.”

  She cleared her throat again, selected the poker from the fireplace tools and jabbed at the fire unnecessarily.

  “I know what you saw behind the coatrack upset you, Jeff,” she said as though she’d been rehearsing the little speech the entire six hours, “but there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, which we’d have given you if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions and taken off like some rabid reindeer and almost killed my sister!”

  “Sherrie!” Liza said firmly. “The sleigh driver is the one who almost killed both of us, and I’m the one who got us lost.”

  “And reindeer pull the sleigh,” Bill said as he rejoined them. “They don’t usually ride in the front”

  Sherrie turned on him, apparently indignant at his attempt at humor. Jeff intervened, realizing that he could really like Bill now that he wasn’t married to Liza.

  “And what is the explanation for that kiss?” Jeff asked.

  Sherrie, unaware that he knew the truth, squared her shoulders and tried to give it. She looked right into his eyes. “Mistletoe,” she said.

  Liza closed her eyes. Bill put a hand over his.

  “Mistletoe,” Jeff repeated.

  “Yes.” He admired the way she ignored her sister’s and Bill’s reactions and forged on. “Liza’s doing a segment on it for the show and we were…sort of…rehearsing it.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes. It was worshiped by the Druids, you know. They passed it among their members for good luck in the New Year.”

  “I see.” It took great effort to keep a straight face. “And there was mistletoe above the coatrack?”

  She ignored his question. “Frigga, the Scandinavian goddess, was the first to stand under it, waiting for a kiss.”

  “From her husband, Odin, the god of the Norse?”

  She studied his face with sudden distrust. “Yes,” she replied.

  “And was that in a coatroom, do you think?”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but Liza cut her off. “Relax, Sherrie, he knows. I told him everything. He’s just amusing himself with you.” Liza gave him a scolding glance. “He likes to do that.”

  Sherrie turned on him with a glower. “Jeff, I warn you that my sense of humor is about this big right now.” She held her thumb and forefinger about a centimeter apart. “So I wouldn’t trifle with me, if I were you. Particularly if you’re hoping for soup in you and not on you.”

  “I apologize for your stressful night,” he said, refusing to appear repentant. “But I left the dance with Liza because I thought you and Bill were playing Madame Bovary rather than Norse mythology. Considering you’d all lied to me about who was who, I think you can be a little more tolerant of what’s happened, and maybe even rethink who’s to blame.”

  “Don’t yell at them,” Liza said defensively, getting to her feet. “They’re involved because I talked them into it. The blame is entirely mine.”

  “We should all stop yelling,” Bill said quietly, trying to push her back into her chair, “or Whittier’s going to be down here wanting to know what’s going on.”

  Liza pushed his hands away. “You’re not playing my husband anymore, Bill McBride, so don’t try to tell me what to do. And the next time you take on the role of husband, you might remember that it generally doesn’t include games of kissy-face behind the trench coats with another woman!”

  “Don’t blame him,” Sherrie began. “You—”

  Liza rounded on her. “And you! When you hire on to be somebody’s assistant, and that somebody is supposed to have a husband, it would help the scenario a lot if you weren’t giving the husband smoldering looks!”

  “I never…” Sherrie began to deny.

  “Yes, you did,” Jeff disputed. “All the time. That’s what led me to believe the two of you were fooling around on Liza in the first place.”

  “That’s because she loves me,” Bill said with the easy matter-of-factness Jeff had come to admire. “But she’s afraid to admit it, so she has to say it with looks instead of with words. So if anyone’s to blame for tonight, it’s her.”

  “Oh, really.” Sherrie turned on him. “Who cornered who in the coatroom?”

  “Who didn’t resist?”

  “All right, I’ve had it with all of you!” Liza fought her way out of the blanket around her shoulders and glared at each of them, one at a time. “All our lives are going to hell and instead of doing anything constructive about it, all you can do is shout at one another. Well, it’s going to be my face in front of the camera tomorrow, so I’m going to bed!”

  She headed off toward the stairs, took three steps and fell flat on her face.

  Chapter Ten

  Liza lay with her nose in Bill’s colorful Oriental carpet and thought with resignation, Well, why not? Why should the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other go any better than the rest of the night had gone?

  “She’s fainted!” she heard Sherrie cry. “She’s never fainted before! She’s the strongest, toughest…”

  Liza lost tra
ck of her sister’s ramblings as strong male hands turned her over. Jeff and Bill knelt over her, Jeff looking worried, Bill suddenly very professional.

  “I didn’t faint,” she said, trying to push Bill’s hands away as he felt for a pulse at her throat.

  Jeff caught her hands and held them immobile so that Bill could work.

  “I didn’t…” she began again.

  “Shh!” Bill ordered sharply.

  She remained quiet for a moment while Bill checked her pulse, looked into her eyes, felt her cheek and forehead.

  “She didn’t faint,” he announced finally.

  “Then what happened?” Jeff asked.

  “Would anyone like to ask me?” Liza pushed Jeff’s hands away and sat up. “My feet,” she volunteered when no one asked, “are so cold they wouldn’t work. That’s all. I’m sure if I try one more time…”

  That option was taken from her when Jeff lifted her into his arms. “I’ll take her upstairs and put her under the covers,” he said to Sherrie.

  “Good. I’ll bring your soup up. Bill, would you move Betsy into my room for tonight? Certainly Whittier wouldn’t question that, considering what Liza’s been through tonight.”

  “Right.”

  Liza wanted to protest that she would be fine, that she was perfectly capable of walking on her own, but it was deliciously comfortable in Jeff’s arms, and being carried upstairs reminded her of the other time he’d done it, when he’d looked at her with such longing she’d thought her heart would break.

  This time his touch was more proprietary but less tender. It would be a long time before he forgave her for lying to him—if he ever did at all.

  He placed her on the bed in Bill’s room while Bill wheeled Betsy and her crib out and down the hall. Liza braced herself on her heels and elbows while Jeff worked the blankets and comforter out from under her, then brought them up as far as her waist. “What do you wear to bed?” he asked, going to the dresser.

  “Flannel nightshirt,” she said, pointing to the bottom drawer.

  He came back to the bed with the red-and-blueplaid nightshirt with a lace ruffle around the collar. He held it up and grinned. “I see you’ve chosen function over glamour. Women don’t usually do that”