She already knew Russ was an exceptional lover. She hadn’t expected to learn that he had all these admirable scruples, too. Yet none of what she knew squared with his behavior when he’d left her in the middle of the night. No matter how self-sacrificing he seemed at the moment, she couldn’t forget that he was also capable of being completely insensitive.
To make matters worse, the picture he’d painted of finding a way through the layers of clothes she’d put on, of making love in the sleigh because he was too aroused to wait for a more convenient spot, really turned her on. She wondered if she could erase that picture from her mind, or if it would tempt her for the rest of the night.
He’d started across the yard with the ladder under his arm and the cooler and rope clutched in his free hand. She had, after all, said she’d help him with this job. She hurried after him, floundering a little in the deep snow.
He stopped and turned. “Be careful, now, Jo. Don’t go hurtin’ yourself.”
“I’m fine.” She panted a little from the effort of tramping through the drifts.
He glanced at her path and smiled. “If you’d follow where I’ve been walkin’, it would go easier.”
“Maybe I’m having fun doing it this way.” On impulse she held out both arms and fell straight backward.
“What in tarnation?” He dropped both the ladder and the cooler and plowed through the snow to where she’d fallen. “Did you faint or somethin’?” He sank to one knee beside her.
She gazed up at him as she swished her arms and legs through the snow. “Nope. I’m making a snow angel. Christmas Eve seems like the perfect time for one, don’t you think?”
The concern in his eyes gave way to exasperation.
“You scared the wits out of me, woman.”
“Sorry.”
His expression softened.
“I’d plum forgot about snow angels.”
“Russ, could we...pretend that we didn’t have that conversation out by the sleigh? I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of loose woman.”
“Don’t go blamin’ yourself. From the look of things, he’s not giving you the good loving you should have every blessed night of your life.”
Oh, God, but she’d put herself in a pickle. She could scarcely breathe from wanting him. “But you certainly did give me good loving, Russ.”
He smiled. “For an Arizona boy.”
“I just said that because I was mad at you. You were very good to me, Russ.”
“Couldn’t help myself. You were made for loving, little darlin’.”
The fierce ache within her grew stronger. “I really need to know why you left without a word that night.”
His gaze darkened and he started to say something. Then he looked away.
“Why?” she persisted.
When he looked back at her, his expression had closed down. “Doesn’t matter now.”
“Maybe it does.”
“I can’t see why. You and me aren’t involved anymore.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you up so you don’t smear your angel. And then we got things to do.”
She allowed him to pull her carefully out of the snow. “I’d count it a special favor if you’d explain about that night.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’m not gonna tell you, Jo. Especially not tonight And if you pester me about it, I swear to God I’ll turn ol’ Blackie around and take you home again. It’ll make me a little late deliverin’ the Christmas presents, but I’ll manage.”
She studied him for a long moment. “Okay, I won’t pester you. Subject’s closed. Let’s get that ladder set up.”
As they worked to expand the ladder and lean it against the house without making too much noise, Jo thought about her choices. She wouldn’t get the full story out of Russ unless she told him that her marriage was a fake. Even then he might be so furious at being tricked that he wouldn’t explain himself. But it was her only chance to find out what had been going on in his mind when he’d decided to walk out of her house.
Of course, if she told him her marriage wasn’t real, then she’d leave the way open for him to “love her six ways to Sunday,” as he’d so colorfully put it, in the bed of the sleigh this Christmas Eve. Just the thought made her hotter than a pizza oven. But she’d also be leaving herself open to more heartbreak, and risking her education plans if she became obsessed with this cowboy and he walked out on her again. She’d better not make any quick decision about tearing down the defense she’d so carefully built up.
Russ put his foot on the first rung of the ladder and picked up the cooler. “I hope ol’ Ned appreciates this,” he said.
“I’m sure he will. Sharon will, too.”
Russ climbed up a few rungs and looked down. “Have you got a good hold on that ladder?”
“I’m holding on real tight.”
“You might want to brace yourself across it, so it doesn’t slide on the snow.”
“Okay.” Jo followed his instructions.
He climbed a little higher before glancing down again. “Don’t let go, okay?” he called softly.
“I won’t let go.” She watched him slowly mount another few rungs. He looked very tentative, very unlike the bold cowboy she knew. “Russ, are you afraid of heights?”
“Who, me?”
So he was. She smiled to herself. “Come on down. I’ll take the cooler up there. I’ve never minded high places.”
“Nope.” He continued to make his painfully slow way up the ladder. “I promised Steve, and I ain’t letting you take the job and maybe have something happen to you.”
“Does Steve know you’re afraid of heights?”
“Not exactly. And I’m not afraid. Just real cautious.”
“I see.” She tried to keep the amusement from her voice. “Well, I’m an expert at holding a ladder, so you’ll be safe with me. I used to hold the ladder for my daddy all the time back in Montana. He never fell once.”
“That’s a comfort.” Eventually he reached the roofline of the two-story house. His voice drifted down to her.
“There’s a lot of snow up here.”
“Crawl on your hands and knees, and take it easy,” Jo said, staring up at him.
“On my hands and knees? I can’t do that. It’s not dignified.”
“It’s a lot more dignified than sliding off the roof and flipping headfirst into a snowbank.”
“I wish you hadn’t said that.”
“Stay on your hands and knees and it won’t happen.”
“What if somebody sees me crawling around like some sissy up here?”
“I’ll just tell them you lost your contacts.”
He laughed softly. “Yeah, you do that.” He hefted the cooler to the roof and crawled tentatively after it. On his hands and knees, as Jo had suggested, he moved away from the edge and toward the chimney that rose from the middle of the roof.
Jo soon lost sight of him and could only keep track of where he was by the steady scraping sound as he inched across the roof. She leaned against the ladder and chalked up one more endearing trait for this cowboy. He was afraid of heights, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from doing the job his brother had asked of him. That demonstrated more courage, as far as Jo was concerned, than getting on the back of a Brahma bull.
How peaceful it was on this Christmas Eve, she thought, gazing up at the stars that glittered in a sky swept clear of clouds. She could almost imagine that Santa Claus himself was up there, guiding his team of reindeer through the night. Maybe traveling around with Russ and delivering presents made such fantasies seem possible. There was magic in Christmas, and with luck she’d be able to convince Russ that it was so.
Her blissful trance ended as blinding light flooded the house and yard. “Freeze,” barked an amplified male voice. “You by the ladder, hands on your head. You on the roof, come down the ladder nice and easy. Your little party’s over, folks.”
With a groan, Jo folded her hands on top of her Santa hat and shut h
er eyes in dismay. So much for peace on earth. The cops had arrived. “We’re not robbers, Officer!” she called. “We’re delivering Christmas presents!”
“Oh, is that it? And I suppose those packages in the sleigh are what you’re giving away, instead of the stuff you’ve taken so far.”
“That’s right. And I need to hold the ladder for Russ, so that—”
“Your partner can make it down just fine, ma’am. Keep those hands on your head.”
Jo gazed upward as Russ started to back down the ladder. It wobbled and she held her breath. For someone afraid of heights, coming down was probably harder than going up.
Just as Russ drew level with the second story, the window right beside him shot up with a bang.
“What in hell’s goin’ on?” Ned bellowed into the night.
Russ jerked backward and the ladder began to fall.
“Jump into the bushes!” Jo yelled.
Russ let go of the ladder and launched himself at some snow-covered evergreen bushes next to the house. His pushoff sent the ladder clanging to the ground on Jo’s left, while Russ flew through the air on her right. His hat plopped down at her feet just before he landed in a cloud of snow and snapping branches.
“Russ!” No longer caring what the police had in mind for her, Jo ran over to where he lay facedown, not moving.
8
AFTER YEARS of getting bucked off horses and bulls, Russ knew better than to move quickly and risk hurting himself worse, especially considering there was no animal bearing down on him at the moment. The breath was knocked clean out of him, and snow was jammed into his eyes, his mouth and up his nose, but he managed to painfully draw a little air into his lungs. He flexed his fingers and toes. So far, so good.
“Oh, Russ, please don’t be dead!”
That would be Jo talking, he thought. She sounded really worried about him, as if she cared what happened to his sorry carcass. That felt kinda nice.
“Russ?” She touched his hair. “Russ?” There was a choking sound, as if she might be starting to cry.
His chest still felt as if somebody had cinched a saddle around him good and tight, but he didn’t want her to cry. “I’m...okay,” he said, gasping.
“We’ll take care of him,” said some guy, probably one of the cops.
Jo stopped stroking his head and there was a metal click, like handcuffs snapped together. They weren’t fastened on him, so it had to be Jo they’d handcuffed. That would never do.
“Hey!” Jo cried. “What’s that for?”
“You’re under arrest.”
As Russ listened to the officer reading Jo her rights, he knew he had to get up and take care of this disaster, but trying to get out of the snowy bush was like climbing off a giant marshmallow. Finally, he just rolled off and ended up on his butt staring at the two officers and Jo, whose hands were behind her back. He didn’t recognize either of the cops, which would make this explanation tougher.
The one with Jo was short and on the pudgy side. The one hovering over him was taller, younger and meaner-looking. Must be new guys—new guys would probably draw duty on Christmas Eve while the veterans got to stay home with their families.
Russ focused on the pudgy one. “Take the cuffs off that woman.”
“Sorry, buddy, can’t do it.”
“We’ve even got a matching pair for you,” said the tall guy next to Russ. In no time he’d cuffed Russ’s hands behind his back and was reading him his rights, too.
Peachy. “Look, Officer, my name is Russ Gibson. My brother’s Steve Gibson, who owns the Double G Ranch. We were just—”
“Then let’s see some ID.”
“Uh, I don’t have any.”
“How convenient.”
“Hey, guys!” Ned called from the open window. “Could somebody fill me in on what’s happenin’ down there?”
“Looks like Bonnie and Clyde here were cooking up some holiday plans of their own,” one of the cops said.
“Wrong.” Russ glanced toward the second story. “It’s me, Ned. Steve and Claire took sick, so I’m playin’ Santa this year. Jo’s helping me.”
Ned stared out the window. “Russ? I didn’t even know you was in town.”
“Just got in this mornin’.”
“And Steve’s got you passing out presents? I don’t believe it.”
One of the officers pulled Russ to his feet. “Seems he doesn’t believe your little story. He’ll be wanting to press charges, I imagine.” He picked up Russ’s hat from the ground and slapped it on his head. “Let’s go, cowboy.”
“Hey! Take me if you have to, but let her go. And somebody’s got to see to my horse. I—”
“Wait!” Ned called. “I believe he’s playing Santy Claus! I was just surprised for a minute. Ain’t you guys heard about Steve and Claire Gibson’s Christmas Eve rounds? They’ve been doin’ it for years.”
The officer guiding Jo to the patrol car turned to the window. “Yeah, and we were given a description of his truck so we’d recognize it.” He gestured toward the horse and sleigh. “That’s not it.”
Ned craned his neck to see out into the street in front of the house. “I’ll be horn-swoggled, Russ. Damned if you didn’t bring the sleigh. Hey, Officers! That’s Steve Gibson’s sleigh. He’s been restoring it so’s he can give rides one of these days. This ol’ boy had to use it because he don’t have no driver’s license. You all wait there ’til I get my pants on. I’m comin’ down.”
Both officers paused. The tall one shrugged as he looked at the pudgy one. “I guess we might as well wait, Hank.”
Russ glanced at Jo. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. How about you?”
“I’ll be better if we don’t spend Christmas in the pokey.”
“We won’t Ned won’t let that happen.”
Russ grimaced. “I guess we interrupted his special evening, after all.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled at him. “It’ll make a good story to tell his grandchildren.”
“Here I come,” Ned called from the porch. He started across the snowy yard. “Now just take the cuffs off those folks, you hear? They didn’t mean no harm.”
The tall cop with Russ hesitated. “You’re willing to vouch for them, then?”
“Hell, yes.” Ned finished zipping his sheepskin coat and turned up the collar as he reached them. “I know ol’ Russ real good, and Jo’s new in town, but she’s okay, too. Trust me, they’re out deliverin’ Christmas gifts, just like they said they was.” He looked at Russ and grinned. “What’d you bring me, Santy Claus?”
“It ain’t for you, cowboy. It’s for Sharon. I lowered it down the chimney.”
“And whose bright idea was that?” Ned asked, blowing on his hands.
“I think Claire’s.”
“Figures. Hey, you fellows gonna take off those cuffs or not? I don’t like to see my friends standin’ here looking like criminals.”
“Guess so,” said the tall cop. He unlocked Russ’s handcuffs. “We’d better not catch you two doing anything else suspicious tonight.”
“We’ve got more deliveries to make.” Russ rubbed his wrists and walked over to put a protective arm around Jo. “I don’t want to be running into you guys every five minutes.”
“Any more presents going down the chimney?” asked the pudgy cop.
“Nope. For the rest we’ll either knock on the door or just leave them on the porch.”
“Then we won’t have any more trouble,” said the tall cop.
“Merry Christmas,” added the pudgy one as the officers got into the patrol car. Then they drove away, the car’s snow tires crunching on the hard-packed surface.
Ned looked at Russ and started to chuckle. “That was some swan dive, pardner. You okay?”
“I’ve been hurt worse fallin’ off a bar stool,” Russ said.
“You two want to come in for a cup of coffee or somethin’?”
“Thanks, but I think we’d better get going,” J
o said.
“Besides,” Russ said, “I think we’ve done enough damage to your evenin’.” He paused. “I, uh, don’t suppose you’d keep this little matter to yourself, would you?”
Ned laughed. “I don’t know. What’s it worth to you?”
“How about if I promise never to tell Sharon about that night we spent drinkin’ beer in the stock tank?”
“I could live without her knowin’ about that.”
“I’d appreciate it, Ned. Honest to God, if Steve finds out we nearly got arrested—”
“Correction. You did get arrested. I got you unarrested.”
“True.”
“Ned, honey?” called a sweet voice from the front door. “Are you coming back to bed?”
“Go back to your bride,” Russ said, clapping Ned on the shoulder. “And a merry Christmas to the both of you.”
“Same here,” Jo said.
“Thanks. You, too.” Ned started across the yard and turned back, scratching his head. “You know, Russ, that might be the first time you ever wished me a merry Christmas.”
“I always wished you a merry Christmas, Ned. I just didn’t say so.”
Ned smiled. “It works a whole lot better when you say it. Good night now.”
Jo and Russ each called good-night and started toward the sleigh.
“If you want me to take you home, I wouldn’t blame you,” Russ said. He removed his hat and turned the brim in his hand, repairing the damage from the fall. The hat was damp, but basically okay. “I’m sure you didn’t figure on bein’ handcuffed during the evenin’.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t dream of leaving now. This will also give me something to tell my grandchildren.”
A horrible thought occurred to him, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Hold on, Jo.”
“What?”
“Please don’t tell me you’re carryin’ that fellow’s baby.”
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