Unlike before, this time they made love slowly and sweetly, with mellow sounds and teasing touches. And when both had felt the release of sexual pleasure, they lay with arms and legs entwined and soft, satisfied sighs still lingering on their lips.
Carly lightly kissed the side of Pete’s jaw, and he stared down at her, his gaze narrowing as he took in her expression. Pain flashed across his face and his eyes darkened to a stormy blue. “Don’t, Carly.”
She raised her brows questioningly.
“Don’t fall in love with me. Both of us know that it won’t work.”
Anger filled her at being read so quickly and completely. Mostly she was angry with herself for showing it. She let out her frustration by hitting his shoulders to make him let her get up. “I’m sentimental, Pete, but I’m not insane.”
Pete handed her the jeans she’d dropped on the floor earlier. “As long as you remember.”
She stepped into them with staccato movements. “Don’t flatter yourself. Love’s got nothing to do with this relationship.”
“Just wanted to be sure you understood,” he muttered.
Carly glanced at her watch. “My, my, how time has flown. I’ve got to run. Busy day tomorrow,” she said breezily. “I’ll see you sometime next week?”
He nodded, still wary. “The benefit at the Kennedy Center is the second Saturday after Thanksgiving.”
“Right.” She walked toward the kitchen area. “See you then?”
“You’re really leaving now?”
“Sure. We both relieved each other’s tension,” she said, wishing she was somewhere else so she could cry away the tears that drenched her soul. “It’s time to get some sleep. I’ve got a full day tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday.”
“I know. I have grading to finish that will take almost all day. And I promised Karen I’d spend an hour or so listening to her prepare for her viola competition next month. She has an opportunity to win a scholarship to Sweet Briar College next summer.”
“Carly,” Pete began, but she refused to listen.
“I’ll be ready next Saturday. Meanwhile, if you have nothing else to do on Thanksgiving, you can always join us at the shelter on Twelfth Street. We’re serving dinner.”
“Carly,” he tried again.
“Bye, see you later.” She made a beeline for the back door and practically ran home through the crisp leaves.
The house was dark and silent, more quiet than outside, where chilling breezes rattled bare tree branches until they cried in eerie whispers.
Carly walked straight upstairs, checked on her sleeping daughter and then went to her study and stared out at the dark woods, her eyes focusing on the dim light at the back of Pete’s house.
Here in her room, the tears began to fall in earnest, drowning out the fire of anger she felt for being stupid enough to fall in love with a man who wanted nothing to do with that emotion.
Her tears didn’t stop until dawn broke.
* * *
THANKSGIVING DAY started early, but not in the same way it started in other households in the community. With two aunts dressed incongruously in jeans and flannel shirts in the back seat, Carly drove a sleepy Karen to her father’s home to celebrate Thanksgiving. Then she drove down to the shelter for the homeless.
Her first job of the day was to peel a hundred pounds of potatoes.
Her second job was to mash those potatoes once they were cooked.
“I thought institutional kitchens used instant mashed potatoes,” she muttered as she mashed her third potful.
A regular worker heard her and laughed. “One of the farms in Georgia donated its bountiful crop of leftovers to us. The son of a gun didn’t grow a crop of instant potatoes, so this is what we have to deal with.”
Carly gave a grunt as she lifted the heavy metal pot. “At least I wasn’t one of the poor people who broke their backs harvesting this crop.”
“All done by machine. You’re probably putting in the most amount of work to bring these potatoes to the table.” The worker walked around her and added a bowl of peeled tomatoes to a vat of green beans. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she said tiredly. But she couldn’t complain too loudly. She had it easy compared to the people coming in to wait patiently for the food to be served. Carly glanced at the large school clock over the front door of the shelter. It was ten-thirty in the morning. She and her aunts had been here for five hours. At eleven this morning, they would begin serving and wouldn’t stop until four in the afternoon. The more she worked and the more tired she felt, the more grateful she was that she had a family, a job and the love of family and friends. It was threefold more than most of the waiting crowd had.
A day like this put everything in perspective for the coming season.
She continued to work at a steady clip, but her mind was never far from Pete.
He was having Thanksgiving dinner catered for some friends of his whose families were far away. Two members of the Canadian embassy, and several others would be there. Carly didn’t know whom he’d asked to be his hostess. He’d invited Carly for the occasion, but she had reminded him of her promise to help her aunts. Pete hadn’t seemed to mind her not being with him half as much as she minded being separated from him.
Damn him.
All of her attention was focused on the fact that they were going to the Kennedy Center this coming Saturday. She had already chosen a dress to wear—a rather simple but dangerous-looking full-length white knit, off-the-shoulder number that was both tasteful and sensual. She hoped.
It was to be like a farewell date for Carly. For her own sake, she had decided to stop seeing Pete. Their relationship was unfair to both her and her daughter.
Although he’d been great with her up to now, she knew Pete would never willingly become involved with her daughter, and that was deadly to an impressionable young girl. So, it was time to end their tentative alliance.
The bottom line was that she loved Pete far more than he cared for her. And that would never work.
Just as her mind was made up, the devil walked through the door.
Dressed in jeans and a chambray shirt, Pete entered the shelter, came directly to her and smiled. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving. What happened to your company?”
“They’re right behind me. After we ate, I told them what you were doing and they decided they wanted to help, too.”
She looked around to see what was the dirtiest job still open. Then she gave him a bright smile. “It’s cleanup time, Pete. How are you at scrubbing pots?” she asked, almost sure he would back out.
“It’s right up my alley, baby. Lead me to the kitchen.”
She did as she was told. The rest of the day was spent supervising Pete and his friends as she continued her own work. Her volunteers had the kitchen organized in nothing flat and worked so hard they were able to keep up with the servers.
Every time she thought she had Pete figured out, he did something totally unexpected.
Damn the man, she thought. But the smile on her face belied her curse.
* * *
THE FIRST SATURDAY IN December, when the limo pulled up in her driveway, Carly was ready, with the help of the rest of the family. Her two aunts bustled around ensuring that Cora’s ranch-mink jacket was drooping off the right spot on Carly’s shoulders—casual but seductive. She walked out the door, with Karen and the aunts peering out at the car through the darkness.
Pete was still in the city. The driver was picking her up first, then she would take his evening clothes to his office. There, she would wait for him to dress and then they’d be on their way to the gala ball at the Kennedy Center.
Anyone in politics in the D.C. area would have killed for a chance to attend this particular ball. It was hard for Carly to believe she was going to be there.
The limo pulled away and she stared out the back window until she could no longer see Karen’s dark hair and angel-white paja
mas. She turned back to listen to the limo’s superior sound system play the softly warbled notes of the Irish singer, Enya.
Her gaze drifted to the bar, then stopped. A crisp wine she liked had been chilled and opened and was ready for her to pour. Wasn’t she living proof that Cinderella was alive and well and living in McLean, Virginia? But she was Cinderella without a Prince Charming, a little voice inside her said, and she realized how true that was.
When she reached Pete’s town-house office in Georgetown, Carly found him stepping out of the shower and ready for the clothing she’d brought in the suitcase. He was dressed in less than fifteen minutes, chatting with her while sending a few orders via intercom to his secretary downstairs.
“Do you ever stop working?” she asked, sipping a glass of wine and watching him attach ruby studs to his tuxedo shirt.
“The moment I walk out the door.”
“I doubt that. If that were the case, you’d never be at a party or banquet or dance.”
“It’s true. The socializing I do is for two reasons. One is for this year, and the other is for next year.”
Her laughter spilled out. “Spoken like a true workaholic,” she finally stated. “Castaways is lucky to have you campaigning for them.”
“It’s what I do best, but I need more donations to have enough funds for more technical training. Not everyone needs to go to college to earn good money, but everyone needs to have some kind of training. That’s what I’m trying to get more of for our recipients next year.” His smile had slowly faded into a frown. “There’s so much loose money out there and yet people only go for causes that have charisma instead of honest need.”
“You’ll do well tonight,” Carly prophesied. She didn’t say so because she was trying to boost his ego; she stated it because she honestly believed that when Pete Cade made up his mind, he did what he set out to do.
“Thanks.” He slipped into his jacket. “Ready?”
They drove to the center in companionable silence. Neither mentioned working together on Thanksgiving. It was something that credit was given for without words.
Knowing that liquor was plentiful inside, they both drank ice water while waiting for their limo’s turn to pull up curbside directly in front of the entrance. Traffic was thick and the press even thicker, held back by ropes and kept in check by both uniformed and plainclothes guards and security people.
Once there, Pete stepped out and extended his hand, helping her to alight. Camera flashes popped, the crowd speculated and Pete smiled through it all as he led her toward the large doors to the party beyond.
Inside, they were escorted to their table where, after a brief apology, Pete made his way around the room, leaving her in the company of the others at the table.
She chatted, smiled, danced with strangers and listened to inane remarks on how beautiful the huge Christmas tree was. And the decorations—so Victorian. So white. So ivory. So today! She wasn’t sure what that last remark meant, but it didn’t matter.
Meanwhile, her heart knew exactly where Pete was at all times. Every time he talked to a beautiful woman, she knew. Every time he looked in her direction, she knew. Every time he moved toward her, she tensed. She was so aware of him that she felt as if she were split in two, one half talking and laughing to a roomful of strangers, the other half standing next to Pete.
There were times during the evening when she felt he purposely stayed away from her. She just wasn’t sure what was the reasoning behind his actions.
One woman chose to follow him around the room. At first Carly thought it was by accident that the blonde was always in the same crowd as Pete. Slowly, however, she realized that it was intentional. Although he didn’t seem to notice it particularly, Pete didn’t seemed to mind, either. A shaft of jealousy speared through Carly, but she promised herself she’d ignore it—at least until later in the evening, when she was alone with Pete and could ask for an explanation.
The band was terrific, the guest singer one of the most popular in the country. The floor show was as good as anything in New York or Los Angeles or anywhere in between. But Carly would have appreciated it more if her mind hadn’t been so caught up in Pete.
By the end of the evening, she was wound as tightly as she could stand without breaking. Pete ordered the car brought around, then helped her with her jacket and escorted her to the front of the line, where their limo awaited.
“You had to pull some mighty tough strings to get the car this soon,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“Not at all. People forget that the guys who park the cars and direct traffic are just kids. They make the decision on who goes where, and if you treat them like young adults, you get better service.”
She leaned back in the seat and allowed the luxurious intimacy of the limo help her relax for the first time that evening. She knew Pete was by her side and not across the crowded room. She knew the night was over and she didn’t have to worry about the woman who followed him. She knew that Pete wasn’t going to be with that same woman tonight.
But would he be with her tomorrow night?
“Who was the beautiful blonde?” Her question was as subtle as a sledgehammer.
“Angela?” He untied his bow tie, then punched out the ruby stud at his throat and pocketed it. “She’s a good friend.”
Carly froze. “A lover?”
Pete looked surprised. “Now?”
Her heart sank and she wanted to kick herself for bringing the topic up to begin with. She was torturing herself with something that was out of her control. Normally she wasn’t so self-destructive. “I guess that answers my question, doesn’t it?”
“Only if it says that she was with me a long time ago, and I haven’t dated her for quite a while.”
Her lungs constricted. She felt as though a terrible burden were pressing heavily upon her. “Do you still date?”
He stared out the side window at the freeway lights beyond. “Occasionally, yes.”
“We had an agreement.”
“You said no one in my bed except you. I’ve kept to that, so far.”
Those last two words jabbed at her chest like a dull sword. Carly winced but she didn’t stop looking at him. “Was she supposed to be my replacement for tonight?”
“No.” He turned and stared at her with eyes of stone. “You were hers.”
She hadn’t expected that. The words acted like a blade that slit her throat, leaving her powerless to say all the things she wanted to. Instead, she blinked, blinked again, then stared out the opposite window.
“Take me home first, please.”
“You aren’t spending the night?”
“No.”
“Aren’t you even staying for a little while?”
“No.”
“Does this mean you’ve finally got mad enough at me to tell me to go to hell?”
She had promised herself that she would end it this evening. But she couldn’t bear to put it into words. Not yet. “No.”
His voice was strained. His gaze was riveted to the darkness outside, and she felt that same darkness in her soul. “Then what does it mean, Carly? That you’ll keep taking abuse? That I’ll keep dishing it out? Well, let me make it easy for you. It’s over.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Trying to drive me away?”
Pete ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. I want you, but it will never go any further than it is now. I’m not prepared for more than an affair, Carly. I don’t have any more emotions left in me to expend. The kids get them all and there’re no more left.” His hand fell to his side. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“What a kind, considerate man you are,” she oozed, ignoring the pain of rejection that flared inside her like an out-of-control blaze. Everything—all hopes, all plans, all dreams—finally fell away. She closed her eyes to shield herself from the hurt, but it didn’t help. This grief would never go away.
This would be the last time she could tell him the truth. He might as well hear it now,
rather than never know how she felt. “I’m so impressed by your direct methods, I think I’ll use them as a model.” She took a deep breath. “In fact, I think I’ll begin right now by telling you I love you.”
She felt rather than saw Pete stiffen. His silence allowed her to continue.
“I love you so much that for just a little while, I almost excused your initial behavior toward my daughter. And that would have been a disaster, Pete, because she’s mine, and I usually treat those close to me with much more respect.”
Slowly he turned from the window to stare at her, his blue eyes looking dead already. A chill slid down her spine and she lifted her chin in lofty defiance. “I have an enormous amount of love to give, but we both know I’m a package deal, Pete. As much as I love you, I’ve never done anything to hurt myself. I refuse to begin now.”
“So this is how it’s going to end. Wouldn’t you know it’s in the middle of the Christmas season. I knew I hated the holidays for a good reason.”
It was a statement but she treated it like a question. “I guess so. I was wondering how it would end, too. For a little while I deluded myself into believing that sooner or later you would take the chance and let yourself feel again. If you did that, then there was a possibility that you might fall in love with me, too. Then we would sail off into the sunset, a composite family that would love and be loved. And with a little work and a lot of understanding, we’d give all our kids the stability they would need in their youth so they could successfully launch their own lives.”
“It’s a pipe dream. Reality is a bundle of problems and they’re all ugly.”
Carly stared down at her hands entwined in her lap. They were almost as white as her dress. “If you believe it, then it’s true. Most of my life I’ve made my own reality, Pete, and I’m not willing to be dictated to at this late date. I’ll continue to look for my personal version of happiness and eventually I’ll find someone to share it with. Someone who gives me as much love as I have to give.”
“You’re playing a fairy-tale game, Carly. Life doesn’t work that way. All you’ll wind up doing is hurting yourself and your child.”
The Twelve Gifts of Christmas Page 12