SNOWFIRES

by Caroline Clemmons

  He slid onto the soft leather driver’s seat and waited for her to buckle up. “What was that?” He adjusted the seat for his long body. Man, like sitting in an easy chair.

  “Oh, it’s something silly my dad told me about. When he was a teenager out with a carload of friends, they would stop at a light and someone would yell, ‘Chinese fire drill.’ Then everyone would open a door and they’d all get out and change places.” She smiled up at him. “Guess that doesn’t work at sea.”

  “A lot of things don’t work at sea. Like owning a car. Where am I driving?” He relaxed a little. She was talking to him. No mention of gambling. So far, things were okay.

  She gave him directions. “I’d never realized it, but that’s probably your first car, isn’t it?”

  “Very first, although I got a drivers license long ago so I could rent cars when we were in port.”

  They arrived at a modest Mexican food restaurant. Through the car’s windshield he peered at the building. Nothing special. Maybe even a little seedy. “This is your favorite Tex Mex place?”

  She unfastened her seatbelt. “Wait until you eat the food, Macleod. It is so good you will whimper and plead for more.”

  Now that made him think of more than food. But he had planned this evening carefully and he would take it one slow step at a time. “Lead the way, then. I’m starving.”

  And that was the truth. He was pretty sure he’d forgotten to eat today. With business and personal errands, he’d run out of time. Coffee only carried a man so far.

  The hostess who doubled as cashier seated them. Trent looked around the family restaurant. It looked better on the inside than out, but the décor was nothing special. Vinyl tablecloths, paper napkins, piñatas dangling here and there. Not at all what he thought would appeal to a Highland Park society girl. The crowd was mixed, and he spotted several Hispanic families. He considered that a good sign the food would be genuine Tex Mex.

  They started with Margaritas and chips. He dug a tortilla chip into the salsa then swallowed. And choked. “Hot damn, this stuff eats the lining right off your tongue.” He reached for his drink and took a large swallow that he held in his mouth to cool his tongue. “Whew, is smoke coming out my ears?”

  “Wimp.” Holly scooped a large blob salsa on a chip and popped it into her mouth.

  She chewed, swallowed, and smirked then reached for more. “Maybe you should switch to queso. It’s mild enough for foreigners.”

  “Foreigners?” He looked around the restaurant half expecting to see someone obviously from another country.

  “You know, any poor soul not born in Texas.” Her cornflower blue eyes danced with mischief.

  That heated him up more than the salsa had.

  He dug another chip into the fiery dip. “I may be a recent immigrant, but I’m a Texan now.”

  Danged if he’d let this woman beat him at a simple thing like eating. He remembered the chili she’d prepared during the blizzard. It had scorched his palate and she’d complained it didn’t have enough chili powder in it.

  Their food came and saved his tongue. They chatted as they ate.

  When he’d finished, he pushed his plate away. “You’re right. This was the best Mexican food I’ve ever eaten, and that includes in Mexico.”

  She tilted her head in thought. “When I was there the food was much more bland than Tex Mex.”

  “Same here.” He took a last swig of his drink. “I didn’t go that way often.”

  “My favorite Mexican restaurant is in San Antonio. On the Riverwalk.” Her expression turned wistful.

  “Never been there. It’s not far, is it?” Well, dang, look at him. He wiped a spot of cheese from his tie and hoped she hadn’t noticed his clumsiness.

  But she smiled before she answered. “No, it’s only about four hours away. You should go some weekend. It’s unique. The Hill Country is pretty, too. In fact, there’s a lot to see or do within a short drive from here.”

  He’d like to take her to San Antonio. Hell, he’d like to take her anywhere. Maybe someday. Now he wanted to savor this evening. “Guess I’ll wait until I get a better jalopy.”

  She laughed. “I think that would be a good idea.”

  Hoping to keep her talking without the animosity of work related topics, he asked, “What places do you enjoy nearby?”

  “One of my favorite is my grandparents’ cabin at Lake Texoma.” She laughed. “They call it a cabin. Actually, it’s a 4500 square foot house with five bedrooms, six bathrooms and a great view of the lake.”

  Damn. How much money did Joe Bob possess? Why the hell hadn’t he bought his son-in-law’s shares?

  Trent glanced at the tab before he tossed a generous tip on the table and ushered her to the front of the restaurant. “Some cabin.”

  “I know it’s over the top, but I love it. It’s so quiet and peaceful, that’s where I go when I need to think something through. They never give out the phone number, so no one phones unless it’s an emergency. It’s kind of hard to find, so no one drops by.”

  He paid and they went to the car. “A perfect retreat.”

  “It is. I don’t know why Grandpa keeps it. He used to love fishing, but can’t handle launching the boat any longer. He has heart trouble, you know, and he has to take things easy. Mostly he stays at the ranch and lets Nana pamper him.” She slid in and fastened her seat belt as he shut the door.

  He went around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He remembered the way Ila Mae Grayson, the person Holly called Nana, had almost hovered over her husband at Thanksgiving. “I didn’t know about the heart problem. That answers a question I’d been asking myself.”

  She looked at him. “Oh, what’s that.”

  “I wondered why Joe Bob didn’t buy your father’s shares and run it himself to keep Marvel in the family.”

  She sighed and looked away. For a minute he thought she wouldn’t answer. “You don’t know how many times both of my grandfathers bailed Dad out of trouble. My Tucker grandparents died about ten years ago, so they weren’t around to help when Dad lost our house.”

  Holly let her head drop back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “Grandpa Grayson immediately let us move into his home—that’s where we are now—but he warned Dad he would never raise another finger to help him. He stuck by his pledge.”

  Trent couldn’t take it all in. “Your father lost your home?”

  “Yes. I’d just finished my degree and started to work at Marvel, so I hadn’t any savings to share. It’s true that place wasn’t as nice as the one we’re in now, but it was a great house and worth a lot more than Dad got for it. What a terrible time. We thought we were going to be homeless because he’d lost all our cash, too.”

  She exhaled a giant sigh. “That’s when Grandpa and Grandma decided to move to the ranch and Grandpa let us move into his home—though he’s left several sets of clothes for whenever he’s in town. I love the house, always have. I’d dreamed of living there, but not in the way it happened.”

  “Then no wonder you live at home instead of getting your own place.” He’d take a place like that any day.

  She whirled in her seat and tilted her head. “I don’t live with Geneva and my sisters, Trent. They live with me. Grandpa gave the house to me personally—well, for IRS reasons he sold it to me for a tiny amount. Taxes and upkeep nearly kill me, but I’ll never give it up if I can avoid it.”

  “But why—“ he started to ask why she didn’t help her father but let it go. He’d asked too much already.

  “You were going to ask why I didn’t help him, weren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “I was in Cancun with my friend Laura. We’d planned the vacation for almost a year and booked a two-week holiday. It was my first real vacation since I’d graduated from SMU eight years ago. While I was gone Dad learned he’d lost everything again. This time was worse than the others. For the first time he’d lost a part of the company.”

  Her hands fisted in her
lap and she looked as if she’d break from the tension. “I didn’t know about it until two days before our vacation ended when Angie called me to come home because Dad wasn’t expected to live. I got here only hours before he died.”

  “I’m sorry, Princess. Didn’t mean to resurrect bad memories.” Damn, why did the conversation have to turn to this? She’d be off like a shot as soon as they hit the parking lot of his building.

  “It’s all right.” She looked out the passenger window. “I wouldn’t have let him have the house, Trent.” She turned to face him and her eyes were moist with unshed tears. “I loved him more than you can imagine, in spite of all he’d done. But I couldn’t have let him have the house because he’d only have lost it, too. Then we’d have had nothing.”

  “You didn’t have to make that decision.” Thank God she hadn’t. She’d probably never have forgiven herself for turning down her father. Maybe she still held Trent responsible. He hoped not.

  As if in answer to his thoughts she touched his arm. “And I know you weren’t responsible. I was blind to think you could be so callous. I don’t know what happened, but I know it wasn’t anything you said or did.” She shrugged. “Guess we’ll never know.”

  He pulled into his building’s parking lot and parked under a light. In his neighborhood a nice car was an invitation to theft. Damn, his palms were sweating and he felt nervous as a bead of water on a griddle.

  When he opened her door, he held out his hand. “Is this a Chinese fire drill, or will you come up?”

  She looked undecided and as if maybe she was as nervous as he was. “I-I guess I could see where you live. But just for a few minutes.”

  Thank you, God.

  He locked her car and fished his key from his pocket then led her up the stairs to what he considered his temporary home. Very temporary. When he opened the door and flipped on the light, he grimaced. “Damn, what was I thinking. You must think I’m crazy to invite a woman like you to this dump.”

  “A woman like me?” She eyed the thrift store sofa. “It’s not a dump, exactly. You might need to change decorators.” She pitched her voice to match a pretentious decorator’s image and used her hands to make a picture frame. “Maybe a few slipcovers and several throw pillows.” She giggled and he knew everything would be okay.

  Holly wondered if she’d lost her mind. A man invited a woman to his apartment for one reason. Yes, that’s what she hoped and, yes, she was definitely insane to come here. She tossed her coat on the atrocious sofa and surveyed the room. Not bad for a low budget place, and neat as a pin.

  “Looks ship shape.” She giggled again at her bad joke. The extra margarita must have gone to her head.

  Slowly she walked across the living room. He’d hung inexpensive looking framed prints on the wall and used discount store shelving for his books. “Oh, I remember we like some of the same authors.” She ran a finger along the titles.

  He followed her, shrugging out of his jacket and removing his tie as she walked around the room.

  One photo sat on an end table and she held it up. “This must be you and the captain.”

  His hand rested against her waist. “Yeah, that’s John Swenson and me, taken when he gave me part interest in his ship. Guess he was as close to a father as I ever came.”

  She set the photo back and walked toward the kitchen. The apartment was so tiny she didn’t have to go far. She opened the refrigerator then turned to give him a look. “Nothing but beer and a bottle of wine?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not here much. I tried keeping milk and stuff, but it spoiled. There’re a couple of frozen dinners in the freezer in case I get hungry. And Pop Tarts in the cupboard.” He took her hand. “Let me show you the rest of the apartment.”

  She lost her nerve and froze in place. She shouldn’t be here with a man with whom she had no chance of at a lasting relationship. He was a gambler, for heaven sakes. “Trent, um, maybe I should go.”

  “Later.” He tugged her with him down a short hall. “Have to give you the complete tour.”

  When they stepped into the bedroom, she stopped. The cover was turned back and rose petals—a little wilted now—were strewn across the sheets and pillows. A bouquet of fresh flowers stuffed into a vase sat on the nightstand. A dozen candles dotted the room ready for a match’s touch.

  She took a hesitant step forward. An inexpensive CD player sat on a chest by a stack of CD’s. The top one was Rod Stewart’s torchy “It Had To Be You.” Her breath hitched and she couldn’t swallow. He’d done this for her.

  “Holly? Don’t be upset with me.” He slid his arms around her.

  Upset because an attractive man wanted to romance her? She looked up at him, trying to read his expression. “You planned this for me? Were you so sure I’d come with you?” Was she so transparent? All those looks from people at the office and now this.

  “Princess, I wasn’t even sure you’d go to dinner with me. I only hoped. Prayed.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “Frankly, I figured I’d come back alone and all of this”—he gestured toward the bed—“would remind me how stupid I’d been to think you’d consider coming here.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “I’ve needed you so badly. Are you angry with me?”

  “It’s hard to be annoyed with someone who’s done something so sweet and romantic.” She knew this could only be a sexual encounter—an affair—because of the difference in the way he looked at life, but she wanted this man with a driving need that consumer her. Giving in to her hormones and the moment, she raised her lips to his.

  His embrace tightened as he lowered his mouth to hers. She leaned into him and slid her arms around his waist. His tongue delved against hers and she matched his probing.

  When he broke the kiss he tucked her head to his chest. “I wanted this to be perfect for you but this is the best I could do in this crummy apartment.” Trailing kisses, he started at her eyelids and moved slowly across her cheeks and down her throat. “You deserve more, more than I can give you.”

  “This is a pretty romantic setting to live up to.”

  She pulled his shirt from his waistband. “Let’s see how much you have to give, Macleod.

  He chuckled. “I’ll give you all I have.” He unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on the doorknob.

  “Wait. You start the music.” She picked up the matches and made her way from one candle to the next. When she reached the candles on the nightstand, a dozen foil packets waited there. She held one up. “You think you can last through all of these?”

  He dropped another CD in the player and smiled at her. “I’m willing to die trying.”

  By the time she finished the candles, Rod Stewart’s sexy rasp sang about someone going to his head.

  Trent came to her and leaned down to nip at her lips as he unbuttoned her blouse. “Darned appropriate song. You’ve gotten inside my mind and I can’t think of anything else.”

  She smiled and let the blouse slide off her arms to pool at her feet. “I’ve had a little trouble concentrating myself.”

  “Oh, Princess, red lace. I love it.” He bent to suckle her nipple through her bra as his fingers unfastened the hook.

  “I’ve saved it for a special occasion. On a whim, I decided to wear this lingerie today.”

  Cradling them, he raised his head to stare at her. “Finally I get to see these beauties when it’s warm enough to take my time.”

  She saw the passion darken his beautiful emerald eyes. Her need for him grew until she thought her knees would give way. “Trent, I’ve wanted you again until I didn’t know what to do.” She let her head fall back to give him access to her breasts.

  He nipped at her peaked nipple then raised. “There’s only one cure.” His hands rocked her hips toward his arousal.

  “Oh, and do you have the cure in here?” Her hands found his buckle and unfastened it then unzipped his slacks.

  “You bet I do.” He toed off his shoes then dropped his slacks.

  She watched h
im as they shed the remainder of their clothes. His skin was pale where clothing had hidden it, but his physique was magnificent.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the bed. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

  She lay down and he stretched out beside her. Candlelight softened the planes of his face but the shadows added mystery and she recognized their vanilla and rose scents. Beside the bed the flowers added their fragrance. She picked up one of the rose petals from the pillow, crushed it, and rubbed it across her upper lip to release the heady scent.

  He took another petal and crushed it before he moved it along her skin, his gaze holding hers. “Princess, I thought this night might never come. Let me look at you and savor our time together.”

  She shuddered with building desire. “Mmm, I want to look also. You’re a powerfully built man. And that scar fascinates me.” She moved her lips to the puckered gash, gently kissing it as she had in her dream while they were stranded. As she kissed and delved her tongue into the roughened flesh, she gently massaged his chest and abdomen.

  “Whoa, Princess, or this will be over too soon. It’s my turn.” He raised over her, which pushed her to her back. “I think I’ll begin here.”

  He started at the column of her neck with soft nipping kisses and moved to her breasts. Suckling one hardened nipple, he slid his hand down her tummy and to the juncture of her thighs. He moved his finger in and out in time to his tongue’s touch to her nipple.

  Holly’s anticipation increased and she heard herself pant, unable to control her breathing or the thrashing of her body. She rode his hand until she exploded and lay gasping.

  Already he started her climbing again. “Trent, come with me. I need you inside me.”

  “Not yet, Princess.” He worked magic with his mouth in a trail to her mound of curls while his hand worked inside her.

  “Trent, Tren-n-n-nt.”

  “That’s it, Princess, soar right up there.” He balanced her thighs across his shoulders and used his tongue on her.

  She thought she might explode into a million pieces. Pressure built within her until she cried out her release. When he straightened and lay beside her, she rolled to her side and grasped his manhood. “Your turn.”