“That’s what’s killing me.”
“Good to know I’m still desirable.”
“Hell, yeah.” He pulled her back into his arms, his mouth covering hers as his hand roamed up and down her back, finally finding its way to one of her breasts. She moaned as he squeezed it gently, then gripped it more firmly, all the while pressing his length against her stomach. “God, this is torture,” he said, suddenly coming to his senses and releasing her. This could only end in disaster . . . and immense satisfaction.
“Your fault, not mine.”
“I know.” His hands crept up her arms and found her face, cupping it gently. He held her still as he gazed into her eyes, longing to tell her how much he loved her, longing to take her back to his apartment and make love to her. And longing to hear her tell him that she too was in love with him.
Anne shivered as he stared intensely into her eyes. She could feel the heat in his body and the warmth in his gaze. She could almost hear his beautiful husky voice saying the words, “I love you.”
But he didn’t. Instead he confronted her with, “Why are you avoiding me?”
She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t tell him that he was too dangerous to be around. She was frightened. She wanted him too much. Despite his attempt to hold her still, she looked away. Then she pushed herself away from him.
“Anne.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Do this.”
“Do what?”
She didn’t answer. She just shook her head, ran across the room, grabbed her purse and keys, and ran out of her studio.
Chris stood there stunned, staring after her. Was this some kind of game? Was she playing him, making him want her more? Taking him to the edge so that he’d step off and give in? But when he remembered the emotion in her blue eyes, the vulnerability, he knew that wasn’t it.
She was scared. Of him, and her feelings for him. He had gotten what he had come here for. He now knew without a doubt that she was in love with him. And instead of feeling safe, she was terrified.
Chapter 24
He didn’t usually leave his shopping until Christmas Eve, but he’d been distracted, to say the least. He hit the frame store first, selected the ones he wanted, and headed for the home furnishings store at the entrance to the valley. Shelly and Sara weren’t due back for another week, but he doubted Shelly could hang on that long. If history was in the mood to repeat itself, they’d be coming home a day or two after Christmas. He wanted their gifts there when they returned.
He had the new set of dishes gift-wrapped, along with all of Sara’s gifts that he’d bought from the local dance store, including a couple pairs of tights, three leotards, barrettes with dancers on them, a water bottle decorated with dancing fairies, and a set of pony tail and bun holders. He could fit the dining room table chairs into his car, but he had to make another trip back for the boxed ballet barre and the dining room table. Those he would be spending the evening putting together.
He was grateful for something to do. Even putting together furniture was more desirable than sitting home dwelling on Anne’s second disappearing act. Damn. He’d left six messages before he had realized how desperate he sounded. Not one call back or even a text. Her cell was off again . . . or still. He had asked Nick what he knew, but neither he nor Skye had seen her since the day before she ran out of the studio. They had no idea what was going on with her, except that she was busy helping out at the ranch.
He was dreading the possibility of not even being able to see her again until after Christmas. He hated that empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was a familiar feeling, one he suffered almost every Christmas. It was the one that told him he was still idealizing what could have been, what should have been. And what might have been, had he been born into a different family.
But this year it was worse. This year, not only was he once again mourning what he had never had as a child, but he was beginning to think he’d never have it as an adult either.
“Damn!” The screw driver had slipped from its slot and jabbed him under his thumb nail. He threw it down on the floor and headed for the sink to run cold water on bloody thumb. He was a mess. Shelly’s kitchen was a mess. And he hadn’t even started to put together Sara’s ballet barre.
He decided to take a break and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and sat down on the couch to watch whatever game happened to be on television. Another good distraction, except that, after a half hour, he wasn’t even sure who was playing. Or what the score was. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what the hell sport he was watching.
He finished off his beer and went back to work. He could always come back and do the rest tomorrow. And he might have been a little bit easier on himself and not pushed so hard to finish everything today, except for one thing. He had spent so much time visualizing spending Christmas Eve with Anne that he couldn’t shake the image from his mind. Or the hope that it might actually happen.
“Hey, slow down, will you?” Sophie’s hand on Anne’s shoulder caused her to stop and turn to face Sean’s new bride.
“What’s wrong, Soph?”
“You’re moving a mile a minute. I can’t keep up with you.”
Anne smiled at her new cousin-in-law. “Get lazy on your honeymoon?”
Sophie’s face was suddenly covered with an endearing blush. “If you’re asking if Sean and I got any exercise, the answer is yes, a lot.” She laughed softly. “We took lots of walks. Now what’s got you so riled up that you’re acting like a lumber jack hauling Christmas trees instead of actually enjoying the incredible scent of pine?”
Anne shook her head. “Sorry. I just have a lot to do.”
“Well, go do it. You’ve got plenty of time. It’s only eight in the morning. And I’m here to help now.”
Anne furrowed her brow. “Yeah, you are. What’s with that? Why are you helping out at the Christmas tree farm instead of spending time with Sean? And I heard you came home yesterday. Why are you two back from your honeymoon early?”
Sophie laughed. “I’ve always wanted to help sell Christmas trees. It’s very romantic you know.”
“Romantic?” Anne had been helping on the tree farm since she was big enough to walk. “More like hard work if you ask me.”
“I suppose, but still romantic. And Sean and I came home a day early because I wanted to be with the family. It’s my first Christmas with a big family, you know. A real family.”
Anne reached out and hugged her new friend. She loved Sophie. Hard not to. Also hard to imagine that she’d been raised by a woman who never gave her the time of day let alone a decent Christmas. Her mind went instantly to Chris. Sophie and he had something in common.
Automatically she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. He hadn’t called today. She should be relieved. But all she could think was that it was Christmas Eve day and he was probably spending it alone.
“What’s going on?” Sophie was staring at her with those perceptive eyes she must have inherited from her best friend Arielle.
“Nothing. Like I said, I’ve got a lot to do. Come on, let’s get back to work. We need to load up a couple more trees to deliver to Winslow.”
Sophie shook her head as she bent down to lift the top of the Christmas tree that Anne was practically dragging. She didn’t understand how people could wait until Christmas Eve to get a tree. Even though she and Sean had gone off on their honeymoon, they’d put theirs up the first day of December. She’d at least had a chance to enjoy it for a few days before they’d left town.
But that wasn’t the only reason she was shaking her head in bemusement as she followed the dancer to the truck. She hadn’t been gone that long, but she had a feeling she had a whole lot of catching up to do. Christmas dinner, she figured, she’d be filled in on everything. She’d just have to get Skye alone for five minutes. That should do the trick. And if not Skye, she knew she could count on McCullough wildfire.
Chris r
olled off his sister’s couch and stood up. He couldn’t believe it. He’d fallen asleep on the goddamned ugly couch. Of course he was used to this couch since it had served as his bed for a couple months, but usually he pulled it out and made it into an actual bed. How had he slept until eight o’clock in the morning?
He snatched up the three empty beer bottles on the coffee table. They might have had something to do with it. Just as he was tossing them into the recycle bin, his cell rang. He yanked it out of his jeans pocket and answered, hopeful that it would be the one person who’s voice he was craving hearing.
“Chris?”
“Hey, Shel.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“No, of course not. How are you and the squirt doing?”
“Fine.”
“Yeah, right. Tell me the truth.”
“Well, we’re still here.”
“But not for long?”
There was a long pause before Shelly responded. “No, not for long. We’re heading home the day after tomorrow.”
“That bad?”
“Put it this way, work will look good.”
“Sorry.”
“Well, thanks for not saying, ‘I told you so.’”
“You’re welcome. But I did.”
Shelly laughed. “That’s why I called. I needed a little comic relief. I won’t ruin your Christmas Eve with details. We can fill you in when we get home. So, where are you spending Christmas?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Oh, Chris.”
“Hey, I’m good. I promise. I’m just about to head back to Canden Valley and—”
“Where are you?”
“Your place. Just delivering your presents.”
“You didn’t wait until the after-Christmas sales?”
“Nope, I figured—”
“We’d be back.”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Promise you won’t spend Christmas alone. That you won’t sit and stare at four walls and eat a TV dinner.”
That much he could promise. He’d find a restaurant that was open or at least a bar. “Promise.”
After Sara came on the phone to wish him a Merry Christmas, they hung up. He should have felt better, but he only felt more alone now. He sat down on one of the chairs he’d bought and looked around the apartment. He really did have to get them out of there. He straightened the table with a sense of accomplishment. At least now they had a decent place to sit for their meals. It had taken him until midnight, but he’d finished putting the sucker together, along with Sara’s ballet barre which was set up in her bedroom.
He knew he could have come back today to finish or even on Christmas day, the way things looked, but he wanted to be in Canden Valley. It didn’t make a lot of sense because he didn’t expect to see her. But he wanted to be just a little bit closer to her.
Anne finished folding the homemade cloth Christmas bags her family had been using since as long as she could remember. It was a tradition in her family, starting with her grandparents. All of the McCulloughs used cloth bags. It meant less waste and harm to the environment and a lot less clean up on Christmas morning.
After she finished stacking the bags into three piles by size, she curled up on the couch to stare at the tree. It was as beautiful as any they’d ever had. Her father had chosen the best one on the lot. It was a special Christmas he’d said. They had a lot to celebrate. The whole family was here this year.
“What’s going on, honey? Are you okay?” Nan Jameson sat down on the couch beside her daughter.
“Of course. It’s Christmas! Aidan and Allie are home. Even Alex is home, getting ready to marry the love of his life. And it’s snowing! On Christmas! How could I not be okay?”
“Because you’re usually the first one downstairs, putting on your favorite carols, brewing coffee and hot chocolate, camped out under the tree waiting for the rest of us. This year we had to practically drag you out of bed.”
“I guess I’ve matured. Grown up. Not the little girl listening for sleigh bells anymore.”
“Oh, don’t say that.”
“What? You’re not happy I’ve grown up?”
Nan frowned. “Sorry, but no. Besides which I don’t think that’s what’s going on.”
“I’ll be leaving for San Francisco in a week.”
At first Nan thought she was changing the subject but then it hit her. “Is this about a guy?”
Anne nodded. “Un huh.”
“I didn’t even realize you were seeing anyone.” She’d heard plenty of rumors, and apparently was the only person in the valley who hadn’t met him, but she was yet to hear a word from her suddenly mysterious daughter. “The one at the ball who you danced with most of the evening?”
“I figured you’d have heard. I was kind of surprised you haven’t asked me anything about him. Thought maybe you were too busy with the horses and Christmas preparation to listen to idle gossip.”
Apparently it wasn’t idle. “I figured you’d tell me when you’re ready. So, is this about him?”
“Un huh. Maybe. Kind of.”
“I didn’t realize it was . . . serious.”
“It is, but not in, you know, that way.”
Nan raised an eyebrow. “In other words, you haven’t been intimate.”
Anne shook her head in amazement. Only Nan Jameson could make a conversation about her daughter’s sex life feel so natural and normal. “Right. But it’s his choice, not mine.”
“Oh?” Nan liked him already.
Anne snickered. “Yeah, he claims to know my M.O.”
“Your love ‘em and leave ‘em habit?”
Anne frowned. “Et tu, Brute?”
Nan laughed. “Well, it is common knowledge that you dump men before you go out on tour.”
“That’s not true!” Damn, she was tired of defending herself. “But he thinks it is. So we’re just friends.”
“Just friends?”
“Well, we’ve kissed . . . and stuff, but he won’t sleep with me unless he’s sure I won’t dump him when I leave for San Francisco.” She still couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her mother.
Nan was anxious to meet him. He sounded like a very wise man.
“I’ve told him I’m the dumpee far more often than the dumper. Not sure he believes that,” she mumbled. “He claims that until my M.O. changes, his heart’s in danger.”
Nan knew the routine. Her daughter figured men wouldn’t wait around so she picked a fight with them to be sure they wouldn’t wait. Then she didn’t have to think about them after she went off to dance. Cleaner that way. No strings. And nothing to distract her or inhibit her from following her dream. But Nan had a feeling it was different this time. She had a feeling nothing would stop Anne from thinking about this man. “And you? What do you want?”
“Oh, Mom!” Suddenly she was her little girl again, hugging her and resting her head in her lap. “They all say they’ll stay, some even act like they’re going to wait for me, but of course they never do. Why should he be any different?”
Nan knew the truth. Anne gave them a simple message: Don’t wait for me. “What is it, darling?”
“I’m so confused. For the first time ever, I’m really scared. I’m scared that he’ll tell me he’ll wait for me, but that he won’t. Or maybe I’m scared that he will. I don’t know. I just know I’m scared.”
“Oh my.” This was serious. “Have you told him this? Have you told him how you feel about him?”
“Well, no. And even if I did, he doesn’t trust me.” And she wasn’t altogether sure she trusted him. After all, she’d seen the look on his face when she got the call to participate in a special performance, when she told him that she would be leaving for three weeks.
“So this morning really has nothing to do with growing up. It’s about being lovesick.”
Anne winced. Was it even possible?
“Where is he? Is he local? Is he spending the holidays with family?” her m
other asked.
“He’s renting the studio above the pub. He’s a photographer.”
“The one who’s been taking pictures of you? Sara’s uncle?”
“Un huh. But he’s not spending the holidays with his family. I think he’s alone.”
“Well, then, is he joining us for Christmas dinner?”
Anne’s eyes lit up. “Maybe I should go ask him.”
“Maybe you should.”
Anne leaped off the couch. “Can I borrow some of your ornaments?”
“Of course.”
She ran back and hugged her. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you at the pub tonight.”
“Not sure what I did, but you’re welcome. And if you’re not too busy, let us know if we should set an extra place.”
Anne grinned. “Set an extra place.”
Chapter 25
Damn. He should have gone with Shelly and Sara. Or gone to the city and spent the holiday with Joe and his other friends. Or better yet, gone on that cruise with Josie and Martin. What was the matter with him? Was he so obsessed that he couldn’t bear to leave her for even a day? Despite not knowing if he’d even catch a glimpse of her? Now he was stuck here with no restaurants open, alone, moping around a tiny apartment. It looked as if he was going to be breaking his promise to Shelly and having that TV dinner for Christmas after all. At least it was turkey.
The tap on the door startled him out of his miffed mood. “Who is it?”
“Anne.”
“Anne? What are—Just a minute.” He set the framed pictures inside the closet, then did a quick check of his desk, shuffled his notes into a stack and slid the two photographs he’d been studying into the top drawer. No time to be busted. These were taken long before he met her.
He swung open the door to the most beautiful sight in the world. She was standing outside his door, her long thick hair darkened by the damp air and dusted with snowflakes, a four-foot tall Christmas tree propped up beside her. His voice was husky when he spoke. “What on earth are you doing here?”
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