“I was afraid you’d think I was stalking you.”
“Which you were.”
He shrugged a noncommittal response.
She mustered her sternest glare and looked into his eyes. “Stalking, I can live with. Maybe. Just so long as you’re not playing me.”
“I’m not playing you, Anne.” He reached for both of her hands and held them to his lips. Then he stared into those ocean blue eyes of hers, and his heart felt as if it would leap out of his chest. “Definitely not playing you. I’m in love with you.”
The room had gone silent, as silent as a room full of McCulloughs could be. Silent enough for most members of the family to hear his declaration of love.
“You’re . . . you’re in love . . . with me?” She’d known it for a while, but somehow hearing him say it made it different, real, and even more terrifying.
“Yes, I’m in love with you. I told you I’m the one whose heart is on the line here. I’m the one who’s head over heels in love. I’m the one who—” He stopped just short of proposing. “The one who stands to lose everything.”
“And that’s why you’ve been taking so much time to—?” She smiled, only slightly aware that the entire room of McCulloughs was watching them . . . and listening to them. “Why you’ve been so slow to—you know.”
“Yes. Because I want more out of this relationship than you do. I want everything.”
“Everything?” She looked pale as she stood in front of him.
Knowing how scared and vulnerable she was somehow gave him courage. “Everything.” He scanned the room and spotted Nan Jameson and winked at her. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.” He reached for her hand again and pressed it to his lips. “Just so you know, as determined as you’ve been to seduce me, I’m even more determined to marry you.”
Chapter 27
He grasped her hand more tightly and pulled her toward the door.
“What are you doing? Where are we going?”
“Say good-night, Anne.”
“But the presents!” She motioned toward the oversized Christmas tree with bundles of cloth-wrapped packages beneath it. She looked like a little girl who had just missed Santa.
“Your family will take them home for you to open. Say good-night.”
“Good-night,” she mumbled.
“Tell your family Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” she said as if on autopilot.
But when they reached the door, she came to her senses and pulled her hand from his grip. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where we’re going. If you think you’re dragging me off to marry you like some love-struck caveman, forget it!”
“Hardly.” He grinned. “Not tonight anyway. And considering that it’s Christmas, I doubt we’d find anyone to perform the ceremony.”
“Arielle and Matt got married on Thanksgiving. My grandparents performed the ceremony. Then they went to the justice of the peace—” Why was she telling him this?
“Interesting idea. But no. When we get married, it’s not going to be an impromptu ceremony. It’s going to be well-planned with everyone we want to be there. All the bridesmaids you could possibly want.”
She scowled at him as he pushed open the door, grabbed her hand, and yanked her outside. “You’re sure you’re not kidnapping me?”
“I’m sure. Your family would never forgive me if we ran off and didn’t give them the pleasure of participating.” And of witnessing the demise of the walls you’ve erected around yourself. “Nor would my sister and niece.”
Satisfied with his response, she said, “Okay, so where are we going?”
“I want to show you the cover shot I used for the magazine spread.” He wanted to prove to her that it wasn’t just an excuse to approach her. And maybe, if she saw the photograph he’d taken of her staring at him without even knowing him, she would understand how he’d fallen in love with her the moment he had first seen her dance. And maybe she would realize how much he cherished her . . . and her dancing.
She didn’t have to go with him. She knew that. She could have run back to the comfort and safety of her family. After all, she wanted to be there for the gift exchange. It was her favorite part of the celebration.
But the truth was, she wanted to be with him more. She wanted to see the cover shot of the magazine article. She wanted to know that it wasn’t just a phony excuse to meet her. She wanted to know that he wasn’t that dishonest.
He opened the door and turned on the light. Then he went to the closet and grabbed a large file box. When he pulled out the desk chair for her, she sat down. The first photograph he showed her was the cover shot. She gasped when she saw it. She remembered that moment. There was something about it. She was rehearsing in San Francisco, and she’d never been so deeply immersed in that dance as she had been at that moment. And when she’d leaped and reached out toward the small audience of other dancers and onlookers, there had been an instant when she felt as if all of her energy came from deep inside her soul and she was floating.
“Oh, my God!”
Chris watched her face for her reaction. He knew she’d get it when she saw that picture.
“You caught that shot? How? That was—that was back in June. We’d just returned from our tour and were rehearsing for our final performances in the city. You were there?”
“It was the first time I ever saw you dance,” he said.
“Why were you there?”
“Sara. She’d been dancing for a while, and she’d decided she wanted to be a dancer when she grew up. She’d seen a television commercial for your troupe. She actually taped the commercial and kept playing it over and over again. It was all she could talk about, how amazing the dancers were and how much she wanted to see you perform.”
“And?”
“And I came by the theater the day of your performance. I thought maybe I could pick up a DVD of a performance and send it to her until I could get her up there to see a live show.”
“And you walked into the theater and saw us rehearsing.”
“Yes. I sat in the audience for a while. Until you started dancing. Something about the way you moved drew me to you. I had my camera with me in my car so I ran out to get it. When I got back you were dancing your solo. So, I walked over to the side of the theater and stood just below the stage.”
“No one questioned you?”
“I’m sure they assumed I was with the press, supposed to be there. Anyway, I started taking shots of you, one after another. I figured I’d get something good that way. Then that moment when you turned and looked at me as if you were staring into my eyes, I raised the camera and captured you. I knew that one would be special. I knew you were special. So I went to the performance that night.” He smiled sheepishly. “And the rest of them.”
“You came to all the performances after that?” She stared at him in amazement.
“There were only three more.”
She coughed. “Only three more? You came to all of them?”
“Yeah, I did.”
She shook her head. “Why?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“I was infatuated with you.”
“You’d never even spoken to me.”
“I didn’t need to. I’d seen you dance. I’d seen deep inside your soul. I’d captured you on camera.” He cleared his throat as his voice grew huskier. “I felt as if I’d known you all my life.”
“I still don’t get it. Why didn’t you just come backstage and meet me?”
“Because you were seeing someone at the time.”
Oh, yeah. What else did the man know about her? Too much obviously.
Chris pulled out a stack of other photographs. She went through them, one at a time. Some she knew exactly when they’d been taken. Others she wasn’t sure.
“You were in Boston?” She studied the stage her feet were gliding across.
“Uh, yeah.” He considered telling her he’d been in the neighborhood
and had just stopped by, but realized how lame that would have sounded. “I was on the East Coast, heard your troupe was in Boston—”
She went back to studying the photographs. “And New York?”
“Just for a day.”
“Wow! Sophie was right. You really are a stalker!”
He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “What can I say? I was smitten.”
She grimaced and looked up at him. “Still don’t get why you didn’t introduce yourself, especially once you decided to use me for your article.”
Chris pulled a couple other shots from his file box and handed them to her. Anne at a café in San Francisco holding hands with a man. Anne in Canden Valley, walking down the street arm in arm with a different man.
“Let’s just say it didn’t take me long to figure out your M.O.”
She frowned. “I don’t have an M.O.! I just—”
“Just what, Anne? Leave?”
“No! I told you! They don’t want to stick around.” She tossed the pictures on the desk and stood up. “Men don’t stay.”
“Because you give them the message not to.”
“That’s not true.”
“I talked to them, Anne. Both of these guys. I met them, had a beer with them. Asked them about you.”
“You were investigating me?”
“I suppose you could call it that. I wanted to know what happened. They both gave me a pretty clear picture. You dumped them.”
“Did not.”
He wasn’t going to argue about it. It was useless. Obviously there wasn’t much he could say to convince her. “Maybe you should ask them,” he finally said. “Or some of the others.”
Anne crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t need to. Now, can I go back to my Christmas party?”
“Yes. If you want to.”
She thought about that for a minute. She wasn’t really in the mood now. Besides, they’d probably already opened their presents. She shrugged and walked over to the bed, kicked off her boots, and stretched out.
“Not going?”
“Not in the mood anymore. I’m kind of tired.” She grabbed a pillow and curled up with it, hugging it to her chest.
Chris kicked off his own boots and lay down beside her. He reached out and pulled her and her pillow into his arms. This was an important moment, he thought. No sex, just affection and finding comfort in each other’s arms.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head against him.
“You don’t like being stalked?”
She shrugged. She didn’t mind, not if he was the stalker.
“What then?”
“I don’t know. I just feel weird. Like things are happening to me that—”
“Are making you feel things you haven’t felt before?”
“I guess.” She snuggled in closer and he wrapped his arms more tightly around her.
“You’re scared.”
“I’m scared.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. That’s probably why I didn’t tell you how long I’d been taking pictures of you.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” He pulled back slightly so he could see her face, but she tucked it against his chest so he couldn’t read her as he so easily did.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
Anne frowned. Okay? He was okay with her not telling him what was going on with her? But then he probably didn’t need her to tell him. He probably already knew. Better than she did. All she knew was that she felt different. Scared and confused and different. She couldn’t believe she was lying there beside him on a bed in the studio over the pub when her entire family was downstairs celebrating Christmas and laughing and talking. Most likely about them. Ugh. Now she really didn’t want to go back downstairs. Besides, she liked being here. In his arms. Having him hold her like this. Like she was the most important person in the world to him.
She liked feeling his warmth and hearing his heartbeat and his occasional sighs, and she liked how he kept tightening his arms around her and after they’d relaxed a little bit, he’d tighten them again, and every now and then he would stroke her back in a comforting way. She liked that a whole lot. And if she was honest she even liked the fact that he’d been taking pictures of her for all those months and that he’d come to Boston and New York to see her dance and that he’d captured the most amazing moment she’d ever experienced in her dancing. And that it was the first time he’d ever seen her dance. And that he recognized that it was important.
“How are you feeling now?” Chris whispered against her hair.
“A little better.”
“Yeah? And?”
“Safe. Like I could stay here for a long time.”
He smiled but it was a short-lived feeling of elation.
“Now I’m scaring myself.”
“You’re scared of your feelings for me.”
She shrugged as if discounting his words, but he knew the truth.
“And you’re scared of my feelings for you. And my loving you.”
He could feel her entire body tense at the sound of those words. He almost lost hope, but he’d come too far to let go now. He raised her head away from his chest and tilted her chin upwards with a single finger, forcing her to look into his eyes.
“I love you, Anne McCullough Jameson. So, get used to it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you to love me.”
“It’s a little too late for that. Besides, I don’t believe you. I know you’re scared, but you don’t need to be. I love all of you. Your passion for dance, how you bring your feelings from deep inside of you to the surface and express them through your dance. Why would I ever want to stifle that? It’s who you are.”
“Sure, you say that now. They all do.”
“They all do?”
“Well, not in so many words. But they say they can handle my lifestyle. Then when I have to leave, they get all possessive and demanding.”
Unfortunately he could understand why. Still he protested. “Not all men get possessive and demanding.”
She snickered and lay back down against him. “So, are we going to make love or what?”
He laughed. Her defense mechanisms were alive and well. Avoidance, distraction, anger, humor. And seduction.
“Soon, my love.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“What do you want me to call you?”
“Anne.”
“Okay, soon, Anne.” He wanted to call her affectionate names. And he wanted her to call him affectionate names.
“What’s wrong with now?” She asked and reached for his zipper.
He grabbed her hand and pulled it away. “We need to talk first.”
She groaned. “What now?”
He smiled as he recalled Arielle’s advice to use her own defense mechanisms against her. Humor was her suggestion. Only there was an underlying earnestness in his words. “We need to talk about our wedding. When do you want to get married?”
“What? Never!”
“Hey, now that you’ve had your way with me, it’s only right that you marry me and make a respectable man out of me. So, when do you want to announce our engagement?”
“I don’t want to get married.”
“Winter or spring? And don’t say summer or autumn because I’m not willing to wait that long.”
“Skye’s getting married in the spring.”
“So, there can be two McCullough spring weddings.”
“I don’t think so. Not when Skye is involved.”
“Well, maybe she’d like a double wedding. After all, as I hear it, you’re best friends and best cousins.”
“True, but—” Damn, the man could confuse her. “Wait a minute! Why are we even discussing this? I don’t plan to get married. Ever!” She sat up, still clutching the pillow to her chest. Glancing down at it for a moment, she struck him with it.
“What the—?”
Chris grabbed the pillow under his head and struck her back.
She climbed off the bed, standing so she could get a better shot at him. He did the same, striking her twice.
Within a minute, the room was filled with feathers. Within another minute, they were laughing so hard, neither one could get a decent shot off. They collapsed onto the bed, lying side by side on their backs, taking deep breaths, covering their mouths to avoid inhaling any feathers.
Chris rolled his head to the side to look at her. Her hair was a mess, flying every which way. Her blouse disheveled. Damn she was beautiful. Damn she was stubborn. He rolled onto his side and then straddled her, holding her arms overhead, pinned to the bed.
Anne looked up at him and half expected him to tickle her, but then she saw the laughter fade from his eyes, and they turned almost somber.
“Tell me what you want, Anne. I can pack up my things tonight and leave. If that’s what you want.”
It took her a moment to speak. She didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t want to tell him that either. She remembered Denny telling her that the truth was all she had. Finally, she said, “I don’t know what I want. I just know I want to be with you.”
“Do you?”
“If I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t have come to you on Christmas. I wouldn’t have invited you to spend Christmas dinner with my family.”
“Is that it?”
“Isn’t that enough? I’ve never invited anyone to spend Christmas dinner with my family. That has to mean something.”
That meant everything. Almost.
He nodded and released her, rolling back onto his side. But now she was on her side, her hands on the back of his neck as she pulled him to her for a kiss filled with passion and desire and what he wanted to believe was love.
When she finally released him, she gazed into his eyes. She whispered softly, “Now, will you shut up and make love to me?”
Chris smiled as he pushed himself up on his forearm to look down at her. “Any time.”
She smiled back up at him. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“We can include it in the prenuptial agreement if you want.”
“There’s going to be a prenup?”
He shook his head and laughed. “No prenup.”
December Dance Page 26