"It's fine. I won't be staying long."
She set both mugs on the coffee table and settled into one corner of the sofa with her shoes off and her stockinged feet curled under her. He took the chair opposite and reached for his mug.
"Are you working tomorrow?" she asked as she sipped slowly.
"No, although I have a feeling there'll be some grumbling 'long about noon from some of the regulars."
She smiled at that. Watching, he noticed that the coffee had left a sheen of moisture on the soft curve of her lower lip. The thought of transferring that moisture from her mouth into his had his senses screaming.
He swigged down half his coffee in one swallow. The brew was exotic and steaming. It warmed him all the way down.
"So, is Kelsey excited about tomorrow morning?" he asked, glancing at the tree again. Here he was, damn near middle-aged, and yet just sitting across from her had him feeling as awkward and shy as a kid on his first date.
"Lord, is she ever! She kept asking me all sorts of questions about Santa. Like what had I heard on the TV about the weather conditions over the North Pole and what kind of a snack the reindeer like best. Which happens to be carrots, by the way. That sort of thing. But then, I imagine that's old stuff to you."
He glanced toward the mantel, where a glass of milk sat next to a plate containing cookies and carrots. Before he could stop it, a look of pain crossed his face.
"I left that to Crys. The tree, the shopping, wrapping the presents. I was too busy." He watched the smile leave her eyes and felt sick inside.
"I'm sorry, Tyler. You missed so much."
He leaned forward to set his cup on the low table. "More than I know, I think," he said as he rose and grabbed his jacket. Cait rose, too.
"Thanks for the coffee." He didn't dare touch her. If he did, all his hard-won control would shatter like an icicle slammed against cement.
"Anytime. And thanks for delivering Santa's special present."
She glanced over her shoulder at the tree, and her hair shimmered into graceful movement, like a dark rich waterfall. He wondered what it would feel like brushing over his bare chest.
"No problem. Tell Kels Merry Christmas." He halted as a look of chagrin crossed his face. "I guess you can't do that."
"No, because she might wonder why you can't come to see her. I wouldn't want to lie, but—"
"But you don't want to remind her of the trial and sentence and possibly add to her guilt."
"Exactly. You should have been a shrink."
"Words are your thing, not mine."
"Besides, dealing with emotion scares the dickens out of you." Cait's smile was gently chiding.
Tyler tugged on the flyaway end of one of her curls and grinned. "Back off, Doc. I'm not one of your patients."
Her smile turned warm, as warm as the rush of tenderness be couldn't seem to control.
"Don't worry. I wouldn't take you on even if you asked, which you won't, of course."
He heard the slight catch in her voice as her words came tripping too fast. He might not be a shrink, but he knew Cait better than she thought.
With a stranger, her words were precise and carefully modulated. With him, too, when they'd first met. It had taken him a long time to win her trust, but when he had, she'd held nothing back. It was then that the words had come pouring out, along with the emotions that damn near smothered him sometimes. It was still there. The joy for life that was such a part of her.
The tug came more strongly. Knowing he had to resist, he stepped back and allowed her to precede him.
Cait hummed "Jingle Bells" to a western beat as she led him to the door of the den. She didn't want to think about him driving all those long cold miles alone while she was tucked safely into a warm bed.
He stayed one step behind her as she led the way to the foyer. Or so she thought until she had her hand on the doorknob. It was then that she realized he had stopped, apparently caught by the sight of Kelsey's pink-and-white parka hanging by its hood from the newel post.
As she watched, he reached out a big hand to free the sleeve that was trapped in the armhole.
"My little girl is growing up," he murmured.
Cait moved silently to his side. "She's almost as tall as I am. In a few years, maybe less, I'll be the shrimp around here." A frown bunched above her nose. "Now that's a ghastly thought, isn't it?"
"My mother was tall." His voice was carefully controlled again.
"Any sisters? For comparison, I mean?"
"No, just me. Way I heard it all my life, one McClane kid was enough."
Cait imagined him as a little boy. The dark gray eyes would have been as full of mischief as they were how of intelligence. And his body would have been in constant motion, fueled by a seemingly inexhaustible abundance of energy. As for his temper…
She shook her head mentally. No doubt he'd flown off the handle as quickly and easily as his daughter did when she was overly tired. As for that streak of bullheaded stubbornness, that must have come in the genes along with the unusual gray eyes and thick golden hair. Those two were more alike than either knew.
Her gaze moved past his hard profile to the dimly lit landing at the top of the stairs. "I usually check on her before I go to bed." The words were out of her mouth before she had time to carefully consider the consequences. "In fact, I was just going to check on her when you arrived. Perhaps you'd like to tag along." She climbed the stairs at a measured pace. The decision had to be his. All she'd done was open the door a tiny crack.
His heart slammed like a fist into his rib cage as he stood for a moment, watching her, hearing Dante's repeated warnings echo in his head. If he got caught…
Seconds later, he fell into step beside her near the landing.
"This is her room," Cait whispered as they paused in front of the door. "She helped me decorate."
Cait pushed the door wider, allowing the light from the landing to spill into the bedroom. As always when she looked into the innocent face of her adopted daughter, she wondered what she had ever done to deserve such a blessing.
"She's asleep," she mouthed to Tyler, who suddenly seemed to take a deep breath. She could only guess at the emotions he must be feeling. The thoughts that had taken the color from his face and shadowed his eyes.
"I'll wait here," she whispered as she stepped back.
Tyler entered alone and walked slowly toward the bed. Kelsey was curled on her side, with her face half-buried in the pillow. One small hand hung over the edge of the bed. Her cheeks were flushed. Her expression was serene. The steady cadence of her breathing told him that she was deeply asleep. Baby, he thought. Kelsey.
Slowly he moved closer, afraid to breathe. As though sensing his presence, Kelsey sighed deeply and burrowed her cheek deeper into the pillow. Tears threatened to choke him, but he swallowed them away. A man his age didn't cry. But, dear God, he hurt.
Knowing that he shouldn't, he laid his fingers lightly against her cheek. He felt life in the warmth of her skin. Almost half his life had been spent trying to preserve or prolong the tenuous thread of that precious warm life. Sometimes he'd won; sometimes he hadn't.
But, God help him, he'd tried. Just as he'd tried to take care of his little girl the best way he knew how. Then.
In that he'd failed. It would always be an ache in his gut. Forgive me, baby, he told her silently before he turned to leave.
Cait was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. She had Kelsey's parka draped over her arm and a soft look of understanding in her eyes.
"Still sleeping?" she whispered when he reached the bottom step.
"Didn't stir once."
"I didn't think she would."
He cleared his throat. "You were right. She's going to be tall."
"I usually am. Right, I mean."
She curved her lips into a sassy smile, but inside she was quaking. Pain, rigidly denied but far too real, shimmered like dark, opaque flecks in his eyes. His shoulders, usually so stiff and str
aight, seemed bowed by a great weight.
"I never knew I could miss her so much," he said with one last glance over his shoulder.
"It's that way with a lot of things in life, I've found."
"Yeah." His shoulders slid backward, and he straightened. Without speaking, he moved to the door. She moved with him. This time it was he who opened the door.
The air rushing in was cool and smelled of smoke.
The house across the street blazed with light, spilling an almost surreal glow into the street. Tyler didn't seem to notice. Instead his gaze, narrowed now and troubled, was focused on her.
"You know you could be in big trouble if it ever got out that you let me see her," he said with a burr of warning.
"Some things are worth the risk."
A flicker of emotion crossed his face. "I'm not sure I agree with that."
"But that's because the scars you carry are still too fresh. They'll fade in time—if you have faith."
He shifted until his back was against the door. Light from the overhead fixture deepened the lines gouged so starkly around his eyes.
"Faith." His inflection gave the single word an obscene twist. "Now there's a catch-all concept. Guy finds himself in a cage with no way out. Hell, don't worry about it. Just have faith. Doctor's got a kid who's terminally ill and he's fresh out of things to try. No big deal. Just have faith."
Cait felt his frustration. She let Kelsey's jacket fall to the floor so that she was free to rest her palms on his shoulders. He stiffened as though in pain, but he didn't pull away.
"I hate to tell you this, Tyler McClane," she murmured with a rueful smile. "But only a man whose faith was once terribly strong could be so bitter when he loses it."
His smile was crooked. "Do you have an answer for everything?" he asked with a strange, almost wistful note in his deep voice.
"Not everything. If I did, I would know what to say to you when you get that haunted look in your eyes. Like now."
As though it were an omen, the bells of Saint Stephen's began tolling in the distance. "It's Christmas," Cait whispered.
Using his shoulder for support, she went onto her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his cheek. His jaw was slightly raspy where his beard grew thickest. As she suspected, his skin smelled like the wind.
His hands came up to frame her face. Perhaps they even shook. "Merry Christmas, Cait," he said in that deep rumbling voice that invariably excited an answering rumble inside her.
"Merry Christmas, Tyler," she murmured on a thick breath. "I wish you could be here to see your little girl open her present."
"God, so do I." His face twisted. Somehow Cait was in his arms and his face was buried in the curve of her neck. Nestled tightly against him, Cait felt the tremors take him as he fought to contain his anguish. She buried her face against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his lean hard torso.
He cried brokenly, as only a strong man can cry. Tears wet her neck and pooled in the hollow of her throat, but still she held him, her own tears running unheeded down her cheeks. Gradually he regained control. The shudders lessened. His back stiffened. Cait felt his strength returning, along with, she suspected, a large measure of rough masculine embarrassment.
"Sorry," he said as he lifted his head. "I didn't mean to lay all that on you."
His hands curled gently around her upper arms, as though he couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to draw her close again or push her away.
"I think you've needed to do that for a long time."
His mouth softened. "Maybe, but it wasn't a great idea in the cell block where I lived."
She laughed softly. "I think you're probably right."
He started to back away, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Hold still a minute."
Smiling, she wiped away his tears with her fingertips.
"There. Now you won't get frostbite."
His hand caught hers before she could withdraw it.
Turning his head, he kissed her wrist where the skin was thinnest and the nerves most sensitive. Her pulse shot into the danger zone.
"Are you nervous because I kissed your wrist or because you want me to kiss you again?" he asked softly.
"Both, I think," she admitted.
"I promised myself I wouldn't. For both our sakes."
"I promised myself I wouldn't let you," she murmured, but his mouth was already seeking hers.
This time his mouth wasn't patient. His lips were hard and demanding, urging a response from hers. One hand circled her shoulders, holding her close.
The other caressed her face with the absorbed slowness of a man long blind. His callused fingertips sent small pulses of pleasure singing through her.
Her lips softened, eager for his. His mouth gentled but remained wedded to hers. His hands slid to her shoulders, and he pulled her closer. As he did, a tremor ran down the hard length of his body.
He drew back, looked at her through narrowed lashes still spiky from his tears. There was hunger in his eyes now instead of a bottomless pain. The same hunger that thrummed in her veins like a wild fever.
"You know that I want you." His voice was made husky by the need to speak of his feelings. "That I've always wanted you."
"Yes, I know."
She reached up to caress his face. His skin had a different texture from hers. More resilient, more masculine.
She knew him now. His loneliness and his despair. His silent courage and his carefully hidden sensitivity. It wouldn't take much more for her to fall in love with him again. Perhaps she already had. At the moment, she didn't care. Tyler needed her tonight as no man had ever needed her. And she needed him.
"Let's go back to the den," she whispered through lips that were still moist and full from the pressure of his. "The door locks."
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
She was standing with her back to the fire he'd just finished rekindling. She watched without speaking, as though fearful of breaking the spell. Her look was expectant, without hesitation. Every time she blinked, her lashes cast spiky shadows onto her cheeks.
Her skin seemed like the finest satin, and her hair had the luminous quality of fine sherry. He lifted a strand and rubbed it slowly between his first finger and thumb.
"In prison I used to wear myself out so I would be too tired to dream. Sometimes it didn't work. I would dream then. It was always the same dream. About making love. To you."
He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. "When I woke up, I still wanted you so much I thought I would go crazy." His fingers clenched around a handful of thick, soft hair, and his chest heaved.
"God help me if this is just another dream," he whispered in a tortured voice.
Cait laughed softly and ran her finger over his mouth. "It's no dream."
His hand shook as he touched her face again. It didn't seem possible that this was real. Too many times she had come to him in his dreams with this soft glow in her eyes.
"I didn't plan this," he murmured as he leaned down to brush a kiss across her parted lips. "I … don't want to make you pregnant."
Lashes lifting, she drew back. Of course he would worry about that, she realized with a rush of compassion. He'd been trapped once. He didn't intend to be trapped again.
"It's not a problem, I promise."
He pulled her close again and pressed his mouth to her throat. "God, I need you," he whispered against her skin.
Her pulse hammered at the low throb of raw hunger in his voice. "And I need you," she echoed as she closed her eyes and threaded her fingers through his shaggy hair.
His kisses were leisurely, tasting as well as wooing. His mouth was hot, but his lips were soft and seeking. Hers were eager under his and deliciously moist after his tongue had slid languidly over her lower lip in a long, erotic tasting.
His hands roamed with equal absorption. His lazily stroking fingertips were sensitive to the slight change in texture in the silk of her skin. They
tested the fragile line of her jaw. Traced the sleek elegance of her neck. Lingered with maddening slowness over the tender triangle at the base of her throat.
Her breathing accelerated. Her mouth felt hot and full. Her skin was so sensitive that the whisper of the fire's heat was erotically painful. She pressed closer, desperate to be touched even more intimately.
His hands skimmed over her waist to cup her buttocks. His tongue seduced her lips until they parted eagerly to let him plunge deeply. He kissed her thoroughly, masterfully, until both were breathing hard.
Even as he dragged his mouth from hers, his hands were already working the buttons of her blouse. As he slipped it from her, his face was taut with a longing he was powerless to mask.
Her breath caught as he stripped off her bra, revealing the paler skin of her breasts. The nipples were already taut, pulling tiny puckers in the dark circles surrounding them.
"Your breasts are like warm marble in the firelight," he murmured as he treated himself to a long, searching exploration of each with his mouth and tongue.
By the time he lifted his head, her skin was moist and hot where he had kissed her. Her nipples ached from a shivering need to be touched again.
Her own hands were impatient as she pulled his shirttails free of the low-riding jeans. Even as his fingers were dipping beneath the soft elastic of her slacks, hers were ridding him of his shirt and reaching for the heavy buckle of his belt.
Tyler felt himself losing control. Just the feel of her knuckles against him as she worked the buttons of his jeans was driving him to a throbbing, insistent madness.
He covered her hand with his and eased it away from his fly. "Better let me do that," he said in a heartfelt growl. "Or I'm liable to embarrass both of us."
The whisper of her laughter was as soft as a moan as she slipped her hand from under his. "Hurry," she murmured. His deep chuckle warmed her as sweetly as the fire, and she found that she was the one who was hurrying.
It was no more than seconds before they were both naked. His skin was very dark, except for the familiar pattern over his groin where his swimming trunks had ridden. Her skin was uniformly lighter than his, her tan a pale version of his deep bronze.
PAROLED! Page 13