by Lori Foster
She shook her head a second time, and now the regret in her eyes was no longer veiled. “Christmas is for families,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re lucky to have people who love you so much. Go to them. They need you. It’s important.”
She walked out of the kitchen. He stood there for long moments, his arms hanging at his sides. Old Santa Claus was a mean son of a bitch—to give a present and then snatch it away. If he found the fat old guy in a dark alley, he’d beat the stuffing out of him.
Anger swept in, masking the dull pain. He wouldn’t beg. It took two people to make a relationship, and he didn’t need a woman who couldn’t even last through the first tough spot. He flashed back for a moment to an image of Maddy sprawled by the fire, her lips curved in a smile of invitation. His throat closed up, and he swallowed hard. How had this soured so quickly?
They didn’t speak after that. Since Maddy had very little of her own to clean up, she finished zipping her backpack and then began tidying the rest of the cabin. There were blankets to fold, dishes to wash and dirty laundry to be bundled into a garbage bag. She found Grant’s cooler on the back porch and unloaded the few remaining perishables from the fridge. The other food she tucked in a cardboard box.
She had no idea what to do about the Christmas tree, but she unplugged the lights and, as an afterthought, retrieved the poem she’d tucked in the branches. Somehow she doubted that Grant would appreciate it now. He was so angry with her, but she knew in her heart she was right. He needed to be with his family. And as for his impulsive invitation…Well, it was tempting. But imagining the questions about their relationship made her cringe. Three days? They would think Grant had lost his mind. And they might be right.
He was busy draining the pipes and stacking all the firewood he had cut onto the porch. By noon the temperature had climbed to the lower fifties. He finally came inside, and when she looked at him inquiringly, he handed her the small package that had been under the tree. “Merry Christmas,” he said, his eyes shuttered.
She opened it, her mouth curving in a smile when she saw what it was. With a few pencil strokes, Grant had captured Van Gogh’s mournful eyes and the dog’s delight at being in Maddy’s lap. She looked up to thank him, but he had disappeared again. She bit her lip and sighed. Feeling an unutterable sadness, she tucked the small drawing inside a book in her pack for safekeeping.
They left shortly after, having exchanged no more than a dozen words since morning. Van Gogh slumbered in the backseat.
The winding gravel road leading down the mountain was slightly dangerous but not impassable. The only real trouble spots were places in the shade where not as much snow had melted. Maddy thought a couple of times that the Jeep might get stuck, but in each instance, Grant wrestled with the wheel until they were moving forward again. At the base of the mountain, the gravel surface gave way to pavement, and soon the little two-lane road led to the interstate.
It took just over two hours to get to Charlottesville. When they reached the outskirts of the city, Grant slowed and asked for directions, his voice gruff. When they pulled up in front of her apartment complex, Maddy grabbed her bag and prepared to jump out. She was more than ready to escape the awkward silence.
Grant stopped her, keeping the doors locked. “Not so fast. I’m coming upstairs with you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the glare on his face silenced her. At the door she had to fumble deep in her pack to find the house key. As they went inside, stale air made her wrinkle her nose.
She dropped her backpack on a chair and faced Grant, her stomach churning with nerves. “Thanks for rescuing me,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice she didn’t feel.
He ignored her glib comment. Slowly, he gave himself a tour of her small apartment, pausing to pick up a photograph here and there, a CD, a knickknack. She trailed after him. He wandered down the hall and found her bedroom. After a cursory look inside, he moved on to her office.
He stayed longer there, examining her bookshelves, flipping through a reference book, checking out her computer. He studied a framed photo on the wall. It had been taken when she’d rafted down the Colorado with a group of friends.
He finally spoke. “You don’t look like a coward.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, stung by his not-so-veiled insult.
He shrugged. “It’s pretty clear to me that you’re afraid of what’s happening between us.”
She couldn’t think of an answer to that.
He went on. “Just because it hasn’t happened in a traditional way doesn’t automatically make it suspect. We could have met at a church social, dated for six months and still ended up where we are right now.”
“And where is that?” she whispered.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling wryly. “Well, that’s the problem, honey. I’m beginning to think you’re in a different place than I am.”
Her heart began to pound. “What does that mean?”
His smile was lopsided. “I’m in love with you. I should have told you last night, but I didn’t think you were ready to hear it.”
There was a buzzing in her ears and her fingers were tingling. This would be a bad time to faint. She licked her lips. “Can you say that again?”
His smile deepened and his eyes warmed. “I’m in love with you. The real McCoy. Hearts, flowers, till death do us part.”
She stuttered, torn between joy and suspicion. “But you said you’d never been in love.”
“That’s how I know. You’ve made me feel something brand new. It’s hit me dead between the eyes. No doubts, no second-guessing. I’m sure, Maddy. But clearly, you’re not.”
“What if it’s not real?” she asked, voicing her deepest fear.
Tenderness etched his features. “I don’t think you’re really worried that it’s not real. I think you want me to tell you whether this will last.”
She flushed, her emotions raw. “So, can you?” she demanded.
He shook his head. “Sorry, honey, I can’t. I don’t know your parents, and I don’t know why they gave up on something they’d spent a lifetime building. But I know that I can’t ever imagine not needing you in my life. I’ve had the imitation, and it wasn’t very good. With you…Well, I look at you and I see forever.”
A single tear trickled down her cheek. “It would kill me if we start this and it doesn’t work.”
“And why is that?” he probed gently, still keeping his distance.
Her chin wobbled. “Because I love you, too.”
The look on his face when she said the words humbled her. He looked like a man who’d been given the keys to heaven.
They met in the center of the room, their arms locked around each other, their hearts pounding in unison. It was the first time they had touched since leaving the cabin. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her eyes. And all the while he whispered nonsensical love words…silly, wonderful, comforting words.
When tenderness gave way to heat, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. “You’ll be late,” she fretted.
“Shh,” he muttered, folding back the covers and lowering her onto the bed before stretching out beside her.
He undressed her slowly, as though he was anticipating a long-awaited Christmas present. Given their activity the night before, their hunger should have been less intense, less urgent. But it wasn’t so. Their need simmered in the air, trembling and hushed, waiting to be assuaged.
Clothing disappeared as if by magic, and when he lifted her to sit astride him, her eyelids fluttered shut.
He slid into her slick passage with a groan. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Look at us.” She obeyed, drugged with pleasure. Where their bodies joined, he used his thumb to stroke her. She watched his thick, hard flesh enter and leave and enter again. She started to tremble, the erotic sight etched on her brain.
He pulled her down for a rough kiss, pressing her breasts against his chest. The new angle put pressure
, delicious, tantalizing pressure on a very sensitive spot. She felt her orgasm hovering just offstage and tried to shove it back. She didn’t want this to end…not yet.
She rose again and stared at his face, her breathing ragged. His eyes were half-closed, his face rigid with concentration. She pressed her fingers to his lips, caressing them.
His eyes flew open, his pupils dilated. “What, angel? You okay?”
She smiled at him, the joy in her heart expanding in ever-widening circles. It was magic. It was a miracle. It was love. She laughed out loud. “Let’s go home for Christmas.”
He clenched her hips and drove upward, nearly unseating her. She barely heard his hoarse shout of completion. Her own release crashed over her, leaving her spent, exhausted and at peace.
After that, it was a race to the finish. Grant showered while Maddy threw some things into an overnight bag. He retrieved a pair of nice slacks and a dress shirt from the Jeep while Maddy debated fretfully between a simple black jersey dress with pearls and a green pantsuit. Grant voted for the dress. “Wear it without panties,” he suggested, laughing at her look of horror.
He tweaked her chin. “I’m warning you, hon. Don’t expect me to keep my hands off you just because we’re at my sister’s house.”
Maddy escaped into the bathroom, locking him out. Her nerves were jangled as it was, and teasing about sex when she was about to meet his family wasn’t helping, not at all.
They fed and walked Van Gogh and less than an hour later they were on the road. They pulled up in Georgetown at seven o’clock on the dot. The attractive Federal-style brick home with black shutters sat amidst a lawn of melting snow, the façade’s many windows each filled with a single white candle. The wreath on the door was enormous.
Maddy smoothed her dress, her fingers icy. Grant gripped her hand. “Relax, sweetheart. They’re nice people, I swear.”
Grant’s sister Beth opened the door. Her eyes widened when she spotted Maddy, but before she could do more than utter a cheerful greeting, half a dozen children from toddlers to preteens clustered around Grant and Van Gogh, clamoring for attention. Grant kissed and hugged them all, and in the melee Maddy was squeezed to the sidelines.
She didn’t mind. Watching Grant with his nieces and nephews made her heart turn over in her chest. They clearly adored him and, judging by the wide smile on his face, the sentiments were mutual. His dark slacks and crisp white shirt, accented with a whimsical Santa tie, made him look stunningly attractive. The fact that he had the dress clothes with him made her wonder if he’d intended all along to give himself the option of coming to D.C. today.
Fortunately, he didn’t leave her stranded for long. Beth was making a move in her direction just about the time Grant eased away from the pack and tucked Maddy against his side.
Beth’s curious grin demanded an explanation. She held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Beth Parker, Grant’s older sister.”
Grant waited for the women to shake hands and then kissed his sister’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Sis. This is Maddy Tierney.”
Beth wasn’t about to be denied the details. “And…”
He laughed. “And I invited her to spend Christmas with us.”
Maddy felt herself blushing, but Beth’s intent regard was kind. “Come on in and see the others. We’re about ready to eat.”
The house was filled with warmth and Christmas cheer. In the large living room, carpeted in a lush moss green, the remnants of wrapping paper and bows were evidence of a frenzied gift exchange. Maddy met the other sister, Laura, the two brothers-in-law Pete and Edmund and each of the kids. Everyone was starving so, after introductions, they moved en masse to the formal dining room. The children were allowed to sit at the massive table along with everyone else, and Maddy was impressed to see that the same china and silver was set for them as for the adults.
Grant squeezed her hand under the table as he passed her the sweet potatoes. “So, what do you think?”
She scooped out a generous serving. “I think I was right. You are lucky. You have a wonderful family.”
“They like you, too.”
“How can you tell?” she asked, nibbling a piece of turkey.
He chuckled. “They let you sit at the big table.”
“Very funny.”
Grant eyed the Norman Rockwell scene with a smile of satisfaction. He knew this wasn’t a fake family picture. Sure, there were fights from time to time, marital discord, children acting out…But through it all, there was love.
Watching Maddy in the midst of this Christmas celebration made him want to seal the deal. She was beautiful and naturally charming, and his family loved her. How could they not?
During the dessert course, he stood up and clinked his glass, snagging everyone’s attention. He rested his hand on Maddy’s shoulder. “I want you all to be the first to know…Maddy and I are getting married.”
Noise exploded around the table, a mix of exclamations and cheers and laughter.
Beth glanced at Maddy, sensing her stillness. “Is this true, Maddy, or is my baby brother trying to stage one of his end runs to get you to say yes?”
Grant tugged Maddy to her feet, sliding his arms around her waist. All eyes were fixed on them and, predictably, Maddy was blushing. “Well, honey, tell them. Are you really going to marry me?”
Her slow smile loosened the knot in his gut. She went up on tiptoe and kissed him. “Yes, Grant. I believe I am.”
By nine the kids were drooping and getting cranky, worn-out by a long day of Christmas excitement. Laura and her crew made their good-byes and headed home to their house, only a couple of miles away.
Grant cornered Beth. “Maddy and I are going to slip on over to a hotel.”
Beth wouldn’t have any of it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “The guestroom upstairs is all ready for you—you know…the one with the king size bed.” Her smirk was teasing but kind.
Her laughter followed them as they headed up to bed, but Grant noticed that Maddy didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed. Her head nestled trustingly on his shoulder, and her small hand was tucked in his.
The bedroom was fairly large and beautifully furnished. His sister had exquisite taste and the means to indulge it. Maddy sat on the end of the bed and ran a hand over the elegant cream damask bedspread. She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe we shouldn’t have sex while we’re here. I’m afraid we might…stain something.”
The look on her face made him shout with laughter. He scooted her out of the way and removed the spread, folding it into a bundle and tucking it in the closet. “I don’t want to hear any more of that,” he said, pulling her close for a quick kiss. Her soft lips fired his imagination, among other things, and he backed her toward the crisp white sheets. “I’ll be careful,” he muttered, ready to promise her anything.
But she resisted, and he groaned. Surely she was kidding. He smiled tightly, his groin aching. “You can’t be serious.”
She looked puzzled, and then it was her turn to laugh. “I was teasing about not having sex, you big dope…But I want to give you your Christmas present. Go sit over there.”
“Sex in a chair—sounds good to me,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
She rolled her eyes. “Your present is not sex, at least not yet,” she amended, giving him hope for the immediate future. “Now, go sit.”
He obeyed reluctantly, sprawling in a big overstuffed armchair and kicking off his shoes. Maddy went to her purse and opened it, taking out something small enough to fit in her hand. Her hair glowed like a flame against the black of her dress. She’d left it down, confined only by two small, pearl-studded antique hairpins.
Looking at her made him ache.
He swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t have sprung the marriage thing on you like that,” he said, suddenly remorseful.
Her gaze was unusually serious. “No, you shouldn’t have. What if I’d had to say no?”
He shifted restlessly. “I wasn’t going to entertain th
at option.”
Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “You weren’t kidding about liking to win, were you?”
His face sobered. “I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” She came to sit at his feet. “I wrote something for you yesterday before we made love the first time. I don’t want you looking at me while I read it. You’ll make me nervous.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want.”
She rested her back against the base of the chair, her head near his knees. He tangled his fingers in her soft, silky hair, sighing as he felt the warmth of her body. This was gift enough for any man.
She opened what appeared to be a scrap of paper and began to read, her voice soft and low.
In snow and ice and cold I came to you. You warmed me through…
By firelight.
We laughed and played, our burdens set aside. I loved your dog…
By firelight.
We chanced to share our hopes and dreams and fears. You were so kind…
By firelight.
You captured naked truth with paint and brush. You saw my soul…
By firelight.
And then when words and canvas weren’t enough, you came to me…
By firelight.
Whate’er the days ahead may send our way, my heart is yours…
By firelight.
Maddy folded the paper with shaking hands and stared at her lap. He hadn’t moved as she read. She couldn’t even hear him breathing. He slid to the floor and wrapped her in a crushing hug, cradling her in his lap. She realized he was trembling, and she pulled back, shocked to see his eyes wet with tears. She used her fingertip to gather one that clung to his lower lashes.
“Grant? Say something.”