CHRISTMAS IN WHITEHORN

by Susan Mallery

  "Can you wrap up my breakfast?" Mark asked. "I'll pick it up on my way back. I'll pay my bill then, too."

  "No problem. It's not as if I don't know where you live."

  He grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it, then ushered Homer out of the Hip Hop. Darcy watched them go. Her chest tightened, but with more than nervousness and anticipation. She could accept Mark being handsome, sexy and very good in bed. What she didn't want was for him to be nice. If she thought he was a decent guy, and charming, she would have a whole lot more trouble keeping her emotions in check and her heart on a very short leash.

  She reminded herself that the last thing she needed was to fall for a guy. She knew what happened when she did. There was no point in wishing this time would be different.

  *

  Mark kept his finger on the channel button of the remote. He was clicking through stations so quickly there was no way he could see what was on. But flipping through the offerings was better than pacing. Which is what he really wanted to do.

  He glanced at his watch, then back at the television. Five-forty. When he'd returned to the Hip Hop to pick up his breakfast, Darcy had agreed to see him that night. He'd told her he would be over at six. As they lived in the same building, there was no way he could justify leaving early to beat traffic.

  To think that the previous day he'd been dreading going there for Thanksgiving. He'd thought he would be bored and out of place. He thought she wasn't anything but a do-gooder with a plan to rule the world with tofu. He'd been wrong.

  She'd been smart and funny, not to mention incredibly sexy. He hadn't planned on making love with her, but he couldn't be sorry that it had happened. Not yesterday or this morning.

  His body stirred at the memory of their time in her shower. She had the ability to turn him on in a nanosecond. He'd never experienced anything like it before.

  He leaned back in his chair, releasing the remote so the television stayed on a sports channel. This brief sex-only relationship with Darcy was exactly what he needed. With Sylvia he'd thought he'd found "the one." He'd wanted to settle down, marry her and have a couple of kids. She'd shown him that dreams like that were for idiots.

  Without meaning to, he remembered Sylvia smiling at him the first time they'd met. He'd thought she'd been as taken with him as he'd been with her. With the distance and wisdom of hindsight, he realized that every movement, every touch, every word had been calculated. She'd had a goal when she'd "accidentally" locked herself out of her place and had used this phone to call the locksmith. He'd been the sucker to fall in with her plans.

  He'd learned the lesson well. Love wasn't a part of his plan. But sex. That was something else entirely. For the first time since the shooting he felt himself anticipating something other than the absence of pain.

  He was returning to life. That it was happening wasn't much of a surprise. It had been inevitable. The how was something else. Darcy was an unexpected pleasure. He would enjoy this while it lasted and then move on. Never again would he allow his heart to be engaged.

  *

  Darcy frantically hung discarded outfits back on hangers. She'd changed her clothes five times in the past thirty minutes and she was determined not to do it again. What did it matter what she had on? Mark wasn't coming over to see her dressed … he was far more interested in having her un- dressed. This was all about sex. She had on her best bra-and-panty set to prove it. She was having an adult relationship based purely on physical attraction. People did it all the time. It was very sophisticated.

  It was also very not her.

  Darcy sank onto the bed and covered her face with her hands. What was she doing? While she felt excited and quivery at the thought of Mark coming over in a few minutes, she also felt empty inside. Empty and cheap and bad about herself. The feeling was oddly familiar and it took her several seconds to figure out when she'd last experienced the sensation.

  Before her parents had died, she thought sadly. Back when she'd been shallow and selfish, living only for the moment. Back when the kind of car a guy drove was far more important than something like honesty or compassion. When looks had mattered more than character. She dropped her hands to her sides.

  She'd worked hard to change herself. While the initial plunge into the world of reality had come at the hand of circumstance, once she'd been forced to face her own lacking character, she had done her best to do better. Five years later, she could honestly say she was proud of who she was.

  Was she proud after last night or this morning?

  The lovemaking had been incredible. Darcy had forgotten what it was like to have a man touch her bare skin – to feel his body next to hers, entering hers. She'd been starved and Mark had fed her. But now what? Did she really want to have an affair with a man she barely knew? Or did she want something more?

  She wasn't crazy enough to think she was searching for true love. She had her doubts about being lucky enough to find someone who would adore her and be willing to deal with Dirk. She knew her brother was an amazing person, but not everyone could look past his developmental issues to see the gentle heart inside.

  So she'd given up on the fairy tale, instead resigning herself to a life alone. The move to Whitehorn had cut her off from her hard- won support group. She needed to make friends, finding people she could both like and trust.

  But would Mark be interested in being a friend or was he only in it for what he could get?

  *

  Mark knocked on Darcy's front door at ex- actly two minutes before six. He'd wanted to wait until a couple of minutes past, but he'd been too eager, too aroused. He'd already imagined her opening the door and ushering him inside. He'd thought of gathering her in his arms and kissing her until they were both breathless with passion.

  But reality didn't live up to fantasy. For one thing, Darcy wasn't smiling when she opened her door. For another, she wouldn't look at him.

  Her whispered hello did little to alleviate the sudden ache in his gut.

  "What's wrong?" he asked as she stepped into her living room.

  "Nothing." She brushed her hands against her black slacks and motioned for him to take a seat on the sofa.

  He hesitated. While he appreciated the polite gesture, he couldn't help remembering that twenty-four hours before they'd been making love on that same piece of furniture.

  "Darcy?"

  She crossed to the window and parted the blinds to look out. "I'm fine, Mark. It's just…" Her voice trailed off. She glanced at him, then away. "You're not going to like this."

  The bad feeling got worse. "Why don't you say it and let me be the judge?"

  She nodded, still without looking at him. Her short, blond hair was a mass of curls. Lamplight brought out the shades of gold in the strands. One small hand lingered on the blinds.

  "I can't do the sex thing," she said without warning. "I know it doesn't make sense to you. We've done it twice, so what's the big deal, right? I mean it's a new century and we're all contemporary single people. Ex- cept I'm not. I didn't mean to have old-fashioned values. I didn't even know that I had them. Suddenly they were just there." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. You probably want to go now."

  Mark tried not to think about the two condoms in his back pocket. He shoved his hands into his front pockets and stared at her back.

  "What changed your mind?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "I didn't like what I was thinking about myself. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the sex … I did, it was great. But there has to be more."

  He turned away and swore under his breath. This was just his luck, he thought grimly. He wanted sex and she wanted… He didn't know but he was sure he wouldn't like it. She was right – he should leave. Except, somehow, leaving seemed like the wrong thing to do.

  "Mark?"

  "What?"

  "You can go. Really. It's okay. You didn't ask me out or anything. We have no emotional connection or hint of commitment between us. My inviting you here for Thanksgiving was
entirely my idea. You don't owe me anything."

  "I know."

  He did know. Yet he couldn't seem to get his feet heading for the door.

  He reminded himself he wasn't looking for a relationship. He couldn't ever trust her; he wasn't interested in falling in love.

  "What do you want?" he asked before he could stop himself.

  She turned slowly, until she was facing him. Something that might have been hope flared to life in her eyes.

  "I thought maybe we could be friends."

  Her voice was small as she spoke, as if she knew she was asking for the moon and she didn't doubt he was going to laugh at her.

  He reminded himself he wasn't looking for entanglements and that she was a woman with secrets. Not that he'd cared at five-twenty that morning.

  "Friends?" he repeated.

  She nodded. "Nothing romantic," she added hastily, making him perversely want to know why not. "Just friends."

  He didn't say anything. Darcy swallowed. "I know that sounds weird, but I've been really busy since I moved here and I don't really know that many people. You and I seem to get along, even outside the bedroom."

  She sounded sincere. He even almost be- lieved her. Friends. It wasn't anything he'd considered. There were complications. He didn't want to get involved, and ironically a sex-only relationship had seemed far less trouble. Friends implied more than he was willing to give.

  He knew he should tell her he wasn't interested, but for some reason he couldn't speak the words. Maybe it was because he'd been on his own since he'd returned to Whitehorn. He'd been meaning to look up old buddies, but somehow he never found the time. Besides, what was he supposed to say to them?

  "Why not romance?" he asked. "Not with me, but with someone?"

  She gave a rueful smile. "I don't have really good luck with men."

  Her statement made him want to ask a half-dozen questions, but he didn't. If they were just going to be friends, why did her past matter?

  "We can give it a try," he said at last.

  "Really?" She smiled, her full mouth curving up, her eyes brightening with pleasure. "Great."

  "I do have a question."

  "What?"

  "How do you plan to avoid temptation?"

  Her smile faded slightly. "Yes, well, that is a concern, isn't it? I suppose I won't think about it."

  "What if I start to seduce you?"

  Her steady gaze met his. "I don't think I'd be able to stop you. I guess I'm going to have to risk it. Do you plan to seduce me?"

  He shook his head and it was only half a lie. Strangely, it was enough for her to admit that he could easily tempt her into his bed.

  "I'm depending on you to be a gentleman," she murmured.

  He groaned. "That hardly seems fair."

  "Imagine how I feel. I've just admitted you have all that power."

  They faced each other – still standing in the living room. Mark didn't know about her, but he felt damned awkward.

  "Now what?" he asked.

  "It's up to you. I have all the fixings for a great turkey stir-fry. We could have dinner and talk about our first friendship project."

  "We're going to have projects?"

  "Sure. Don't guys like to get together to do things, while women like to sit around and talk? I thought we could start with something that would make you feel more comfortable."

  "Like what?"

  "There's a decorating party at the children's wing of the hospital. I thought we'd go there."

  Damn do-gooder, he grumbled to himself. Typical.

  "No way, no how," he announced.

  Darcy only smiled.

  Chapter Six

  Mark still couldn't believe he was here, in the hospital, about to decorate a tree. It was humiliating.

  "Don't you know I'm a tough cop?" he muttered in Darcy's ear. "I'm supposed to be out subduing criminals, not participating in a decorating seminar."

  Darcy didn't look the least bit impressed by his protests. "You agreed to this last night. It's fun, it's for a good cause, so quit complaining."

  They were in the main waiting area of the children's wing. Several other people gathered around, listening to the director's instructions. Mark recognized Janie from the Hip Hop Café, along with one of the younger deputies.

  "You'll break into groups of two or three," the woman was saying. "The trees are on various floors. We've distributed the decorations as well, and the children who are mobile have been told they're welcome to help."

  Mark felt trapped by circumstances. He hadn't been thinking when he'd agreed to this. He wasn't the tree-decorating type. He'd been avoiding polite society since he'd arrived back in Whitehorn and now he felt out of place.

  By contrast, Darcy practically quivered with anticipation. "Isn't this great?" she asked as they made their way to the elevator to take them to the fourth floor. Their tree was close to the playroom.

  As they stepped onto the floor, familiar smells assaulted Mark. He'd spent too long in a hospital, not to mention rehab, after he'd been shot. He remembered bad meals, no sleep and plenty of pain. They weren't good memories. As they passed open doors leading to patients' rooms, he saw small children hooked up to IVs and lying still in bed when they should have been home running and jumping and laughing.

  All those years as a New York City detective and a bunch of sick kids still got to him. Damn. He'd gone soft.

  "Okay, so let's see what ornaments we have," Darcy said when they reached the bare Christmas tree in the corner by the entrance to the playroom. It was tall and the scent of pine helped overcome the smell of illness.

  "We'll sort them by type and color, then come up with a plan."

  He stared at her as she crouched next to the boxes of ornaments. "We need a plan?"

  "Absolutely. We can't just hang things wherever we want."

  "Why not?"

  She didn't even bother answering. Instead she rolled her eyes, as if he were being too dumb for words.

  "I never realized you were such a control freak," he said.

  "I'm not. Well, sometimes. If I can't always control the big things in my life, I tend to micromanage the little things. Decorating for Christmas is one of them. Maybe it's because I've been responsible for doing it on my own since my folks died."

  Darcy emptied the contents of all the boxes. When Mark squatted next to her, she handed him containers of wooden ornaments with instructions for him to sort them by size. She examined their strings of lights, even going so far as to lay them out in the empty playroom to calculate the exact length of each.

  "You go to all this trouble at home?" he asked when she'd returned with the an- nouncement that there were probably enough lights, but they were going to have to be careful to make sure every branch had a decoration.

  "Absolutely. Decorating my tree is an entire weekend affair."

  He started to tease her that he would like to be out of town during that time, but the words got stuck in his throat. He had a feeling that he would enjoy spending that weekend with Darcy. She might even be able to exorcise some of his demons.

  "Whatcha doin'?"

  The soft voice came from behind him. Mark turned to see a small girl standing by the edge of the hall. She wore a worn pink bathrobe and cat slippers. One hand clutched a tattered teddy while the other held on to a kid-size IV stand. Two plastic bags dripped into lines that disappeared up her sleeve.

  "We're decorating the tree," Darcy said with a smile. "I was thinking about putting her on top. What do you think?"

  As Darcy spoke, she held up a white- and-gold angel. The little girl had a scarf over her head. Her eyebrows were gone, as were her eyelashes. But judging from the freckles marching across her pert nose, Mark guessed that she was a redhead.

  The child tilted her head as she studied the angel. "She's pretty," she said.

  "I agree." Darcy nodded. "Okay. We'll put her on top and tomorrow you can tell everyone it was your idea."

  The girl smiled shyly. />
  "What's your name?" Darcy asked.

  "Brittany."

  "Do you want to help?"

  Brittany hesitated, then shook her head. "I'm gonna get a second chemo and it makes me throw up. But I'll come see the tree tomorrow."

  Darcy nodded without speaking. Mark saw tears in her eyes.

  Brittany waved, then turned and headed back toward her room.

  Mark watched her go. "Now I see why you do this."

  Darcy sniffed, then cleared her throat. "I want to help. I don't have a lot of money, so I can't give very much."

  "Time can be more precious."

  She returned to sorting the ornaments. "No one should be in the hospital at Christmas. If they have to be, we owe it to them to make it special. The holidays are a time for connecting."

  He wondered who she would be spending the holidays with. After all, her parents were gone and she hadn't had any family at Thanksgiving diner.

  But he didn't ask. There were things about her he didn't want to know. They implied a closeness that made him uncomfortable. He was still adjusting to the fact that he'd agreed to be her friend. Growing up in Whitehorn, he'd never been much of a joiner. Since returning the only thing he'd gotten involved with was a weekly Sunday morning basketball game.

  "What has you looking so serious?" Darcy asked.

  "I was just thinking that I never fit in around here. I didn't get the whole cowboy thing."

  "That's really interesting. I mean, considering your sister tours with the rodeo."

  He stared at her. "How did you know about my sister?"

  "I, ah, well…" Darcy stood and studied the tree. "We should really do the lights now."

  "Not so fast." He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "Who told you about Maddie?"

  "It wasn't anything." She stared at the center of his chest. "There was some talk about you when you returned to town and I might have recently mentioned you to Janie. I had issued a rather impulsive invitation to my house for Thanksgiving and I wanted to make sure you weren't dangerous. At least not in the criminal sense."

  He leaned close. "You didn't realize I'd be so irresistible in bed."

  She raised her gaze to his. "You have an overinflated ego."