by Janet Dailey
“No problem. If I’d needed them, I’d have taken them with me when I left your place. Take off your coat while I put these things away. There’s a coatrack behind the door.” Barefoot, she pattered into the kitchen. Travis hesitated, then took off his coat. He hadn’t meant to stay. But she’d clearly invited him. And her living room was so cozy and inviting that he couldn’t make himself leave.
An overstuffed sofa faced the fireplace, where a cheery blaze crackled on the brick hearth. There were soft cushions, an abundance of green plants, and a wall of shelves filled with well-worn books. The aroma of freshly baked cookies that wafted from the kitchen made his mouth water.
Maggie reappeared with a tray of cookies and milk. “You’re in luck,” she said. “I had to bake chocolate chip cookies for a work party tomorrow. There are plenty left over, and they’re still warm.”
“I can’t stay long,” he said. “I need to get home before the weather gets worse.”
“I won’t keep you,” she said. “But I can’t send you away hungry when we’ve got warm cookies.” She put the tray on the coffee table and moved the cushions to clear a space for him. “Have a seat,” she said. “And help yourself.”
Travis sat and took one cookie, then a second. The cookies and cold milk were delicious, but it was Maggie who stunned him. Warm and rumpled, she looked so tantalizing that it was all he could do to keep his hands off her. He swore silently. This wasn’t why he’d come. And he’d be damned if he was going to let her do that maddening hot and cold number on him again.
But, so help him, there were worse things to do on a blustery night than sit in front of a warm fire, sharing cookies and milk with a gorgeous, sexy woman.
* * *
Maggie hadn’t expected anybody to show up on her door-step tonight, especially Travis. But now that he was here, she realized how much she’d wanted to see him again.
Her eager gaze took him in—the way his damp hair, in need of a trim, curled over his forehead, the lean, chiseled face and earnest gray eyes. The man was heartbreak on a bun. But she’d learned that being alone and thinking about him all the time was no picnic either. She’d memorized the moment when he’d kissed her, his strong arms crushing her close, his lips like cool velvet on her mouth, the taste of him, the feel of him . . .
Had he come here for a reason, or was he just, as he’d said, stopping by to return her dishes?
“How’s your search for Santa coming along?” he asked, as if just making conversation.
“Are you about to volunteer?” she asked.
“Not on your life. I was just wondering, that’s all.”
“Too bad.” Maggie broke a cookie and dipped half in her milk. “I would have taken you up on it. The Santa suit was so old that it fell apart at the dry cleaner’s, so we’ll have to rent a new one. But so far there’s nobody to fill it.”
And that was literally true. Carrie Mae, who worked in the county clerk’s office, had slipped her the news that Travis and Conner had applied for a license to sell Christmas trees. Once Hank found out that they were going into competition with him, there was no way he would play Santa—especially since his competitors owned the sleigh and horses.
For Maggie, the situation was turning into one massive headache.
“So what’s the backup plan?” he asked. “Do you have one?”
“Not a good one. But the parade’s got to have a Santa. So if I have to, I’ll wear the suit myself.”
His eyes twinkled. “I’d pay good money to see that.”
“Maybe so. But the kids would know the difference. They deserve better. They deserve a real Santa in a real sleigh, like they’ve always had. But I know better than to ask Hank again. Even if he says yes, he’s bound to change his mind when he finds out about the trees—”
She stopped herself, realizing she’d just admitted to knowing his plan. “Sorry,” she said.
“Did you snoop?” He raised an eyebrow, half amused.
“No, for what it’s worth. I was fighting temptation and winning. Then somebody in the county office told me. Hank’s bound to be livid about your competing with him.”
“This is America. Competition is allowed. If he chooses to be mad, that’s his problem.”
“And mine,” Maggie said. “I can’t blame you and Conner for taking advantage of an opportunity. But you’ve just changed Christmas for the whole town.”
“Maybe it’ll be a good change. We’ve got some great plans in the works.” He gazed at Maggie’s downcast face. “I guess I’d better go.” He stood, brushing the crumbs off his jeans. “Thanks for the cookies and milk. Are you going to tell anybody about the trees?”
“I’ve known for days, but I haven’t told a soul, and I don’t intend to. That’s your business.” She rose to see him out. Heaven knows, it wasn’t what she wanted. But things had become awkward, and she could think of no excuse to keep him there.
“Thanks for understanding,” he said. “At least you know why it wouldn’t have done any good for me to square things with Hank.”
“Yes, I know.”
He was reaching for his coat. She checked the impulse to fling herself into his arms and beg him not to leave. Twice he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her. Twice he’d met the wall of her fear—the fear of being hurt again. Travis was a proud man. He would not risk a third rejection.
Please don’t go! The words rushed to her lips, but something held them back. She stood silent and helpless as he shrugged on his coat. “Good night, Maggie, and good luck,” he said, and opened the front door.
A fierce gust of hail-laden wind ripped the doorknob out of his hand, slamming the door inward against the wall, and shoving Travis backward so hard that he almost lost his balance.
Righting himself, he wrestled the door closed. Maggie rushed forward to help him hold it while he fastened the latch. As it clicked into place, she stood between him and the door. “You can’t go out there now,” she said.
“Is that an invitation, Maggie?” His expression was unreadable.
“You know storms like this don’t last long. It won’t hurt you to wait till the worst of it passes.” She was talking too fast, the words coming in bursts.
There was a flicker of hesitation. Then, as if making up his mind, he stripped his arms out of the coat and let it drop to the floor. Turning toward Maggie, he laid his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms’ length. His slate gray eyes drilled into hers.
“No more games, Maggie,” he said. “Is it yes or no?”
A quiver passed through her body. “Yes . . .” Her hands slid up his chest as she whispered her reply. “And no more games.”
His kiss stole her breath and sent heat spiraling through her body. Pulse throbbing, she pulled him down to her, deepening the contact, teasing him with her tongue. He responded with a growl of need, his body pressing hers, his hands moving up her bare back to find the clasp of her bra.
Then, abruptly, he stopped and eased her gently away from him. “I think we’re headed for trouble, Maggie,” he muttered in a husky voice. “There will be better times for this.”
Maggie nodded and forced herself to take slow breaths. Travis was right. With so many things unsettled between them, falling into bed too soon would only create more complications. If this was meant to be, they’d have all the time in the world later on.
The storm was still howling outside. Wind rattled the windows. Hail hammered the panes like buckshot. Moving away from her, Travis picked up the remote and switched on the small TV that stood next to the fireplace. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Maybe we can get some news about the storm.”
He found a local news channel, lowered himself to the sofa, and laid an arm along the back. “Come here,” he said, with a nod to the empty space beside him.
As the weather update came on the screen, Maggie settled against him with a contented sigh, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. It felt right, being with him like this, as if they’d been close forever. She tried t
o pay attention, but in the warm room, nestled against the man who made her feel happy, relaxed, and exquisitely comfortable, sleep crept up on her. She stifled a yawn and felt his arm tighten around her.
The drone of the TV announcer’s voice faded as her eyelids drooped, grew heavy, and finally closed.
* * *
Travis stirred and opened his eyes. The lamp was on in the room, but the fire had burned down to coals. Aside from the TV, broadcasting an infomercial, the night was eerily still.
He could no longer hear the storm.
When he tried to move, he discovered that his left arm was numb and weighted in place. Maggie was nestled in the curve of it, still fast asleep.
Lord, what time is it? Blinking himself awake, he focused his gaze on the mantel clock above the fireplace. It was 1:15 AM.
He sat up straight and shifted his arm. Maggie opened her eyes, looking muzzy and adorable. “Hullo,” she murmured.
He bent his head and kissed the tip of her nose. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” he said. “It’s after one in the morning. I’ve got to get out of here before your neighbors start gossiping.”
“Is it still storming?” She pushed herself up and brushed her tousled hair back from her face.
“I haven’t looked, but I can’t hear it anymore. Whatever the weather’s like out there, I need to get going.”
She rose unsteadily to her feet. “Let me make you some coffee.”
“We’d better not take the time.” Travis picked up his coat, then paused to take her in his arms. “Things are bound to be crazy until after the holidays. If you don’t hear from me—”
“I know.” She touched his cheek. “I won’t take it personally. And things will be pretty crazy for me, too. We might have to put you and me off until after Christmas.”
“In that case, I’d like to reserve you for New Year’s Eve, if you’re free. We can dress up and go out on the town—”
“Or stay right here and snuggle,” she said. “I think I might like that even better.”
“Your choice. Got to go now.” He kissed her quick and hard, tearing himself away before temptation could keep him there any longer. Spending the rest of the night with her would be heaven. But it wasn’t going to happen now.
He pulled on his coat and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. The air was cold and still, the sky clear. But the hailstorm had left a thin layer of white on the ground. The roads would be slippery going home. At least he had decent tires, and there shouldn’t be much traffic at this hour.
The surrounding houses were all dark. Good. The last thing he wanted was to have some nosy neighborhood gossip causing trouble for Maggie. Nobody would believe how chaste their evening had been. Hell, Conner would have a field day with it. But he would just have to grin and bear his friend’s teasing.
He had to brush the hail off the truck, but once he was inside, it started right up. The road was like an ice rink, but as a patrolman, he’d driven under all sorts of conditions. Getting home shouldn’t be a problem.
Gearing down, he kept his speed at a steady twenty miles an hour. Progress was slow, but it was better than sliding off the road and getting stuck.
He remembered his premonition on the way here, the feeling that something was about to happen. If that “something” had meant finally getting on solid ground with Maggie, he would never complain again. That smart, sexy woman could be the best thing that had ever happened to him. Now, if he could just make his business plans work out, he’d be on top of the world.
Along Main Street, the lights gleamed on the icy white surface of the road. There was no traffic at this hour, but he stopped at the red lights anyway. Old habits died hard, even when a stop meant easing to a halt by tapping the brake to avoid a skid, then rolling forward until he gained enough traction to pick up speed again.
Ahead, he could see the last stoplight, where Main Street intersected with the highway. After that, the going would be easier—and he was in luck. This light was green. He pressed the gas pedal, just enough to give him a little more speed. He would barely make it.
The light turned yellow as he passed under the signal. He was just easing into the left turn when a pair of high-beam headlights almost blinded him. In the same instant, a huge, dark shape hurtled out of the darkness and slammed into the right side of the pickup, crumpling it inward like an empty soda can.
Anchored in place by his seat belt, Travis was flung to one side by the impact, but in the seconds it took for the shock to wear off, he realized he wasn’t hurt. However, from the way the far side of the truck was stove in, he would guess that the old Ford was totaled.
His trooper instincts kicked in. Somebody was in the other vehicle—somebody who might be injured and need help.
The frame had bent around the driver’s side door, but Travis managed to kick it open. Jumping to the ground, he ran around to the other side of the truck. That was when he saw what had hit him.
Even in the dark, it wasn’t hard to recognize the hulking outline of a black Hummer h1 Alpha.
The big off-road vehicle was built like a tank. The heavy grille bar on the front end, which had crushed the pickup, had protected the Hummer, which wasn’t likely even scratched.
But right now, that wasn’t his concern.
Sprinting to the driver’s side of the Hummer, Travis flung the door open. The man in the driver’s seat was rubbing his head, looking confused.
“Are you all right?” Travis demanded.
“I . . . think so.”
“Is anybody else in the vehicle?”
“No. Just me. You sound like a cop. Are you?”
“Nope. Here, let me help you out. You might have trouble standing.” Travis offered an arm to balance the man as he slid off the seat and dropped to the ground. Standing in the faint glow of the street light, he was a little taller than Travis, close to him in age, with rumpled dark hair. A small gash on his forehead was oozing blood. Travis offered him a clean handkerchief to press on the wound.
“What the hell happened?” He glanced around, a confused expression on his face.
“You were in an accident.” Travis’s brain had clicked into the detachment mode that had enabled him to survive as a highway trooper. It was still sinking in that this man’s driving had destroyed his truck and, except for some lucky timing, could have killed him.
“Accident?” He blinked as if trying to rouse himself.
“Your vehicle ran a red light and hit my truck,” Travis said. “Take a look.”
“What?” He turned around and saw the damage, which seemed to shock him to his senses. He turned slowly back to face Travis. “Oh, hell, I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I remember now. I saw the light and slammed on the brakes, but I couldn’t stop. I slid right into you. Must’ve hit my head. Don’t worry, I’ve got insurance. I can get you my card—”
“Thanks.” Travis was still in cop mode. “Don’t you know better than to hit the brakes on an icy road? That’ll send you into a skid every time. And you need to put that Hummer in four-wheel drive. I know they’ve got it.”
“Sorry. I’m from Phoenix. We don’t have slick roads there.”
“Phoenix?” Travis shook his head. “That explains a lot. If you’d been going any faster, we might not be talking right now.”
The stranger frowned and fumbled for his wallet. “I’ll get you my insurance information. But first, I’ve got one question.”
“What’s that?”
His bewildered gaze swept from the hail-slicked ground to the traffic signal, which continued to change. “Where in hell’s name am I?”
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t got the foggiest idea.”
“This is Branding Iron, Texas. Does that ring a bell?”
He shook his head. “Never heard of it. I was headed for Fort Worth. Must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere.” He surveyed the wreck again. “Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”
“In this town, a pol
iceman would just have to get up in the middle of the night and give you a ticket. Nobody’s badly hurt, and you’ve offered your insurance information. If you’ll give it to me and help me push my truck off the road, I’ll make a call and report the accident in the morning.”
“Thanks.” He slipped two cards out of his wallet and handed them to Travis. One was a policy card from a well-known insurance company. The other was a business card. “Keep them. I’ve got extras,” he said.
Travis held the business card up to the light and managed to read most of it.
DR. J. T. RUSHFORD, DVM
1642 PALO VERDE DRIVE, PHOENIX, AZ
“DVM? So you’re a veterinarian?” Travis asked.
“That’s right. Most folks just call me Rush.” He extended a hand.
“Travis Morgan.” Travis accepted the handshake. The stranger seemed like a decent sort, but all he really wanted was to have his truck back and drive home. Unfortunately, he knew that the old Ford was done for. He would never drive it again.
“So what’s a vet from Arizona doing clear out here in the middle of the night?” he asked.
“That’s a long story,” Rush said. “Let’s get your truck out of the road. Then, if you’ll allow me to drive you home, I’ll tell it to you.”
The truck was too badly damaged to drive, but with Travis steering and the Hummer pushing from behind, they managed to get it onto the shoulder of the highway. Travis blocked the wheels, scrawled a note, and tucked it under the windshield wiper. He could’ve called Conner to come and get him, but as long as Rush was willing to drive him home, it made sense to take him up on the offer. Besides, he was interested in hearing the man’s story.
The cab of the Hummer was a study in functional luxury, with leather seats and a dash that looked like the cockpit of an airplane. Some technical updates, like Bluetooth and a GPS, had likely been added after 2006, the last manufacturing date for this model. Travis buckled himself in and gave directions. “Five miles south down the highway and then you turn left. I’ll tell you where. But not too fast. That surface is still slick.”
“Got it,” Rush pulled back onto the road. “I still say you sound like a cop.”