Covert Christmas

by Marilyn Pappao

  Consumed by this, whatever this was, he plied her with whispered kisses. It felt like heaven—and it felt like hell.

  He didn’t just want sex with her—he wanted to claim his right. She was his first. Would always be his. She’d dominated his mind and his dreams for most of his life.

  As she rocked frantically against him, his body became one raw bundle of electricity. He caught her gasps with his kisses until she finally stiffened in his arms and gave a keening cry. He felt the shock waves rolling through her body and pulling him in. Her orgasm was powerful, beautiful. It took him over the edge along with her. His life seemed right for the first time in years.

  “I love you,” she groaned. “I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  Her words were like a bucket of frigid water over his head, bringing him back to reality. Groping for balance against the wall, he held her steady until his body stopped quaking and his mind cleared from the blast of fireworks.

  He’d just been through possibly the most all-consuming experience of his entire life. And it was the worst thing that could’ve happened. He wanted to do it again and again.

  Hell. His determination and resolve had been completely and utterly undone by his own foolhardiness. Now what?

  Tara felt the change come over Cam like a cold shower. Before he’d even moved or said a word.

  “Better get dressed,” he whispered. “The generator’s kicked off again.”

  That was it? Those were the only words he could spare for her? After she’d given her all and confessed her love.

  She felt foolish for expecting words of undying love. But she would’ve done fine with a single line about how he hoped she was okay and how great they were together. She was okay. More than okay. She felt changed. Whole again.

  When he released her and let her ease down the wall to her feet, Tara caught a glimpse of his eyes. The same wonder and fear that she was feeling showed right in his eyes before he averted them and shut her out again.

  He felt as scared as she did. She was petrified. Making love with Cam again had been a life-changing rush. Slightly scary and over the top. She didn’t want whatever they had reignited to be over, but knew it must end soon, anyway. She didn’t really belong here.

  She turned and pulled on her T-shirt, but was determined not let him entirely escape into his shell again. Not now.

  “Let’s go to the great room and talk,” she suggested.

  Cam shook his head while he finished zipping up, but then said, “I’ll add a few logs to the fire, and I want to try calling out again.”

  What had happened between them was more than sex. She knew it and felt sure he did, too. She slipped into her jeans, but left off the panties.

  Cam stood at the doorway, his sandy-brown hair all messed and his shirt hanging out of his belt, waiting for her. The man was just too delicious. She wanted to reach out to him again, but held back for the moment.

  Something else needed to be said first. “Please let me put up these decorations. There’s only a couple of days left until Christmas, and I think we need a little good cheer.”

  His expression became a complex puzzle of emotions as he thought it over. “All right. But downstairs only. And not many. You can pack them away again before you leave.”

  Well, it was a start. A crack in the icy wall he’d erected between them. When he turned his back, Tara hurried to gather everything into the box, muttering about the Grinch under her breath. He probably didn’t want to touch her again, either. But she would have something to say about both of those things.

  As the sun dipped low behind Mt. Lincoln Peak much later that afternoon, Cam found himself wondering where the hell Tara had gone. He’d spent the whole day avoiding her, though it had been tough. Her Christmas carol-singing had filled the entire house with lively sounds—the noise of a happy woman working that hadn’t been heard inside these walls in over four years. The lilting sounds had made his heart sing and he nearly forgot why he’d done without for so long.

  His damned mind kept betraying him. Replaying the look on her face right before he’d coldly told her to get dressed. Once upon a time he’d thrilled to see that same expression on her face. Love. He remembered it clearly. The day he’d asked her to marry him.

  He knew that look promised happy endings. But it had all been a lie back then. And now, even if it were suddenly to come true, he didn’t deserve anyone’s love and would prefer to hide from the responsibility of telling her as much.

  What was he to tell her, anyway? That he loved her too? That he’d never stopped—not for one moment? He couldn’t face the guilt. It shamed him to think what a bastard he’d been to marry someone else when his heart had always belonged to Tara.

  After checking every room in the house and finding them all empty, Cam finally checked the coat closet and then the kitchen door. Tara’s coat was missing and the door alarm had been reset. He groaned. She couldn’t simply go off like this when a killer was after her, and he intended to tell her so.

  He grabbed his coat and boots and wished for once that he’d kept one of his grandfather’s guns in the house for emergencies, but he’d gotten rid of them after bringing Chloe home. What if Tara was in trouble? Already in the hands of her stalker?

  The minute Cam hit the back porch, he realized the brunt of the storm was past. Late-afternoon sunshine peeked through the gray. He heard a disturbance coming from the direction of the stand of evergreens behind the barn.

  Glancing over his shoulder at the firewood chopping block, he noted that Jim’s ax was missing. Storming through the deep snow, following her footsteps, Cam rounded the barn and spotted Tara. Sure enough, she was trying to bring down one of the smaller trees.

  His tree. She planned to cut one of the trees from the stand of spruce they’d planted together over twenty years ago. He didn’t want the scent of evergreen in his house. Didn’t want to remember anything more about their past life than he already did.

  But as he came closer, the sight of that flushed face and those blue eyes of hers all lit up with enthusiasm and determination stopped him cold. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. And when he did suck in a deep breath, his lungs filled with frigid air. Cam gasped involuntarily.

  Tara turned to him, the expression on her face daring him to try stopping her. “What?” she finally said.

  “Just look at you.” It was all he could manage.

  She frowned and put her hand on her hip in defiance. “Yes, it’s me, chopping down one of your trees. I want a Christmas whether you want one or not. I’m not going to spend…”

  He barked out a laugh, surprising both of them. “You look beautiful. Exactly the way you looked as a kid planting this stand. I don’t think you’ve aged a day.”

  Tara blushed and pushed a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks, I guess.” She gave him a tentative smile. “So you don’t mind…about the tree coming in?”

  “No.” Suddenly he didn’t. Suddenly it felt as if his mind was clearing along with the clouds. “Let me help you.”

  She stood, shaking her head. “What about your knee?”

  “It’s fine. I’m not crippled, it just aches sometimes in the cold.” He reached for the ax.

  Shrugging, she handed it over. “If your knee isn’t the problem, then why haven’t you gone back to work?”

  Gritting his teeth as he planted the ax blade in the wood, he ground out, “I knew you wouldn’t let the wounds alone. You’ll just have to pick at them until they open up again, won’t you?”

  “I only want to understand.” She grabbed the top of the tree as it leaned in her direction.

  “Fine. Let’s move inside and we can talk.”

  But they didn’t talk. Not about the things that mattered the most to Tara. Oh, they argued plenty. About where the tree should go. About putting lights on a tree with minimal electricity available to turn them on. They argued about everything, including which decorations would go best on the medium-size tree.

  This
wasn’t like the Cam she remembered. The man she remembered gave the people around him every single thing they requested. He was the good boy who grew into the good man who wanted to please the world. But somehow that giving boy was gone and in his place was this man with hurt in his eyes.

  Much later that evening, as the fire blazed at their backs and Cam steadied the shaky stepladder beneath her, he handed her a different possibility to try at the top. “Didn’t your grandmother used to have an angel she liked to use as a topper?”

  “I don’t want an angel,” he mumbled. “Try one of these stars or a nutcracker.”

  She held up the five-pointed glass star he’d handed her. “Nope. This one looks best with lights behind it. Hand me another. Why don’t you want an angel?”

  “Chloe.”

  Tara tried a silver star. “Your daughter? Doesn’t she like angels?” When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “Why aren’t the two of you together for the holidays?”

  After another long pause, Cam said, “Things haven’t been the best between Chloe and me lately. We were fine while she was a baby, but now that she’s talking and needing more than…I…I…”

  Tara turned to look down at him. “What? She’s still a baby. What could she possibly have done to…?”

  Cam’s expression was stricken, full of pain. “I look at her and see everything that could’ve been. Every mistake I’ve made is written in her eyes. It breaks my heart. It’s not her fault. None of it. But someday she’ll know what a bastard her father really is. I just want her to disappear and take my memories along with her.”

  “Oh, Cam.” She reached out for him, but he turned away.

  Tara shifted, trying to bring him back. Then the ladder collapsed under her.

  Instinctively Cam spun at the sound behind his back and caught Tara right before she would’ve hit the ground. With his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing labored, he carried her over to the sofa and sat down with her still in his arms.

  “Thanks,” she breathed. She gazed up at him through the firelight.

  He took in the sight of her. Her hair had frizzed up in burnt-red ringlets. She wore no makeup but her lips were the color of rosé wine. Her aqua-colored eyes still carried the deep-purple smudges of exhaustion underneath, but they glittered in the light of the fire. Tara had never been pretty. Not in the classical sense like Mandy’s sophisticated looks. But she’d always been fascinating to look at, full of color and brimming with life. Holding her was like capturing a firefly in his hands.

  If she’d broken her neck in a fall, it would’ve been all his fault. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to steady his nerves.

  Visions danced in his head. Visions of the two of them as lovers. He remembered how responsive she had always been to his touch. How well they fit together. He hungered to slowly explore her once again.

  She shifted to crawl into his lap. If they spent the next few hours reminiscing and having reunion sex, what or who would it hurt? Maybe he could keep his mind blank—for a while longer. Maybe releasing the tension would stop this yearning to keep her with him always.

  When he opened his eyes, she gazed up at him as the sensual awareness grew. “Tara, I have nothing to give but a few old memories. I’ve become an empty shell and the holidays are particularly tough. But I can’t help myself, I want you. I want you naked underneath me—like it used to be.”

  She reached up and touched his cheek. “I’ve wanted you forever, my love. We can pretend the last ten years never happened if that’s what you want. I’ll take whatever you give.”

  He gave in to the urgent need pounding through his veins and took her mouth. This time he vowed to go slow, to savor every moment. This time he would revel in the texture of her lips. The way her tongue slid seductively over his. She tasted like popcorn and hot chocolate—and like the best part of his past.

  When she moaned into his mouth, her need echoed inside him. He shifted her again across his lap so that his erection rubbed against her bottom. She reached for his shirt buttons and he slid his hand up under her shirt. Finding bare skin, a shocking stream of adrenaline coursed through him as he completely lost touch with reality.

  Somehow they ended up naked on the rug in front of the fire. His mouth trailed a blaze of hot kisses over her tight nipples and lower—along her abdomen and lower still. She arched upward as he tested her hot spot and found her wet and ready. As he twisted, lowering his mouth and kissing her intimately, he felt her whole body shudder. He used his tongue to bring her to climax. The sounds she made were better than any music to his ears.

  When she boldly took him in her mouth in return, he groaned and pulled her up his body. “I wanted this to be slow torture. Keep it up and everything will be over too soon.”

  She smiled up at him and licked her lips. That was it for him. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and, holding them above her head, he slipped inside her tight warmth.

  Home. It was perfect. As in his dreams of her. Tara had always been everything to him.

  He watched her eyes, saw the raw, primitive need reflected there, matching his own. They began a familiar rhythm. Matching each other perfectly until they crashed over that waiting edge together.

  He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed. “Okay,” he said breathlessly. Both a question and a statement.

  “Okay,” she replied.

  And suddenly everything was very, very okay.

  They eventually made it upstairs to Cam’s bedroom where they made love and dozed, whispering and reminiscing for hours on end. When Tara opened her eyes to the lavender light of early morning, she reached out for him but found his side of the bed had grown cold.

  Thinking he may have gone out to feed the animals, Tara scrambled around and found her clothes. It was Christmas Eve morning and she needed to check on how he was doing in the cold light of his most dreaded day.

  Hearing noises in the attic, she went up to check there first. She found him sitting on the chaise, rubbing an antique hobbyhorse with a bottle of wood oil and a rag in his hand. She came up behind him and gently touched his shoulder. He didn’t turn but laid his hand over hers—a simple, warm gesture that made her heart flutter.

  “It’s Chloe’s birthday.” Cam reared back and checked his handiwork. “This belonged to my grandfather originally. Think she’ll like it? She wants a real pony, but she’s a little young yet.”

  “She’ll love it,” Tara told him as tears swam in her eyes.

  Cam turned then to look up at her. “I miss her, Tara. I want to bring her home. Everything has changed.”

  Thank God. The first morning rays peeked through the dusty window, lighting up the room and brightening Cam’s face. “Maybe we’ll be able to get through the pass today or tomorrow. I want you to meet Chloe.”

  Tara felt her heart contract, leaving empty space in her chest where it had just been so full of love. “I would love to meet your daughter.” Though there wasn’t much of a chance of that. “But the minute the pass opens I’ll have to contact the sheriff. I must deliver that thumb drive to the governor immediately and get it out of my possession. Do you think my car is in good enough shape for me to drive out of the woods?”

  “I’ll drive you where you need to go.” Cam stood and took her into his arms. “Now that we’ve found each other again, I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

  He kissed her with amazing tenderness and what she could only describe as love. “You’ve given me a chance to get my life back.” Whispering in her ear, he held her close. “I don’t know if I can ever get fully past what happened—what I did or didn’t do. But you’ve made me want to try, Tara. Thank you.”

  She bit down on her lip, not willing to say what was necessary. Not willing to put a stop to the dream.

  But as she pulled out of his arms, she saw terror entering his eyes, anyway. “What’s wrong, honey? What…?”

  From not far away, a phone rang. “The phones are working!”

 
The two of them raced down the stairs and found the nearest landline phone. The caller was the sheriff, telling Cam the pass had been open for several hours. As Cam explained about her presence and that he wanted the sheriff to come up and hear her story, Tara zipped downstairs and retrieved her cell. Within minutes she’d reached the governor on his private line. After a moment’s negotiation, they decided to meet at the local sheriff’s office rather than take any more chances. The governor would contact the FBI and then leave for Juniper immediately.

  Cam started down the stairs as her call was ending. “I heard your end. The sheriff’s on his way up here, but I can call him back if you want. Do you have everything ready to leave?”

  She turned and opened her mouth to answer, but never got the chance.

  “Good question, Miss Jackson.” A tall, thin stranger stood in the hallway with a nine-millimeter Walther P5 pointed directly at her head. “Come down the stairs, Mr. Farrell. I’d like to hear the answer to your question, too.”

  The hitman was already in the house. It was too late to run and Cam was in the middle of her fight. Oh, Cam.

  Chapter 6

  Tara. Cam gritted his teeth as he slowly came down the stairs toward the bastard who held a gun on the woman he loved. He halted at the bottom of the stairs and waited for the hitman to flinch. All he needed was one slipup. One blink and he’d have the guy.

  “Stay where you are,” the hitman ordered. “Now then…” He inched closer to Tara and grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her up next to his body. “Ms. Jackson here is going to tell us where she put that computer chip. And then, Mr. Farrell, you are going to retrieve it.”

  “No, Cam. He’ll kill you the minute you have it in your hand.”

  “Shut up.” The hitman put her in a neck lock and pushed the tip of his weapon into her temple. “I don’t have a lot of time to spare. Tell me now or I’ll kill him first.”

  Cam fisted and opened his hands, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. This bastard was asking for it.

  Tara’s face was red, her eyes wide in fear. “All right. All right. Don’t hurt him.”