Two cupboard doors later, she left the safety of the kitchen to return to dangerous territory.
The room looked more inviting than ever with flames dancing joyfully to embrace the newly added log in the fireplace.
White candles flickered on the fireplace mantle and only one lamp remained lit in a far corner, leaving the sofa and its soft pillows half in shadows, yet still inviting. The flickering flames from the fireplace cast a pool of golden light across the luxurious bearskin rug.
RJ worked the wine bottle opener into the cork. The wine bottle wasn’t giving up the cork that easily. In fact, it appeared that the wine bottle was winning.
“Do you need any help?” she asked, teasingly.
“This is not my first rodeo,” he said in his self-assured manner, his attention fixed on the task at hand, until he gave a final expert twist of the wine opener and the cork came out with a soft popping sound. “Just takes a man good with his hands.” He smiled.
Oh, dear, thought Claire, what was her boyfriend’s name, again?
RJ set the wine bottle on the side table while blindly pointing a remote control at the antique armoire, now with doors open.
“My dad’s old stereo,” RJ said, “and his music collection.”
The softly, rhythmic sounds of Boz Skaggs’ Look What You’ve Done to Me eased into the room from a sound system where blue lights twinkled like a small city existed in the blackness of the cabinet.
She sensed what RJ was trying to do. Keep his mind off his dog. And she’d like to help him. But candlelight, wine, and sexy music?
If this were any other man, she would have faked a yawn and executed the ‘not interested’ removing of her person from the scene.
The problem was, that this wasn’t just any man. This was RJ, a man who both interested her and excited her, on all levels. Try stopping that train.
But she had to. Or at least, try.
She pulled in a deep breath, determined to help a friend. She could be here for him and keep her head on at the same time, despite how dangerously tempting the evening might get.
She returned to the kitchen long enough to dump the water out of her wine goblet. Standing, now, in front of RJ, she held out her wine goblet.
“I’ll try the Merlot.”
“Whatever the lady wants.” RJ poured.
I want more than wine, she almost said. Then clamped her lips together.
RJ looked amused. “What is it?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing.” She felt herself growing warm. She whipped off her ski cap and down vest. To cool her neck, she swept her hair over her shoulder.
When he gestured with his half-full wine goblet, to proceed him to the sofa, she, instead, took a seat in the adjacent club chair. A safe move. A smart move.
His face was half in shadow as he took a sip of wine and sank into the cushions of the sofa. She took two gulps of wine.
“Do you have any board games?” she asked.
“None.”
“Deck of cards?” she tried, again.
“Can’t remember where I put them.” He took another sip of his wine, all while watching her. “Why are you suddenly so nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair.
He smiled.
“What did you get Brandy for Christmas?” she asked. She was determined to keep the mood in the cabin as platonic as possible.
He shot her a look, took a sip of his wine, then set the glass on the side table. “How did your mom take the news?” He expertly diverted her question.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m probably being disowned as we speak.”
“And your boyfriend?” RJ took advantage of having the sofa to himself and stretched his long legs along the length. His arms were folded behind his head. “Was he okay with you spending the holiday alone at a cabin, without him?”
She took another drink of wine. “I don’t know.”
“Did you tell him?”
“I left him a note that I needed space.”
“Space,” he repeated, with a frown between his eyes.
“Yup.”
“I don’t recall this coming up in one of our sessions.”
“Nope.”
“Do you want to talk about it.?”
“Nope.”
“I think you should.” RJ sat up and reached for his wine glass. “I think it’s unusual for a couple, who are hedging around talk of marriage, to not spend the holiday together.”
“I haven’t been hedging around that topic with Brian.”
“No. But he has with you.” He looked directly at her. “Are you avoiding his annual proposal?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“So, it’s not just your mom that your avoiding this Christmas. You’re avoiding telling Brian that you don’t want to marry him.”
She hated being put on the spot. Steam rolled from her ears. She drained her wine glass and set it down. “Why don’t you try giving yourself some of your own counseling? You date a woman who is not in the least your type. And I think I know why that is. In fact, I bet Allison wasn’t your type either, and purposely so. You date women you wouldn’t be compatible with on a long-term basis, again, you don’t want to get too close to someone in case you lose them.”
He sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. “Who the hell is Allison?”
She rolled her eyes. “The woman who made the needlepoint pillows.”
RJ looked thunderously perplexed. His eyes swung to the pillows and he snatched one up, his hands squishing into their downy softness. “My grandmother made these and her name was Barbara.”
She sure could have used some reindeer landing on the roof about now. All nine of them.
A tension-laced silence filled the space between them. What was he expecting, an apology for an insanely wild accusation that came from a woman who held only Sunday-therapy-friendship status?
She held up her empty wine glass. “Any chance I can get a refill?”
He scowled as he took their wine glasses over to the bar. With his back to her, he shook his head back and forth as he emptied the bottle into their goblets. “Allison? Did you just pull that name out of thin air? I’ve never dated a woman named Allison.”
“What about a Yvonne?”
He turned around and just stared. “What is this, an investigation into my dating life?”
“No. I just thought that maybe you were an alphabet dater.”
“An alphabet what?” He looked incredulous. “What the hell is that?”
She wished she were the size of loose change and could slip down between the cushions of the chair. “Can we just let this one go? The coffee nudge may have been a bit too strong for me, and now the wine, that’s what.”
He continued to stare.
Oh, God, Claire thought. He thinks I’m a lunatic.
“I’m sorry.” Claire swung her foot in agitation. “I don’t know where all that nonsense came from, other than I may be a bit stressed.”
“So, you’re taking it out on me.” He handed her wine goblet to her.
For the second time that evening, RJ tapped his drinking glass against hers, although this one had more of a ‘round two’ ring to it.
He returned to his reclining position, but he didn’t look that relaxed. There was a glint in his eyes, and not one of seasonal merriment. He looked a tad pissed.
“For your information,” he began, and she knew she likely had this coming, “I’ll admit to having a hard time getting over my dad passing. And, then, it didn’t help having my dog stolen.”
Wow. She wasn’t expecting him to open up like this. She was expecting ten verbal lashings for the alphabet dating presumption.
And he wasn’t done.
“You’re right. I should spend more time with my brother, and my friends, for that matter. I realize, now, that I isolated myself after my dad died. It was such a shock to lose him. I kind of went into a cave.”
“I’m sorry,” sh
e said.
“Thank you.”
In her merlot-warmed mind, she struggled to remain the good listener. The boundary lines were dangerously faltering. The romantic, warm glow from the fireplace wasn’t helping. Nor was that inviting rug. Was it too inappropriate to be thinking what she was thinking, now, when RJ was finally sharing what he kept so tightly inside?
It was the rug’s fault. All she could think about, while she kept her listening face on for RJ, was, when was the last time she’d removed her clothes for fun? Brian wasn’t exactly an eager volunteer of that activity.
“Claire?”
“Oh, yes. What?”
“Are you falling asleep on me?”
She sat up straighter, not realizing that her eyes had begun to close in her fantasy-state. “No. Honestly. I was just thinking…”
“About what?”
About not making a fool of myself.
“I was thinking that I’m surprised you’re not lecturing me, again, about not giving you advice.”
“When did I do that?” RJ wore a crooked grin.
“You know perfectly well, when. Last week at your place.”
His grin broadened, and she knew he was teasing her about not remembering. “I didn’t mean for it to come off as a lecture. I was just saying that you shouldn’t assume that the reason a guy doesn’t let a woman get close isn’t because he doesn’t want to be close to someone special.” He hesitated before continuing with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “It’s easy for me to be a listener. It’s not so easy for me to share what I’m feeling.” He took a drink from his wine goblet. “Brandy complained about the same thing. That I can be closed up.”
“Something she and I agree on.”
He leaned back against the sofa cushions and watched her from beneath half-closed eyes. “She just wasn’t someone I wanted to open up to.”
It took her a moment for her to realize that he was no longer just talking about private feelings he felt uncomfortable sharing, but was talking about his relationship with Brandy…and in the past tense. Or was it? Sheesh. Her hearing was seriously drunk. But he had her full attention.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“Brandy was good company, at first. Until she stopped trying to be someone she wasn’t.”
Her hand shook a little as she took a delicate sip of her wine. “What wasn’t she?”
“A nice person on a regular basis.”
Claire snorted a laugh. “I could have told you that.”
RJ shrugged. “Some people are nice at first, to draw you in. Then they change when they think they’ve got you wrapped around their finger.”
“Is that what happened, with you two?”
The logs in the fire crackled as RJ took his time responding. When he did, he’d gone back in time about two years, to when he’d first met the model.
“My brother and I went to a bar after the funeral and Brandy walked up to us and started buying us drinks and I’ll let you guess which one of us ended up going home with her.”
Claire really didn’t want to hear any more.
“After that, she latched onto me and, I must admit, she was a nice distraction so as not to think about my dad. I might have seen through her façade of being nice sooner, but I was in a bit of a fog with my dad dying. I started seeing clearer several months ago.”
The music ended, and silence settled on the room as she tried to figure out if he was just stating the facts or if she should read into the subtleties of what he was saying.
RJ turned his head toward the door. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
There was a solid thump from outside.
Chapter 5
“There it goes again,” RJ said.
Claire set her wine goblet down with a solid clunk. “Shit! What if it’s him? The Bad Santa?”
“Nah. Probably just snow sliding off the roof. But I’d better check it out.”
Icy wind and a swirl of snow flurries swept into the foyer as RJ opened the door. Beyond the golden glow of the halo cast onto the snowy ground from the Christmas lights, the night looked like a black void.
Claire shivered. “Don’t go out there.”
“Why not?” He pulled on his ski jacket. “I love watching the snow fall at night. Come with me.” He stuck his feet into his snow boots and zipped up his down coat.
She liked watching snow fall at night, too, but there was something about the darkness out there that gave her a bad feeling. Perhaps it was just that this mountainside community was new to her. To RJ, it was familiar territory, even on a dark night. She stood in the doorway as he stepped out onto the porch.
“Seriously, RJ. Please don’t go out there. The Bad Santa could still be on the loose.”
“This is a difficult road to hike up. I doubt he’d go to the trouble.” He stepped off the porch and into the deep snow, pulling his jacket collar up to his ears. “If I’m not back in five, tell my mom I love her.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Go back inside and get warm,” he called over his shoulder. “This won’t take long.”
The wind had left a dusting of snow on the hardwood floors. She closed the door and returned to stand in front of the fire to warm her chilled limbs. The cabin was too quiet without RJ.
The minutes ticked by. Still no sound of RJ stomping snow off his boots on the front porch.
The hour was late, and she was growing sleepy. She curled up in the armchair and pulled the soft throw over her legs.
There was another thump, but this one didn’t sound quite like the last one. In fact, it sounded like it came from inside the cabin.
“RJ?” She sat up.
The lights flickered. And flickered, again.
“Is that you?” she called out.
Then the power went out, and she was left with only the golden light from the fireplace and candlelight. Everything else was pitch black and closing in.
She tried not to feel alarmed and tried to see it, instead, as increased romantic ambience; the candles on the mantle glowed, their dancing flames sending shadows along the wall, and the low flames from the dwindling fire cast light onto the hardwood floor. Just not far enough to include her in its warm embrace.
She leaped out of the chair and stood closer to the fireplace. Facing the foyer area, she couldn’t see anything. It was all black beyond the sofa. The stairs, hallway to the guestroom, and the kitchen were engulfed in darkness and it felt like it crept closer. She felt for the fireplace poker and now held it in front of her.
“RJ?” she called out, again.
A log gave way in the fireplace behind her and rolled against the grate. She jumped, dropping the fireplace poker. Another thump sounded, this time coming from the hallway to the garage. She dropped to her knees on the bearskin rug, frantically feeling around for the poker, afraid to take her eyes off the darkness that stretched down the hallway.
“What are you doing?”
She let out a scream.
RJ stood above her in the fire’s glow, warming his hands, and brushing snow from his hair.
“Oh, my God, you scared me half to death.” She fell over onto the rug with a hand over her heart and her arm draped over her eyes.
“You’re jumpy.” He added two logs to the fire.
“The lights went out and I kept hearing thumping sounds. Do you know what it sounded like?”
“What?” He smiled.
“Like someone dragging a body down the stairs.”
He laughed. “You have quite the imagination.”
“Hey! I was worried about you.” She sat up and smacked him on the shoulder.
“You were worried about me? That’s sweet.”
She smiled back. “I can be.”
He brushed her long fringe of bangs from her eyes. “You’re always sweet. It’s part of your nature.”
She was melting inside, again, and nervous, again, and low and behold, her fantasy had come true. They were both on the be
arskin rug.
Oh, Holy Night! She was in trouble.
* * * *
“What did you find outside?”
They sat not touching on the rug.
“Just like I suspected, snow is sliding off the roof and the tree branches. That’s the sound we’re hearing. It’s not very safe out there, right now.” He put a hand to the back of his neck and came away with small chunks of icy snow that he flicked off to the side. “This heavy snow might be the problem on the power lines, as well. We could be without power for days. No worries, though, I have a generator in the garage.”
“Are we planning on staying for days?” she teased.
“That’s up to you.” He grinned.
She kept perfectly still on the rug with her legs tucked beside her. Her knee was not but a few inches from his thigh.
Nervousness had her talking about anything but the two of them. “How did you get back inside?” she asked.
“Through the garage. I keep a key hidden outside.”
Her pulse beat a steady rhythm, sitting this close to RJ.
Firelight lit up his handsome profile. She could see the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, lines that she guessed were from all his smiling and time spent outdoors.
Without the baseboard heater humming away, the temperature in the cabin began to dip. She could feel the cooler air against her back, so she scooted closer towards the warmth of the fire.
Seeing her rubbing her arms, RJ grabbed her down vest and ski hat from the chair, where she’d tossed them earlier, and handed them to her. He then lit additional candles to set on the windowsill in the kitchen and a few to place on the coffee table. He also took a votive down the hall to the powder room. When he returned to sit beside her, he spread one of the knit throws across their legs and sat with his back to the fire.
“As soon as I thaw out, I’ll go back outside and get the generator started. Are you warm, enough, for now?” he asked.
She nodded that she was.
Beneath the palm of her hands, the luxurious silkiness of the rug added its own warmth and comfort.
The fire snapped and crackled and cocooned them in its glow as the snow continued to fall on this Christmas Eve.
“I love it when the power goes out. Makes it an adventure.” He smiled at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat, like this was their adventure, something that only the two of them would share in a memory one day.
Romancing the Holidays: Twelve Christmas Romances - Benefits Breast Cancer Research Page 83