by Sandra Hill
“Heck, no.”
“Good.” He tugged her even closer into his embrace.
Actually, the “last time” was their fifth bout of lovemaking . . . sixth if you counted that little modeling demonstration she’d done with Maudeen’s tacky negligee. Yes, she had let Sam talk her into donning the dumb thing. And, yes, it had generated heat . . . when Sam had generated heat . . . which had caused her to generate heat. And, boy oh boy, had they played “Jingle Bells,” which Sam declared from now on was going to be his favorite song.
Of course, Sam had reciprocated by showing her how pilots and astronauts did this little trick with their abdomens called “hooking.” It involved tensing the abdominal muscles to prepare for G-forces, or fierce gravitational pulls, in high speed jets or rockets. If they didn’t do it, they would pass out. Of course, every time Sam tensed or untensed his abdomen, another of his body muscles—her favorite—tensed and untensed, too. He claimed later that, yep, he’d almost passed out from the force of her gravitational pull.
Now, they were cuddled under the quilt in the high bed, spoon style, watching the fire which still roared. Sam had fed it a log every hour or so to keep it going. It was the only source of heat in the cabin, which was now covered to the eaves with snow. Most of the candles had long burned down, but it was light enough to see with the fire and the whiteness of the snow outside the bedroom window, along with the two living room windows.
There wasn’t a part of Reba’s body that didn’t ache, and she relished every twinge for all it represented. “I love you, Sam,” she said suddenly . . . not that she hadn’t said it a time or two . . . or twelve during the night.
“I love you, too, baby.”
After they lay for awhile, half-dozing, Sam asked, “I wonder if we’ll be able to leave today . . . with all this snow? I’d hate to miss George’s wedding . . . especially after coming so far.”
“Not just the wedding. We have a shelter stop scheduled for tomorrow, actually today, in Portland, Maine. But I’m not going to worry about it now,” she said, turning in Sam’s arms and snuggling up against his chest. “I’ll bet, even now, Betty is on the phone with all her contacts. She’ll have a cavalcade of snow plows here if that’s what it takes to get us to our next stop on time.”
“Well, at least we put together enough last minute gifts, thanks to that Big-Mart, and the expertise of Callie and Dana, plus everyone chipping in to help.”
She nodded, loving the feel of his chest hairs rubbing against her cheek. She loved being in bed with Sam. She loved making love with him. She loved . . .
“You’re purring.”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you were. I heard it. A definite purr.” Sam sat up abruptly, knocking her over onto her side. “Holy hell! I can’t believe I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” She sat up, too, and pulled the quilt up to her shoulders. Despite the fire, there was a chill in the air.
Sam was leaning over the side of the bed, which gave her a most excellent view of his backside. She thought about whistling, but decided she’d boosted his ego enough during the past night.
“Ta-da!” Sam said, handing her a paper bag, which he’d apparently stashed in a bedside table. “I got this present for me from you.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “You got yourself a present? And it’s from me?”
“Yep.” He folded his hands behind his neck, leaned back on the pillow, and didn’t even bother to cover himself. Which prompted her to consider whistling again. And not at his backside, either. “Well, are you going to keep on ogling me, or are you going to open my present?”
She opened the bag, pulled out the object within, and laughed out loud. “Chocolate body paint!”
“It was a last minute purchase,’ but enlightened, if you ask me.”
“Last minute, huh? Like, dare I say the name Maudeen?” His reddening face was answer enough. “Tsk-tsk-tsk! We’re going to be the talk of the bus tomorrow.”
By the time, dawn finally rolled over the mountain and filled the inside of the cabin with glaring whiteness, Sam and Reba were still unable to sleep. They were “suffering” from a chocolate high.
And they could have cared less whether they were the talk of the bus or all of New Hampshire, or the whole blasted country.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KEVIN
Wednesday night, less than forty-eight hours before George’s wedding
“You can uncuff me now.”
“You’re my prisoner, and I’ll uncuff you when I feel good and ready.”
Callie sighed. “JD, you know darn well I couldn’t cut and run even if I wanted to. We’re snowed in here, for crying out loud. Where would I go?”
Kevin was sticking to his guns, so to speak. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight for a moment. Not before he had his way with her. They had unfinished business.
“And how dare you drag me out of the lodge like a caveman?” Callie added.
“You weren’t coming willingly.”
“You noticed that, did you?”
“Bopping me over the head with a Raggedy Ann doll was a pretty handy clue.”
“You’re lucky it wasn’t a baseball bat. We have a few in stock, you know.”
Her use of we was telling; kind of sweet and irritating at the same time. Callie was already considering herself part of the team. Which made sense, considering she’d organized the purchase and then construction of a ton of toys tonight. He’d actually truly admired her take-charge attitude. She’d even had Colonel Morgan practically saluting as he ran around following her orders.
The really aggravating part, though, was that she’d hit the bus, then the lodge, as if nothing had happened between them in the Big-Mart. In fact, she’d pretty much ignored him altogether, other than to make fun of his yarn efforts. He wasn’t putting up with that. They’d almost made love in a store dressing room, and she was damn well going to acknowledge that fact.
But Kevin was nothing if not patient. Unlike Slick, who was hitting on Reba like a desperate Blue Angel on a mission, Kevin was thinking Callie needed a more subtle approach.
“We’re finishing what we started today,” he informed her. “I’m making love to you tonight, over and over, ’til you cry uncle. And you know you want that too, so don’t give me grief.”
Callie didn’t react at all, except to study the cuffs on her hands in major detail. When she finally glanced up, her eyes were so filled with fire, Kevin almost took a step back to keep from getting singed.
She stalked him regardless. “First of all, mister Juvenile Delinquent, what happened today was zipper burp, compounded by my fuzzy brain, thinking you were kind of attractive.”
That was good, he thought. Although he had a real strong desire to ask if he was Harrison-Ford attractive. A younger Harrison Ford, of course.
She took another step forward. “Second of all, I was feeling overwhelmed, and I needed to be held. You just happened to be there. A teddy bear would have worked just as well.”
That wasn’t so good.
“Third of all, I was brought up to save making love for men I cared for, for men I knew, and who knew me and loved me as well.”
That wasn’t good either, although he was willing to tackle it. “I think I know a lot about you.”
“You don’t know a thing about me, Wilder.”
“I know you’re very talented.”
“So is a chimp in a circus.”
“I know you really seem to like kids.”
“So does Santa.”
“I know you have about the most wild, sexy hair I’ve ever seen on a woman. And you can’t say that about Santa.”
That stopped her forward progress. But then she shook her head. “You also know I’m breaking the law, I’ve stolen from you twice, and I occasionally have a temper.”
“Occasionally?” he answered without thinking.
That was the wrong response. Her occasional temper decided to rear its pretty head. “You’re a jerk.”
<
br /> “And you’re a perp.”
“You self-righteous idiot! How dare you judge me? You don’t have a clue what’s happened in my life. You don’t even care why I’ve made the choices I have. You’re just looking at me like there’s a money sign on my head. Callie Brandt—pay dirt.’”
“Oh, honey, you are very wrong about that.”
“Ha! Every time you look at me, I see the wheels turning in your head.”
“If you think that’s due to looking at a monetary payoff, I have to check my wheels.”
“You’re not getting free-for-all, stranger sex, either.”
Kevin glanced around. He’d done some pre-preparation after dropping in on Slick, but not nearly enough, and not nearly as cool. He really sucked at this stuff.
“Look,” he said, “how about if we start a fire and grab a glass of wine and just talk? I’m not forcing myself on you, no matter how tempting that sounds. Let’s just relax.”
Callie looked around, too. “Not exactly the Ritz, is it?” She glanced back at him and smiled. “But it sure has atmosphere.”
“Wine?” he asked, his heart suddenly pumped up.
“That sounds good, but JD, can I ask a favor?”
“Anything,” he said, figuring that smile of hers earned her a free ride to anywhere she wanted to go.
“Would you be so kind as to take off these handcuffs?”
The fire crackled, offering warmth. The candles JD had somehow obtained and placed all around them gave off scents that sort of warred with each other. Still, Callie felt happy, and strangely at home, for the first time in many years.
They sipped wine that tasted wonderful and sat on a shag throw rug that most likely had been popular in the sixties.
“JD?”
“Yes?”
“Is your family in Snowdon?”
“Biological? No.”
“Why aren’t you with them? It’s Christmas.”
She felt the tension that came over him, even though they weren’t touching, and she knew she’d struck a nerve. But curiosity and the desire to understand this man kept her from backing away from the subject. “Kevin? JD?”
He didn’t answer for close to a minute. “My family is Sam and Stan and Reba and especially George. That’s my family. Period.”
Callie knew that ‘period’ meant she should shut up right now. Good thing she never believed in periods. “Your parents?”
“Exist only in my genes.”
“I’m sorry.”
He rolled from his back to his side to face her. “You know, I’m not. I’m not sorry about anything any longer. I have the best friends anyone would be proud to call family, I have a career that matters, I have Harrison Ford—in his younger days—good looks . . . ”
He glanced at her, but Callie wasn’t about to stroke his ego. Still, she had this funny feeling inside her. “I think you happen to have an incredible family.”
“I think so, too.”
“But it hurt that the folks in your town misunderstood’ you.”
“They misunderstood all of us, Callie. We were all virtual orphans, and we were all angry. We were young brats. They were right to worry. They just didn’t understand the power of George.”
“What do you mean?”
“George was our savior. All three of us. He’s a veterinarian, and he worked our butts off in his clinic. When we’d get in trouble in school or in town, he always showed up to stand up for us. Then he’d chew us out but good.”
Kevin smiled, and Callie’s heart melted just a little more. “It was George who encouraged each of us to follow the paths that seemed most right for us. Stan was an aggressive, angry kid. He was ready to let his fists do the talking at any given moment. George told him to harness the anger and use it constructively. Thus, football. Slick pretty much liked discipline and order. And he was nuts about flying. George steered him toward the military. He said, Let the government pay for your flying lessons, son.’”
“And you?” Callie asked “Did George realize you have James Bond fantasies?”
“I do not have James Bond fantasies.”
Callie had to stifle a giggle, seeing as he looked so cute when he was indignant. “Then what drove you to become a private spy?”
“Money.”
“Money?” Callie couldn’t believe how disappointed she felt. She’d been sure he’d had a nobler purpose than strictly financial incentive. After all, she’d seen this man testify in untold number of trials, and he’d always appeared on the stand as someone who was hell bent on working for truth and justice.
JD laughed at her. “Aww, honey, don’t be upset. I’m not as selfish as that. The truth is, George encouraged me to get into law enforcement. He always said, Boy, I know you have a fierce sense of justice, but it might be better in the long run if you took that passion and used it within the confines of the law.’” He shrugged. “There’s no arguing with George, so I became a cop.”
“You were a cop?”
“Yep, for five years.”
“Why’d you quit?”
“Like I said, money. A cop’s salary is pretty pathetic, and there’s no way I’d have been able to save enough for law school.”
“Law school? You’re going to law school?”
He nodded. “Next fall.”
“What kind of lawyer do you want to be?”
“You know, funny enough, three days ago I’d have answered absolutely that I wanted to be a county prosecutor. Put the bad guys away and all that. But I might rethink that some. All along this trip we’ve met women and kids who could really benefit from sound legal advice. Take that woman in New Hampshire. She and her two kids are forced to come to a shelter for basic needs, simply because her scum of a husband ran off, and she had no idea there are resources out there to help her track him down and make him help pay support for the kids. I’d really like to help out people like that.”
Callie’s disappointment vanished fast.” Oh, JD, that sounds like a wonderful idea!”
“Well, it’s not something that’s going to happen tomorrow, but it feels right as a long range plan. And trust me, George was a stickler for long-range planning.”
“I think he’ll be very proud,” Callie said quietly. She knew, for some reason she couldn’t define, she felt proud of him. Very, very proud. And somehow, after all of this was over, she hoped there’d be some way to check up on Kevin to see if he ever accomplished his long range plan. She fervently hoped so.
There was a long silence. Kevin got up and added another log to a fireplace that probably violated about fifty codes at this point. He sat back down and picked up his wine.
“Your turn, sweetheart. Happy family, yes?”
“Yes and no. At least, I’m not sure you can call it that.”
“Tell me.”
“My parents were the best. But then my mother got sick right after Jenny was born, and I sort of had to take over.”
Kevin refilled her glass, then settled back down in front of the fire. “So you became the mommy of sorts?”
“I did, I guess. Jenny was my father’s baby, and I was the one who had to have supper on the table.”
“Ow.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining! I’m really not. I adore Jen, so it was no problem. And my father’s a wonderful man.”
“Did your mom . . . pass away?”
“Yes, when I was eight and Jen was three.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. She was a great lady.”
“Did she teach you how to design clothes?”
Callie laughed softly. “Actually, no. That would have been Emma Peachey, the Amish woman whose farm bordered our property.”
Kevin’s gorgeous jaw dropped an inch. “You learned how to sew sequins from an Amish woman?”
Callie grinned. “She’d deny it if anyone ever called her on it.” Kevin’s gaze swept her face. “You have a beautiful smile.”
Heat traveled straight down Callie’s body, and she didn’
t think it had anything to do with the wine. “Thank you,” she said, feeling suddenly shy and awkward.
“Anyway, that’s basically my life in Reader’s Digest form.”
“How about your sister? What does she do?”
“Besides get herself into trouble whenever possible?”
“She’s a little hellion, is she?”
“Oh, no! She’s the sweetest kid in the world. She just has . . . poor judgment when it comes to some of her acquaintances.”
“How so?”
“Is this off the record?”
“This is totally personal, I swear.”
“You know the trial I skipped out on?”
“The Morris case, right.”
“Dylan Morris is Jen’s boyfriend.”
“Wow. Poor judgment is right. That guy’s slime. No offense.”
“None taken. I agree with you. Jen, on the other hand, thinks he’s the greatest thing since fast drying nail polish. That’s how I got involved in this mess. She wants me to lie on the stand to give him an alibi.” Callie turned to him, knowing she looked pathetic, but she needed him. “I can’t lie, JD. But I can’t hurt my sister, either. And I can’t hurt my dad. He treasures my sister.”
“Basically, your sister’s asking you to commit perjury.”
Callie had to swallow twice. “Yes. But she’s confused. She doesn’t think it’s that big a deal, and she swears he’s innocent, but just can’t prove it.”
“So she’s asked you to lie on the stand for him?”
“Well, to remember history a bit differently.”
“To lie.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re running because you don’t want to lie on the stand, am I right?”
“Right.”
“And you only stole my wallet not once, but twice because?”
“The first time? I really needed lipstick.”
“Come up with a better excuse, just to make me happy.”
“I needed to buy food to feed the homeless?”
Kevin grinned. “Works for me. Now, the second time?”
She laughed. “That one’s easy, you were being a jerk. You pretty much deserved it.”
“Right.”
“You’re not arguing.”
“That’s because I’m too busy figuring out how to talk you into making love. And I’m coming up empty.”