by Various
“You must have me mixed up with someone else,” he said.
“No way.” This came from Parker, who inched forward, putting himself nearly toe-to-toe with the lord of Orchid House. “You’re that Indian guy who never talks to anybody. My grandpa says that’s okay, though. ‘Course, he’s grumpy sometimes, too.”
Traci didn’t apologize for her son. She couldn’t bear to embarrass him in front of the man he hoped to befriend. And little Parker Calhoun was what he was. Honest to a fault.
“So you brought me cookies.” There was a hint of amusement in Daniel’s slow, sensual drawl, just enough to tilt one corner of his lips. “Chocolate chip, I’ll bet.”
“Nope,” the boy replied. “They’re gingerbread. And they’re shaped like angels, with white icing on their wings and gold candy on their halos. It was my idea to come here, but my mom thought of the cookies.”
Daniel’s smile disappeared as he shifted his gaze from Parker to Traci. Moving away from the child, he came toward her, and she resisted the urge to step back. He no longer seemed amused.
“Good God, woman,” he whispered. “Why on earth did you bring me angels?”
CHAPTER TWO
DANIEL knew he was standing too close. He towered over her by at least a foot, this pretty lady with the riot of auburn curls. The lady who had given him angels.
Was it a sign? he asked himself. Or was his imagination working overtime? Nothing in Orchid House was simple, least of all the haunting.
Unable to stop himself, he moved closer. She had eyes as green as an Irish countryside, a nose dusted with freckles. He imagined lifting his hand and caressing her face, her smooth, ivory skin.
It was an odd time to feel an attraction. Up until this disturbing moment, he’d assumed his need for a woman had died with his wife. But here it was, unwelcome as sin, sliding through his blood, making him warm and full of wanting.
“Why did you bring me angels?” he repeated, his voice quiet, his gaze locked with hers.
“Because it’s Christmastime.”
Her answer conjured a painful image. He retreated from the memory, and in doing so realized he had probably frightened Traci with his question. And possibly the child, as well. The boy watched him much too closely. Daniel figured him to be about six, and that hurt most of all, considering six years had passed since the fire.
“I’m sorry,” he managed to say, taking a step back. “I
don’t get many visitors.” And he didn’t celebrate Christmas anymore.
“That’s ‘cause you’re new in town,” the boy explained, his easy manner returning. “But that’s okay. We can tell you anything you wanna know about Wileyville. We’ve lived here forever. We know everybody.” Cocking his head, he grinned, flashing a gap between two slightly crooked front teeth.
The child had such an earnest smile, Daniel thought as he struggled with the urge to laugh and cry at the same time, feeling charmed yet saddened by a kid he had just met. Battling the jumble of emotion, he glanced at the woman, then slid right back into that warm, sultry place—the unexpected sexual pull that made him want to touch her.
He curled his fingers around the cookie tin, finding it a cool, impersonal substitute. He hoped she wasn’t married. The idea of lusting after another man’s wife didn’t sit well.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
Nowhere in particular, he almost said, since he had been drifting more often than not. “North Carolina.”
“Ah, your accent,” she acknowledged, as if the sound of it pleased her. “Do you mind if I ask what tribe you’re from? We don’t get many Native Americans around here.”
Daniel blinked. “Eastern Band Cherokee.” A heritage he had abandoned a long time ago. Being Cherokee didn’t mean anything. He couldn’t return to the reservation any more than he could return to the genteel Southern society his wife had been born into.
“And your name is Daniel Crow?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Traci Calhoun, and this is my son, Parker.”
Daniel tensed as if he’d been sucker-punched, gulping the air that rushed out of his lungs.
Parker.
The infant he’d buried had been named Parker. A twist of fate? Or a painful coincidence? Suddenly he couldn’t move. He stood like a statue, the winter chill slicing into his bones with the force of a razor-edged knife.
“Are you all right?”
He heard Traci’s voice, but he couldn’t form the words to respond. Instead he nodded. Or thought he did. The haunting was pulling him under. He had bought Orchid House so he could brood with the ghosts, not be summoned by a pretty redhead and a kid with a crooked smile who answered to his son’s name.
“I guess we better go,” she told him. “You’re out here without a coat, and you seem to have caught a shiver. Maybe you should go inside. The flu is going around.” She nudged Parker ahead, who said something about chicken soup as they walked away.
Daniel snapped out of his trance and noticed her car didn’t start right away. It coughed several times before the engine came to life. As she traveled down the hill, he opened the cookie tin. And when he saw sugarcoated wings and gilded halos, he wondered what in heaven’s name he was supposed to do.
CHAPTER THREE
“DAMN it!” Traci kicked her car, slamming her foot into the front tire. Of all the times for the beast to quit on her. Here she stood, exhausted from working a double shift, freezing her butt off in an old coat and the pink-and-white uniform she detested, the parking lot emptier than her bank account, and her cell phone at home on the kitchen counter.
“That bad, is it?”
The deep voice came out of the dark, putting her feminine instincts on full alert. She spun around and prayed he was someone she knew.
Could a hitchhiker be walking down Main Street on his way to the turnpike? Not likely, she told herself. Besides, this was her hometown. The biggest crime ever committed in Wileyville was a speeding violation.
The man was a filmy image, tall and shrouded by a chilly mist, coming toward her with the thud of heavy boots. She waited while he moved closer, into the buttery glow of a streetlamp.
Instantly, she recognized Daniel Crow, who looked as big and rangy as a wildcat, his shoulder-length hair whipping in the wind.
Where had he come from? There wasn’t another car in sight. Had he walked all the way into town, like a predator roaming the night?
“My car won’t start and I forgot my cell at home.” It was all she could think to say.
“Let me see if I can get it running.”
She stepped back while he helped himself to her road-weary vehicle. After playing with the ignition switch, he ducked his head under the hood, using a flashlight she’d provided from the trunk.
“I think it’s your starter.” He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands.
“Great. Are those expensive?”
“I can get you one. I can install it, too.”
Dumbfounded, she only stared. “Why would you do that?”
An icy breeze blew his hair away from his face, exposing the planes and angles that formed his raw-boned features. “Because I’m good with cars. And because I never thanked you properly for welcoming me to the neighborhood.”
“So this would be your way of saying thanks?”
“Yes, ma’am.” His lips tilted into that half smile, the one as smooth and slow as his voice.
Warding off the cold, she crossed her arms, feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable. Her nipples were as hard as bullets. Not that he’d notice, considering the layers of clothing she wore. But that wasn’t the point. He didn’t know that she’d had an erotic dream about him, that the memory still tormented her. She had awakened warm and slick, clinging to a fantasy she couldn’t forget.
“You’re not married, are you?” he asked, making the image of her guilty dream sequence seem even more forbidden.
“I’m divorced.” And
that, Traci decided, gave her every right to fantasize. Especially since Bradley Calhoun had left nearly five years before without bothering to look back.
“Good. I mean, I didn’t think so, but I figured I should ask. Men tend to get a little territorial about their wives.”
Not men like Bradley, she thought, as silence stretched between them.
Daniel shoved his hands in his coat pockets, and Traci glanced down at her ugly white shoes. He looked as dashing as a desperado in his duster and black boots, and she looked like exactly what she was—a small-town waitress, a young, struggling divorcée.
A woman having sensual dreams about a stranger …
CHAPTER FOUR
“SO YOU’RE good with cars?” Traci heard herself say, desperate to end the awkward silence.
“I used to manufacture after-market auto parts for vintage Chevys.” Scraping his boots on the asphalt, Daniel frowned. “But I don’t own the business anymore.”
Gauging his expression, she asked, “Did you lose it?”
“No. I sold it to a national corporation.” He paused, his eyebrows still furrowed. “They paid me a substantial amount.”
She studied his frown, realizing the rumors were true. She’d heard Daniel was an eccentric millionaire, worth more money than he had time to count. “And that’s a bad thing?”
He shrugged. “I’ve learned being rich isn’t the key to happiness.”
He was certainly an enigma, she thought. A Cherokee from North Carolina burdened by his wealth. No one could describe him as an American Indian stereotype, especially since he had purchased a Southern-style mansion in a small Pennsylvania town.
What had drawn him to Orchid House? The isolation? The supposed ghosts?
Another gust of wind snapped out of the sky, rattling branches on a nearby tree. Traci’s untamed curls blew wildly. She pushed the annoying locks of hair away from her face and noticed Daniel appeared to be assessing her in the same manner in which she’d assessed him.
“What in the hell were you doing out here alone?”
Startled by his sharp tone, she looked up and met his gaze head on. “This is where I work.” She motioned to the diner behind them. “And I had to close tonight.”
“By yourself?”
“The cook was sick, so I sent him home a little early.”
Daniel shook his head. “What if it wasn’t me who happened by? What if it was some lunatic?”
People think you’re dangerous, she wanted to say. And crazy, too. Only a madman would lurk behind the walls of a haunted mansion.
She motioned to the diner again, indicating the string of holiday lights decorating the roof. She loved this season, broken-down car or not. “For goodness’ sake, it’s Christmastime. Ease up, okay? I’m fine. All I have to do is call a tow truck.”
He scanned the twinkling lights, his expression grim. Whipping out a cell phone, he handed it to her. “If you think nothing tragic happens at this time of year, then let me tell you, you’re sorely mistaken.”
She took the phone, wondering what had turned Daniel Crow into a hard and lonely man. Nothing shone in his eyes, least of all the sparkle of holiday cheer.
“Where did you come from?” she asked, gesturing to the empty parking lot.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like you appeared out of thin air.”
He was still frowning. “I parked in front of the diner.”
She held the phone, but had yet to dial the information operator. “What compelled you to walk around back?”
“You,” he said, moving closer. “I can’t explain it, but I sensed you would be here. It was as though someone whispered your name in my head.”
A chill raced up Traci’s spine, and a moment later, she detected the faint aroma of flowers drifting through the winter air.
Orchids? she wondered, as Daniel lifted his hand and brushed it gently across her cheek. Her skin tingled where his touch landed, just as it had in her dream. But this wasn’t a dream—was it?
CHAPTER FIVE
IT FELT like an out-of-body experience, Traci thought. One of those surreal moments in life when you drift on the edge of something dangerous.
Beautifully dangerous.
Daniel’s hand was strong yet gentle, and warm against her skin. Her hair blew in a mass of tumbled curls. He captured a strand between his fingers, and she slipped deeper into the moment.
Their eyes met and held. The glow from the streetlamp cast an amber hue as shadows danced in the night. The scent of orchids still swirled in the air. She imagined them showering her body, hundreds of white petals floating down from the heavens.
He lowered his head, and she knew he was going to kiss her. He cupped her face, and when his lips touched hers, she made a breathy sound. He tasted fresh and clean and seductive, his tongue mating eagerly with hers.
His coat was open, billowing and snapping in the breeze. Traci needed to free her hands so she could encircle his waist. Still clutching the phone, she pressed it into the front pocket of his jeans. Unconsciously she brushed his fly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …”
He fought back a groan. “It’s all right.”
Was it? she asked herself. She was dizzy, drowning in desire. “What are we doing, Daniel?”
“I don’t know.” And he sounded as if he didn’t care if it was right or wrong, if it bordered on insanity. “Unbutton your coat.”
She blinked, nearly staggered. “What?”
“I want to feel you, all of you, next to me.”
Her hands shook, but she reached for the buttons on her coat, opening the bulky garment. He watched her, his eyes dark and passionate. They were strangers, but it didn’t matter. Something was happening between them, something too powerful to name.
He leaned against the car and opened his legs. Traci slid between them. But the moment he drew her against his chest, the mood shifted. Suddenly they weren’t kissing or caressing. They were just holding each other, heartbeats melding.
His body was strong and solid, big and powerful. He reminded her of a warrior, a man who would cherish and protect what belonged to him. She closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder.
“Traci?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
She lifted her head and admired his face, the strength and masculine beauty in it. “For what?”
“For this,” he said, his eyes seeking hers. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone. And I’m not just talking about sex. I mean intimacy. Real intimacy.”
And that, she decided, was the feeling too powerful, too erotic to name, the something that was happening between them. “I like you, Daniel.”
“You barely know me.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t like you.”
He brushed her lips in a near-kiss, then drew back abruptly. “It’s nice that we’re becoming friends, but I don’t think we should be doing this anymore. I’m still, ah … you know.”
Aroused, she thought, suddenly aware of the hardness beneath his zipper. Their bodies were still pressed together. She felt her face flush and realized how strange this whole experience was. “Maybe I should call the tow truck now.”
“Yeah. Good idea.”
Which meant, of course, moving away from him and pretending they hadn’t been on the verge of becoming lovers. If he had asked her to go home with him, she would have gone. And for Traci, that would have been inexcusable. She didn’t sleep with strangers.
He removed the phone from his pocket, and she stepped back and buttoned her coat.
She made the call, and they waited in silence. But ten minutes later, when a white vehicle turned into the parking lot, its tires squealing, Traci’s pulse quickened. She recognized the driver instantly.
CHAPTER SIX
“OH, NO.” TRACI made a face. “With everything that happened, I forgot to call Tom.”
Daniel watched the SUV jerk to a halt, realizing the drive
r had shoved it into Park. “Tom?”
“My father-in-law.”
A stocky man stepped out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. “What the hell is going on, Traci? I’ve been worried sick. You should have been home hours ago.”
“I know. I’m sorry. My car wouldn’t start, and I’ve been waiting for the tow truck. Where’s Parker?”
“Asleep. I asked Mavis to watch him.”
Still irritated, the man eyed Daniel. “Who’s he?”
Traci voiced a polite introduction. “His name is Daniel Crow, and he offered to fix my car. He thinks the starter is bad. He’s going to put a new one in for me.”
“I see,” Tom said to Daniel, his posture relaxing a little. “I guess I owe you a thank-you, then.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He was grateful the older man had decided he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t up for a sparring match, and Traci’s father-in-law would have made a formidable opponent. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Daniel, but he was solid, with the blue-collar stance of a steel worker or a brick mason.
“Aren’t you that fellow who bought Orchid House?” Tom asked.
“Yes, I am.” The one who had been keeping Traci out in the cold, kissing her. Suddenly he didn’t feel like the gentleman she had made him out to be.
Daniel frowned, thinking about the condoms he’d purchased. He hadn’t bought them with Traci in mind, but his attraction to her had triggered the idea. The urge to become sexually active again meant he needed protection.
Yeah, but now that he had kissed Traci, it was her he wanted. And damn it, he knew anything beyond friendship wouldn’t be wise. She didn’t seem like the type who would engage in uncommitted sex. Then again, that wasn’t his usual style, either. The last woman who had warmed Daniel’s bed had been his wife.
“You made quite an impression on my grandson.”
Jarred from his thoughts, Daniel dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Parker,” the other man clarified. “You’re all he’s been talking about for days. You’re the first Indian he’s ever met. He thinks you’re pretty cool.”