“Your bedroom is down the hall,” she said firmly, turning and fluffing her pillow.
His voice floated over her shoulder, low and intimate. “I forgot how beautiful you are with your hair brushed and flowing in waves down your back. I've got to tell you, though, that raggedy, oversized T-shirt you're wearing doesn't do anything for you.” He continued on a whisper, “I remember a red silk teddy I gave you and how hot you looked in it."
Turning, she plopped on the bed and watched him walk to the middle of the room. “What do you want, Paul?"
His hands sliced the air. “I want things back like they were. I want my family back. I want you."
Her hands fisted and she shook her head in disbelief. He hadn't offered an apology for the pain he'd caused her. Always, whatever Paul wanted-Paul got. Not this time! She bit down hard on her lip.
“Back like they were? I haven't changed my views on infidelity. I won't share my husband with other women."
“You wouldn't have to.” Sitting beside her on the bed, his gray eyes suddenly looked sad. “I've changed."
Like the air rushing from a pinpricked balloon, her anger subsided, replaced with resigned weariness. She hoped he had changed. For Matt's sake and her own, she needed to make peace with the past. “I hope that's true. I'm glad you can spend time with our son. Don't treat him like something you pay attention to when it's convenient for you."
He nodded. “I won't.” Pausing, he touched her hand. “Do you remember how good the sex was between us? How often you came apart in my arms and screamed my name over and over again?"
Her face heated with embarrassment and anger at how quickly he'd turned the conversation from their son to his solution to everything-sex. She also noticed Paul didn't call it ‘lovemaking', or remember that she'd failed to elicit the same excitement in him. Another reason he said he ran around. “I haven't forgotten a thing. You're the one who did that."
“I know I hurt you very badly. Matt isn't the only one I'd like to make things up to,” he whispered. “I'd like to prove I've changed, court you again, and ask you to remarry me. I've missed you, Angel."
Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and tried to kiss her. The weight of his body pressed her back into the comforter, squeezing the air from her lungs. Wisps of cottony down rose beside her face. She moved her head from side to side evading the touch of his mouth on hers. His lips rained sloppy kisses onto her cheeks. Her heart beat faster when she heard his heavy breathing. Panic set in. She pushed on his chest. “No, dammit!"
At last he got the message. He stopped and moved away from her. Resting on his elbows, he studied her. She gulped air.
“I'm sorry. When Grace said you wanted me here for Christmas, and you had been waiting for me, I jumped to the wrong conclusions."
Her body stiffened. “You certainly did. I should have insisted that you leave when you first stepped into my bedroom. Tomorrow morning, find somewhere else to stay that's near the house so you can spend time with Matt while you're here."
“Hey, wait a second.” He sighed and rose from the bed. “I'm sorry. I read something in your reactions because I wanted-hoped it was there. I'm trying to reach you, but I realize now that I'm pushing you away by moving too fast.” He closed his eyes.
“You're not listening to me, Paul. Don't try anything like that again. And don't ever come into my bedroom uninvited."
“What a pity. It could be so good between us again if you'd only let me love you."
“You don't know the meaning of the word."
“Yes I do. It's the way I feel about you now.” Walking toward the door, he glanced over his shoulder.
“You had no right to try what you did,” she said.
“I know. I wanted everything like it was before. I'm a fool for thinking you hadn't changed."
“Yes, you are. We're divorced. For Matt's sake, let's try and get through Christmas."
He nodded. “I'm really sorry. Whatever boundaries you set, I'll honor. Goodnight, Katherine."
Angry and disconcerted, she paced the length of the room, talking out loud to herself. “Am I supposed to believe him because he says he's changed? Did he really think I'd swoon when he kissed me?” She spun around and walked back across the room. He obviously thought her still that naïve girl he'd married-the virginal bride he had to teach how to make love. That girl died the day he destroyed her illusions about herself and their marriage.
Yes, he'd killed her innocence, but he was Matt's father. And maybe he had changed. He certainly would not have admitted fault or accepted any responsibility for doing something wrong in the past, but a moment ago he seemed conciliatory-even reasonable. That was not the Paul she knew.
Pausing at the vanity, she lifted her hand and touched her face, her mind whirling. She knew that encouraging him to have a relationship with his son didn't mean she needed to have one with Paul, too.
She bit her lower lip hard. She could barely stand to be around the man but the only kisses she wanted were from Jared. It was his face, his touch, his voice that she had heard in those twilight moments between sleep and dreams in the past few nights.
For Matt's sake, she hoped Paul had changed. But for her sake, she wished he had never come back.
Chapter Six
A sudden repeated pinging interrupted Katherine's thoughts. What the hell was causing that noise? Rushing to the window, she pushed the curtains aside and jumped when a barrage of pebbles bombarded the glass. She unlocked the window and pushed it open.
As she stared into the darkness, a figure strode forward. Blond hair, sprinkled with auburn gleamed in the moonlight. Speak of the devil, she smiled without thinking. “Jared, what are you doing down there?"
“Making an absolute fool of myself.” He dropped a handful of pebbles back into the flowerbed. “I need to talk to you.” Wiping his hands on his coat, he moved to the lamppost and pointed to the oak. “I'll climb up."
Her jaw dropped. “I hope you realize how absurd it is for a grown man to climb a fifteen foot tree to talk to a woman."
He chuckled. “Yeah. Well, I told you I was about to make a fool of myself."
Make a fool of himself? Over her? An unexpected smile tugged at the corners of her lips. First he's John Wayne, taking over putting the lights on the house, now he's Romeo. “Are you crazy?"
He cocked his head to one side. “That's the second time you've asked me that."
“I'm worried you'll fall."
The lamplight illuminated a wry smile. “Careful, someone might think you actually care what happens to this neck of mine."
“Who me?” Maybe she should let him try to climb up the side of the house, and fall and break his neck. It would serve him right. Whoa, he had shown exceptional prowess in climbing that roof yesterday, and if he made it up, neck intact, he'd be standing in the middle of her bedroom… sitting on her bed, while they talked. She swallowed hard, tugging at the hem of her nightshirt. “Hold on, I'll come down."
He held both hands up. “Oh, no, you don't. And that's not debatable, Katherine. I can't possibly catch you when you fall."
She laughed. “I have no intention of climbing out the window. Meet me at the back door. We can talk in the kitchen."
Realizing she was actually running to meet him like some adolescent schoolgirl, she slowed her pace. Determined not to act like other women, who fell all over him, she clamped down on her feelings, turned the teakettle on, unlocked the back door and waited for him.
A furrowed brow etched his forehead when he entered the kitchen. “I left my hammer in your garage."
She blinked in amazement. “What? You came here in the middle of the night for a hammer?"
Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he stared down at the floor. “It's a very important hammer."
She folded her arms and lifted an eyebrow. “Okay, Counselor, I'll bite. Why is it so important?"
His gaze rose to the table, as if mesmerized by the elephant shaped place mats. “It belonged
to… Aunt Harriet."
“I see.” She leaned her backside against the sink; arms still crossed and fought an inner smile. The discomfort on his face when he looked up at her was so comical she couldn't resist baiting him a little while longer. After all the discomfort he had caused her on the roof, not to mention the dance floor, he seemed due a little himself. “Hammering something, is that all you're thinking about? Why couldn't it wait until morning?"
He stared at her blank-faced, but for the rosy blush creeping up, signaling the direction of his thoughts.
She moved closer, punctuating each question with her index finger in his muscular chest. “Your aunt never owned a hammer in her life, did she? Admit it. You simply felt worried about Matt and me. Isn't that the truth?” She shrugged. “Although for the life of me, I don't know why."
Sheepishly, he pulled the hammer from his pocket, laid it on the table and removed his coat. “I thought you wouldn't let me in to check on you."
His gaze roamed her body and his eyes darkened, obviously pleased with her baggy T-shirt that had seen better days. The sensual look he gave her made the toes on her bare feet curl with a pleasure she hadn't felt in ages.
He finally lifted his head and studied her face. “I can't help staring. It's the first time I've seen your shapely legs and sexy red toenails.” He whistled softly, his gaze traveling back down her body. “You shouldn't hide them-at least not around me."
Her face grew hot. No one had ever whistled at her.
His arm began to rise. He's going to touch me. Inside, the rational adult shouted ‘Stop him,’ but the passionate woman inside her whispered ‘Let him,” and it was the whisper she responded to.
He touched her face, ever so gently. His fingers gliding over her skin, as if he wanted to make sure she was real and safe. Heat drifted over her lips and cheeks, with each stroke he made. Wherever he lingered, her skin felt scorched. His gaze held hers. “I saw Paul's car parked in the drive and kept imagining all sorts of scenarios-all bad."
The teakettle screeched and they jumped. His hand dropped to his side, and they stepped away from each other. Alarmed at the depth of response he had aroused in her, she took a deep breath, inhaling his masculine scent that swirled around her, and offered him a place at the table.
Trying to hide her flushed face, she fumbled with the lid on the instant mocha, almost toppling the jar. She could feel his gaze on her as she prepared two mugs of coffee, set them down and seated herself across from him.
“Thanks,” he said. He inhaled the aroma and took a large gulp. “I'm addicted to chocolate."
“Me, too. Can't go a day without it."
They exchanged grins. His brow arched.
I can't believe I said, ‘I can't go a day without it'-not IT-I meant chocolate.
As if he read her thoughts, he said, “Relax. I knew what you meant."
She wrapped her hands around her cup. “What's the most chocolate you've eaten in one day?"
“An entire box of chocolate chip cookies.” He leaned back in his chair, leisurely crossing his long legs. “I had a particularly bad court case and couldn't stop eating them."
“Uh huh,” she said, moving her gaze down his relaxed length, stopping at his scuffed cowboy boots. She'd forgotten how enjoyable the simple act of sitting in a kitchen talking with a man could be-and how stimulating.
He took another gulp. “And you?"
“A huge tub of chocolate mint ice cream-my favorite stash. I was carrying Matt so I had a good excuse.” She sipped her coffee. “Not that I really needed one, but people don't understand how someone could love chocolate that much, do they?"
He shook his head. They grinned at one another again, and their smiles faded as his gaze captured and held hers.
She swallowed hard, noting his sober expression.
“Katherine, I grew concerned about you because of your reaction when Paul first arrived. I began to wonder if you and Matt should be in the same room with him."
Following a sip, she assured Jared his worries were unfounded. “Paul isn't the violent type."
“What type is he?"
Before she could answer, the harsh sound of Jared plunking his cup down caught her full attention. He rammed both hands through his hair and leaned forward, his elbows splayed across the table. She lifted her brow at his slightly crazed and very intense expression. If this is what he looked like when he argued a case before a jury, no wonder he'd always won. He'd frighten any opposition clear into the next state. “Earlier tonight when you frowned at Paul, he ignored you and did whatever he damned well pleased. Is he the type of man who respects a woman's right to say no?"
She nibbled at her lower lip, remembering when Paul put his arm around her waist and pulled her into him. “Paul isn't used to having women say ‘No'.” Her face heated. “And he doesn't say no to them either. That's the trouble. He doesn't believe in monogamy-even when he's married."
“Are you saying he ran around on you?"
She nodded.
He shook his head and cursed. “He's a fool. If he starts crowding you and you object, let me know."
She lifted her chin. “That won't be necessary. I can handle Paul. I did it once before, remember?"
His jaw muscles worked.
“It isn't your problem. It's mine. And that's not debatable, Jared Randall.” She tried to take some of the sting out of the words, “But I do thank you for at least being concerned. I just need to get through the holidays, that's all."
Thinking of the crowding that Paul had tried tonight, she didn't want any more trouble-from anyone. A little advanced planning and determination on her part would make sure that what happened with Paul didn't happen again. And Paul said he would abide by whatever boundaries she set, so the problem would not arise again.
Jared's deep-blue gaze clouded with concern and roamed her face. “One thing's still bothering me. Why did Grace blurt out all those lies about you and Paul?"
She looked up at the ceiling.
“Don't try and deny they were lies. I'm an attorney, remember? I pride myself in reading people's body language.” He smiled warmly. “And I read you like an open book."
“I felt forced to lie about why we divorced. Dad was too ill.” She returned her gaze to his when he took her hands. “After that, I felt ashamed and tried to keep it private. No one knows except Paul-and now you."
“Dammit, you don't have anything to be ashamed of.” He released her hands. “Does Grace like Paul?"
Her mouth rounded. “Why would you ask a thing like that?"
“The venomous looks Grace shot his way. Paul never saw them, but I did. Loud and clear."
Katherine shook her head, feeling like she'd taken the witness stand. “He's the only man my mother didn't fix me up with. Maybe that's why I fell for him. After she met him, she tried to talk me out of marrying so quickly. Mother warned me that he seemed self-centered."
“What's keeping you from telling Grace the truth now? Is part of it the fact you'd have to eat crow and admit Grace had been right about Paul?” he asked.
Guilt nagged her conscious. She hesitated, hating to admit it to herself. “Maybe,” she twisted a strand of hair around her finger. Butterflies swam upstream in her stomach. “I don't like your implications. I plan on telling her the truth."
“Uh huh,” he said, fixing her with a stare.
“Don't give me that I-don't-believe-you look, Counselor. I do plan on telling her-eventually.” She grew silent. “But now's a bad time. She's recovering from surgery and missing my father. Everything's happening too fast with Paul popping up out of nowhere like he did."
“Planning to do something and doing it isn't the same thing. You need to tell Grace everything right away. She has a right to know the truth. Despite the fact she's manipulative at times, she's really on your side."
Katherine nodded. Hell, she knew that.
“Paul doesn't act like a man who dropped by casually to see his son for Christmas. Otherwise, he'd have
phoned you and arranged for a day and time he could pick Matt up. He's here to see you."
Inhaling and exhaling an exasperated breath, she answered, “I know. He says he's changed."
“Do you think he has?"
She shrugged. “Maybe, but it takes time to trust a person again-at least for me it does. I keep feeling guilty about Matt. He's been hurt so badly by this divorce. His father has cancelled so many visits and ignored him for so long."
“What if Paul has changed?” He took her hand in his again.
She sighed. “I need to bury the hatchet and be semi-friends with Paul, but I don't want him back in my bed, if that's what you are asking me. I'm going to do what's best for Matt in the long run. That's the only thing I know for sure."
He ran the pad of his thumb over her hand and leaned closer. “I want you to know I'm your friend.” He pointed to the hammer and a flash of humor flickered in his eyes. “I'm even willing to make a first class fool of myself."
Her breath caught at the innocent, boyish expression on his face. No wonder women find him irresistible. He's like a big, cuddly bear. “I think you'd better define what you mean by ‘friends', before I agree to anything concerning you and me.” She pulled her hand from his. Or, maybe he's really the sly, cunning, Big Bad Wolf.
He smiled a slow, blatantly sexual smile, but his head shook from side to side in all innocence. “There you go again-distrusting me and the degree of closeness and intimacy I mean for us to share. You think I go around ravishing and pillaging every beautiful woman I see? Scout's honor, I don't."
Crossing her arms, she stared at him. Not this one, you don't. “You were never a Scout in your life, were you?"
He chuckled. “No, but I dated a Girl Scout Den Leader. Does that count?” He laughed. “Lighten up. What are you so afraid of, Katherine?"
“Mr. Randall.” They spun around in their chairs to find a pajama-clad Matt ambling into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Katherine asked, relieved at the interruption.
“I got thirsty.” He stared at his bare feet.
The Mistletoe Affair Page 8