The Gift-Wrapped Groom

by M. J. Rodgers

  But she didn’t hate him. She wasn’t sorry he was in her life. She was afraid. And panicky. She could still feel the claim of his lips, his body, his breath on her. And the need he’d begun, the raw-edge need to be held once more by those steel arms, against that massive chest, to be kissed again so thoroughly that her very bones trembled with the need for more.

  “Noel, you are all right?”

  No, she was not all right. Her face was hot. Her body was hot. She might never be all right again, damn him. Had he done this to her deliberately? She shifted down to second and spun the wheel into a sharp turn.

  “You are worried about my keeping my word, yes?”

  She bit her lip. Yes, she was worried about it, all right. She was worried that he might not keep it and she was worried that he would keep it. And most of all, she was worried that she wouldn’t want him to keep it.

  “This is understandable. It was the anger. I lost... But that is no excuse. My actions tonight were most inappropriate.”

  Most inappropriate. So refined. So cool. Oh, hell. Was it so easy for him? So damn easy?

  “I will keep my pledge to you. You will need to worry no more.”

  Apparently, it was easy. Damn. She didn’t want it to be easy. She wanted... No, she didn’t want that. She couldn’t. What was happening to her, anyway? Where was all that deserved anger she had felt toward this man such a short time ago?

  Anger. That was it. She had to concentrate on the anger. And there were lots of reasons for it, weren’t there? Oh, yes, she remembered. Lots of reasons.

  “We have a problem, Nicholas.”

  “Not anymore, Noel.”

  “I don’t mean that, Nicholas. I take your word on that... issue. I’m talking about a communication problem.”

  “Yes. You use many idioms. Like tonight when I walked into the house. The phrase laughingstock brought to mind perplexing images of cows and chicken and pigs grinning. Naturally, it means something else, yes?”

  “It means I find out from my neighbors—all my neighbors, all day long—how I’ve had my first argument with my husband and how I locked him out of my bedroom and how he never told me he was flying to his damn interview in Idaho today and how he’s volunteered for some damn Christmas festival committee when he wouldn’t even hang one damn Christmas ornament—”

  “You did not ask me to hang ‘one damn Christmas ornament.’ You asked me to get the decorations from the attic. Did you not notice them sitting next to the ugly pine tree when you returned home from work today?”

  “Nicholas, that is not the point.”

  “Then please to make the point.”

  “First of all, you should have told me you were going to Idaho today. I shouldn’t have had to hear it from—”

  “I would have told you this morning but you left again without saying goodbye.”

  She shifted gears again, refusing to admit she might have to share some of the responsibility. “That’s only one of the surprises you’ve handed me today. Why did you agree to help in the Christmas festival when you don’t even believe in Christmas?”

  “You find fault in this?”

  “From the first, you’ve denigrated my Christmas store, even my Christmas tree and the Wachsmiths’ Christmas tree farm and—”

  “Still, I am a part of this Midwater Valley now. It is only right that I participate in the activities of its people.”

  “By contributing to its gossip?”

  “Gossip?”

  “Yes, gossip. Why did you tell people we had a fight?”

  “Fight? Oh. I understand. That is easily explainable.”

  “I can’t wait to hear this explanation.”

  “Your grandfather arrived unexpectedly this morning to see two unmade beds and to hear my confusion over a back that was not scrubbed. I told him that I had said unkind things to you. That you had left your decorating, and even your dinner, after hearing those unkind things. I said these things to him so his suspicions would be replaced by the false impressions I gave.”

  She sighed, feeling her lungs deflate like a balloon. “Oh, I see.”

  “I am glad you see.”

  “Still, I can’t imagine Grandfather repeating all that. Was Tucker there at the time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. Well, no wonder it was all over the village so fast. Tucker is a walking bullhorn.”

  “Bullhorn?”

  “Big mouth. Someone who passes on everything he knows at full volume.”

  “I understand. So now you understand also.”

  “I understand that you obviously meant well, but you don’t understand what living in a small village is like.”

  “I lived in a small village. Everybody speaks of what everybody else does. This is what you mean, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “But surely one has nothing to hide as long as one acts...” His voice faded away as though suddenly tangled in another thought. It was a moment more before he continued. “I understand now. This talk was a...surprise. You do not like surprises.”

  “I’ve been the conversational centerpiece of gossip in this village before. Pitied. Lectured. I’ve had my fill of it. I treasure my privacy. This is proving to be a difficult and complicated...marriage...even when it just involves the two of us. Let’s try to keep its business our business from now on. Deal?”

  “I will...accommodate this request.”

  Her hands relaxed somewhat on the wheel. Maybe, just maybe, their bargain could go on as before. Maybe, just maybe, she could keep her distance from this man. Maybe, just maybe she could forget that interlude in her living room.

  She sighed. Yeah, and maybe she’d be getting a visit from the prize patrol at Publisher’s Clearinghouse tomorrow, too.

  * * *

  BERNA VANE NUDGED her companion.

  “There they are. I told you Noel would drag that new husband of hers along. She’s gotten him to volunteer with the rest of the pigeons for this stupid Christmas festival.”

  “So how’s that gonna help?”

  “Well, it gives me a shot at him, of course.”

  “Shot at him? What are you talking about?”

  “Psychological warfare, darling. I told you. This skirmish is going to be ultimately won by psychological warfare.”

  Haag watched Berna check her makeup in the mirror of her compact as she sat in the passenger seat of his truck.

  “You’re going to come on to Baranov, aren’t you?”

  Berna closed her compact with a firm click. “Worked before. Besides, if I don’t do something, Noel’s going to be pressing everybody’s buttons in there to get that damn petition approved. I’m not going to let her shut us out. I plan to have some fun pressing a few buttons of my own.”

  “I don’t like it, Berna.”

  “Well, I don’t care what you like, Kurt. You’re being paid to convince your neighbors to sell, not to run people off roads and try to kill them! Damn fool! Never should have told you Noel was going up to get that wood.”

  “Just meant for her to break a bone or two. Put her out of commission. It could’ve worked.”

  “It could’ve also brought the law down on our heads!”

  “You didn’t complain about no law when I wrecked those ornaments of hers last year. Or was that only because you wanted her in a position where you could squeeze her into convincing old Winsome to take you as his bride?”

  “Kurt, I’m warning you, just because we get together now and then for some—”

  Kurt’s arm wove around Berna’s neck, bringing her mouth to his. He kissed her hard, liking the way her nails dug into his arm.

  He released her. “That old man will never kiss you like that, darlin’. And neither will that Russkie. Now, why don’t you just come on back to my place now and let me take care of these fools later—in my own way.”

  Berna drew back. “No, Kurt. This has to be done the smart way. And that means my way. Oh, hell. Look what you did to my lipstick. You can be a big
pain, you know?”

  She really didn’t think he was that big of a pain. That’s what Kurt knew. But he didn’t say anything about it. Just as he didn’t say anything about what he thought of her plan. She could go ahead and do what she thought would work. And he’d just go ahead and continue doing what he knew was working.

  Chapter Ten

  Noel took her seat with the others on the planning committee. Nicholas sat beside her and watched her mentally count noses.

  “Where are Fay and Don Duncan?” she asked.

  Lucy Lydon shook her head. “Don’t know. Doc’s not here yet, either. Appears they’re all running late. We should get started, with or without them.”

  Jean Skogen came over with a tray of steaming coffee in large mugs and handed them around. “Lucy’s right. We got lots to do. Can’t wait all night. Oh, hell, look what the cat just dragged in.”

  Noel turned her head to look and found a frown as Berna Vane slithered through the back door of the community center wearing her full-length silver fox coat.

  “What is she doing here?”

  “She’s still on the sleigh-ride committee, Noel,” Lucy reminded.

  “Not for long,” Noel said as she stood up and marched directly toward the podium.

  Nicholas understood the animosity Noel felt toward Berna. He clearly remembered the worry in her words as she spoke of Berna’s recent threats against her store and the ever-looming, grasping hand of CMC, reaching out greedily for valley land. So it was with growing comprehension that he listened to her address the assemblage of neighbors, beginning with a list of all the reasons that Berna and the CMC bank she represented made a mockery of their Christmas festival by trying to be a part of it.

  She spoke clearly, simply, rather eloquently, he thought. Nicholas was listening intently until suddenly he became distracted by a quick string of breathy words being spoken in his ear.

  “So, Nicholas, here you are.”

  He turned to see the topic of Noel’s condemnation slinking into the seat beside him. She slipped off her fur coat, letting it flap loudly on the back of her chair, interrupting Noel’s words. Purposely. To draw attention.

  And she did draw attention. She couldn’t help but draw attention. Underneath that discarded coat, she was wearing a far too tight, one-piece, buff-colored sweater that went from just above her breasts to just below her thighs. It was so close in color to her skin and so skimpy that at first she looked naked.

  Berna leaned against Nicholas, full against him, bringing a heavy, overpowering perfume scent with her. She pulled a small, green plant from between the cleft of her barely concealed breasts and raised it above his head.

  “Time to introduce you to an old American Christmas custom, Nicholas. This is called mistletoe. We smooch under it.”

  Before Nicholas had time to even attempt a translation of these strange words, she had pounced on his lap, wrapped her bare legs around his and launched her lips against him.

  It was not a sweet kiss, nor a thrilling kiss, like the ones he had shared with Noel. It was a sharp, bitter kiss, like the bite of a snake’s fangs.

  Hollywood productions were full of such kisses—and the expected outcome. Nicholas had seen how American men respond eagerly to such aggression from females with their own animalistic aggression. Nicholas was never so glad to be Russian. He stood up, yanking Berna off him.

  The force of his standing sent her sailing off his lap, landing her hard on her behind on the wooden floor. Nicholas felt no regret, only pity as he stood over her supine body.

  This was a woman who deserved no respect, this woman who knew so little discipline for her passions that she could throw herself at a stranger in this brazen manner.

  Berna Vane’s glazed eyes looked up at him in dazed surprise. She still clutched in her hand the bit of green thing she had called mistletoe. Her mouth was open, but she said not a word.

  Within seconds, the previous noise within the large room among its nearly thirty occupants dropped to a hushed whisper.

  He knew everyone was looking at them, but he raised his eyes to just one.

  Noel stood at the podium. Her eyes were large, unblinking silver-green glass, her hair a soft halo of warm red-gold light. She stood still, remote, untouched by the moral decadence of this woman.

  He was glad. He would have spared her witnessing the acts of such a woman if it had been within his power.

  Nicholas stiffened. Spared her? What was he thinking? How did he know that her passions weren’t as wild and undisciplined as this woman’s at his feet? After all, wasn’t that what he had decided about her days ago?

  Nicholas could no longer look at Noel—not with these suspicions at the forefront of his thoughts. He once thought he could ignore them, forget them.

  He knew now he could not ignore them—or forget them.

  He pivoted sharply and headed swiftly and directly for the door. He was halfway there, when he heard Berna’s shrill voice calling out to him.

  “Wow! What a kisser! Talk about knocking a girl off her feet!”

  Her high, almost hysterical laughter followed him like the cackle of a crow on his last steps to the door. Even when he was outside and had closed the door behind him, he could still hear the screeching echo of that laugh.

  * * *

  “HI, NICHOLAS. Sorry I’m so late, but there were just so many details to attend to.”

  Noel shut the front door behind her and slipped out of her down coat, letting it fall onto the easy chair along with her shoulder bag and truck keys.

  Nicholas got up from the couch and put down the book he’d been reading. Mistletoe, who’d been curled on a rug beneath Nicholas’s feet, stood and stretched, wagged his tail sleepily and then settled right back down again.

  Nicholas’s voice was pure politeness, carrying not a hint of reproach. “You fulfill your obligations to your Christmas committee. I only wait up to see that you arrive safely.”

  Noel almost wished there had been some reproach. The bland politeness chilled the air. She quickly walked over to the couch and picked up the book he had set down.

  “The Iliad? But that’s my father’s collectible copy. The one in the original Greek. Nicholas, you read Greek?”

  “It is better than the English translation. Besides, Russian is much closer to Greek than it is to English.”

  Noel looked at her stone-faced husband, sensing even more strongly the change in him and growing more and more disturbed by it.

  “You could have watched television or tried programming that VCR I told you about.”

  “I did try to watch television. And program the VCR. The television was boring. The programming of the VCR presented the only challenge.”

  “Ah-ha! I knew it would be a challenge!”

  “A minor one. The directions were obviously written by someone for whom English is a second language. As English is a second language for me, also, I was able to anticipate what words had been left out that caused the meaning to be elusive.”

  She smiled. “Another mystery solved.”

  He did not respond either to her words or smile, but only took the book from her hand and returned it to the bookcase. Yes, there was something different, something uncomfortable that reminded her of that last, final, awful look in his eyes before he’d turned this evening and left the community center.

  It had been that look that had made her try to hurry to get home. It was that look that now urged her to prevent him from going to bed without speaking to her, as he appeared so ready to do.

  She clasped her hands nervously. “I meant to ask, Nicholas. How did the interview at the engineering lab in Idaho go this morning?”

  “They said they will let me know their decision,” he said, turning from her.

  “They didn’t say when?”

  “No.” He took a few more steps away.

  “Nicholas, how about a cup of hot chocolate? I was just about to make myself one.”

  “It is late. I plan to rise ear
ly. Another time.” He turned toward the hallway.

  “Nicholas, I wish you’d have that cup of hot chocolate with me. I’d like to talk to you.”

  He turned back to her. Yes, the difference was in his eyes. A new cold remoteness had claimed them, so remote and cold that they gave her heart a chill.

  “Please, Nicholas.”

  “As you wish.”

  Formal, correct, polite. Passionless. That was it. The passion was gone.

  Noel led the way into the kitchen and filled a kettle with water. She set it on the range to heat. Nicholas sat on one of the maple chairs that circled the table. She remained standing, leaning her back against the counter, and tried to collect her thoughts.

  “I appreciate what you did tonight, Nicholas. The way you knocked that... The way you foiled Berna’s attempt to try to get me upset.”

  “That is what she was attempting to do?”

  “Oh, yes. The mistletoe was just a ploy. She’s pulled such stunts before. I remember when she first came back to the valley a couple of years ago and found out about me and Cade. Why, she felt no qualms at all about sitting on his lap and doing the same thing that—”

  Noel stopped herself. She didn’t need to go into all those explanations or relive that despicable scene. Or the ones that followed it. Fortunately, Nicholas’s next question helped her to refocus.

  “What is the significance of the green plant she called mistletoe?”

  “It’s an old Christmas custom for men and women to kiss beneath mistletoe. But she was using it as an excuse. Not that you aren’t a great-looking guy, Nicholas. And that any woman wouldn’t want—”

  Noel stopped herself, again, and tried to regroup her thoughts. This was not at all what she had intended to say. “Well, I mean, not even Berna would make such a public display of herself if she hadn’t been trying to get me...distracted.”

  “Distracted?”

  Noel swallowed. “Jealous. By kissing and falling all over you that way. Trying to get you to let her kiss you, even trying to get you to kiss her back. But you didn’t let her embarrass me.”

  Still the passionless stare. Noel rubbed the countertop nervously.