Christmas Magic

by Andrea Edwards

  Mike felt his throat tighten up and his mouth go stone dry. “This has gone far enough,” he said. “You can have the remote.”

  But her hands didn’t release his. “You admit my conversation with Melvin is none of your business?”

  “I’m not admitting anything.” He moved slightly, trying to put some space between them. “I don’t want anybody to get hurt.”

  “Not willing to fight for your principles, eh?”

  The world seemed to stand still at that. He looked into her eyes, still sending out sparks, but suddenly it didn’t seem to be anger burning there. It was something else, something that took her by surprise.

  With one easy movement, the remote fell to the side and they were kissing. Not one of those how-are-you, glad-to-see-you pecks on the cheek, but a full-blown, seriously being without breath kiss. They were desperate for water and diving into a deep well. They were burning with a fever and the other held the cure. They were half of the other’s whole.

  His hands slid over her back, pressing her closer. He could feel the ridge of her spine and the soft curve of her lower back. He could feel her breasts, full and firm, crushed into him. And he could feel his heart about to explode. His lips grew more insistent, his breath nonexistent as she moved into him. Her hands, pushing against him, somehow pulled him closer yet.

  He had never tasted such fiery sweetness. It was addictive; the more he kissed her, the more he needed to. It gave him strength. It gave him hope and wisdom and powers beyond belief. He wanted to run and dance and shout to the heavens, but he didn’t want to let her go. Their hearts were racing, pounding in unison, until he wasn’t sure which was his and which was hers.

  Then suddenly she jumped away, as if he were on fire, and slumped to the floor. Closing his eyes, he lay back on the sofa. The room was filled with hoarse breathing, as if they’d run a marathon and sprinted the last mile.

  Casey took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Actually, Melvin and I never got around to my question,” she said, her voice thready and weak. “He was too busy whining about not having someone to go to the computer-science Christmas dinner with.”

  Mike ought to feel a sense of triumph, but he was still having trouble breathing. “So maybe I can help.”

  She put her head back against the sofa, closing her eyes. “Do you know a Tiffany Kramer?”

  It wasn’t what Mike had expected. “You mean Ed Kramer’s daughter? He’s one of the Berrien Springs cops that came the other night.”

  “She told me to stay away from Dubber or else she’d hurt me,” Casey said, a slight laugh in her voice.

  Mike just stared at her. “You’re kidding,” he said. “Want me to talk to her? Or to her dad?” It would be pretty ironic if the only thing he got to protect her from was an eleven-year-old kid.

  Casey sat up, turning to frown at him. “No. I don’t want you to do anything,” she said. “Except give me some advice. Should I ignore her or should I get Dubber to cool it? I’m not worried she’s going to do anything. I know she’s just afraid she’s going to lose something important to her. But I don’t want to hurt Dubber, either.”

  Mike just sat there, staring into those green eyes, which had grown thoughtful and troubled. Casey was being threatened by a little thug and followed around by a gangly, awkward kid who acted more like a puppy dog than anything else, but all she thought about was how to keep each from hurting. He reached over and touched her hand gently, running his fingers over the top of hers and fighting the urge to take her hand in his.

  “Everybody hurts growing up,” he said simply. “And everybody loses something. You can’t keep the world from hurting.”

  “I’m not trying to save the world, just two kids.”

  Was it just two kids, though? There were her cats, and Melvin, Tiffany and Dubber. Not to mention Simon. Then Mike remembered how she’d tried to keep him from seeing Darcy this morning, and knew he was on her list, too.

  It touched him, aggravated him and made him squirm all at the same time. He wasn’t needy. He didn’t need to be protected. He was the protector, the one who watched out for danger and kept everyone else safe.

  “Well, since you’re only going to be here a short time, I don’t see where it matters,” he said.

  The harshness of his voice surprised him, and her also. She pulled back and looked once more toward the television, giving a short little laugh. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m a short-timer here. Why worry? Everything’ll go back to normal once I’m gone.”

  But “normal” suddenly seemed bleak and unattractive. And lonely.

  Chapter Six

  Casey sat up in bed, alert and on edge. “What’s the matter, Snowflake?”

  The white cat went silent, but Midnight started his high-pitched whine; the spirits were up and about in the old house.

  “Come on, guys,” Casey said. “Let’s pretend we didn’t wake up.”

  The last time they’d gone out looking for Simon, they’d woken Mike up. And that was one person Casey was not ready to run into just yet. She liked him; she liked him a lot, but not that way. Yet she’d responded to his kiss last night like she was in love with him! What must he think?

  Snowflake gave a grumbling yowl, then jumped off the bed with a thump, striding determinedly to the door with Midnight close behind. Since it was closed, all they could do was stop and look back at Casey. Even in the dim moonlight coming in around the drapes, Casey could see their glares.

  “All right, already. I’m coming.” She slipped out of bed. “Just quit your darn hollering.”

  Her feet were in the thick socks she always wore at night in the winter, but she took the time to grab her robe. “Okay, girls,” she told them. “Here’s the plan. We take a quick pass around the living room, but no noise. You hear?”

  The two cats didn’t bother looking at her. Sighing, she opened the door and followed as they slunk out into the hall. “I mean it, girls,” she hissed. “I want us to be really, really quiet.”

  The hallway was darker than her room, but she sensed her feline buddies ignoring her words. She had a definite feeling that they were heading for trouble.

  “Come on, girls,” she pleaded. “You know what happened the last time we did this.. You started yowling and Mike came storming down, ready to shoot all of us.”

  Midnight muttered something. It was obvious that neither of them cared what Mike did.

  “Well, I care,” she whispered. “I don’t need any more hassle from that man.”

  Not that hassle was exactly the right word. That sounded as if she’d found him a bother, that she hadn’t enjoyed that kiss. She had enjoyed it too much, that was the real trouble. And she wasn’t looking for that kind of enjoyment.

  She stopped, suddenly sensing that her cats were no longer in front of her. “Snowflake? Midnight?” She strained her eyes. “Where are you two?”

  There was a low feline moan behind her, and she sensed more than saw them standing in front of the door to Mike’s bedroom. “What are you two doing there?” she whispered. “Come over this way.”

  But they didn’t move, not even an inch.

  “Come on, girls,” she murmured, bending down to pick the two cats up. They slid right out of her arms, though, and then there was a quiet thud.

  Her heart stopped as she felt in front of her. The door wasn’t there anymore! Oh no, they’d opened Mike’s door! Was every door in this household able to be opened by animals?

  Casey got down on her hands and knees and felt around in the darkness for her cats. She touched nothing but Mike’s rug, heard nothing but the even breathing that said he was still asleep. Well, the cats had to be in here someplace. She crawled a little farther forward.

  Her eyes were getting used to the dim light and she could see the shape of the bed off to her left—with a lump at the foot that was rising slightly. Gus. Another movement there caught her eye. Damn. He was wagging his tail. Mike stirred.

  “Gus, go back to sleep,” Mike sa
id, his voice groggy.

  Casey held her breath and froze in place. Gus put his head down, but his tail was still wagging slightly. After an eternity, Mike began that even breathing again, and she could take a breath once more.

  She crept forward another few feet and her hand brushed something. A sock. She tossed it aside. There was a slight movement up ahead of her. Snowflake! And next to her a shadowy shape that had to be Midnight!

  “Come here, kitties,” she whispered.

  Neither cat was fooled by the sweetness in her voice. Neither cat moved. Instead, they both meowed in reply, telling her to come and get them. Casey started to crawl a little faster, when she suddenly stopped.

  She’d felt something. Not with her hand, but with her heart. She sat back on her heels and looked around. Nothing looked different, but something had changed. Someone was here. There was a hint of peppermint in the air.

  “Simon?” she mouthed. Of course, who else? “What do you want?”

  She sensed so much suddenly. Unhappiness. Regret. A deep love that had never been spoken.

  Simon was hurting, she was certain of it. All he needed was to make someone understand, keep someone from repeating his mistake. She looked around the large room. It was the master bedroom, so it must have been his room.

  “The place you’d hoped to rest alongside your Priscilla,” she breathed.

  The pain was there again, so strong she could almost hear a silent cry echoing around the room, rattling the chambers of her heart.

  “What the—” Mike shot up out of bed as if he’d been blasted from a circus cannon. Gus began to bark frantically.

  Oh no. Should she make a run for it or try to stay hidden?

  “Easy, Gus,” Mike shouted, fumbling around on his nightstand.

  Great, he was looking for his gun. Hiding wasn’t going to work. “No, Mike. It’s just me.”

  Mike flicked on the light and blinked at her. “What the hell is going on?”

  But Casey couldn’t answer. All she could do was stare at him. “You’re naked,” she gasped.

  “It’s my bedroom.” But he grabbed a pair of sweatpants.

  “You aren’t even wearing shorts.”

  “I wasn’t expecting guests,” he replied, as he pulled the sweatpants on. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I came after my cats.” As soon as she said that, they began to walk nonchalantly over toward the door. Little creeps. “Why else would I be coming in here in the middle of the night?”

  “I have no idea. Chasing a nonexistent ghost, hiding from Tiffany, or maybe you just wanted to check what I wore when I slept.”

  She wanted to tell him to dream on, but unfortunately her gaze drifted back toward him and her tongue got tied up. She’d always thought he was a good-looking, handsome man, but she realized that describing him that way would be like describing the Mona Lisa as a nice picture.

  Mike was on the slender side, but athletically built, with long legs, broad shoulders and narrow hips and waist. Welldefined muscles made him look as though he’d been chiseled out of stone. The man was so beautiful he was breathtaking.

  She forced herself to look away. It was high time she got out of there before she lost all sense. That kiss was bad enough; she didn’t need to complicate matters even more.

  Her cats had stopped by Mike’s bed, eyeing Gus, who was eyeing them back. “Come on, girls, let’s get back to our own room,” she said to them.

  As soon as she spoke, her cats leaped onto the bed and dived under the covers. Gus let out a howl, plunging after them so that the bed became a tangle of sheets, blankets and animals.

  Mike just gave her a look that said this was all her fault and tried to grab Gus’s collar. “Gus, off!” he ordered.

  The dog let out a mock growl and dived in farther.

  Casey took a few steps toward the bed. It wasn’t like she was afraid to go closer, but maybe it wouldn’t be necessary. “Snowflake, Midnight,” she called. “Come, girls.” They responded the way they usually did—they ignored her.

  “Gus, enough of this,” Mike snapped, and flipped the covers back to grab hold of his collar. He pulled the dog off the bed, then stepped back, waving Casey over to get her cats.

  With a wary look his way, Casey came closer. Lumps on the bed pointed to where her cats were, but she wasn’t sure under which layer of covers she’d actually find them. She felt around under the sheets, still warm from Mike’s body—from that body that her all-too-active imagination was willing to picture for her.

  “Come on, girls,” she said with a bit of hysteria. She needed to get out of here. “Where are you?”

  She moved over a step and her arm brushed against Mike’s chest. Between the fabric of her nightgown and the thick fuzziness of her robe, she shouldn’t feel a thing. But she did! She felt the heat of his skin, the hard steel of muscle just beneath and the racing of his heart. She jerked back, afraid he would feel the same response in her.

  “I don’t bite,” he snapped.

  “I know.” One lump moved, and she realized the cat was on top of the sheet, not under it. “It wasn’t that at all.” She was more afraid that she might bite him!

  “And I’m not exactly a sex-starved maniac, you know.”

  She found Snowflake and pulled her out. The cat plopped down on the bed and proceeded to give herself a bath. Now Casey just had to get—

  ”And that outfit’s hardly the type to drive a man wild with passion.”

  She stopped her burrowing to glance down at herself. Woolly robe, flannel nightgown and thick socks.

  “What’s wrong with all this?” she asked, and made the mistake of looking at him again. Of letting those broad shoulders capture her gaze; of allowing her eyes to linger on those muscles that her hands so wanted to touch. She took a deep breath and pulled her gaze away. “It keeps me warm.”

  “Good thing,” he said. “No one else would be tempted to.”

  “Not everybody equates sheer and lacy with sexy, you know,” she told him. She was glad that this outfit didn’t appeal to him. That made it all the easier to fight her wayward thoughts. “Some people see beyond such things to the person inside.”

  “I assume you’re referring to you and Melvin.”

  “I’m referring to all sorts of people who find things like loyalty and honesty more arousing than a beefcake photo.”

  His face reflected his surprise, then his annoyance. “Hey, I did that calendar for charity,” he said. “It helps the kids’ hospital in Detroit.”

  Casey just looked at him, shaking her head slowly. “I wasn’t even thinking of that,” she assured him. She’d done it again—opened her mouth without giving her words any thought. “Honest I wasn’t.”

  “Sure. Look, can you just get your cats so we can go back to sleep? I’ve got to go to work in the morning.”

  She should just do as he said. Dig out Midnight, grab Snowflake, and go back to her own room before she made more of a fool of herself. But her feet refused to move. “No,” she said. “You think I deliberately said that and I didn’t. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

  He made a face. “My feelings are not that easily accessed,” he said. “Now could you—”

  “I don’t believe that,” she said. “I think your feelings are just as likely to be hurt as mine. I think you want to play tough and pretend like you’re unfeeling, but you aren’t.”

  “Fascinating analysis,” he said. “All wrong, but fascinating.”

  “If I’m so wrong, why is your heart racing?” she asked.

  “Who says it is?”

  She was beyond her initial awareness of his masculinity, she told herself. She was only concerned now that he understand that she didn’t mean to hurt him.

  “I can tell it’s racing,” she said, and placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. The world suddenly stopped.

  His skin was warm and slightly damp beneath the light matting of fine blond hair, but all she could feel was his racing heart—
pounding, throbbing, vibrating like the sudden electricity in the air. Her own heart responded, calling to Mike as if they were soul mates, matching his beat for beat. She could not move her hand; it would take a strength beyond what she possessed. She bit at her lip nervously and let her eyes stray up to his.

  “This is not a good idea.” His voice was slightly raw as he reached for her hand. She thought he was going to move it, but he must not have had the strength, either. He just covered it with his own.

  “This is definitely not a good idea,” he said again, but this time his voice was more than raw. It was ragged and hoarse.

  “No, it’s not,” she whispered back. She wondered if he’d heard her; her voice seemed weak and wispy all of a sudden. “I should go.”

  “You should.”

  Her feet didn’t move. But how could they when his eyes would not let her go? When his touch held her prisoner?

  Ever so slowly, his lips came down on hers, bringing a promise of heaven with them. His touch was gentle at first. Like the first snowflakes of winter kissing the pine boughs, his mouth barely brushed hers. She hardly felt any pressure at all, yet at the same time she felt such a jolt to her heart that she wondered if it was still beating.

  The pressure of his lips grew slowly, like a rose unfolding in the morning sun. She kissed him back, hungrily, with a need for his touch so strong that she couldn’t help but move closer to him. No kiss had ever taken hold of her like this; no touch of a man’s hand on hers had ever so hypnotized her.

  He let go of her hand, only to encircle her with his embrace. She moved in closer still, her hand slipping from his heart so that her arms could hold him. His hands felt like fire on her back, even through the fuzzy robe and flannel nightgown, leaving a trail of longing so deep that her knees went wobbly.

  “I never knew fuzzy red robes could be so sexy,” he said, his voice a sharp whisper that cut away at her defenses even more.

  “I thought you said it wasn’t.”

  “I was lying.”