Christmas Confidential

by Marilyn Pappano; Linda Conrad

  Once inside their room, he threw her duffel on the enormous bed and locked the door behind them. “Stay put.” He shucked his hat and coat. “I’ll check the bathroom.”

  Keeping one eye on her as she paced the large room, he double-checked the space to be sure they were alone. After he was satisfied, he came back and settled into a chair at the small, round table by the window.

  “Sit,” he ordered.

  Glaring at him, she remained standing.

  Forcing her to do as he wished would get him nowhere. He wanted her to trust him so they could talk honestly.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She pressed her lips together and set her jaw.

  “Well, I am. How about I order us some sandwiches? Or maybe a pizza?”

  Without uttering a word, she turned and walked across the room to stare out the window.

  Shrugging, he kept talking to her while he picked up the house phone to place an order. “I get really hungry for pizza. We don’t have any pizza joints in the small town where I come from. Or maybe you remember that?”

  He watched her back stiffen, but she made no comment. It had been worth a shot. Not that he really thought this was Alicia. Not really. It couldn’t be.

  Still, any kind of direct assault probably wasn’t the way to go about making her trust him enough for the truth. This situation called for a little finesse.

  He got lucky. The hotel’s restaurant had ten-minute pizza delivery on the menu. He ordered a large pepperoni pizza and sodas. He might’ve liked a beer but figured both of them needed to keep their heads today.

  “Please sit down.” He wasn’t above pleading. “I really need your help so we can devise a plan to get out of this mess.”

  It was easy to visualize her weakening resolve just by the slump of her body. Finally, she removed her coat and placed it on the back of a chair, then sat across from him. But she said not one word the whole time.

  Racking his brain for some way to break the tension and begin to develop trust, the start of an idea just popped out of his mouth. “You don’t have a phone with you, do you?”

  She shook her head and folded her hands on the table.

  “I bet you think cell phones are too easy to hack, right?”

  Nothing. No response. Not even a blink.

  “You might be right. But I have my satellite phone with me. You want to call and check on your daughter?”

  The look in her eyes said it all. Relief. And then respect.

  At last she said, “Yes, please.”

  Grabbing his coat, he dug out the phone and handed it to her. “Whoever you contact, I would like to suggest you don’t tell them exactly where we are. You’re safe with me here for the time being. But not if word leaks out.”

  She nodded and he actually believed she wouldn’t say anything. Why he thought that was beyond him. The woman was obviously a liar—and heaven only knew what else she was. Maybe a criminal.

  But after she punched in a number on his phone, he figured that at least one of them was going to learn how to trust today. She spoke to someone on the line in what had to be Gaelic and then spoke quietly in English. He would just have to hope she hadn’t betrayed them.

  The pizza arrived just as she hung up.

  He doled out slices to each of them and then sat at the table and dug in.

  After she hung up, he swallowed a bite and said, “This is pretty good. Have a piece before it gets cold.”

  Elana tilted her head but made no move to eat. “I’ll be thanking you for allowing me to talk to my child. She was concerned, but I believe I calmed her down.”

  “So she’s okay?”

  “Temporarily. She’s caught the gist of the grown-ups’ concern over my situation, I’m guessing. Kids can see the true picture, not so much from words but from the attitudes of people around them. Plus, my baby had to leave her home today. I tried turning it into a game, but she’s so smart. I imagine she knows something is very wrong.”

  He was suddenly struck by the fact that whatever else she was, Elana was a mother first. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, then.” Absently, she picked at the edge of her pizza slice.

  Not so hesitant, he reached for another slice and had half of it in his mouth before something happened that made him nearly choke on it.

  Watching her, he was stunned when she daintily stripped off the piece of pepperoni on her slice and popped the meat into her mouth first. Exactly the way Alicia used to do. How many women in the world would eat pizza that same way? Maybe millions. Maybe only one.

  While gulping most of a can of soda in order to calm down, he came to the decision not to call her on the obvious tell. But he was becoming ever more confused by the moment. Could this woman actually be his Alicia? If she was, he had a lot more questions. Like why she wore a disguise and why the ruse of her death? Meanwhile, the ache in the vicinity of his heart became overpowering.

  “So, I guess that means you’re ready to admit those guys are after you and not me?” He had to hope that didn’t sound too pushy.

  It wasn’t the real question he wanted answered. But it was a start.

  “I am, yes.” Honest at least, she finished off her slice and reached for another.

  “Well, since I’m in this with you up to my Stetson, do you mind telling me why they’d want to hurt you—an innocent Iraqi war widow?”

  “It would be a long story.”

  The cheese string between her mouth and her hand drew out into a long line. Focusing on the offending cheese, he couldn’t help himself; he had to touch her mouth. Breaking the string with one swipe, he let his fingers linger on her lips. Her tongue slipped out and licked, and his pulse spiked.

  Quickly he withdrew and grabbed his soda can again. “We have time. Tell me.”

  For a minute she looked shell-shocked, as if his touch had electrified her the same as it had done to him. Then she recovered and replaced the panic with a blasé look.

  * * *

  Elana chastised herself. She’d tried to remain aloof but Gage was making it impossible. He had probably saved her life back in town and she’d treated him so shabbily through all of this. He hadn’t ever deserved the pain she’d caused him. But nothing had changed. She had to find a way to keep him out of harm.

  An idea hit her. If she came up with a bad enough story, maybe she could make him hate her. Then he would be sure to leave her alone and go back to Texas where he’d be safe.

  “You’ll have to understand the way I was raised, then,” she began. “The family traditions and...my heritage.”

  “Okay. Were you born in another country?”

  She looked down at the table. “In Ireland, yes. But since moving here, we don’t participate in American life.”

  It was his turn to shake his head and shrug a shoulder. “Explain.”

  This would be only a partial a lie. She rarely gave up her real background because she knew what people’s reactions would be. In this case she hoped he would be disgusted enough to let her go. For his own sake.

  “We are Rom—gypsies to you. My long-ago ancestors moved from Romania to Ireland.”

  “A gypsy?” The look of astonishment on his face was exactly the reason she hadn’t ever wanted to tell him the truth when they’d been married.

  In most people she met, after the astonishment wore off, hostility usually came next. She dreaded seeing an expression of prejudice on Gage’s face. So she didn’t look at him.

  Pouring herself a soda, she noticed her hand shaking as she tipped the can to her glass. “We do things differently than the norm, I’m thinking. Actually, not the same as any other people on earth. We don’t assimilate. Rom don’t want to be like everyone else.”

  At least that’s what her father always told her. She’d never been quite as positive that living outside the mainstream was the best thing for everyone.

  “Gypsies.” He said it as though the word itself was dirty. “Were you raised to travel arou
nd? To keep moving from place to place?”

  She couldn’t look up at him while answering. “That is our heritage, yes. But most of today’s generations put down at least temporary roots. Here in America, anyway.”

  “But even if you’ve settled here, your other traditions are...unusual. Right?”

  “Very.” She wondered how bad she could make this sound. Bad enough to make him walk away?

  “I hate to sound...um...biased.” His voice had a hesitation in it she’d seldom heard from him. “But the only thing I remember reading about gypsies, other than the traveling, was about how they’re criminals. Or at least small-time crooks.”

  Heat flamed her cheeks, so she ducked her head and tsked at him. “That’s painting millions of people with a broad and unkind brush.” Unfortunately, in her family’s case, it was all too true. But she couldn’t let him think that about the entire race of people.

  “Today gypsies are more likely to run small businesses or work in the trades. We don’t like to talk about ourselves, and I suppose that tradition of silence makes us seem like criminals to some people. And...uh...” She had to make this sound bad. “Hate to admit this, but in my family, it’s mostly true.”

  “You’re not kidding about this, are you?”

  She only wished this was one big joke. “I’ll not be lying, thank you.”

  Gage was staring at her as though he was seeing some piece of garbage that had washed up from the depths of the ocean. This, this look of contempt and confusion on his face, was only one of the reasons she’d never told him even this much of her story before.

  As she swallowed the last of the liquid in her glass, she decided on another half-truth. Mixing truth with falsehood came easy to her. Anything she could do to save him from himself.

  Folding her arms around her middle to keep steady, she began, “You see, when I was fifteen, my parents arranged a marriage to a Rom boy that I had never met.”

  “Were you upset about the idea? What’d you think of having to marry a man your parents chose?” Gage had scooted his chair back, too, and now leaned his elbows on his knees. His look of concern and confusion made her want to smooth her fingers over the creases on his beautiful face.

  It suddenly hit her how much she’d missed touching this wonderful man.

  Deliberately, she balled her fists and shook her head, letting out all the weariness that had built up over the last day. “I’d known for my whole life that an arranged marriage would be in my future. It bothered me a bit that I had never even met the boy. I assumed I had little choice.”

  She laughed at little at how stupid that sounded now.

  Still her story had to move on and go downhill from here. “But I was the smart kid in my family and my father had let me continue with school. So by the time I was fifteen, I’d had far too much education to just accept the situation completely.”

  Unable to watch Gage while lying about the rest, she stood and looked out the window as the lavender light of twilight threw dusk’s shadows across the slopes. “When I was nearing the age to marry, I deliberately went out and found myself a non-gypsy guy who was willing to take me away. He wasn’t all that bright. But he was nice enough.”

  She turned in time to see the frown lines developing across Gage’s face even through the growing darkness. Good. Maybe he would finally give up trying to save her.

  “You never loved this guy?” He looked hurt, as though he thought she was talking about him. “You just used him?”

  Forcing herself to give him a sly smile, she nodded. “Sure. I figured I would give him a few months and then just disappear.”

  All of a sudden it occurred to her how this might sound to Gage. She hadn’t meant for her story to come anywhere close to their situation. This was just a story. Not their story.

  On the other hand, that might not be such a bad idea if it would make him leave. “I mean, yeah, I know I’m a terrible person. But what can you expect?”

  She tried to keep her voice calm as she turned back to the window and changed the subject as if what she’d said meant nothing. “Let’s leave the lights off in here. Do you mind? They’ll be lighting the slopes soon for the competition. That should throw off enough of a glow for us to see if we leave the curtains open. I want to be able to see outside.”

  She needed to remain composed and darkness had a way of hiding her true feelings. Staying calm and cool, cool enough to say the exact right thing to drive him away, was all that mattered now.

  “All right.” His quick agreement was amicable. Maybe too amicable.

  She needed to put distance between them. So out of the blue, she yawned and stretched, hoping he would take the hint and go.

  “You look tired,” he said softly. “Why don’t you lie down for a while? I’ll stand guard. Finish your story later. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter 5

  “What’d you say?” The room’s ambient lighting was enough for Gage to see something like panic spreading across her face. “Why won’t you just leave? I’ll be okay.”

  “I’m not leaving you in danger. I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. It doesn’t matter. You have a child now and I believe you’ve become a decent person. I’ll see this through to the end.”

  He’d said the words, but frustration at not knowing if she was Alicia and had been talking about him in her story, burned in his gut. The person she’d been describing as her younger self was not at all the person he’d thought he’d known as his wife. She couldn’t be that person. He didn’t care what she’d said.

  But he wasn’t ready for an argument. His mind was too jumbled. He knew his body—his senses and his libido—felt the same way about this woman as it had about his wife. Still, his mind was fairly sure the two women were not the same.

  Holding up both hands, palms out, he tried soothing words. “Take it easy. It shouldn’t be a terrible hardship to have me around. I think I’ve proven I can be handy in emergencies.”

  “Uh... I don’t know.” She walked over to sit on the bed in an effort that seemed designed to keep her as far away from him as possible.

  But her simple moves turned him hard and ready in an instant. The situation seemed crazy as all hell. If she was Alicia, he should hate her. And if she wasn’t... Well, he shouldn’t be having these protective urges toward her. Nor should he be experiencing the most arousing desire he’d felt in over five years. From the moment he’d seen her, he’d wanted her.

  He’d tried to move on with his social life since Alicia’s death, had even endured a few fix-ups by his brothers. But no one else electrified him with one look. No other women made him crave, lust uncontrollably, or lit him with such a fiery passion in such a short time.

  No, only this one. And only because she reminded him of his dead wife? Crazy.

  “Forget everything for now,” he said as soothingly as he could manage as he inched toward her. “Don’t think about it. Try to get some rest. You can decide what’s best later. I’ll be right here.”

  Just then the floodlights went on outside and doused the room in a warm glow. She made a strangled noise in her throat and he put a hand on her shoulder.

  She turned to look up at him. “No one can see us, can they?”

  The husky sound of her voice. The sudden blazing desire in her deep green eyes combined with that sincere look of tenderness. Everything about her produced such a drastic change in the atmosphere of the room around them that he could barely move.

  And all of it saturated him with such an acute wanting that he couldn’t catch his breath.

  He cleared his throat and eased down to sit beside her. “No. You were right the first time. We can see out. But we’re too far away from the slopes, and without the room’s backlighting it won’t be possible to see in here from the grounds even with the curtains open.”

  She looked over at him and the expression in her eyes went straight to his gut. Damn.

  The eye color wasn’t right. The hair color wasn’t right. Ev
en the voice wasn’t the same. But that erotic look she’d given him and that intimate warmth were all Alicia.

  “Do you have a family?” she whispered, while pinning him with another tender look full of longing.

  He couldn’t manage an answer. Conflicting emotions choked him, threatened to leave him a whimpering fool.

  I don’t care who you are. Love me. Be mine. If only for tonight.

  Low, gravelly words finally scraped out of his mouth. “Family. Yes. Brothers and sisters-in-law. Their kids. And my aunt.”

  “No significant other? No one since your wife died?”

  “I’ve tried...” he admitted reluctantly. “But sometimes being with someone when it’s not right is worse than being alone.”

  He didn’t expect her to understand.

  “I know what you mean.” And when he gazed into her eyes, he could see that she meant every word.

  Dang, he wanted her desperately. Was it just because of the resemblance to his lost wife? What if they did make love and he ran across differences? In her body. In the way she made love. There were bound to be differences.

  Could he stand to take that chance?

  Sighing, she reached over and took his face in her hands. Forced to gaze deep into those dark green eyes again, he spotted a surprisingly empathetic sheen covering them.

  “I need a hug. And you do, too, I’m thinking.” Sliding her arms around him, she leaned in and pressed him close.

  It was too much. He couldn’t deny her. His arms came up, capturing her lush body as she melted into him.

  God, this was such a good idea. Shutting his eyes, he let himself go, inhaling her achingly familiar scent and reveling in her precious warmth. Leaning his head against the satin of her hair, he dreamed of another Christmas—long ago and far away.

  Then, she turned her face and her lips brushed against his. His body responded, growing hard and pulsing with need. He wanted her, whoever she was, with a sudden heat that threatened to overwhelm them both.

  God, this was such a bad idea. But knowing that he might get hurt later didn’t much matter. Not now.