by Susan Gable
Their communication during his absence had been restricted to a few phone calls and more frequent e-mails. She kept him up-to-date on the animals, the house and the baby. But he learned more about Harley when he spoke to his sister. "Harley's really slogging through all this class work," or "Harley seemed especially tired today," or "Harley tuned up my van."
He'd missed her a lot more than he'd expected. A lot more than was wise.
The Jeep rounded the corner, and his house came into view. Only a few inches of snow covered the driveway, so Dusty had lived up to his promise.
Harley's battered Toyota was nowhere to be seen. A wave of disappointment washed over him. "Damn it, get a grip. It's probably in the garage."
It wasn't.
It took him twenty minutes to unload, haul everything into the house and stow it in its proper place. The dogs made things more difficult by constantly getting underfoot, trying to show how happy they were to see him. Jake didn't even mind the puddle Benji made as additional proof.
He was rummaging through the refrigerator for something to drink when the phone rang. "Hello?"
"Is Harley there?" a gruff male voice asked.
"No, she's not. Can I take a message?"
"Who is this?"
Annoyance shot through him. "This is Jake Manning. Who is this?"
"Oh, you're the husband. You know, you really shouldn't leave a looker like Harley alone for so long." A chortle passed through the phone line. "You never know what could happen while you're gone."
Jake's hand tightened around the receiver. "Who did you say this was?" He peered at the caller ID. Charles Rafferty. Jake didn't recognize the area code, so it wasn't local.
"It's Charlie. Leaving a new wife alone for two months is no way to start a marriage. You'd better be good to her or you'll answer to me."
"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but—"
"Just tell her that Charlie called to wish her a Merry Christmas a few days early. And tell her if she finds it's too cold for her there, it's plenty warm here and she's always welcome."
The caller disconnected, and Jake stared at the receiver for a moment, sorting through the emotions that gripped him. Did she have a fling while he was gone? The idea of her in another man's arms—he clenched his fist and shook his head. No, she wouldn't do something like that. Would she? He hadn't been jealous in a long time, and he didn't like the bitter taste it left in his mouth.
At least the guy wasn't local, so an affair seemed unlikely. But who the hell was he?
A door slammed outside. The dogs raced to the foyer, barking.
"All right you guys, settle down. Don't knock me over."
The husky voice created the usual reaction in his body—and a strange pull on his heart. Maybe absence really did make the heart grow fonder. Would she be as glad to see him?
"Jake? Where are you?"
He left the kitchen and wandered into the living room as she came from the foyer. She dropped several mall shopping bags next to the couch. "You made it! I was worried about the roads. I heard there was a pretty good storm down near Pittsburgh."
She yanked on the zipper of her coat. His coat, actually—his old beige winter jacket. She looked damn cute with the sleeves trailing too far down her arms and the bottom hanging just above her knees. "Damn, this zipper is a pain in the neck."
"That's why I got a new coat. Why are you wearing my cast-offs?" He offered her a half smile. Charlie's words still rang in his ears as he crossed the living room to take the zipper tab in his fingers.
"Mine doesn't close anymore, but for a different reason."
"What?" He yanked on the zipper and it suddenly gave way. The fabric parted, revealing her rounded stomach protruding beneath a green plaid flannel shirt. "Aah, I see."
"I guess I'm a lot fatter than at Thanksgiving."
He stared at the evidence of his child, growing within her. "Not fat, Harley, pregnant." He forced himself to look up at her face. Her eyes flashed uncertainty. Studying her, he saw that her features were slightly rounder and her hair appeared a shade darker than when he'd left. He reached out to stroke it. There was still a rosy tint in her cheeks from the cold air. Just as the cliché had it, the woman positively glowed. "I must say, pregnancy does agree with you. You look more beautiful than ever."
He wanted to smack himself the moment the words left his mouth. This trip had accomplished one task—creating a nest egg—but it obviously hadn't helped him create a buffer between himself and this woman. Damn it, how was it possible for her to grow more beautiful?
She smiled hesitantly at him. "Thanks. Most days I feel like a cow, and Mel tells me it'll only get worse." She shrugged out of the coat. "I'm going to hang this up."
"No, don't. I'll do it. You sit down, put your feet up." His hand brushed hers as he took the jacket from her, and electricity traveled up his arm. "So, you were out shopping? School's over for the semester, right?"
Harley wrinkled her nose. "Yes, thank goodness. I thought I was going to die from terminal boredom. Some of my professors could give the sleep-aid industry a run for its money. Especially the guy in my poetry class." She groaned. "And accounting. I hate the accounting classes."
Jake tossed the garment onto the coat tree in the foyer, then returned to the living room, sinking down on the sofa next to her. "Doesn't sound like it's what you thought it would be."
She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. I'm another giant step closer to that respectable career and the all-new Harley. Only fifteen more credits to go."
"But is it what you really want? I kind of like this Harley." His eyes fastened on her stomach again, and his fingers twitched.
Harley noticed the direction of his gaze. "Go ahead, you can touch," she murmured. "Jeez, everybody else does."
He looked up at her, eyebrows climbing toward his dark hair. "Everybody?"
She nodded. "A pregnant woman's belly seems to be considered public property."
His mouth thinned, and she could tell that idea didn't sit well with him. Taking his hand, she placed it on her abdomen. "Now, just wait." She breathed slowly, moving his palm to the spot where the baby fluttered within her. "Feel that?"
"No, I—" His eyes widened and a slow grin curved his mouth. "I feel it! I can feel the baby moving." He brought his other hand reverently to her belly, then leaned closer. "Hello in there! This is Daddy. Everything okay in there? Accommodations okay? Food arriving on schedule? Nutritional needs being met?" He grinned up at Harley. "Just joking."
"Daddy" looked like a kid who'd awakened Christmas morning to find he'd received everything he wanted. Conflicting emotions pulled at her—pride that she'd given this wonderful man his dream, dismay that she couldn't provoke the same reaction in him, and a warm sensation that had to be love. God help her, even after a two-month separation, the man still had a hold on her heart.
Jake jumped from the sofa, pacing to the entertainment center on the far wall and back again. "Harley, this is incredible. My baby. I could feel him moving around. Is he very active? What does he feel like inside you?"
"It could be a her, you know. She's fairly active, and it's progressed from feeling like butterflies to a kitten tumbling around. Mel assures me that in another month or so, it'll feel like having a soccer player inside me." Incredible was right. Ever since the baby had begun to move, she'd been in awe of the miracle. A child was growing inside her. Their child.
"You spent a lot of time with Mel while I was gone, didn't you?" Jake continued pacing the room.
"Yes, she's been great. I really like your sister." And she felt guilty as hell about cultivating a friendship—the first woman-to-woman friendship in her life—under false pretenses. What would Mel think of her if she knew the truth of the arrangement?
"Christmas Day is going to be fantastic—" He skidded to a halt near the front window, then slowly turned and scanned the room. "Where's the tree? Where are the decorations?"
She shrugged. "Wherever you put them last year."
He dragged his hand through his hair. "Harley! We're having Christmas dinner here in three days and there are no decorations up! Didn't Mel tell you to put the stuff out?"
"Nope. I'm not a big Christmas person, Jake. It's just another day as far as I'm concerned."
A muscle twitched along the side of his jaw and he stared at her. After a moment, he shook his finger. "You know what happened to Scrooge with that kind of attitude, right?" He hurried to the sofa, grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. "Come on. We've got a tree to find."
Harley groaned.
"It'll be fun, I promise." He stopped to face her, then stroked her cheek. "You're the one who told me to lighten up and enjoy the experience. Well, Harley, I'm going to make this a Christmas you'll never forget."
The bones in her body turned liquid, and she nearly melted into a puddle of slush at his feet. She'd never in her life had a real Christmas, not even with her dad. Holidays didn't mean anything around her house as a child, except that the garage was closed for a day, although sometimes they'd tinker around in there, anyway. Many times she'd watch TV, wishing for the big family gatherings shown in holiday commercials. As a foster child, she'd been to several different celebrations, but always on the outer edges. And there'd been two Christmases with Charlie. One they spent serving dinners at the City Mission, and last year they'd shared frozen dinners in front of the TV, watching a football game. Come to think of it, that was the one she'd enjoyed the most.
She was afraid to hope for the Christmas Jake had promised. "Bah, humbug," she muttered theatrically.
"You keep that up, and you'll be hearing chains rattling soon." He helped her back into his old coat while humming a Christmas carol. "Don't let me forget the mistletoe, Harley."
Mistletoe? She was all in favor of mistletoe. Maybe she'd get another kiss from him, after all.
* * *
Something hit him square in the back. Jake whirled from the tree he was inspecting but saw only an innocent-looking Harley, gloved hands shoved deep into her pockets. She rocked back and forth on her feet. "What's the matter?" she called. "Does that tree have a hole in it, too?" A cloud of dragon smoke drifted from her mouth. "Jake, I'm freezing to death. Pick one and chop it down, will you?"
"Fresh air is good for you and the baby. Be patient. It has to be just the right tree." A shapely Douglas fir grew two rows over, and Jake moved in its direction.
The second snowball knocked off his wool cap. This time Harley was nowhere to be seen, although a stifled snort revealed her general location. "Harley?" He crept cautiously around the plump evergreen, snatching the blue hat from the ground on his way and returning it to his head.
Another snowball hurtled toward him. Jake deftly dodged right, and it sailed past. "Missed me." He scooped up a handful of snow, packing it lightly so it wouldn't hurt on impact. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. Still, he couldn't let an attack like this go unanswered.
"Jake, I found a good tree," she called from somewhere behind him.
How does she do that? He turned in the opposite direction. "Where?" The snow missile was ready for launching.
"Over here."
Following her voice, he wandered through the evergreens until he found her.
"It looks like me, short and fat. I like it. Can we go home now?" Her eyes widened as she spied the snow in his hand. "Hey, you can't throw that at me. I'm pregnant, you know."
He flashed her an evil grin. "Should've thought of that before. Prepare to be pelted." He lifted his hand, and she shrieked. Instead of throwing it, though, he rushed her, grabbing her around the middle and pulling her close. He dropped some snow down the back of her collar.
She shrieked again, wriggling and dancing in his arms. "Oh, that's cold!"
Cold? It felt plenty warm to him. The layers of clothing kept them separated, for which he was very grateful. The rule of hands—and lips—off loomed in his mind and he reluctantly released her. "People who don't like the cold shouldn't throw snowballs."
She sent him an innocent "who me?" look that dissolved into a broad grin. "You're right."
In direct opposition to his silent commands and curses, the warmth spread north to his heart.
Jake slapped his gloved hands together, then circled the tree she'd selected. "Well, it's not what I normally look for in a tree, but if it's the one you want, we'll take it." He glanced around. "Now, I just have to go back and find where I dropped the saw."
* * *
"Think you've got enough lights on there?" Harley sat back on the sofa, cradling her mug of decaffeinated tea and watching as he put the finishing touches on the tree. Christmas carols swelled from the strategically placed speakers.
"You can never have too many lights."
"So, if the entire city of Erie goes black when you flip that switch, that's gonna be your defense?"
He grinned at her. "Yup."
"With that crummy defense, I hope you get a better lawyer than I did. Maybe you should just plead guilty."
"I'll keep that in mind." Jake stepped back from the tree, surveying his work. "There we go. Now—" he walked to the switches by the foyer, then turned out the room lights "—let's see how we did." Squatting down on his heels, he leaned behind the tree to plug it in.
Multicolored twinkles filled the room. Some of the lights shone steadily, while others blinked on and off. The colors were reflected in the front picture window, enhancing the effect.
Harley set her mug on the table, then clapped her hands. "Bravo! I have to admit it's beautiful."
"You can't appreciate it from over there. Come here and I'll show you how to really enjoy a Christmas tree."
"You're the expert." She pushed to her feet and crossed the living room to stand by his side. "Now what?"
"Now, we do this." He sank onto the floor and lay on his back, staring up at the decorated evergreen.
"You're nuts."
"You're a stick-in-the-mud."
Harley gasped and clutched her hand to her chest as though mortally wounded. "You dare call me a stick-in-the-mud?"
"Yup." A broad grin filled his face and he offered his hand to her.
Harley lowered herself slowly to the floor, sitting cross-legged beside him.
"No, you have to lie down here and look up at the lights. Come on."
She sighed and swung her legs out, then eased onto her back. He moved closer until their sides brushed. She glanced up at the tree. "I feel like a Christmas present."
Jake rolled onto his side and propped himself on an elbow. He smiled down at her. "No comment." What he really wanted to say was how he'd love to unwrap her, peeling away her clothes like so much colorful paper.
"You're not looking at the tree anymore."
"I'd rather look at you."
Her cheeks flushed pink. The lights twinkled in her eyes. Her flannel shirt, the top two buttons open, exposed the delicate lines of her neck. He reached out to caress her throat, forgetting all about the hands-off rule. "Tell me about your favorite Christmas memory."
"Like I said, Christmas doesn't really mean much to me."
"All right, then tell me the story of your name. How'd you end up being called Harley?" His fingers wandered up the curve of her neck to trace the outline of her ear.
"My dad loved bikes, especially Hogs. I told you he was a mechanic. He had his own shop." Her expression became wistful. "He taught me all the basics before he died. Anyway, he was convinced I'd be a boy. His name was David." She looked up at him expectantly.
"And?"
"Do I have to draw you a picture? Harley, David's son?"
Jake groaned. "Oh, that's bad. I take it your father had a strange sense of humor?"
A tiny smile blossomed on her lips. "You could say that. Anyway, when I turned out to be a girl, my mother thought Harley would still be a good name for me. I think she wanted to rub it in my father's face that he didn't get what he wanted." Her eyes grew somber. "Jake, you keep referring to the baby as 'he.' Will
you be disappointed if it's a girl?"
He placed his right hand gently on the swell of her stomach. "Are you kidding? Sweetheart, whether it's a boy or a girl, I'm going to be ecstatic."
"What if … what if something's wrong with her?"
"What?" Fierce protectiveness rose within him and he spread his fingers wide over her belly, as if he could somehow shield their child from harm. "Did Dr. Hansen say there's something wrong?"
She shook her head. "No. Just … what if?"
Deep inside her eyes, old pain flickered with the blinking of the lights. With a flash of insight as clear as an Erie-winter sky, he understood her fear. She'd never measured up, failing first to meet her father's expectations, then being rejected twice by her mother, and finally, enduring repeated failed foster placements. And she feared a similar fate for the child in her belly.
"Oh, Harley. No matter what, I'm going to love this baby. I already do." And he loved her, too. Despite his wariness, his caution, a two-month separation—he had to face facts. He'd fallen in love with her.
He was playing with fire that would surely burn since her leaving was part of the plan. But at the moments all he wanted to do was erase the pain in her eyes. He lifted his hand from her belly and cupped her face in his palm. His thumb caressed the silky skin over her cheekbone. "Harley. Sweet Harley."
The tenderness in his voices in his touch, warmed her. Her name sounded wonderful on his lips—feminine and, for the first time she could remember, appropriate.
He lowered his head, and she closed her eyes. His lips brushed over hers, so gentle, so soft, she was afraid she'd imagined it. Feather-light kisses covered her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, then his lips returned to her mouth. This time he took possession more surely, ravishing her with a kiss that sparked combustion.
He trailed his tongue down her neck. "Jake…" The man certainly knew how to get her motor running. She ran her fingers through his hair, then pulled gently, tipping his head back up. She pressed her mouth against his, this time claiming him.