“James Hancock Elementary.”
“I meant where did you graduate from college?”
“I didn’t.”
She glanced at him to find his eyes intent on the road ahead of them. “You didn’t graduate?”
“I didn’t go.”
Odd, she had the impression he was very educated. “Not at all?”
He cast her a slanted glance that was unreadable, then a slight smile was offered. “Don’t tell me you’re an education snob?”
“No, of course not, I just assumed—”
“Why? Do you think this business requires higher education and a stack of degrees?”
She couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. “I never thought about it. Just how far did you go in school?”
“High school, and I graduated by the skin of my teeth.”
“What did you do after you graduated?”
“You can’t see me making this a career?”
She wished she could tell if this was a joke. “I guess you could.”
“Mark fixes cars. That’s a career. Your husband happens to practice law. That’s a career. I do what I do best, and I’ve made it a career.”
“But don’t you want more?”
“More than what?”
She fidgeted nervously. “More than this.”
“Why would I?”
“I just thought this sort of job would be a stepping stone to something else. Maybe a summer thing, or a job someone could do while they got started in a career or to make extra money.”
“But you don’t see anyone making gigoloism a life’s work?”
“Gigoloism?” she asked.
“Escortism?”
She laughed softly, the tightness in her easing just a bit. “That sounds a bit better. The question isn’t what to call it, but that it can’t be a life’s work.”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Why?”
“Is this a philosophical discussion?”
She glanced back out at the snow that was swirling in the light winds and she had flashing memories of her past—winters with her family, the first snow of the year, the chill in the air around Christmas. And a part of her wished that she was really on her way to Tahoe with her husband, that she had someone so special to her that she wanted to spend her life with him.
As Steven slowed, Madison looked back at him. And it was shocking for her to admit to herself that he filled the bill...up to a point. He might not have a college degree, but she could tell he was really intelligent. And he was easy to be with, if she could get past her uneasiness at the way he seemed to touch something vital in her. And if she could forget about what had happened between them.
He raked his fingers through his hair and she had to admit that he was more than good-looking. Something about him was just plain enjoyable to gaze at. And that almost made her laugh, but her humor faltered when he met her gaze for a moment before looking back at the road.
“I’ve got this feeling that you want to ask me something else, something beyond my career choices and goals.”
He was a mind reader, too. “I guess I do.”
“Go for it. It doesn’t cost anything extra to ask questions. That’s not one of the extended services I perform.”
His choice of words made her tighten again. “And you give extras, don’t you?”
He cast her a slanted look. “Like what?”
“When you took me to my office after we were at The Lame Duck.”
“Oh,” he said softly as he looked back at the road. “That’s what’s bothering you.”
“It’s just I wasn’t myself, and I’m not sure exactly what happened.” There, it was out and the silence in the car was deafening. Finally, she blurted, “I think I owe you an apology.”
She heard him take a deep breath before he glanced at her. “For what?”
“For...for whatever happened. I never intended to do anything like...that.”
“Like what? Making love?”
She stared at him, her ability to breathe deserting her.
“The woman doesn’t remember if we did or didn’t.” Steven slowed the car more as snow started to film the road. “Then she wants to apologize for it if we did. That doesn’t do much for the old ego.”
“Steven,” she managed in a tight voice. “I just want to know.”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, and his voice was filled with tension. “The earth moved, or you were as circumspect as a nun? Either way, I’m not adding any charges to the bill.”
She clenched her jaws so tightly that they were aching. “I don’t give a damn about the bill.”
“Relax, we didn’t get past the preliminaries before you passed out.”
Preliminaries? “You took me to the office, and I passed out?”
“Not exactly.”
“But we didn’t—” She took a shaky breath. “You know.”
“Yes, I know and, no, we didn’t.”
“But we...we...”
“Forget it. It’s not worth it. You’re a married woman, and I’m being paid, so I don’t think there’s any reason to rehash it. And it won’t go any further than us.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, but her tension built when he put it on such a blunt level.
“Then we don’t have to psychoanalyze why either one of us did that, do we?” he said as he flipped on the windshield wipers.
“I wouldn’t know where I’d begin,” she admitted with a sigh as she rested her head against the cool glass of the side window.
“Is it that complicated?”
More than complicated, she thought and looked at the world outside that was beginning to be touched by night. Her reactions to him were complex; her responses were beyond complex. “Life’s complicated.”
“People certainly are,” he said.
She shifted to turn in the seat and lean back against the door so she could get a good look at Steven. “I’d bet you’re complicated.”
He never looked at her as he negotiated the two-lane road that was steadily climbing into rugged mountains. “Is that bad?”
“You said you didn’t want to be psychoanalyzed.”
“True. Change of subjects?”
“Sure.”
“When’s your anniversary?” Steven asked.
She said the first thing that came to her mind. “Valentine’s Day.”
“How many years have you been married?”
“Um, five,” she said.
“Children?”
“No.”
“Any reason why you don’t?”
“Not...not really.”
“If I’m asked, what do I say? We’re too busy, or we just hate kids?”
She swallowed the piece of roll. “No, of course not.”
“Then why wouldn’t we want children?”
“Say...say we’re waiting until...until I can spend more time at home. When I can spend a lot of time with a child. Right now, it’s not a good time.”
“Do you think it’s important for a child to have a mother at home?”
“Very important.”
“What about single parents?”
“That’s the hardest job in the world. A job meant for two involved parents can’t be easy for one parent trying to cover both roles.”
“That sounds like Dr. Love,” he murmured.
She shrugged. “Just common sense,” she said as she glanced at the scattering of lights dotting the darkening land they were passing. “Are you going to remember all of this?”
“I’m good at remembering details. I just need to clarify something else.”
She looked back at him in the deepening shadows of the car. “What is it that needs clarifying?”
“What are the limits to this charade?”
“I don’t quite understand?”
“How far does this relationship go for authenticity?”
Then she understood completely. “No matter how stupid I acted before, this is all for appearanc
es. Period.”
“No extras involved?”
He said it so evenly, so coolly, as if he always negotiated the job with the women he worked for. She felt sick at the idea of what money could probably buy from him. “I just want you to do a good job. Any more questions?”
“What about my background?”
“What about it?”
“What if I’m asked about my background?”
She shrugged. “I’ve always heard that when you lie, it’s best to be as truthful as possible.”
“Now that’s an oxymoron.”
“No, just common sense.”
“Then I’ll tell them about my background?”
“I guess so.” She watched him glance in the rearview mirror, then over at her for a fleeting moment.
“Do you need to know?”
“I guess I should,” she said, not certain she wanted to know too much about Steven. “Why don’t you just give me a general idea?”
“Generally, I was born in Oakland, an only child, hated school, barely graduated from high school and did a lot of crazy jobs until I found what I’m good at.”
“Was your family fairly well-off?”
That brought a sharp burst of laughter. “No. We scraped by, and money was always tight. My mother worked cleaning offices and my father was an employee for the city. How about you?”
“Oh, my mother stayed home with the four of us, and my father ran a general store in the town where we lived. We had our rough times, but mostly I remember good times. Like Christmas. What a great holiday.”
“Lots of gifts?”
That took her back. She hadn’t even been thinking about gifts. “Not really. A few, mostly clothes that we needed. I got a doll once, but usually the gifts were practical ones.”
“Then what was so great about it?”
“Just being there. Christmas. Holly and trees and fires in the fireplace.”
“And mistletoe?”
Just when she was beginning to relax, he had the ability to conjure up images that she wanted to forget ever happened. She could almost hate him. Almost.
Chapter Eleven
Madison bit her lip. “All the traditions. But mostly it was great just being a family. Every year we’d take turns picking out the tree and making decorations. Like popcorn strings or paper stars.” She spread her hands on her thighs. “Can you believe that some people pay people to decorate their trees?”
He cast her a shadowed look and a hint of a smile. “So why shouldn’t they?”
“You wouldn’t, would you?”
“If I had the money, why not?”
She shook her head. “Why would you? That’s just about the best thing about Christmas, and if there’re kids around, it’s even more wonderful. My brothers have children, and it’s awesome to see them working on the tree together.”
“So does this carry over with your husband—tree decorating, popcorn strings, fires in the fireplace?”
She inched away from that by asking her own question. “How about you? What do you do at Christmas?”
“Work.”
She grimaced at that. “I mean on Christmas Eve. What do you do?”
“Work.”
She wished she knew him well enough to understand if he was baiting her or telling her the truth. “No one works on Christmas Eve.”
“You’re looking at someone who does.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
She sank back against the door. “The money must be absolutely fantastic to go against tradition like that,” she muttered.
“It’s okay, and I’ve never been one much for traditions.” He looked at her for a fleeting moment, but long enough for her to feel the full impact. “Although some aren’t bad.” Then he looked back at the road and said abruptly, “Tahoe.”
“What?”
He motioned ahead of them as they crested the road set between snowy peaks. “Lake Tahoe.”
Madison could see lights off in the distance, dotting into the dusky beginning of night and circling the lake to reflect back off the dark expanse of water. With the soft snow falling and swirling in the air, the picture looked almost like the setting for a fairy tale.
“Watch for a turn, Skyline Drive. The Kincaids live five miles south at One Kincaid Heights Drive.”
“They’ve got a street named after them?” she asked.
“Money buys a lot of things,” he murmured as he slowed and swung off the main road at a sign for Skyline Drive.
Madison sat back in the seat. Hardly a fairy tale at all. A man bought and paid for. She swallowed hard, refusing to think of the fairy tale she’d almost slipped into in her office late at night with this man. She focused on the outside world, watching for their turnoff and shutting down her thought process as much as she could.
It seemed forever before she saw a softly lit sign through the falling snow. Kincaid Heights Drive. And an arrow under it pointed up a narrow, cobbled road framed by massive pines that were starting to whiten with a thin blanket of snow.
Steven drove the Jaguar onto the rough road, and the headlights of the car were the only lights as they climbed higher and higher. At a set of huge iron gates that had been left standing open, Steven drove between the brick pillars that framed the entrance. A short distance later, they crested the rise in the drive and finally saw the Kincaid weekend home.
They drove slowly toward the two-story house fashioned from stone and wood with a steeply pitched roof that seemed to soar into the snowy sky. The house formed an L shape, with the house stretching along the crest of the land with what looked like four garages to the left. The entry was lit by massive carriage lamps that showed a sweep of stone stairs leading up from the top loop of an inset stone driveway to dark wood entry doors. Statues on either side of the steps looked like prancing horses with a growing blanket of snow on their backs and heads.
“I thought Ron said this was a mountain cabin or lodge, or something,” Madison said. “Not...not a...”
“A mansion?” Steven supplied.
“A mansion,” she echoed.
Light spilled out of the windows into the dusky night as Steven pulled the Jaguar to a stop at the foot of the entry stairs. He wasn’t easily impressed by wealth. He never had been when he hadn’t had any and he wasn’t now when he had more than he could ever spend. But he had to admit that for a weekend home, this place outdid any idea he’d had about what Kincaid would have up here at Tahoe.
He turned the car off as the front door opened and light spilled down the stairs. As he got out of the car into the light breeze and the cold chill of the snowy night, he saw someone coming out of the house. He glanced across the top of the car, saw Madison was standing by the car and hurried around to her just as she closed the door.
A man was racing down the stairs toward them, and with a whispered, “Here goes nothing” to Madison, Steven slipped his arm around her shoulders.
Making contact with her was a calculated risk. Ever since they’d kissed in her office and she’d responded to him, he’d known that touching her again could be a real mistake for him. And when he felt her against his side, her slight stiffening at the contact, he had to concentrate totally on the man who was almost to the bottom of the stairs.
The man was solid looking, with thin graying hair and wearing dark slacks with a cardigan sweater over a white shirt.
“Harvey Kincaid,” he said as he got to the last step and stepped down with both hands held out to Madison. “And you must be Dr. Love.” He grabbed her hand and pumped it so enthusiastically that Steven could feel the tremors of the action in her. “Wonderful, wonderful,” he said without letting her hand go while he studied her. “You are a young thing. I would have never thought...” He shook her hand again. “Oh, Darla’s going to just go crazy.”
He looked at Steven and finally let Madison go when he held out a hand to Steven. “And you must be Dr. Love’s husband.”
Steven shook hands with the man. “Ste
ven. Call me Steven,” he said.
“Well, Steven...” He turned to Madison. “And Dr. Love—”
“I’m Madison,” she said quickly.
“Madison it is,” he said, then slipped his arm in hers and started her toward the stairs. “Leave your car there for now, and we’ll garage it after we surprise my wife,” he said to Steven over his shoulder as he started up the stairs with Madison. “Let’s get inside out of this cold.”
Steven went after them, up the steps to the open door, but before they could go inside, a tiny, dark-haired woman was in the doorway. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, maybe weighing a hundred pounds soaking wet and dressed in a youthful combination of jeans and a chambray shirt worn with leather boots.
Until Steven got closer, he thought she was maybe forty years old, but when he could see her in the light from the house, he could tell she was probably in her late fifties. There were fine lines at her eyes and mouth, and traces of gray streaking her short hair. And a confused look on her face.
She looked at the three people in front of her, then at her husband. “Harvey, what’s going on?” she asked in a voice touched with a slight Southern drawl. “You said we were having company, but...”
Harvey patted Madison’s arm where he held it. “My dear, your Christmas present just arrived.”
“What?”
“Darla, may I present...Dr. Love.”
Her eyes widened even more as she looked at Madison, then she whispered, “You...you’re Dr. Love?”
“My name’s really Madison Smythe.”
Darla slowly framed her face with both hands. Her eyes widened as she breathed, “Oh, my goodness.”
“You’ve got your wish—Dr. Love for the weekend.”
Without warning the woman jumped toward her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his shoulder. “Harvey, oh, Harvey,” she said, her voice muffled. “Oh, thank you.”
While Kincaid hugged his wife, he grinned over her head at Madison and Steven. “I didn’t get this reaction last year when I surprised her with her own island.”
“Island?” Madison whispered, and when Steven looked at her, he almost laughed. Her expression was stamped with shock and disbelief. She might be a radio celebrity, but she was definitely out of her league with these two.
The Christmas Husband Page 14