Christmas at Two Love Lane

by Kieran Kramer

A late-night gull cawed from the Battery wall. And like a stealthy thief, a wall of cold, outdoor air intercepted the heat-baked air inside the house and swiftly moved up the stairs.

  “You’re not wearing slippers,” he said.

  “You’re not wearing a coat.”

  He pushed the door shut behind him. And then he wrapped his arms around her fluffy robe, reveling in the weight of her body against his, and kissed her.

  Sweet Jesus, did he kiss her!

  It was the only thing—the only thing—that mattered. It was why he had come to Charleston. Even if he hadn’t know it at the time.

  This kiss.

  With this woman.

  She grabbed his hand and pulled. “Come on.”

  He had to walk slightly behind her up the narrow stairs. And then he was in her bedroom. It was just like he imagined it would be. Very feminine. But practical too, with shelves of books and a desk that looked well used, paper notecards with her monogram engraved up top stacked neatly on the surface, a pen nearby.

  And there was Oscar on the bed.

  He looked balefully up at Deacon.

  “That’s right,” Macy said. “You’ve got to go.”

  Oscar didn’t even need a push. He went, his tail slightly puffed up as he raced from the room.

  “Sorry,” Deacon murmured, and pulled a lock of her hair back from her face.

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” She smiled. “He had it coming. He’s been terribly unsympathetic company.”

  “You need sympathy?”

  “Not anymore.”

  They started slow. There was some talk. Some laughter. No rummaging for protection. She had some. He came prepared too. And before he knew it, Deacon was above her, both of them stripped naked and ready.

  But he made her wait, with her legs wide open, her hands flung on her pillow, her hair swirled about her face. He went low. He took his time. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

  “Wow,” she said on a long sigh when the arch of her back flattened again into the mattress.

  “Yeah. Wow.” She was so beautiful.

  “And this is only the beginning.” She pulled him on top of her.

  It was amazing how they were together. The heat. The passion. The tenderness.

  Not that Deacon would ever tell. No. It was between him and Macy. She enchanted him.

  Their spent bodies were entwined.

  “Do you have any mermaid blood?”

  She laughed softly.

  “You live on the harbor,” he said, “a hundred feet from the water. You’re gorgeous. Charming. Sexy. I’ve got this feeling you’re going to slip away at a moment’s notice”—he lifted her chin for a kiss—“and I might never see you again.”

  She rolled away from him and faced her bedside table and lamp.

  He stroked her silky-smooth back. Admired the curve of her hip.

  “I love the old legends,” she murmured, “about the ladies of the sea bewitching sailors.” She sounded so relaxed.

  He felt relaxed around her, as if a big knot in his chest had untied. He kissed her between the shoulder blades. “Your wish is my command.”

  She laughed and rolled back to face him.

  “You’re ticklish,” he said.

  “Just a little.”

  She ran a languid hand over his chest, and he almost gave in to the temptation to close his eyes. But he’d rather look at her.

  “So all I have to do is text?” she asked him. “And you’ll come over?”

  So fast he’d burn a trail up the stairs. And be naked by the time he reached the top step.

  “You bet,” is all he said. Had to be manly. Stoic.

  “I like that.” She smiled, and her eyes crinkled at the corners.

  He wanted to anoint those corners with kisses. Run a fingertip down her nose. Part her lips just so with his own and taste her mouth again. “This is the winter equinox, by the way.”

  “You’re right.” She chuckled.

  “It’s a potent time.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Hopefully, not too potent,” she said wryly.

  He gazed into her eyes, today the color of the harbor. “We’d better not waste it. We only have about twenty-three hours to go.”

  They made love one more time, slowly, tenderly, until the fierceness overcame them and the bedframe creaked and thumped, creaked and thumped, while they each made their own primal sounds that mingled into an erotic song. When it was over, he kissed her with everything he had in him. Well, almost everything. But more than he’d ever shown another woman. So that was saying something.

  She pulled back. “This was awesome.” Her eyes were warm. “And fun.”

  “It sure was.”

  It was her turn to push some hair from his forehead. “I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

  Ah. He was getting the boot. “Sounds good.”

  She blinked and sat up, and in a matter of a second, Macy the lover was gone. In her place was Macy the matchmaker.

  “Deacon…” she started.

  He stood, grabbed his boxer briefs and his pants from the floor. “Your timing is really bad.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Seriously bad.” He was panicked. He knew it, and it wasn’t like him. “I already know what you’re going to say, that this wasn’t a good idea.”

  “It’s not that black and white,” she said as she watched him dress. Her rapt attention was flattering. “We were done with each other”—she smiled up at him, and he felt a flash of hope—“for good reason. It was a matter of trust lost. On both sides. I totally get why you were mad at me for ignoring your wishes. And I hope you understand where I was coming from, that I was only trying to do my job.”

  “I did understand. Yes.”

  “But this new sexual relationship between us makes things very complicated.”

  “It doesn’t have to. It can be a new start.”

  “Okay. But if it is, we need to clear some things up. I know it might feel awkward to do that, especially because we just had so much fun—”

  “You’re stark naked.” He ran his gaze over her breasts. “We definitely had fun.”

  She laughed and wrapped her arms around her knees. “So … this thing with Penelope.”

  “Yes?” The panic kept pushing at him. He wasn’t sure what it was about. He didn’t like Penelope that way—so it wasn’t like he was hiding anything.

  “You like her.”

  “Sure I do.” He couldn’t read her expression. “But we’re just friends.”

  “I’m glad.” She bit her lip.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “So, what about us then? Is the only thing between us sexual attraction?”

  Thunk. So they were there, at the point of no return. He didn’t know what to say. When he looked inside himself, everything was quiet, dark, slumbering. “I never said that.”

  There. That should be enough.

  “Then what exactly is between us?”

  It scared him to see her look so earnestly at him. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Really good friends.” The panic kept pushing.

  “Yes,” she said. “We are good friends.”

  He relaxed a little more. “And hell, there is the sex.”

  “True.” She shot him a sweet smile.

  His panic receded. He was doing well. “And I like you a lot,” he added.

  “I already know that.”

  Maybe he wasn’t doing so well. “Yeah, but I think about you when you’re not there.”

  “That’s nice,” she said. He thought so. “Is that all?”

  The point of no return again. They were back. He made an instantaneous decision. “That’s pretty terrific, don’t you think?”

  She leapt up, picked up the pink fluffy robe from an armchair, and quickly donned it. “Since that’s about all that’s between us, maybe I should find you some more dates before you leave. I can’t be the only woman in town willing to hang out with you until you leave.”
r />   “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Hah.” She swept past him and down the stairs. “Sleeping with you was a mistake. But you can bet it won’t happen again.”

  He hated to see her so upset—his heart knocked against his chest wall in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a kid—but he followed at a leisurely pace. He sensed an imminent throw-out. It had happened to him plenty times before—because he was a “cad,” a term his aunt was fond of. Why shouldn’t Macy hate him? She’d asked what she meant to him—and he’d given her nothing.

  But it was better to piss off a woman than be a fool and give her his heart on a platter. That was his motto, and he was sticking to it. It had worked for him up until now … and he didn’t have a replacement plan.

  She’d already thrown open the door. “Go hang out with Penelope.”

  “Don’t bring her into this.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s an innocent bystander. Are you jealous of her?” He hoped she was jealous. He really did.

  “Oh, please.” Her eyes filled. “Why are you doing this? You’re being plain mean.”

  He paused before he crossed the threshold onto the piazza. “I’m not trying to be. I honestly want to know. Is there something about Penelope that rankles? As your client—”

  “Former client.”

  “Fine, as your neighbor—”

  “Not really. Fran is my new neighbor.” Her face was pale. Something more than anger was going on.

  What was it?

  “As your friend, then,” he said gently, “and your most recent lover, could you please share with me if there’s something about Penelope that bothers you?”

  She stood still, her face a picture of hurt, and stared unblinking at his upper chest. “Why do you care?”

  He took his time, despite the freezing air swirling around them. “I won’t see her again if you don’t want me to.”

  He meant it. But he couldn’t say more. He simply couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what that “more” was. It was lodged somewhere in his chest. Deep. And he liked keeping it there, in the place where he didn’t have to feel it.

  All the fight seemed to go out of her. “No,” she said quietly. “Keep seeing Penelope. She’s a good person. A very good person. You couldn’t date a finer woman. That’s not only my professional opinion, it’s my personal one.”

  His heart sank. He walked out the door onto the piazza and turned back around. “I’m sorry I let you down again.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said in a thin voice. She even tried to smile, but she couldn’t quite manage it.

  He put his hands in his pockets. “See you around.”

  “Okay.” She shut the door gently. Polite to the end.

  Because it was most certainly the end.

  Not that he thought he’d been starting something with her. He lived in the moment. They’d had a short Christmas fling while he was on vacation.

  And now it was over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Macy wasn’t going to think about her feelings for Deacon, their even deeper rift, or the fact that she’d seen him at an oyster roast in the country with Penelope and then again at a big holiday party at Mrs. Beauchamp’s house. She’d acknowledged them both with a polite greeting but never lingered long enough to carry on a conversation.

  “How are you?” Greer asked her after they’d hung the last streamer from the ceiling of the Green Room. The Toys for Tots party was the following day.

  “Fine,” Macy said. She was now officially unassigned from Deacon’s file, which was labeled inactive. They didn’t expect him back at Two Love Lane, but if he decided to ask for any advice at all, Greer was his new point of contact.

  Macy and Deacon were beyond done. He’d been a holiday fling, a fun guy with a great personality who was gorgeous and amazing in bed.

  What more could a girl ask for in a fling?

  She couldn’t expect commitment. Nor could she expect the man to guess that they were made for each other. Good sex made one tend to forget everything but the present moment.

  But the present moment is everything, a voice in her head said.

  What she felt in the present moment with Deacon was all she needed to know that he was The One for her.

  Too bad he hadn’t seen it too.

  “Maybe Penelope’s a distraction until Deacon goes back to New York,” said Miss Thing.

  “Or maybe she’s his soulmate.” As a matchmaker, Macy should be happy that one of her former clients might be making a romantic connection.

  But she wasn’t. She was depressed.

  “Remember, we tell our clients they have to stand up for love,” Ella said.

  “They have to claim it,” Miss Thing added.

  “I remember.” Macy gave a feeble shrug. She didn’t care how mopey she looked. She was mopey. “But I don’t know that I want to take that risk. I practically begged him to tell me why he kept pursuing me, and he said we were friends. And he really liked me. And the sex was good. End of story.”

  All of them exchanged gloomy glances.

  “At least the sex—” Miss Thing started to say, but at the looks Ella, Macy, and Greer threw her, she thought better of it.

  There was a knock on the Green Room door. It was Louisa.

  “Come on in.” Macy was always glad to see her.

  Louisa burst into the room, completely changing the energy. “Howdy, everyone!”

  They returned her greeting just as warmly, although inside Macy knew they were only putting on a good act.

  Louisa gazed around at the festive scene. “This looks terrific.”

  “Thank you.” Miss Thing blew her a kiss.

  “My, oh, my…” Louisa kept looking. And looking. At the same old decorations they used every year.

  Macy began to wonder why she was there.

  “Can we help you with something, Louisa?” Ella finally asked.

  Their visitor swung around to face Macy—a little dramatically, Macy thought. But Louisa was always dramatic. So Macy wasn’t particularly worried, although in the back of her mind, she still felt guilty about what she and Deacon had done in Louisa’s bedroom.

  “I have to ask you something, Macy.” Louisa’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit.

  A smidgeon of alarm arose in Macy’s breast. “Go ahead.” She adjusted all the Christmas cards on the mantel. Surely, she looked breezy and innocent.

  Louisa held up a business card. “Did you leave this in my bedroom? When you went to look at my flatiron that night I skipped out on Yo-Yo Ma? The night I was supposed to be on a date with Deacon Banks?”

  Macy instantly recognized the logo as Deacon’s company, and her pulse picked up, sounding like a drum in her ears. The card must have fallen out of Deacon’s wallet when he’d looked for a condom.

  “Macy?”

  Macy took the card. “It belongs to Deacon.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Louisa said. “But I sure as hell didn’t think he’d have any reason to be in my house.”

  Macy’s mind was spinning. What should she say? “It must have fallen out of my purse.”

  That was lame, and she knew it. But she wasn’t good at sneaking around, not to mention lying, except maybe to herself.

  Louisa looked at her oddly. “Why, pray tell, would I have found this card under my bureau?”

  Macy couldn’t help a nervous laugh. “I was nosy. I peeked in your room and saw those three tricycles. They were so cute.”

  Louisa smiled. “They are. But you haven’t explained why you’d be opening your purse in my room.”

  “To answer a call.” Macy’s voice came out as a squeak.

  Her colleagues were silent. She could hear people laughing up at Roastbusters. Another Christmas carol played, and it just didn’t seem right to hear it, not when there was so much stress in the room.

  Louisa’s expression was almost sad. “Why do I think you might be lying to me? Aren’t we friends?”

  “Yes, of co
urse.” Macy sat down on a chair and put her head in her hands. “I am lying, Louisa.” She looked up. “I took Deacon with me. To the house. He knew I was worried about you ditching him with so little explanation, and he probably felt guilty. That’s the truth.”

  Louisa didn’t blink. “But he was upstairs, why?”

  “Because I saw the tricycles. I thought they were adorable. So I called him upstairs to see them. I’m so sorry we invaded your privacy. I thought you wouldn’t mind since we’re friends.”

  Louisa still didn’t look happy. “I don’t mind. We are friends. But it’s still … weird that his card wound up under my bureau. Did you really have a phone call?”

  Macy had to own her feelings. All of them. The bad ones about her family that she’d ignored for so long. The good feelings about Deacon. She had to be honest. She’d always felt the most at peace when she stuck with the truth. It had been a long time since she had.

  Silently, she told her nerves to take a hike.

  “The truth is,” she said to Louisa, “everything started off innocently enough. But Deacon and I got into a conversation. A very deep one that those tricycles inspired. And we—”

  She couldn’t go on.

  “Don’t tell me y’all had sex on my bed.” Louisa drew back as if a tiger were about to pounce on her.

  Macy shook her head. “On the floor.”

  Louisa’s face paled beneath her discreet spray tan. “And this happened the night you’d set him up with me?”

  Macy nodded slowly. “I know. I was extremely unprofessional. I’m really sorry. I don’t deserve your trust.”

  Her colleagues gathered around them both.

  Louisa laughed. She laughed until she cried. She had to sit on the floor, she was so weak from it.

  No one else said a word. Macy tried. She wracked her brain. But all she could think to say, she already had.

  “Oh, Lord.” Louisa looked up at them. “If this doesn’t beat all. Our plan not only worked—it went way beyond anything I’d ever envisioned. You two got down and dirty in my bedroom! You in a long gown and Deacon in a tux!”

  Macy fingered her signet ring. “I’m truly sorry, Louisa. I never meant to sleep with Deacon that night, much less fall in love with him.” Tears pricked her lids and a sob choked her throat, but she refused to cry. She didn’t want Louisa or any of her other friends to think she was making a bid for sympathy. “I deserve your censure, and if you don’t want to remain friends, I understand.”