by Donna Alward
And she hadn’t seen him coming.
His gaze deepened and he kissed each eyelid with such tenderness she thought she might fall apart right there in his arms.
“What is it?” he murmured the words in the silence. “Tell me, Hope.”
How could she explain it without making herself even more vulnerable? “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
His eyes smiled down at her. “We can move it inside. I’m pretty sure Anna’s gone home by now.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she began.
The gaze that had been gently teasing before now sharpened hungrily. “I want to be with you,” he answered. “Really be with you. Even if it’s just this one time. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Oh, glory. If only he knew how much she wanted to say yes. He wasn’t making it any easier. But then nothing was easy with Blake.
In the end, her need for self-preservation won out.
“It would be a mistake. We’d both regret it, Blake.” She bit down on her lip, because even as she said it she was thinking about kissing him again.
Her legs and bottom were getting numb from the cold snow, she realized. She should get up and walk away. But she couldn’t make herself push him away. Not yet.
“Why?” he asked. He shifted one leg so it rubbed up against hers. “We’ve got means, motive and definitely opportunity.”
Why did he have to be so charming?
He brushed his lips over the crest of her cheek, his breath warm as it slid over her skin.
“We’re both grown-ups,” he continued, sprinkling kisses over her face, little flecks of heat in contrast to the chill. “Both consenting adults. With a house to ourselves.” He added the last with special significance.
All good reasons on the “for” side.
But it really only took one good “against” to throw a kink into the works.
“I can’t be casual about this,” she answered, wishing for the first time ever that she could be more free and easy about things rather than take everything to heart. “I’m leaving, remember?”
“You don’t exactly let me forget it.”
“Blake, I don’t bounce back easily.” She put her hands on either side of his face and forced his head around so that she could look him square in the face. She knew she guarded herself closely, and as a result she could often seem like she didn’t care, but the truth was she often cared too much. “If we do this it’ll make leaving even worse, don’t you see?”
“Because you have feelings?”
“Because I can’t do this without feelings.”
She gulped, wondering what he’d think if he knew how much it had cost her to be that honest. Wondered what he’d think if he understood exactly how inexperienced she was and that she didn’t take sex lightly. There’d been one time at the end of high school, which had been a horrible, horrible mistake, and twice more—both in her twenties, both relationships that hadn’t panned out. Instead they’d fizzled out before they’d ever had the chance to get serious.
His gaze cooled. “That’s clear enough, then.”
She suddenly realized that he’d misunderstood. She’d meant that she wasn’t a woman who could be casual about sleeping with someone. It had always been more than physical gratification to her. She’d meant—God help her—that her feelings were already involved. But he’d taken it literally—presuming that she had no such feelings for him. He was so wrong. He had no idea how completely he held her in the palm of his hand. How close she was to breaking. How much he made her feel about everything.
She wished she could explain, but she couldn’t possibly open up about her real feelings. She didn’t know how to have a holiday romance and still leave with herself intact at the end.
He pushed himself off of her and, just like the first time they’d met, offered his hand to help her up. She took it, feeling a mixture of relief and regret, and definitely unsatisfied in the most primal, physical sense.
“Blake, please understand.” She tipped up her face and on impulse peeled off her glove and put her hand to his cold cheek. “It is going to hurt enough when I have to leave on Sunday. This would only make it hurt more.”
“Why should it hurt?”
And there he was—still pushing her emotionally. He wanted her to say the words and it was unfair. It made her feel naked, with no defenses.
“Don’t make me say it, okay?” There was a lump in her throat. “Isn’t it enough that I’ve said this much?”
The air between them hummed with the words she hadn’t said but they both knew.
“You can’t keep kissing me like this. We need to keep it businesslike from now on.” She didn’t dare tell him that it was a very real possibility that he would wear her down. A girl could only hold out for so long—especially when a giant part of her wanted to give in.
“Businesslike?”
She nodded. “If you care about me at all, please do as I ask,” she said, hoping to appeal to his sense of honor.
His brow wrinkled and he reluctantly gave in. “All right,” he replied. “No more kissing in the snowbanks.”
“Or anywhere else,” she cautioned.
“Or anywhere else,” he confirmed.
“Thanks,” she said, and skirted around him to retrieve her camera case.
He picked up his bag and followed her to the house, and Hope was relieved. At least that was what she told herself. But she was also disappointed.
She really did have to get out of here—back to Sydney and real life. It was far less complicated and way less painful—just the way she liked it.
Too bad she’d got the funny feeling that it wouldn’t be the same.
CHAPTER NINE
THE morning of the Christmas party Hope kept her laptop packed away and helped Anna with the preparations.
There was to be hot cocoa for the kids and hot spiced cider for the adults, as well as cookies and treats. While Anna went to work making iced shortbread, Hope donned a red-and-green apron and began making an old family favorite—Gram’s Chocolate Truffle Cookies.
She’d called for the recipe yesterday, and been shocked to hear that Grace was out doing something Christmassy with J. C. Carson. She’d wondered if J.C. would make it through the evening uninjured. She’d said nothing to Gram, though, who’d sounded satisfied at the whole thing. And neither of them had mentioned Hope’s parents.
She melted chocolate and then went to work on the dough, beating the butter and sugar while Anna hummed along with “Frosty The Snowman” on the radio as she spread icing on shortbread bells and stars.
Hope was up to her wrists in dough when Blake strolled in, cheeks ruddy from the cold and a smile on his face. “I think the sleigh is ready to go,” he said. “And what have we here?” His gaze traveled from Hope’s feet to her face. “In an apron? Surprising fashion statement, Hope.”
“Oh, I’m full of surprises,” Hope responded, rolling a spoonful of dough into a ball and placing it on a cookie sheet. “My grandmother’s Chocolate Truffle Cookies. To die for. Wait and see.”
“Full of surprises, hmmm?” he speculated, snatching a cookie from Anna’s freshly frosted tray. He bit into it and a smidgen of green icing remained on his lip.
Hope stared at it and swallowed. It would be tempting to remove it personally, but she’d sworn off that sort of thing and Anna was right there, after all.
“You’ve got a...” She pointed at her own lip and then watched, fascinated, as his tongue slipped out to swipe the sweet bit of frosting away.
“Thanks.”
She shrugged, rolling another cookie, filling the sheet. “Actually, I have an early present for you. Let me slip these into the oven and set the timer.”
“A present?”
She nodded, butterflies swirling around in her stomach. Why on earth was she nervous? But she was. She avoided his gaze as she washed her hands and dried them on a towel. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Anna, who merely nodded as she worked on pipin
g a red outline on a star.
She only had ten minutes—enough time to give him the present, not enough for them to be alone together for too long.
She hoped.
* * *
Blake followed her down the hall and into her room—the first time he’d been inside it since that afternoon she’d arrived and he’d carried her bag upstairs. The bed was neatly made and her suitcase was nowhere to be seen. Her laptop sat closed on a side table, the mouse pad and mouse precisely lined up at a right angle beside it.
Her perfectionist streak manifesting itself again?
Clearly Hope was nervous. She could barely look at him, and her shoulders were tense. He smiled a little as he saw a smudge of cocoa on her apron. That had been a total surprise. Hope always seemed so put together, so... He wasn’t sure how to explain it. Untouchable, perhaps. Out of his league with her tall, elegant looks. Either way, baking cookies in an apron made her look different. Put them on the same level somehow.
Maybe she was starting to unbend just a little bit. He hoped so. If anyone needed to unwind and let go of tension it was Hope. He only wished he knew what had her so tied up in knots. It wasn’t just her friend Julie. He understood that now. She needed to grieve, and not just for her friend. But what? Why was she so demanding of herself?
She disappeared into the closet. She’d bought him a Christmas present and that surprised him—especially after the episode in the snow. She’d told him she didn’t have feelings for him. She was a damned liar, but he knew she didn’t want to have feelings for him and that essentially amounted to the same thing. Hands off. No matter what he was feeling in return.
Trouble was, he didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay, to see if what was between them was real. For the first time since he’d broken up with his ex he trusted a woman to see beyond the surface. It had all changed the day she’d touched his scar with a tenderness and reverence that had humbled him.
He wasn’t sure if he was in love with her or not, but he wanted the opportunity to find out. And he couldn’t do that if she left for good tomorrow.
“I hope these are what you were looking for,” she said, coming out of the closet carrying a gift bag very carefully as if what was inside was incredibly fragile.
He took the bag from her hands and heard a funny jingle. He opened the bag and peered inside. His heart gave a little catch. He reached in and pulled out a leather strap. The clear sound of bells filled the room.
“Cate said she wanted bells on the sleigh, so...”
He looked in her eyes. In the bright sunlight of her bedroom they were stunningly blue, full of hope and uncertainty. It hit him then. The professional manner, the precision and perfection—it wasn’t confidence. It was covering up a massive case of insecurity. Was she worried he wouldn’t like them? That they wouldn’t suit? There were so many more layers to Hope than he’d first thought. It touched him that she was so obviously trying to please him. That she’d bothered to find something so appropriate, so personal.
He slid the leather over his palm and smiled. “They’re perfect, Hope. Where ever did you find them?”
“In an antique store just outside Calgary,” she replied. “You’re sure they’ll work?”
“Oh, they’ll work. They’ll be perfect.” He looked up and smiled. “Thank you, Hope. It was very thoughtful of you to go to the trouble.”
She blushed. Color infused the crests of her cheeks much to Blake’s delight. The more she let go of the veneer she protected herself with, the more he liked her. Right now, with a bit of flour across the breast of her apron, her hair in a ponytail and a glow to her cheek, she looked adorable.
Was he actually considering a relationship, then? It would be a mistake to think that way. No matter how much he was starting to care for her, he knew she would never be happy here. Their lives were so different, and his first priority was the program.
She was right. He probably shouldn’t have kissed her. Too bad he couldn’t quite muster up an appropriate amount of regret.
“You’re welcome. I thought...I thought the kids would like them.”
“They will. They’ll make tonight perfect.” She was looking at him so hopefully he knew he had to keep the mood light before he got himself in trouble yet again. “I have something for you, too.”
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
He nodded. “Not a present as such... Well, hold on. I’ll get it and explain.”
He made a quick trip to his room and grabbed the shopping bag from his closet. There was no guarantee she would go for it, but he hoped she would. Hope needed to let her hair down and show some silliness. They needed to have fun, and he had to stop thinking about her in ways that would get him nowhere. Their kisses before had been surprising and spontaneous, but there was something more now. A gravity between them. He couldn’t quite put his finger on when or how it had changed but there was something—something important and a little sad and slightly desperate in these last twenty-four hours before her departure.
Back in her room, he handed her the bag. “I’m dressing up as Santa tonight and handing out some small presents to the kids. I was kind of hoping you would help.”
She opened the bag and stared at the contents. “This is...” She put the bag down on the bed and drew out a hat, green-and-red striped, with a bell on the end. “This is an elf hat.”
“Santa needs an elf,” he said lightly, but he wasn’t encouraged when he saw her frown.
She pulled out the tunic and tights and his favorite bit—the shoes, curled up at the toes and with bells attached to the tips.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Hey, at least you don’t have to stuff your costume with pillows and wear a scratchy beard,” he remarked, forcing a chuckle.
“You do realize I was hired to take pictures?”
“I know that. I thought over the last few days that had changed into something more.” He remembered hearing her laugh as he tackled her in the snow, the taste of her lips all the sweeter because she’d been a willing and equal participant. He took her hand. “I thought we were something more,” he said quietly.
“You know that’s impossible.”
And yet there was a hint of longing in her voice that he didn’t miss. “So we’re not friends?”
She pulled her hand away. “I didn’t think that was what you meant. I hadn’t really thought about it,” she said, but her gaze slid from his. She had thought about it. They both had—too much.
“Have you never done something silly? Something just for fun, Hope? Have you seen the look on a kid’s face when he or she sits on Santa’s lap? It’s Christmas. I want to give them something awesome—there’s not enough fun in their lives. And I want to give you something, too.”
“What’s that?” She put the costume back on the bed and faced him, her guard fully up and functional again.
“A memory,” he said. “A good Christmas memory. Because I think you need one—desperately.”
The guard slipped just a little as her eyes widened and he saw his chance.
“Trust me.” He lifted his hand and touched her cheek with his finger. “Can you trust me for tonight, Hope?”
“I leave tomorrow, Blake.”
“I know that. Believe me, I know.” He wished he had more time. Time to get to know her better. Time to...
Aw, hell. Maybe it was better this way. He was already getting too involved. Much more and she’d really be able to hurt him. He knew for a fact that she wouldn’t be back. She’d go back to her life in Sydney and that would be that, wouldn’t it? Girls like her didn’t stay. They didn’t settle.
But it didn’t stop the wanting. Or the need to do this for her. For all of them.
“Trust me,” he repeated. “Wear the costume. Be my elf. Drink hot cocoa and eat cookies and let yourself be a kid again, Hope. Just this once.”
She looked down at the costume and back up at him again. “You are so going to owe me for this.”
And
he was going to enjoy paying the price. “You’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it. For the kids, mind you.”
“For the kids,” he repeated. “You’d better get back to your cookies.”
“The cookies! They’ve probably burned!” She rushed from the room, leaving the elf costume scattered on the bedspread and the scent of her perfume and dark chocolate behind.
He shook the bag of bells and smiled as the sound rang out. If this was the end of their time together he was at least going to give her a good memory to take away. He’d deal with his own feelings later.
* * *
Anna had saved the cookies from burning, and Hope had baked the rest without incident. They sat prettily on a plate now, dusted with icing sugar like snowy mountaintops. Hope had sneaked one earlier and they tasted as delicious as when Gram made them, making her long for the comforts of the one place she truly considered home.
Blake had remained scarce for most of the afternoon, getting the chores done ahead of his guests’ arrival.
At three-thirty the kids and parents started arriving, and the house became a hubbub of activity as Anna set out a Crock-Pot of hot cider, carafes of hot chocolate, plates of cookies and bowls of potato chips and pretzels.
Hope hadn’t yet changed into her costume, and questioned whether or not she would. She would look ridiculous. Like an overgrown female Peter Pan with bells.
But when it came down to it she’d probably play along. She couldn’t escape the memory of the look on Blake’s face as he’d implored her to help him. Lordy, he was so handsome—and kind. She’d stopped noticing his scar days ago. What had once been ugly was now simply a part of the bigger whole, and that whole was something really special.