“Goody.” His son had picked up the phone receiver and pushed it into Alex’s hand. “Call now, Daddy.”
Oh, God.
Why couldn’t children sleep when other people were sleeping?
“Son, I didn’t mean it was okay to call. I meant okay, they’re ginger people.”
“But, Daddy—”
“You don’t want to wake Shannon up, do you? She’s on vacation. Besides, you don’t call friends this early in the morning.”
Jeremy had reluctantly agreed, then he’d crawled into bed with him and talked for three straight hours, with liberal references to their neighbor and the things she’d done and said when they were together.
So much for his daddy sleeping late. Alex had finally given up and called Shannon at a more reasonable hour about the cookies. She’d come over looking fresh and wide-awake, while he felt like Grumpy and Sleepy from the Seven Dwarves rolled into one.
Conceding defeat, Alex abandoned the term papers and walked downstairs. His son and his neighbor were lying on their backs by the Christmas tree, holding kaleidoscopes in front of their eyes as cheerful Christmas carols played in the background. He smiled at the scene.
Shannon’s auburn hair tumbled about her head and her knees swayed in time with the music. Her feet were bare, toenails painted pink. Snug jeans that showcased her legs were topped by a T-shirt with the words, Dear Santa, Just bring the five gold rings, printed on it. She looked like an unruly teenager, though he knew she must be in her late twenties.
Next to her was Jeremy, singing “Jingle Bells” off-key.
Mr. Tibbles wasn’t anywhere in sight.
“Hey, I thought you were baking cookies,” Alex said, his grin broadening.
“The dough has to chill before we roll it out,” Shannon explained without looking up. She spun the dial on the end of the kaleidoscope and whistled a few notes in tune to the stereo. “I thought you were grading term papers.”
“I’m taking a break.”
“You ready for the final exams?”
“Yes. And I’ve been trying to work out a time for a makeup session, if the student has a good excuse.”
Shannon sat up. “Really? I never heard of a professor willing to have a makeup session.”
“Yeah? You couldn’t charm them into it?” His comment felt dangerously like flirting, but it was hard to believe Shannon O’Rourke failing at anything she might go after.
“I never needed a makeup test. I was the perfect student.”
“How perfect? No-skinny-dipping-in-Lake-Washington-during-Christmas-break perfect? Or grade-and-attendance perfect? There are different levels of perfect, you know. Some students are more perfect than others.”
She laughed. “Nobody in their right mind skinny-dips in Lake Washington in December. Of course, one of my brothers did it, but he was crazy.”
“What’s ’kinny-dipping?” Jeremy asked.
Alex stifled a groan. He had a big mouth, and he obviously didn’t know how to guard what he said around his own son. Jeremy was smart and precocious and he understood things far too well for comfort.
“Skinny-dipping is going swimming without your bathing suit,” Shannon explained. “It sounds like more fun than it really is, especially when it’s cold.”
“Okay.” Jeremy rolled over onto his stomach and started the toy train chugging around the tracks.
Alex sighed. Why was it so easy when Shannon explained something like that, and so difficult when he tried? Their gazes met and another grin curved his mouth at the merry humor in her eyes. In another life he would have thought it was funny as well, watching a parent squirm over the innocent things a child asked…and the loaded answers that followed.
He wanted to promise retribution, because it was guaranteed that Shannon O’Rourke’s children would be a wild handful. But he bit his tongue, remembering her reaction the last time he’d said something about her having kids—a faltering smile and a flicker of unhappiness. He didn’t want to spoil the moment.
“I need some coffee,” he said, a yawn splitting his mouth. “How about you?”
“Sure.”
In the kitchen Shannon sat and watched as Alex filled the coffeemaker with water. His hair was rumpled and his eyes sleepy. She didn’t doubt that if it wasn’t for Jeremy and term papers to grade, he’d still have his face stuffed in a pillow; he definitely wasn’t a morning person.
Lord, she’d been up since before six, writing memos, responding to e-mails from the office…and sending a message to Kane that she wouldn’t be at work for another week or two. He’d wonder about it, particularly since she’d just begged him to end her forced vacation, but it didn’t matter. She was having too much fun.
Fun?
Shannon smothered a chuckle. Playing with Jeremy and trying to figure out how to bake cookies weren’t her usual ideas of fun. Her family would die of shock if they discovered how she’d been spending her days. Her reputation as a disaster in the kitchen had reached epic proportions, a reputation that had spread to the office after she’d twice set fire to the break-room microwave.
“You have that devilish twinkle in your eyes. Promise you aren’t laughing at me,” Alex said, plunking two steaming mugs of coffee on the table. He dropped into a chair with a groan.
“Why would I laugh?”
“I open my mouth in front of my son and dumb things come out. Like mentioning skinny-dipping.” Beard stubble rasped beneath his fingers as he rubbed his jaw and yawned again.
“Didn’t you get any sleep last night?”
“Not enough. Jeremy decided that 5:00 a.m. was the perfect time to start making gingerbread men. Only he insists they’re called ginger people, because that’s what you call them.”
Shannon dangled the cookie cutters she’d bought in front of Alex. “There are two sexes. I don’t want to be exclusive. Besides, I have a politically correct cookbook that calls them ginger people.”
He lifted one eyelid and glared at her. “Next time, I’m teaching him how to dial the phone so he can wake you up in the middle of the night.”
“Five isn’t the middle of the night.”
“I knew it. You’re one of those people, aren’t you?”
“If you mean a morning person, the answer is yes.”
“I mean one of those people who wakes up early and thinks it’s the best time of the day.” He made a disgusted sound and gulped his coffee, yelping a second later, “That’s hot!”
Shannon couldn’t help herself, she dissolved into laughter. “You just made it, what would you think it is?”
Alex leaned back in his chair, regarding her. “Aren’t you going to mother me? Where’s the usual feminine sympathy like running to get an ice cube for my burned tongue?”
“Do you want to be mothered?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not going to do that.”
An odd gleam entered his eyes. “I think I’m going to like being friends with you, Shannon.”
That was a switch. Alex had only agreed to a friendship for Jeremy’s sake. Shannon swallowed a stab of regret and told herself to be grateful he’d agreed to anything. He was proof that her luck in the romance department hadn’t changed.
She sipped her coffee and thought about the men she’d dated over the years. Some had hoped to get close to her wealthy brother through her. Others had been allergic to marriage or, on the flip side, had secretly wanted a perfect homemaker for a wife. Few of those had been as callous as her college love, who’d decided he couldn’t handle her lack of homemaking skills and made sure their mutual friends knew exactly why they’d broken up.
She’d forced herself to joke about the split, but she’d died inside each time she laughed about the end of her first love.
“Are you asleep, too?”
Startled, Shannon lifted her head. Alex had leaned forward and seemed wider awake now that he’d burned his tongue and gotten more caffeine into his system.
“No, not asleep. But your coffee coul
d put hair on my chest.”
“Too strong for you?”
Her pulse jumped, but it had nothing to do with coffee, just the tug of her heart. If she wasn’t careful, she could risk having it broken again, and she wasn’t certain how many times a broken heart could heal.
“It’s a little strong.”
“I assumed morning people lived on coffee.”
“Not me, but I can’t speak for all morning people.”
Shannon traced a circle on the table and tried to regain the peace she’d felt lying next to Jeremy, rediscovering the beauty of light and color captured in a kaleidoscope. How long had it been since she’d felt at peace? Children seemed to have a marvelous gift of simplicity, a way of cutting through the chaos of the world.
“Do you have something against being mothered?” she asked idly. She’d been thinking about inviting Alex and Jeremy to her family’s Christmas celebration, and Pegeen O’Rourke mothered anyone who would let her.
“I’m an adult, I don’t need mothering.”
“Don’t tell my mom that. I think she secretly wishes we’d never grown up, though she probably doesn’t mind as much now that she has grandchildren to spoil.”
“She sounds nice.”
“Thanks. She is.” Shannon didn’t ask about Alex’s mother, remembering how he’d described his childhood—a marital war zone followed by divorced-parent hell. Given his experience, he must have loved his wife beyond belief to have risked getting married.
Sorrow crowded Shannon’s throat—sorrow for what Alex had lost, and what she might never have.
“I think that cookie dough must be cold enough,” she said huskily. “And you have term papers to grade.”
“Cracking the proverbial whip, huh?”
“Sure, that’s what friends do.”
Alex smiled and rose. “About the mothering,” he said, “don’t get the wrong idea. I’ve just had my fill of women rushing in and trying to take Kim’s place.”
“They probably mean well.”
“Maybe. But I like your style better.”
He sauntered out and Shannon shook her head. He liked her style. What did that mean? Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Men thought they were direct and to the point, but they were beyond confusing.
“Jeremy?” she called. “How about making those ginger people now?”
Alex studied the term paper in front of him. He was trying to figure out a reason not to flunk the author, when the smell of something burning crept into his consciousness.
At almost the same moment the smoke alarm screeched and he jumped to his feet.
“Shannon?”
He raced downstairs, grabbing a fire extinguisher on the way. Smoke filled the kitchen, with the thickest billows rising from the stove and sink.
“It’s…” Shannon coughed. “Everything is under control. Yeow!” She dumped a blackened cookie sheet into the sink and began flapping a dish towel.
As a precaution, Alex sprayed the smoking mess with the fire extinguisher, then grabbed Shannon and Jeremy and shoved them out the back door.
“Stay there,” he ordered.
Inside, he opened windows, started the exhaust fans blowing and turned off the oven. When he was certain nothing was actually on fire, he put a cap over the smoke alarm to silence it. The sound of Christmas music replaced the shrill screech.
“It’s all right now,” he said, stepping into the backyard again.
Shannon had her arms wrapped around Jeremy, keeping him warm. She was shaking from the cold and he swore beneath his breath, realizing he’d overreacted when he’d shoved them outside. But when it was his family involved, he couldn’t take any chances.
“Come back in, the smoke is nearly gone.” Alex put out his hand and she released Jeremy.
“Go inside where it’s warm,” she said, her voice shaking.
Jeremy skipped through the door, but Shannon remained on the garden bench.
“Shannon?”
“I think I’ll go home,” she whispered.
He frowned. “Why?”
“It’s better if I do.” She blinked and a tear dripped down her cheek.
Damn. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing, especially when he couldn’t see any reason for her to be so upset. So some cookies got burned, it wasn’t a disaster. On the other hand, he had a strange feeling that if he let Shannon leave, she wouldn’t come back. And that would be a disaster, for reasons Alex didn’t want to think about.
“Better how?”
“Just better.” She swallowed hard and two more tears spilled over. “I’m sorry about the cookies. I should have told you that I can’t cook, but I thought if I paid attention it would be all right.”
She jumped up and rushed across the empty flower bed separating their small yards.
Oh, man. This was exactly the type of situation Alex hated dealing with the most. And if any other woman had cried over a burned tray of cookies he would have been exasperated, but it obviously meant something significant to Shannon.
“Shannon, don’t go.”
“It’s really…better.”
Shannon pulled at her sliding-glass door, but the dumb thing was locked. So much for a speedy exit. She spun around, not wanting to see Alex’s face and the disappointment that must be there, but not having a choice.
“Hey, it’s all right.” He put his arms around her, warmth radiating from his body.
It was nice.
Strength and heat and comfort. She’d ached after their brief kiss, ached for a deeper touch, and the kind of tender holding that only came in her dreams. She’d wondered if Alex could be the man in those dreams, but it was useless to think that way. He’d pushed her away from the moment they met; the barriers around his heart were higher than the castle walls in any fairy tale.
“It’s not okay.” She sniffed, the scent of burned gingerbread mixed with his masculine scent. “You have no idea. Maybe it doesn’t matter to you because you don’t want me, but it matters.”
“God, Shannon, it isn’t you I don’t want.”
She knew that tone. Or she thought she did. He was trying to be gentle and not hurt her feelings.
“It’s all right. Don’t worry about it. I’m not your problem,” she said tiredly. In an hour she’d manage to get some perspective, but right now she felt as if she’d crashed into a brick wall. She hated failing at anything.
Alex leaned into her. “You aren’t a problem at all,” he breathed in her ear.
She knew that tone, too.
The husky murmur.
The suggestion of awareness.
A swollen heat burned against her abdomen and she swallowed. “Alex, this isn’t—”
His mouth smothered her protest. She resisted for a split second, knowing he’d regret touching her the minute he came to his senses. But when his strong hands closed over her breasts, her own senses scattered.
His touch wasn’t the least bit hesitant, and the bold, kneading strength of his fingers sent streamers of longing through more than her body. She felt him to her soul.
Knowing that Alex didn’t feel so strongly about her cooled her response. Then his knee pressed between her legs and she lost touch with reality.
Her life had been spinning nowhere, but with Alex holding her, she had an anchor. Yet it was curious that an anchor would make her head whirl and her blood bubble like champagne.
Their tongues met, velvet on velvet, framed by the hard lines of his mouth.
The only other time she could remember a kiss being so good was when he’d held her before, that night she’d brought the tree and toy train.
Mmm…
Beneath Alex’s sweatshirt his muscles were hard and she explored the contours of a man who’d worked not only with his mind, but his body. She didn’t feel cold, though her thin shirt and jeans were hardly protection against the bitter chill that had descended over Puget Sound.
Pleasure shimmered in wave after wave as Alex began kissing his way down the curve of he
r neck. Then suddenly, a loud, raucous sound pierced the air.
“What?”
Alex jerked away, looking horrified, and Shannon dropped her hands to her side.
Think fast, she ordered her frozen brain, but it wasn’t cooperating.
“Merroooow.”
Thank God.
She edged around Alex’s stiff figure and looked for the source of distress. A kitten, all ears and eyes, stuck its head from under a bush and cried again.
“You poor thing,” Shannon said, kneeling and holding out her hand. “Come here.”
The kitten had obviously been fending for itself for a long time, because it hesitated, looking suspicious.
“It’s all right, little one, I won’t hurt you.”
Alex stared at the ragged feline and wondered how it could resist that coaxing voice.
Damnation. How could he have kissed Shannon again?
He couldn’t even blame her. She’d done everything but climb the wall trying to get away from him.
The cat put a hesitant foot on the flagstone patio, ready to bolt backward if the gentle voice turned out to have a mean hand attached to it.
“Come here, baby. No one is going to hurt you.”
“Meooooow.”
“Yes, I know. It’s all right now.” She cuddled the feline against her breasts and the air hissed from Alex’s chest. He ached, but the physical pain was less intense than the torment in his mind.
Shannon O’Rourke had a filthy kitten tucked lovingly to her body, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen something so beautiful. Panic screamed through him, a warning of everything he didn’t want to feel again.
“Shannon, we have to talk about what happened.”
She glanced at him…and rolled her eyes. “For goodness sake, Alex, don’t go melodramatic. I was upset and you gave me a friendly kiss. I’m surprised you didn’t laugh your head off.”
“About what?”
“What do you think? Remember the smoke alarm going off? Black smoke filling the air? I must have looked ridiculous.”
The cookies.
Right.
His brain wasn’t working correctly, but it was a relief to know Shannon hadn’t taken him seriously. In fact, she’d been so upset, she probably hadn’t noticed the more than friendly way he’d groped her body.
Meet Me Under The Mistletoe (O'Rourke Family 5) Page 8