Mistletoe Magic

by Lynn Patrick

  “Where have you been? I called you last night and several times today.”

  “Really? You called me last night? In front of your date?”

  “My what?” Rafe asked and tried to slip his arms around her waist. “What are you talking about?”

  Melissa pulled away abruptly, angry with herself for reacting so strongly to his touch. “You mean who, don’t you?” She pronounced the name with unveiled hostility, “Bambi.”

  Rafe laughed heartily. “How do you know about Bambi?”

  “I can’t believe you think this is funny, Rafe Damon! I thought I meant something to you, but when I call you to tell you my good news, I find out you’re seeing someone else.”

  Her admonishment made him laugh even harder. “She’s a model!” he finally choked out.

  Hadn’t she known it? Melissa’s angry expression dissolved into one of defeat and she felt tears well in her eyes. How was she supposed to compete against some glamorous, sophisticated woman? She was so distraught she didn’t even slap Rafe’s hand away when he took her by the chin to lift her head.

  “Bambi,” he said distinctly with a broad smile, “is eleven years old.”

  “What?”

  Taking advantage of her shock, Rafe put his arms around her. “Silly, I told you I mainly work with kids. After shooting a jeans ad we had a business dinner with her mother and her new agent, who also happens to be her new stepfather. Bambi’s mom just got remarried—for the third time.”

  “Oh.” Feeling extremely foolish, Melissa frowned up into his amused face.

  “Maybe that’s why her mother spoils her so badly, to make up for her changing fathers. Whatever Bambi wants, Bambi gets.”

  “Spoiling a child is as bad as neglecting one,” Melissa said, wondering how Rafe could miss the similarities to his own family situation. “It’s not the right kind of attention. Presents don’t heal emotional wounds.”

  “Maybe you should talk to Bambi’s mother.”

  Her meaning had gone over his head, she realized in frustration. “I don’t care about Bambi. I want to know why Hank didn’t tell me you were having a business dinner. He made it sound like you were on a date.”

  “He probably didn’t think to explain. Maybe he assumed you knew who I was working with yesterday afternoon.”

  Melissa’s eyes widened as realization set in. “No, that’s not it. He wanted me to assume exactly what I did.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  How could Hank have been so cruel as to make her think his father was dating someone else, she wondered, when she’d always been so nice to the boy? So far she’d avoided saying anything about his pranks because she hadn’t wanted to cause trouble between father and son. But this time the kid had gone too far and it was clear his behavior was getting worse. To heck with the principles that bade her say only good about others!

  “Rafe, you’ve got to talk with Hank about this. You can’t let him off the hook.”

  “Don’t be silly. Hank didn’t lie to you.” Rafe kissed her on the tip of the nose and smoothed her hair placatingly. “Why are you making a big deal out of a little misunderstanding?”

  Melissa ducked her head so his hand slid to her shoulder. Deciding to change tactics, she asked, “Where were you today?”

  “I took the kids down to the South Seaport area.” Seeming relieved she’d dropped the criticism of his son, Rafe hugged her tightly and rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I called to invite you last night and again this morning, but you weren’t in. I really wanted you to go with us.”

  “But Hank didn’t,” Melissa muttered, wanting only to melt in her lover’s arms instead of fighting with him. But she couldn’t give up just yet. How could the man be so blind? She pulled away slightly and backed up in an attempt to lessen Rafe’s sensual effect on her so she could discuss the situation rationally. “Your son’s been trying to keep us apart. At times, rather successfully.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re imagining things, Melissa. He and Gretta both need extra attention now, but Hank would never—”

  “Did he give you my message?”

  “What message?”

  “I called last night to share some good news with you. Hux has a promotions job for me. That means I don’t have to worry about money for a while, but it also means I might not have another Sunday off for long time. I wanted to celebrate with you today. I told Hank to give you the message, but he didn’t, did he?”

  Rafe’s handsome brow wrinkled, and yet he said, “Hank probably forgot. He’s only a kid, you know. From parental experience I can tell you they’re not always reliable, no matter how responsible you expect them to be.”

  Shaking her head, Melissa wished she could figure out how to make Rafe believe her. An impossible task, it seemed. No matter what she said, he’d find a way to absolve his son of guilt. She tried to back away from him once more but was stopped by her counter/tub. Rafe followed her movement and pressed himself up against her, sliding his hands up along her waist until he cupped the side of her breasts.

  “Melissa, we weren’t able to spend the day together, but we could find ways to make up for that in the next few hours,” Rafe coaxed, flicking his thumbs over her nipples. “Why waste our time arguing?”

  Why indeed? Melissa wondered, mesmerized by his bedroom eyes, seduced by his hands, which made her breasts throb so achingly. How could he make her insides melt and her toes tingle so easily? Was it because she was in love?

  “I don’t want to argue,” she breathlessly admitted.

  “Good. Neither do I. I only want to love you,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her passionately.

  He pressed against her, and Melissa gripped him tightly around the neck, as if her embrace could stop Hank from driving them apart. Rafe wouldn’t slip away from her, not if she could help it. He might never have that talk with his son…but she certainly would.

  Realizing her legs were growing weak because the circulation was being cut off by the wooden planks behind her, she murmured in protest, “If we don’t get out of here, we’re going to be making love on top of my bathtub.”

  “Hmm.” Rafe’s dark eyes wickedly lit with mischief. “How many opportunities does a guy get to make love in both the kitchen and bathroom at the same time?”

  Thinking about talking honestly with Hank Damon and actually carrying through with the idea were two different things, Melissa learned several days later as she stood outside the boy’s bedroom door. She hadn’t realized how hard it would be, even knowing that further unpleasantness might develop between them. But right now the timing was perfect. She could get the confrontation over with while Rafe was showering and dressing for their date. Before losing her nerve, she knocked on Hank’s door.

  “Dad?” His voice sounded eager.

  “No, it’s Melissa. May I come in?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Hank watched Melissa suspiciously when she closed the door behind her, leaned on it, and announced, “It’s time you and I had a talk, Hank.”

  “I don’t have time,” he said, quickly scrambling over to his computer. “I’ve got homework.”

  “I’m not about to talk to your back. Look at me.”

  Hank froze at her determined tone and reluctantly faced her. At first his face reflected a combination of regret and intimidation, but he quickly hid his weaknesses from her. With a great deal of drama, he huffed himself down to the nearest carpeted stair and crossed his arms. “What?”

  “Why didn’t you tell your father I called Saturday night?”

  “I forgot.”

  “The heck you did!” Melissa stared at him sternly. “Not only did you not forget to tell him, Hank, you deliberately led me to believe he was out on a date.”

  Hank studied the carpeting and tried to bluff his way around her accusation. “I can’t help it if you don’t know who Bambi is.” She could see his throat muscles tighten as she came closer and stood over him with her arms crossed. “I didn’t lie.” />
  “Not directly, perhaps, but the result was the same. What you did was wrong, Hank, and I think you know it.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he insisted sullenly, pulling at a strand of the shag carpeting. “You misunderstood me.”

  “Did I also misunderstand the purpose for the tape recorder you hid under the couch a few days before Christmas?”

  Hank whipped his head up, his eyes wide. He looked panic-stricken and unable to hide it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he shouted, jerking up from his perch on the step.

  “And how about the computer files?” she asked as he began to pace up and down the carpeted levels of his room with increasing agitation. “That was far more clever and infinitely more entertaining than going to see a French movie or an art exhibit.”

  From his expression it was obvious the boy was appalled she’d found him out. Hank was speechless, but only for a moment. “I suppose you’ve told my dad,” he said, picking up one of his robots. She could sense the tension in his hands as he fondled the prized possession.

  “No. As a matter of fact, I haven’t.” Noting the relief spreading through his body, Melissa thought perhaps she could call a truce. “And for the moment, I don’t plan to.”

  “Good. ’Cause there’s nothing to tell.”

  “Yes there is, Hank. You and I both know it. I haven’t made an issue of it because I know you’ve been unhappy and I didn’t want to cause hard feelings between your dad and you.” Uncrossing her arms, she stepped up to Hank’s eye level, but he avoided looking at her, concentrating instead on the robot. “You’ve been inexcusably rude to me, Hank, and you’ve played mean tricks on us both. That kind of behavior has got to stop. It won’t make anyone happy. Not even you.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my mom.”

  “No, I’m not. But I love your dad, Hank, just as your mother loves her boyfriend, Simon.”

  “She doesn’t! Mom is lonely, that’s all. And so’s Dad. They’re not going to marry other people like that stupid Bambi said. If Mom hadn’t moved to California, things’d be different!”

  “Maybe they would, but I’m not convinced of it. Hank, I want you to know I care about you and Gretta. Honestly.” He stiffened when she touched his arm. “Please don’t treat me like a wicked stepmother.”

  Reddening, Hank abruptly pulled away and aimed a vicious glare at her, then threw the robot down in disgust, unblinking when it broke into several pieces. But it would have been difficult to miss the welling tears in his eyes. “I got homework.”

  Melissa sighed as he sat down in front of his computer, his stiff back to her. Knowing she wasn’t about to get an apology or even a confession out of the boy, she headed for the door, but she made one last plea before going through it. “Think about what I said, Hank. I do care.”

  She heard him sniffle and mutter something about crummy allergies just before closing the door.

  Distracted by her disappointment, Melissa had little to say to Rafe and Louise as they had a drink in front of the fireplace while talking about their day’s activities. Would there be many more of these cozy threesomes? she wondered, fondly gazing at her lover and his mother.

  Though she no longer felt like going to see Clarence and Terry’s club act tonight, she had promised, and she wanted to be supportive of the two people who’d proven to be such good friends. Since Rafe wasn’t much of a night nor a club person, she knew he must feel the same or he would have tried to talk her out of going.

  When he suggested they get started, Melissa realized it was the first time she’d felt relieved to leave his home. How sad. Forcing a smile, she repeated Terry’s directions to get to Tinkerbell’s.

  “That’s in a pretty seedy neighborhood,” Rafe said as the taxi pulled away from the curb.

  “I know. Most of those crazy new clubs are. This one’s housed in a huge old warehouse. Terry told me it’s spread over three floors. Live bands play on the first floor. There’s an art gallery on the second, and the cabaret where they perform is on the third.”

  “Sounds like something Hux would like. I wonder if he’s been there?”

  Several minutes later the cab pulled up to a deserted-looking warehouse.

  “Are you sure this is the right place, Melissa? Shouldn’t there be lines of people outside? Maybe you’d better check the address,” he said dubiously.

  “This is the place, but we’re early. It’s not quite eleven. That’s when the place starts jumping, or so Terry told me.” Melissa had regained some of her enthusiasm for the evening out. “It should be interesting.”

  After Rafe paid the exorbitant entry fee she found out how much so. A band was tuning up, its members dressed in garish fifties garb, their hair dyed and chopped. But then, how many customers looked much different? What about the woman in the see-through, tinted, plastic dress? Or the guy in sequined evening clothes with four inches of glitter-dusted white hair that stood straight up?

  Melissa gulped and glanced at Rafe in concern. This was definitely not his kind of scene any more than it was hers. Perhaps if she tried to make the best of it, tried to make it fun for him, they could both have a good time. After all, who knew how many chances she had left…

  Rafe gazed around, then blinked in astonishment at what was obviously a male couple in drag. Why hadn’t he guessed the place would be so wild? The heavy metal band blasted the first chords of its opening number. Good Lord, he thought, how was he going to stand it? Glancing at Melissa, who was beaming up at him, he had a hard time keeping a frown from his face. Would she really enjoy a place like this?

  “Why don’t we go up and take a look at the art?”

  Melissa nodded enthusiastically. Amazed she’d heard him over the raucous noise, Rafe put a protective arm around her and led the way to the stairs. Once on the second floor, however, he realized the change of scene wasn’t much of an improvement. The wooden floor vibrated beneath his feet and the metallic screech of a guitar echoing up from the stairwell made him grit his teeth.

  He tried focusing his attention on the enormous display of paintings and sculptures that had no discernible relationship to the world he knew. This was art? Then he noted a couple in a corner. Dressed in black leather and metal chains and spikes, they stood frozen like two mannequins. Were they part of the display? Did the brilliantly colored, decorative designs on their faces and bodies come off or were they tattooed on?

  “Look, they’re alive!” Melissa whispered excitedly, gripping his arm. “Isn’t this fun?”

  Rafe shuddered and made a noncommittal noise, but when he looked down into her pretty smiling face with its softly dimpled cheek, his resistance began to melt. Maybe he should try to relax and enjoy himself for her sake. “Definitely unique.”

  A quarter of an hour later they headed up to the third floor for the cabaret show. The walls were decorated with graffiti art, as were the small cocktail tables and waiters. Even the neon signs over the bar were twisted glass graffiti.

  “Oh, look!” Melissa said, wonder—or was it stunned amazement?—widening her eyes. “Have you ever seen anything like this place?”

  “Unique,” he told her with credible enthusiasm. “Definitely unique.”

  The show, too, was unique—he’d never seen anything like it. Rafe forced himself to laugh in all the supposedly appropriate places when a guy in drag imitated a rock star. Then they saw a fashion show of sorts when a New Wave designer introduced his skimpy leather loungewear.

  When Melissa glanced at him to see his reaction, he nodded and muttered, “Undoubtedly unique,” but he was beginning to wonder about his lover’s taste in entertainment.

  How could anyone over twenty-two enjoy a place like this? he wondered, then remembered he’d thought Melissa was that young when he’d first met her. Though he knew her chronological age, Rafe had difficulty remembering it at times. Her kooky jobs, the way she gave away money when she couldn’t afford it, her almost transient apartment, and now this
fascination with the bizarre added up to a single question, one that worried him: what was he, the mature, responsible father of two, doing in a relationship with such a free spirit?

  Yet just looking at her, with her golden hair, blue eyes, and ready smile, made his heart pound painfully, made him want to carry her out of the place and back to her apartment where he could make love to her. It wasn’t merely physical attraction. There was a softness about Melissa that brought out his protective instincts. She was a caring person. A loving person. Loving. Yes, there was that, Rafe thought, wondering why it had taken him so long to fully understand the effects her magic had worked on him.

  How odd that it would be in this strange place that he would realize he was in love with Melissa Ryan.

  Why was he looking at her so strangely? Melissa wondered. Did Rafe hate this place so much? He looked away uneasily, making her cringe. Obviously her ruse to make him think she was having a good time had worked.

  “Rafe, I want you to know I don’t—” But Melissa’s confession of the fact was interrupted by the grand finale.

  “Here’s the act you’ve been waiting for folks, Tinkerbell’s reggae version of a popular forties movie that takes place in the Caribbean—The Wizardess of Foz!”

  The music made conversation impossible, so Melissa settled in as a saronged Dorothy cried in a Jamaican accent, “Ahh, look, Toto, here it is—the red coral road.”

  Stuffed toy dog in arm, Dorothy reggaed down an imaginary path toward the island of Foz, joined by other characters along the way. Clarence played a sun-loving Cowardly Lion complete with dark glasses, beach towel, and rum punch glass, and Terry played a spindly-legged Scarecrow challenging everyone to a limbo contest. Although the act was as offbeat as the others had been, Melissa truly began to enjoy herself, easily laughing at the antics of her friends and humming along to the musical numbers done with a reggae beat, backed by a steel drum band.