THE NIGHTS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

by Vicky Lewis Thompson

  "You told me he fixed your sink and you fed him soup and crackers," Terri said. "You gave me the chain of events, but you certainly didn't tell me what happened." She took a swig of water. "The chain of events is the kind of thing a guy usually tells you. A woman knows that's not the important part."

  Suzanne gritted her teeth and managed to get her knees together again. "Can't talk," she said. "Gotta concentrate."

  "Okay. We'll talk over a mango-strawberry madness."

  A half hour later Suzanne dragged herself to a stool at the juice bar. She'd overdone it on the machines tonight, especially the thigh-mangling gizmo, but if she'd skimped on her workout, Terri would have wanted to know why. Suzanne didn't want Terri to be any more curious than she already was.

  On the plus side, Suzanne realized, the workout had finally cured the case of nerves that had plagued her all day. She'd been horribly distracted at work, and she was afraid it had been duly noted. Thankfully, nobody suspected the reason except Terri.

  But Terri suspected plenty, and she'd been like a dog with a bone ever since this morning. Suzanne didn't intend to tell her any more than she already had, though. Terri might have clued her in about Greg, but that didn't give her a right to hear details. Sharing specifics seemed weird, anyway, considering Terri's previous relationship with Greg. Suzanne really didn't want to think about that.

  Terri scooted Suzanne's drink toward her. "At least tell me this. Isn't he the sweetest, most considerate man you've ever known?"

  "He's very nice." Suzanne thought of the incredible orgasm Greg had given her and had to agree that he was consideration personified. She hoped Terri would think the flush on her cheeks was due to the workout

  "You're really not going to tell me how it went, are you?"

  Suzanne took a sip of her drink before she answered. She was grateful to Terri. More than grateful, actually. She was indebted to Terri for giving her a whole new lease on life. She didn't want to be mean to her, not for a second.

  Finally she turned to her friend. "I really appreciate you letting me know about Greg in the first place," she said. "I really do. But it feels uncomfortable to talk about anything that happened between Greg and me, because you and Greg … well, you were involved, and—"

  "I need to tell you about that."

  "Oh, please don't." Suzanne was so afraid that Terri would describe her love affair with Greg in detail. That had been another reason for Suzanne to keep quiet, because if she confided in Terri, Terri might feel compelled to confide in her. Greg's intimate activities with another woman, especially a friend like Terri, would constitute way too much information.

  "This is important," Terri said.

  "You know what? Let's just respect each other's privacy and let it go at that, shall we?"

  "I didn't sleep with him."

  Suzanne nearly tipped over her drink. "You didn't?" Oh, joy, Terri hadn't gone to bed with Greg! But hot on the heels of that happy thought came a million questions. "Isn't that what you were talking about when you said he was such a great rebound man? How could he be your rebound man if you didn't sleep with him?"

  Terri gazed at her. "If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will personally sneak into your apartment and pour red wine all over that white sofa of yours."

  Suzanne opened her mouth to give her solemn promise.

  "Never mind," Terri said before Suzanne could say anything. "You keep secrets better than me. I swore to myself that I was never going to tell anybody, but here I am blabbing it, after all. But I can't let you go on believing we were lovers, especially since it bothers you."

  "It doesn't bother me, exactly."

  "Yes, it does."

  "Okay, it does. The thing is, I don't know any of the other women." And now she was morbidly curious about them. "But I do know you, and that's the difference."

  "I don't blame you a bit," Terri said. "I should have told you the truth in the first place."

  She couldn't help wondering if Terri was protecting her. "You don't have to say you didn't sleep with him to spare my feelings. I just didn't want to hear the details."

  "We kissed. That's it. And the kiss was totally my idea, I'm sure."

  Suzanne was skeptical. After all, Terri was a beautiful woman, one she could easily imagine Greg wanting to kiss. She'd rather not imagine it, though.

  "Hey, I'm not thrilled to admit this," Terri said. "Trust me, I wouldn't, except that I can tell you're freaked out about the idea of me going to bed with him and I hate to have you go through mental anguish for nothing."

  Suzanne was beginning to realize that she'd underestimated Terri's commitment to this friendship. Maybe coming to the gym wasn't all about building a better body. Maybe they'd build a deeper relationship in the process. "Thank you." She took a deep breath. "I have to admit I do feel better."

  "Good."

  "But I'm not sure why you wanted me to think that you had."

  Terri shrugged. "Stupid pride. I didn't want to be the exception, the only one he didn't sleep with, so when it didn't happen between us, I decided to keep that to myself. As far as the other women know, I did."

  "So you've met the others, then?"

  "Just two, but somehow word travels in this little sisterhood."

  "Surely he doesn't say anything?" The thought of others knowing about her adventures with Greg gave her cold chills.

  "God, no. He's the soul of discretion. It's more of a grapevine thing among the women themselves. So if you keep your mouth completely shut, no one will know one way or the other." Terri's grin was self-deprecating. "My ego pushed me to imply I'd slept with him." She stared into the contents of her drink. "The funny thing is, he made me feel better about myself without taking me to bed than any man who's made passionate love to me."

  Suzanne nodded. "He can do a lot with one look."

  "Don't you know it. He can look at you with such appreciation that you see yourself in a whole new way."

  "Yes."

  Terri reached over and squeezed her hand. "I won't pester you for any more info. From the expression on your face, I'm going to guess that he decided to get a little more … friendly with you than he did with me. That's okay. Whatever works."

  Suzanne wasn't sure how to react so that she wouldn't give away more than she already had. "I … you see, it's only—"

  "I understand, sweetie. He's wonderful, but you and I both know it's a short-term thing, no matter how great he makes you feel. He's not interested in commitment and you don't want to get heavily involved with a guy who's basically the janitor in your apartment building."

  Suzanne blinked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Think about it. You're a highly educated professional. I doubt if he has more than a high-school diploma. You'd be out of balance with a guy like that. You can't spend your lives in bed together, so what would you talk about after the sex?"

  Suzanne thought about the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in Greg's apartment. He'd pretended the books were simply insulation, but she'd noticed Oliver Twist lying beside his chair, as if he'd just put it down when she'd rung his doorbell. She also thought about some of the vocabulary he'd tossed into their conversation.

  "See what I mean?" Terri drank the last of her smoothie. "Greg understands women like no guy I've ever known, but that would only take you so far in a long-term relationship. He understands that, too, which is why he doesn't try to make these instances into something more. He knows it would be very awkward if he tried. That's what makes him so special."

  "I guess you're right," Suzanne said. She knew without asking that Terri had never been down to Greg's apartment. If she had, she wouldn't be saying these snobbish things.

  Maybe none of the women had ever been down to Greg's apartment. Maybe she was the only bold-as-brass female who had rung his doorbell dressed in a jumpsuit and a smile. Her face heated as she wondered what he must think of her forward behavior and if he realized how out-of-character it was for her. He had to. She'd acted so up
tight, otherwise, with her request that they keep the lights off.

  "I'll only ask one more thing," Terri said. "Are you seeing him again?"

  "Um, yes." Her exhaustion from the workout began to fade and butterflies invaded her stomach again. She still hadn't decided what to wear or how to act when she returned to Greg's apartment tonight. How did a girl dress for a night of tree-trimming and seduction?

  "Good. You've been so down ever since the breakup with Jared, so I'll bet you can really use the ego boost. Greg is so good for that."

  "But what about his ego?" Suzanne asked. "I mean, aren't we all sort of using him?"

  Terri laughed. "I think his ego is in fine shape. I'm sure he takes great satisfaction in putting us back together after a failed romance. Come on, what guy wouldn't like to be in his shoes? From what I understand, there are many men who settle for monogamy as a last resort. Quite a few of them would love to have a harem if they thought they could get away with it. In a sense, Greg's created one in our apartment building."

  "I suppose." Suzanne didn't want to think about that Right now she wanted to believe she was special, not one in a line of needy females. Greg had made her feel that way, as if being with her was like a gift to him. Despite what Terri said, Suzanne wondered if Greg was happy with his role in the apartment building. She couldn't shake off the feeling that he was one lonely man.

  * * *

  Greg usually put off his shopping until Christmas Eve. But while he was out in search of ornaments and lights for his tree, it had started to snow, and watching kids climbing on Santa's lap in Marshall Field's he was filled with the spirit of the season. Consequently he'd come home laden with presents for his mother, his sister and two brothers.

  Christmas had gradually become fun again for his family, especially now that his sister and brothers were old enough to contribute financially to the household instead of draining money from it. He could hardly believe that his youngest brother was a sophomore in high school and his little sister was dating a guy who she might very well marry.

  He looked forward to spending Christmas Day with everybody in Joliet. Although his father was still missed, would always be missed, the grief had become less with each passing year. They could tell stories about him now without anybody bursting into tears.

  While Greg had shopped for ornaments, lights and tinsel, Suzanne had been on his mind constantly, especially when he'd picked out the scented votives he hoped to use to light his bedroom tonight. He was more than a little worried that she wouldn't show at all.

  After a quick dinner that he barely tasted, he stashed his family's presents in the bedroom closet. Then he set out the tree decorations in the living room and arranged his two votive candleholders, along with a small box of matches and the bottle of massage oil, on his bedside table.

  He'd thought about buying wine but had dismissed the idea. Wine might relax Suzanne, but it dulled the senses. He didn't want her senses dulled, not even slightly. Earlier in the day he'd put fresh sheets on the bed and cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, much to Matilda's disgust.

  Finally he had nothing more to do except put on the new Christmas CDs he'd bought, all of which had a definitely romantic tone to them, and wait for Suzanne to arrive. Or not. The possibility that she wouldn't arrive made him so restless that he couldn't settle down and read to pass the time, so he paced, which drove Matilda nuts.

  After following him around the apartment a few times, she apparently became tired of that nonsense and curled up in his reading chair by herself. Every once in a while she'd raise her head to look at him as if she thought he'd lost his mind.

  Which he had. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so nervous because of a woman. Well, yes, he could, and there was the rub. The last time a woman had tied him up in knots like this was when he'd been dating Amelia.

  Suzanne was nothing like Amelia, so obviously he wasn't looking to replace his long lost love. Amelia had been a redhead, a spoiled redhead he now realized. She'd been going to school on daddy's money, and she hadn't been in pursuit of a career so much as she had been trolling for a college boy to marry.

  Mainly he'd been attracted to her looks, and because he'd been only twenty he excused himself for such shallowness. Suzanne's looks figured into this attraction, too, but he already liked who she was a lot more than he'd ever liked Amelia.

  For one thing, Suzanne had an independent streak that he admired. But underneath that determined independence was a vulnerability that awakened his protective instincts. All of the women he'd counseled had been vulnerable, but Suzanne seemed even more easily wounded by the wrong kind of guy. He guessed that she'd had nothing but the wrong kind of guy.

  Maybe tonight, while they trimmed the tree, he'd find out something about her family. He loved searching for clues about someone by asking about their background, but in this case he was more than casually interested. Suzanne viewed the relationship as temporary, and it might turn out to be. Intellectually he knew that he didn't have much of a chance with her. But his gut was telling him something entirely different.

  Yet if she didn't come down tonight … he glanced at the old Regulator clock on his living-room wall for the thousandth time. When the doorbell buzzed, he jumped almost as high as Matilda, who ran into the bedroom as usual.

  "It's okay, Matilda," Greg heard himself say as he headed for the door. "It's only Suzanne." Only Suzanne. Like Michael Jordan was only a basketball player.

  All day he'd wondered what she'd wear tonight. Something easy to get out of, like the zippered jumpsuit? That would be very nice. Very nice indeed. Heart pounding, he opened the door.

  She looked gorgeous, as always, but so dressed, like a person going to a tree-trimming party where there would be dozens of guests. She wore two red sweaters, a coordinated thing that he'd heard his sister call a twin-set. Her skirt was black and short, and her suede boots were zipped up tight around her calves. She wore patterned black stockings. He suspected they were panty hose. He had a long-standing dislike of panty hose. When it came to seducing a woman, there was simply no dealing with them.

  He'd guess from the way the sweater combo draped her breasts that she'd worn a bra tonight, too. No easy access this time, although at least she'd left her hair down. Ah, well. Maybe she intended to make this a challenge. Or maybe, and this was a depressing thought, she intended to help him with the tree and then leave. He should have bought the wine, after all.

  She held a small red gift bag with green tissue paper sprouting out of the top. Although he'd considered kissing her when she first arrived, the protective way she held the gift bag with both hands in front of her didn't seem to invite that. He'd told himself to read her signals and work from there, to sure he didn't overpower the situation because he wanted her so much.

  "Hi," he said as casually as he could manage as he stepped back so she could come in. "How was the gym?"

  "Don't ask. I may be crippled for life." Her tone was light, but her manner was shy as she came into the room.

  The scent of roses came in with her, and one breath of that and he no longer cared how many clothes she had on, or whether she was clutching that bag like a talisman to ward off sex maniacs like him. He was ready to take the bag away from her and proceed to remove every stitch she had on. He'd heard somewhere that women liked to be ravished. It sounded like a plan.

  But he'd suggested the tree trimming, and if he could be rational for a moment, he really did want to have a chance to talk to her—just talk, so he could find out more about her. At least he thought he wanted to talk. That sweater material looked very, very soft, though, like cashmere. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to take those sweaters off. Now.

  After he closed the door she handed him the bag. "I ran out on my lunch hour and bought an ornament for your tree."

  He was stunned. "Thank you." He took the bag and opened it. She'd bought him a Christmas ornament. He wondered if she realized that by doing that, she'd guaranteed herself a place in his
life forever. His family always kept special ornaments from year to year and remembered where each one had come from.

  Unwrapping the tissue paper around the ornament, he discovered that it was a miniature book, a tiny version of The Night Before Christmas with a ribbon attached so it could be hung from a branch.

  "I wanted an ornament that would fit in with all your books," she said. "A symbol of all that reading."

  He glanced into her eyes and saw something he wasn't used to finding in a woman's gaze—intellectual interest. "This is great," he said with a smile. "And very flattering. But how do you know I don't keep all these books around just to impress women so I can convince them to sleep with me?"

  She regarded him steadily. "Do you?"

  "No."

  "I didn't think so." Her color was high, and there was a slight tremble in her voice.

  She was going to stay past the tree trimming. He knew it without a shadow of a doubt, and his heart beat faster. To hell with the tree. He could trim the damn thing tomorrow. There was no good reason to trim a Christmas tree when they could be—

  She broke away from his gaze and glanced over at the tree. "Looks like you're all set, here." She crossed to the pile of ornament boxes, garlands, tinsel and lights just as Matilda came out of the bedroom. "Oh, there you are, pretty girl! I was wondering when you'd come out."

  Crouching down, she stroked Matilda from stem to stern, exactly the way Matilda liked to be petted. The cat arched her back, obviously enjoying the caress. And all Greg could think about was the way Suzanne had started working on the top button of his jeans the night before and how willing she'd been to stroke him the way she was now stroking the cat.

  "There's something for Matilda in the bag, too," Suzanne said.

  Greg had thought the tissue paper in the bottom was for extra padding, but he dug around and pulled out a red-and-green catnip mouse. "Hey, she'll love this. But you should give it to her, so she knows it's from you."

  Suzanne glanced up with a smile. "Okay." She held out her hand.