THE NIGHTS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

by Vicky Lewis Thompson

  As a compromise, she left her bedroom door open. She even left the bathroom door open as she walked in with her clothes pressed against her body. Then she caught sight of herself looking like a virgin who had been ravished within an inch of her life, and she had to grin at her modesty, all things considered.

  First she'd propositioned the guy and then suggested something pretty radical—for her, at least. She'd liked it, too. Liked it a lot. After such a wild adventure, she ought to be ready to parade around naked in front of Greg without a second thought. But she wasn't. Maybe with his accepting attitude she might eventually feel free enough to do that, but not yet.

  Shaking out her clothes, she lay them over the vanity, grabbed a scrunchie from the drawer under the sink and pulled her tousled hair back before turning on the shower. She didn't spend much time under the spray, but she was aware as she ran a soapy washcloth quickly over her body that she'd never felt so alive. Yes, her thighs were still sore from her gym session, but she'd forgotten all about that in the heat of the moment.

  Greg's loving was part of the reason that she felt so vibrant, but she suspected there was more going on than that. Taking the initiative as she had with this relationship had given her the sort of adrenaline rush that she imagined skydivers experienced when they leaped from a plane. She was beginning to like taking risks.

  Or maybe she liked taking them with Greg, she thought as she toweled off and rubbed lotion on her body. Craving Greg on a regular basis could be dangerous, but his all-out style of loving and his tenderness afterward didn't inspire her to caution. No matter how often she told herself that he would walk away soon, she had a hard time believing it. He acted like a guy who was becoming involved with her. Very involved.

  Maybe he had that effect on all the women he slept with, and was totally unaware that he gave the impression that he was falling in love. Even casual comments led her to believe it, like when he mentioned that he couldn't imagine walking around naked outdoors unless she happened to be the only person there. That sounded like a man who was starting to think in exclusive terms.

  Or maybe he was loose with words. As she pulled on her clothes, she reminded herself that this affair had begun because she'd gone down to his apartment and asked him for exactly that. All he was doing was satisfying her request.

  Yet she hadn't asked him to take her out tonight. She was puzzled that he'd decided to do that after she'd warned him that she might be going overboard emotionally. She'd given him the perfect out with her little goodbye speech, and he hadn't taken it.

  Thank goodness he hadn't. She hated to think that she'd almost missed out on one of the most exciting lovemaking episodes of her life. She quickly reapplied her makeup and brushed her hair until it shone. Everything was back together except for putting on her snow boots, which she'd left out in the living room.

  With a sense of anticipation, she walked into the living room, only to find it empty. "Greg?"

  "In here." His voice came from the kitchen.

  Padding into the kitchen in her socks, she found him using a small screwdriver attached to his key ring to tighten her paper-towel holder. In the midst of all the excitement, he hadn't forgotten that it had been loose the other night when he'd been here.

  "Ready?" he asked, his back to her as he twisted the screw a couple of times more.

  "Uh-huh." She gazed at the pattern his hair made as it swirled to a vee at his nape. She admired the broad expanse of his shoulders under the green plaid shirt and the sexy angle of his hips as he leaned against the counter. She was ready, all right—ready to make love to him again.

  But she was also ready for more than that. She'd always imagined that her future husband would turn out to be somebody like Jared, someone in the financial world who worked downtown and lived the same kind of high-stress life that she did. She knew couples like that, two people who kept track of each other through pagers and cell phones. They seemed happy with the pace, maybe even thrived on it.

  "I'll be done in a sec. This other one's loose, too." Greg shifted the small screwdriver to the other end of the bracket.

  As she watched him work, she thought of how soothing it would be to come home at the end of a frantic day and find a man like Greg waiting for her. Because he wasn't caught up in the rat race, he could provide a refuge from it. Her throat tightened with longing.

  According to Terri, Greg wasn't interested in settling down. Terri was convinced that he'd created the perfect bachelor existence in this apartment building full of needy women, and would probably laugh if anybody suggested he change his circumstances. Suzanne kept trying to fit the Greg she knew into that picture, but she wasn't having any luck. He didn't act like a Casanova. He acted like a forever kind of guy.

  "That does it." He turned and his gaze swept over her. "You look great. I really do love that sweater."

  She glanced down at the bright patterns woven into the wool. Then she decided to take a risk. "I guess this would be the right thing to wear if you were spending the weekend at a cottage in Wisconsin," she said.

  He didn't blink and grow pale, as a cornered Casanova might. Instead, he met her gaze. "Exactly," he said.

  Warmth traveled through her. Either she was a lousy judge of people, or Greg was really and truly interested.

  "And now we need to get out of here." He took her by the arm and steered her toward the living room. "Otherwise, I'm liable to take that great-looking sweater off you again, and we might never leave."

  * * *

  Two hours later, Greg was having a terrific time, and his heart was brimming with hope that his instincts about Suzanne hadn't been wrong. Even the bus ride over to Jerry's had been fun. They'd found a seat in the back and snuggled like a couple of love-struck high-school kids while they looked out at the Christmas lights along the way.

  Jerry's was crowded with the darts tournament regulars, and the little pub seemed even cozier than normal with all its Christmas decorations. His friends had greeted Suzanne with warmth and carefully controlled curiosity. They might well be curious since he'd never brought a date here. Even Rachel, bless her heart, had been nice to Suzanne.

  Suzanne had responded exactly the way he'd hoped she would. If the bad grammar and unsophisticated conversation bothered her, she gave no indication. She ate hot dogs and drank beer with obvious enjoyment. At one point she'd ended up with a cute little foam mustache and he'd barely kept himself from kissing it away. Then he'd watched with rapt attention and growing arousal while she licked it off.

  Now the darts tournament was in full swing, and Suzanne was guaranteed to come in dead last. She didn't seem to care. Laughing, she heaved another dart at the board and completely missed the target. His friends were really razzing her, too, pretending to crawl under the tables when it was her turn so they'd be safe.

  "You like her a lot, huh?" Rachel said softly, coming up next to him with a mug of beer in her hand.

  Greg glanced into Rachel's brown eyes and saw no animosity there. She was a class act. "Yeah, I do. But you know, I'm sorry that—"

  She laid a finger against his mouth. "Never mind." She stroked his cheek. "I had my doubts all along, but I tried to force it because you're such a great catch."

  "I'm not so sure about that."

  "I am. And so is she. You make a cute couple. Invite me to the wedding." With a smile, Rachel left before Greg could protest that he and Suzanne were miles away from getting married.

  Of course they were. Miles away. And yet every time he looked at Suzanne he became more convinced that he wanted to share his life with her. She seemed to be moving in that same direction.

  He'd been encouraged by the delight in her eyes when she found him fixing her paper-towel rack. Unless he missed his guess, she'd enjoyed having him perform that little domestic chore. Maybe she was beginning to think that she didn't want a guy who went to work wearing a suit and tie. Maybe she fancied herself hooked up with a handyman.

  But they needed to have a conversation about his
job situation before he focused too intently on the sound of wedding bells. She still could be planning to remodel him into the man she thought he could be. In his experience, women couldn't seem to resist that urge.

  "Greg!" Murph, one of his buddies who drove a delivery truck, called over to him. "You're up, champ. Let's see if you've still got it."

  As it turned out, his aim was off tonight. He should have known it would be. Instead of concentrating on the dart game, he was thinking about impressing Suzanne. She seemed to be impressed anyway, which felt damn good.

  He'd been eager to bring her here, but now that he could see that she fit right in, he was just as eager to get her back to the apartment. They had some talking to do. Among other things. Imagining those other things, he threw a dart into the wall, missing the target even worse than she had.

  Later, as they were finally saying their goodbyes and heading out of the pub, Murph grabbed a moment when Suzanne was talking to one of the other women. Throwing an arm around Greg's shoulders, he took him aside.

  "She's hell on your dart game, but I like her," Murph said "This one s a keeper."

  "I'm glad you think so," Greg said carefully. "But we're just friends."

  "Rachel doesn't think so," Murph said. "And neither do I. Oh, and just so you know, since you seem to have backed off with Rach, I'm moving in."

  "That's terrific." Greg smiled at his friend. "She's a wonderful woman. We just didn't have the right combination. I hope it works out for you two."

  "I have a feeling it might. We've been friends for years. Thought we'd try getting a little more friendly." He glanced toward the door. "I think your lady is ready to go. Seriously, I'd try to hang on to this one. She suits you. She's smart, like you."

  Greg tried to brush that remark aside, but Murph held up one big hand. "Listen, everybody knows you're some sort of brainiac. We all kind of like it. Keeps us on our toes. Now take off, before she finds somebody she likes better and leaves with him, instead."

  Outside, snow was coming down and the wind had picked up. Greg glanced at Suzanne. "Let's go back inside and I'll call a cab."

  "Oh, don't be silly." She grabbed his arm and tugged in the direction of the bus stop about a half block away. "The bus is fine."

  He resisted. "I can afford a cab, Suzanne."

  She stopped and gazed up at him. She'd pulled up the hood on her wool coat and she looked adorable. "I know you can," she said, her breath making clouds in the air. "But I'll tell you a secret. Cabs remind me of the kind of dates I used to have, where we'd go to the trendiest restaurants and eat whatever ethnic food was in that week, and then take another cab to some hot nightspot so that we could see and be seen by the right people."

  He forgot the wind and the snow and the cold. Nothing mattered but the look in her eyes as she told him exactly what he wanted to hear. "You won't get a night like that out of me."

  "I know, and that's what makes you so special."

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, kissed her so thoroughly that her hood fell back. Their kiss was so hot that he wouldn't have been surprised to see that they'd melted the ice on the sidewalk where they were standing. No telling how long he might have kept it up, but he heard the airbrake release on the city bus.

  Breaking the kiss, he grabbed Suzanne's hand and yelled at the bus driver as he started to run. The driver waited, and they boarded a nearly empty bus.

  "You two might want to move to the back seat," the driver said, glancing at them with amusement as he closed the doors with a slap of rubber molding.

  Greg recognized him. Stan was a regular on this run. "Thanks for waiting."

  "Not a problem." He grinned. "After all, it's Christmas."

  It sure did feel like Christmas, Greg thought as he kept a steadying hand on Suzanne's shoulder during their lurching progress to the back of the moving bus. Christmas hadn't felt this special since the year he'd turned nine and Santa had brought him a silver and black motocross bike.

  At last he and Suzanne settled into the seat and he pulled her close. "Cold?"

  She snuggled against him and turned her face up to his. Her cheeks were bright pink from the wind. "How could I be with a guy like you around?"

  "Glad to be of service."

  She gazed at him. "Now that we're alone, will you tell me about Rachel?"

  His heart leaped with happiness at the knowledge that his dealings with other women mattered to her. If she had no stake in their relationship, other women wouldn't matter a bit. "Sure," he said. "I'll tell you about Rachel. What do you want to know?"

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  «^»

  What Suzanne really wanted to know was how many women Greg had been involved with recently. The apartment-building ladies alone should have kept him plenty busy, judging from the way Terri had explained things. Now Suzanne had met another woman who felt comfortable touching Greg's mouth and stroking his cheek, signals that Suzanne took to mean they'd been intimate. Suzanne was beginning to think she'd been lucky to find a vacant spot in Greg's packed schedule.

  "Rachel's a wonderful person." Greg combed his fingers through Suzanne's windblown hair as he talked.

  She had to suppress her jealousy. She didn't want to hear that, even if she suspected it was true. "I can see she is."

  "We were both involved in the darts tournament every week, and we became friends," Greg continued. "About six months ago, we made the mistake of taking it beyond that, and we both knew pretty quickly that we shouldn't have."

  Suzanne wasn't sure that Rachel had known all that quickly. Rachel still seemed quite fond of Greg. Way too fond. "You don't have to answer this if you don't want to," she said, aware that she might be invading his personal space. "But she seemed very nice, and I think she still likes you … a lot. So why wouldn't it work?"

  "It's my fault." Greg settled a little farther back in the seat, bringing Suzanne with him. Then he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead before settling his cheek on the top of her head. "Rachel's great, but after we finished … well, after all was said and done, we had nothing to talk about."

  "Oh." She didn't like having him confirm, however subtly, that he'd slept with Rachel, but even more amazing was his reason for discontinuing that activity. It was the exact reason Terri had given for why Suzanne wouldn't want a permanent relationship with Greg. How ironic.

  "I found out that being able to talk to a woman is actually more important to me than … other things."

  Suzanne gave a little murmur of agreement. Well, that certainly explained his activities in the apartment building, where he could find a slew of good conversationalists. How strange that none of them had been able to see past his job and realize that he was as intelligent and well read as they were.

  "Any more questions?" he asked.

  She had dozens of questions, but she was afraid to ask them. She wondered if he'd taken any of the other women at the apartment to Jerry's for hot dogs, beer and darts. She wondered if her time with him had a limit, and how she'd know when they'd reached it. And most of all, she wondered if this love affair was different, more special, than the many others he'd had.

  It certainly was special for her, but she didn't have his vast experience. Maybe this heady excitement and daring sense of adventure were commonplace for him. And maybe the cozy security she felt in his arms, a sense of belonging that she'd never known before with any man, was an illusion.

  "You're being awfully quiet," Greg said. "Are you sure you don't have any more questions?"

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to work up the courage to say what was on her mind. But if she broached the subject and discovered that she was as temporary a lover as all the others had been, then she'd have to end their relationship tonight. She couldn't make love to him again knowing that she would be replaced soon.

  She'd already allowed her heart to become too involved as it was. Come to think of it, if he planned to end their affair she'd probably have to move to another apartment
building. Living where he did and knowing he was taking some other tenant to bed would be torture beyond endurance.

  "I know something's bothering you," he said. "Let me guess what it is."

  No, she didn't want to have this conversation now. She was selfish enough to yearn for one more glorious night of lovemaking before they talked about this. "Nothing's bothering me." She shifted her position in order to look into his eyes as she laid her hand on his thigh. "Except that this bus ride seems longer going home than it did getting there."

  Desire flared in his eyes. "True." He closed his hand over hers and squeezed it against his thigh. "But before we finish this very long bus ride, I think we need to get something out in the open."

  "No, we don't." She tried to move her hand higher.

  His grip tightened. "Yes, we do. Don't you want to know—"

  "Nope. Don't ask, don't tell. That's my philosophy."

  "Come on, Suzanne. You have to be curious as to why I'm a janitor."

  "What?"

  "You've seen all the books, and I even admitted reading most of them. You have to be wondering why I don't finish college at the least, or go out and get a better paying, more prestigious job at the most."

  She stared at him. Of all the things she was curious about, that was at the bottom of the list. In fact, one of his most appealing qualities was his lack of pretension. If he found satisfaction in his job, which left him the leisure to explore all kinds of subjects on his own, she thought that was fine.

  "Did I guess?" he asked quietly.

  "No." But she'd seen the change in his expression. This was a loaded subject for him, apparently. "No, you didn't even come close," she said. "But I have a strong feeling that somebody you cared about disapproved of your choices. So that's the question I'd like to ask. Who was she?"

  At first he looked too shocked to reply. Then a distinct wariness appeared in his green eyes. His guard was definitely up.

  "Okay. You don't have to tell me." Of the various secrets he was keeping—his cat, his extensive library and his extracurricular activities with the female tenants—this might be the biggest one, the one he was least likely to part with and the most critical to figuring him out But she wasn't about to force it out of him.