Christmas Steele, A Lacy Steele Mystery Bonus Novella

by Vanessa Bartal

  Chapter 5

  Jason’s comment about Christmas reminded Lacy of the beautiful locket she had received. Thinking of the intimate inscription was enough to warm her cheeks, even though his car was freezing. What was the tactful way to ask someone if he had bought a locket declaring his love?

  “Have you finished your Christmas shopping?” she tried.

  “Who do I have to buy for? Except you, I guess,” he added thoughtfully, almost as an afterthought.

  Lacy frowned. Did that mean he had bought for her or still needed to? Her mind reacted to that question with a panicked tangent. She needed to buy him a present. What on earth was she going to buy for him?

  “What do you want for Christmas, Jason?” she asked.

  “World peace,” he replied, flashing her a grin before returning his eyes to the road.

  “No, really,” she pressed.

  “A night off and a whole lot of sleep,” he said, sounding weary.

  She reached over, resting her hand on his leg. “You’re tired,” she said, her voice oozing sympathy.

  “Nothing gets by you, Red,” he said, though he laid his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze. The warmth and roughness of his palm distracted her again, causing her to wonder of she had some specialized from of ADD, triggered by being near a lot of testosterone. Why was it every time she got within ten feet of Jason Cantor she couldn’t think straight? He wasn’t that sexy.

  She turned to study him as he drove. Though he was only twenty six, she could pick out the occasional silver strand scattered throughout his dark hair. His lashes were thick and long, bending upward as if he had curled them. She couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, but she didn’t have to look at them to know they were an intriguing kaleidoscope of colors, predominantly green and blue with flecks of gold and brown. His lips were so lush they appeared stuck in a perpetual pout, and he always had an alluring crop of stubble on his cheeks and chin. Who was she kidding? He was beautiful.

  “You’re staring,” he said, not taking his eyes from the road. “Why are you staring?”

  “Because you’re pretty,” she answered honestly.

  He grimaced. “Pretty? Can’t you pick another adjective?”

  “Yes, Jason, please let me give an ode to your glaring good looks,” she said sarcastically.

  “Maybe if you did, I might reciprocate,” he said stroking his thumb gently along her hand.

  “No, thank you,” Lacy said, though she was dying of curiosity to know exactly what Jason thought of her appearance. She assumed he found her attractive because why else would he occasionally kiss her? But he had never come right out and said how he felt about her looks, or anything else for that matter. Maybe that should be her Christmas present. She almost worked up the nerve to ask for an honest assessment of their relationship, and then she remembered he would probably seek reciprocation. Lacy definitely didn’t want to be honest about her feelings for him, not even with herself.

  “Hey, you passed the coffee shop,” she said, turning to glance at it through the back window.

  “Like I said, nothing gets by you, Red,” Jason said. “I thought we could have coffee at my house. It’s more private.”

  It was funny how three little words could make her mouth go dry and the bottom drop out of her stomach. It’s more private. Was he inviting her for coffee or coffee? If so, would she refuse either? She tried to remember the last time she and Jason had kissed. Each time it happened, she vowed it would be the last, but then she found herself giving in to the moment and kissing him again. It would help her resolve if he wasn’t so good at it.

  “Is that okay? I haven’t seen you in two weeks.” He lifted her hand and kissed it.

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak in case her voice shook.

  They finished the short drive in silence, though Jason kept hold of her hand. She carried the grocery sack, following him as he let her into his house. Turning on lights as he went, he led her to the kitchen.

  “Want me to make the coffee?” she offered.

  “I’m not sure how to politely decline without offending you, so I’ll just say no.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because I taught you how to make coffee. You haven’t had enough practice, and I’m picky about my coffee.”

  “What aren’t you picky about?” she muttered. He was a neat-freak, health-food-loving perfectionist as far as she was concerned.

  “Women,” he replied, giving her the heart-stopping devilish smile he used whenever he was teasing her.

  “How could you be picky when you cycle through so many?” she asked. “There are only so many women in the world.”

  “Jealousy suits you,” he said.

  “I am not jealous,” Lacy lied.

  “I don’t know where you think I meet all these mythical women, or when you think I have time to go out with them. I told you I’ve been working nonstop the last two weeks.”

  “You weren’t working the night of the FOP banquet,” she said, biting her tongue for bringing it up when his smug smile returned.

  “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? It’s driving you crazy trying to figure out who my date was.”

  “No, it’s not,” Lacy lied again. “Have I asked about her? No. What you do is your business. We’re not together.”

  “You’ve made that clear on a number of occasions,” he said. “What about you?” The coffee began to brew. He turned to face her, resting his hips against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “What were you doing there that night with him dressed like that?”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “Like it was a real date. I thought you said you and he are just friends.”

  “We are,” Lacy insisted.

  “Then why were you dressed that way?”

  “What way?” she asked, exasperated with the line of questioning.

  “Sexy,” he said. “Do you always dress that way when you go out with a pastor?”

  “Who was your date?” she countered.

  They stood facing each other in a silent standoff, each one waiting for the other to blink first. Finally Jason’s face split into a slow smile. “What’s wrong with me that I’ve missed this?” he said. Grasping her hand, he pulled her close against his chest, letting go of her hand to wrap his arms around her waist.

  “Tell me what’s between you two, and I’ll tell you who my date was,” Jason said, his lips tantalizingly close to Lacy’s mouth.

  “I’ve already told you what’s between us. We’re friends.”

  “I don’t think I believe you,” Jason murmured. “I think there’s something more there.”

  “Who was your date?” she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck until her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer.

  “Later,” he said, and then he kissed her.

  Being kissed by Jason always made Lacy feel like she was a patch of prairie grass being consumed by wildfire. There was never any buildup, just an explosion of sensation so that she became oblivious to the world around her. That was why it took a while for the beeping noise to register, though Jason didn’t notice it, either. Reluctantly, Lacy pulled away.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know; it’s like that every time I kiss you,” Jason replied, sounding as shaky as Lacy felt.

  She laughed, clearing some of the haze from her mind. “I meant that beeping sound. What is it?”

  Jason frowned, straightening. “The coffee’s done.”

  “It beeps to let you know it’s ready?” she asked.

  “It’s European,” he said, as if that explained everything. He poured two mugs of coffee, either remembering that she took hers black or forgetting to ask if she took it any other way. She watched in amusement while he dosed his mug with liberal amounts of cream and sugar.

  “Why are you laughing at me?” he asked.

  “It’s always a little funny to see Mr. Supercop add
a half cup of sugar to his coffee.”

  “The oddest things amuse you,” he said.

  Lacy thought Tosh would’ve gotten the joke, but she didn’t say as much. She was careful not to mention one in the other’s presence because they tended to become irrationally upset.

  Jason led the way into his living room, amusing her again when he supplied a coaster for her coffee.

  “What’s funny about not liking water rings on my nice wooden furniture?” he asked.

  “Nothing at all,” Lacy said. She was glad he wasn’t a slob; she simply found it funny that he was often so different from her expectations. Most of the time he acted more like a fussy old woman than a robust young bachelor. Not that she would tell him.

  “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” he asked, eying the distance between them. “Come here.” He half lifted and half dragged her closer until her legs were draped over his and his arms were around her. “Where did we leave off in the kitchen?”

  “You were telling me about your date from the FOP banquet,” she prompted, smiling when he gave her a squeeze.

  “I don’t think that was where we left off,” he said.

  “I’m pretty sure it was,” Lacy said. She didn’t want to spend the evening in a makeout session that would get them no closer to resolving the issues between them and might instead lead them somewhere they shouldn’t go.

  “You are the queen of mixed signals, you know that?” he asked, though he didn’t sound angry. He traced his finger gently over her face. “You say you don’t want to be with me, and then you kiss me like you just kissed me, and it confuses me.”

  “You know how it is, Jason.” She began slowly tracing his face, too. Not because she wanted to reciprocate the gentle touch but because she so badly wanted to touch him, to absorb as much of him as she could. How was it possible to want something and not want something so much and all at the same time?

  “I’d like to meet the guy who did a number on you. I think he and I could spend an interesting afternoon together,” he said. His angry tone belied his relaxed expression. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the couch, a gentle half-smile on his lips. “That feels good,” he added in a soft whisper.

  “Don’t pretend it’s all me,” Lacy said. “You’re afraid of commitment, too.”

  “Not afraid,” he said, so sleepy he almost sounded punch drunk. “Terrified.”

  Lacy smiled and didn’t reply as her finger kept up its slow journey on the contours of his face. Not more than a minute later, he was snoring. She stopped her exploration of his features and rested her head on the couch, studying him. He really was beautiful, but he wasn’t hers, not really. They were friends who walked the line of a tricky impasse, occasionally dipping their toes in forbidden waters but never going in more than ankle deep. Someday he would meet someone he couldn’t live without, and he would fall in love. Someday Lacy would be ready to move on from Robert’s cruel treatment, and she would find someone, too. But it wouldn’t be Jason; that much she knew. They were too different to get along on any long term basis.

  Suddenly she was fighting back the urge to cry. Swallowing hard, she tried to clear her melancholy thoughts. Christmas was really doing a number on her this year if it was making her this emotional. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, pinching back the tears that wanted to find release. She would not cry on the couch at Jason’s house like some sort of crazy person. She would go home and eat prune cake and cry in front of infomercials like normal people did.

  She stood, taking a sip of her now-tepid coffee. It really was good. She took a sip of Jason’s and stuck out her tongue, nearly gagging at the cloyingly sweet taste of cream and sugar. Why did he care how his coffee was brewed if it only served as a conveyance for other things? She shook her head; she would never understand him.

  After clearing their mugs and rinsing them in the sink, she returned to the living room to find Jason still asleep. Poor guy, she thought, conjuring the mental image of him working all hours so people with wives and children could have the time off.

  “You’re as sweet as you are beautiful,” she whispered, knowing she would never be able to get away with such a statement while he was awake. He liked to think of himself as a tough guy, but he wasn’t.

  Lacy covered him with the afghan—noting as she did so that it was hand knit. Who had knit him an afghan? She had a hard time picturing any of the girls he dated being that domestic, but had no idea who else would have done such a thing. He wasn’t close to his family. That was how it went with Jason, though. He always invited more questions than answers.

  After assuring herself that he was properly covered, she leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips, backing away when he stirred slightly and reached for her. Waking him mid-kiss would be a very bad idea, indeed. With his defenses so low, they could get into some real trouble.

  She turned out all the lights, grabbed her powdered sugar, and let herself out, securing the door behind her. Then she picked up the pace and jogged home, vowing to bypass the prune cake when she arrived.