Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas GiftThe Soldier's Holiday HomecomingSanta's Playbook

by Allison Leigh

  By the time crème brûlée was served—Althea’s favorite, just as the endive-and-frisée salad and the fancily presented lamb chops had been—Jane could hardly see straight.

  Casey recognized it, too. It wasn’t hard, given the way she was slumping farther and farther down in her chair as she reminisced about her former mother-in-law.

  “Shewasagreat, great lady.” Jane slurred slightly. She picked up her wineglass to emphasize her words, trying to enunciate and failing ridiculously. “When I’m gone, I’d like to think somebody says that about me.”

  “I’m sure they will.” He slid the glass out of her lax fingers. Most everyone was beginning to depart, except for her ex-husband and a few others. They were talking about the latest resort Stanton Development was planning.

  “Wha—?” She frowned at Casey, belatedly noticing what he’d done. She planted her index finger in the center of his chest. “I wasn’t finished with my wine.”

  “Trust me, sport. You’re finished.” He wrapped his hand around hers and kissed her knuckles. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

  Her lips parted. She blinked at him.

  Realizing what he’d done, he squeezed her fingers and managed a goading grin. “Who knew the bartender couldn’t hold her drink?”

  She pressed her lips together in a pout she’d regret if she ever remembered it. “I can, too.”

  He pulled her to her feet. Her bare feet, since she’d discarded her shoes somewhere beneath the floor-length tablecloth.

  “Whoops.” She wiggled her toes. “Missing somethin’.” She started to bend down and nearly lost her balance, butting her head accidentally into his ribs. “Whoa there, baby.”

  “That’s my line.” He steadied her. “I’ll get them.” Keeping one hand on her slender hip, he knelt down to fish out the shoes. They were shiny black leather with pointy toes, lethal heels and tiny little leather bows. “Lift.”

  She clamped her hand over her mouth, covering her giggle as she “helpfully” tried to push her toes into the shoe.

  He smiled despite himself and caught her ankle, holding it still so he could get her shoe in place.

  “Ouch.” She made a face when he was finally successful. “I hate high heels.” She stuck her other foot out, wriggling it around. Her toenails were painted a bright pink. “I’m sure they were created by some man.”

  He corralled that foot, too. “Why’s that?”

  “Jus’ ’cause women’s butts look better when they’re wearing high heels,” she muttered.

  He choked back a laugh. The shoes were sexy as hell. But her butt needed no assistance in the looking-perfect department. “Sweetheart, next time you’d better stop after two glasses.” He straightened and cautiously took his hand away from her hip.

  “You never call me sweetheart.” She turned toward the door, spotted Gage and aimed—listing a little sideways—toward him. The other man caught her up for a hug and eyed Casey over her head as if he were to blame for the fact that she was obviously tipsy.

  He’d take the blame. Particularly if it kept Gage from thinking he ought to see Janie to her room personally.

  He tugged her away from Gage and steered her out of the private dining room, down the corridor to the elevators. The doors slid open as soon as he pushed the call button, and he nudged her inside and pushed the top-floor button.

  The car started its ascent and she took a steadying step, bumping into him. “Stupid shoes,” she muttered.

  He scrubbed his hand down his face to keep from laughing. “Why’d you wear them if you hate them so much?”

  “’Cause that’s what you do when you wear a nice dress,” she said as if the reasoning were obvious. “If I wore flats, my ankles would look like tree stumps.”

  It was a lost cause. Laughter barked out of him. “Trust me, Janie. Your ankles will never look like tree stumps.”

  She smiled, then rubbed her eyes. “Contacts’re killin’ me.”

  “You can take them out as soon as we get you into your room,” he assured her. Which led him to the next issue. She wasn’t carrying a purse. “Where’s your room key?”

  She inhaled deeply, then reached into the purple fabric that crisscrossed over her breasts in a V that had distracted him all evening. “Ta-daa.” She pulled the key card out just as the elevator chimed.

  He took the card from her and steered her out of the elevator. The card was warm from having been tucked into her bra all evening. And when they reached her room, it didn’t work.

  He tried again.

  “I bet I demag—” she sighed and slid down onto her butt with her back against the wall “—netized it.”

  Being pressed against her breasts all night would have had the opposite effect on him.

  “Happens all the time.” She lifted her hands, palms upward, to display her unadorned wrists. “Don’t have good luck with watches either.”

  Trying not to look at her smooth legs, bared almost all the way up her thighs thanks to the way her dress had hiked up as she slid down the wall, he tried the card a last time with the same results. Which was to say no results at all.

  “Come on.” He wrapped his hands around hers to pull her to her feet again. “We’ll have to go down and get it reprogrammed.”

  She resisted his tug. “Can’t you go?”

  “I could. But I’d have no respect for the security in this place if they gave me a key to your room.” He pulled. “Come on, sport.”

  Grumbling, she made it to her feet and the hem of her dress slid back down toward her knees. “I’m never gonna wear high heels again.”

  “Not even with the dress you got for your date with Arlo?”

  She exhaled and leaned into him as they retraced their steps to the elevator. “Arlo. He’s a nice man.” She patted his shoulder. “Not like you.”

  He snorted. “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t mean you’re not nice.” She poked the call button with exaggerated care. “You came with me for Althea.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and peered up at him. “Why’d you do that, Casey? You can’t be running to Cee-Vid’s rescue when you’re here with me in Colorado.”

  God help him. “Because you were upset. And I didn’t want you to be alone.”

  The elevator doors slid open. “That’s why I kissed you,” she said. “That, uh, that other night.”

  As if he didn’t remember, exactly and with excruciating detail, the night in question.

  He stopped the doors from closing on them before they even had a chance to get on the elevator. “In you go.”

  She obediently stepped inside with only a slight totter. “’Cause you were upset. I didn’t know how else to help.”

  “You’re gonna croak when you think about this conversation tomorrow morning.”

  “Prob’ly.” She propped herself up in the back corner of the elevator. “You stopped ’cause you didn’t wan’ me to get pregnant.”

  “What?”

  The elevator lurched slightly as it halted on his floor and opened for a waiting couple.

  Casey waited until they’d boarded, then yanked Jane off the car before the doors closed again.

  “What’re you doing?”

  He latched his hand around her wrist and pulled her down the hall. His key card worked just fine, and he nudged her into his suite.

  Her jaw dropped a little as she moved farther into the suite, taking in the luxurious surroundings. “And I thought my room was nice.”

  He shut the door and dropped the key card on the foyer table and followed her. “I didn’t stop that night because I was afraid you’d get pregnant.”

  She twisted her hair off her neck and held it on top of her head as she worked her way around the living area with its shining glass coffee table, couch and chairs, toward the expan
sive window overlooking the city lights below and the Rockies beyond. It was a spectacular view.

  But it was the back of her slender neck that drew his eyes. He knew it was smooth. Soft. Warm.

  And whenever he kissed her there, she shivered.

  “You didn’t need to worry,” she said as if he’d never spoken. “I was still on the pill.”

  Was.

  “So things are moving that fast with good ol’ Arlo? You’re no longer taking your birth control now that you’re seeing him?” His hands curled into fists, hating the thought and knowing he didn’t have a hell of a lot of real estate on which to stand.

  She didn’t answer that. “What’s worse? A child in general, or havin’ one with me?”

  “I said that wasn’t the reason.”

  She turned to face him, dropping her twisted hair so that it unfurled past her shoulders and over her breasts into a messy golden curtain of loose curls. “Then what was?” Her voice rose. “You treated me like...like a—”

  “Dammit, Jane.” He cut her off, not wanting to hear her say it. “I was trying to do the right thing!” His tie was strangling him and he yanked it off and balled it in his fist. “I just found out two people I was responsible for were dead and I—”

  Her eyes rounded.

  He cursed a blue streak, throwing the tie across the room.

  “Cee-Vid people? From Weaver? Why didn’t I hear anything about—?”

  “Not from Weaver.” He shoved his hands through his hair. He hadn’t had anywhere near enough to drink to blame his lapse on it.

  “They worked at another location? Was there an accident or—?”

  “Yeah. There was an accident. And I don’t want to talk about it now any more than I did that night you came to my house. Are you sleeping with Arlo or not?”

  Her lips rounded into a silent O. “That’s not really any of your business, is it?” she said after a tight moment.

  The effects from the wine she’d consumed were obviously waning.

  Rapidly.

  “It is when you throw yourself at me.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Throw myself at you?” She reached out and shoved his chest with both hands. “Get out of my way.” He circled her wrists with his hands, easily stopping her attempts, even when she went from shoving to trying to pull away. “Let me go!”

  “You don’t get to call all the shots all the time, Janie.” He squeezed her wrists for emphasis. “You don’t come into my house, kissing me when you’re making dates with someone else.”

  “I was trying to comfort you!” She yanked, to no avail. “How’s that any different than you bringing me here for Althea’s service?”

  “You’ve still got your panties on, for one thing.”

  He regretted the words as soon as he said them.

  Her face went red.

  Then white.

  When she yanked away this time, he let her go.

  “I don’t know who you are,” she said in a hoarse voice, then turned and walked out of the suite, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Chapter Nine

  Jane rode the Cee-Vid plane back to Weaver alone.

  After the debacle with Casey the night before, she’d been glad that morning when she’d found the note he’d slid beneath her hotel room door.

  “Take the jet,” he’d scrawled on the sheet of hotel stationery in black ink. “I’m sorry.”

  She’d crumpled the note in her fist and tossed it in the pretty little trash can in the hotel bathroom.

  Only to retrieve it an hour later, smooth it out and read it again.

  As if the five words would have changed any while she’d showered and pretended it was getting shampoo in her eyes that made them water so.

  “We’ll be landing in about ten minutes, Ms. Cohen.” Tim from the day before had been replaced by Steven, who was equally spit-shined, dressed identically and had obviously been made aware that Jane was traveling alone for the return route to Weaver. He was polite and friendly, offering her choice of water or coffee and serving a platter of fresh fruit.

  “Thanks, Steven.” She pinched her fingers along the folded edge of the note she was holding and watched him take away the untouched fruit plate. A moment later, he was back behind the cockpit door.

  She unfolded the note. The words were the same. The wrinkles from crumpling it earlier were still evident.

  She didn’t know how Casey was getting back to Weaver.

  She told herself she didn’t care.

  She folded the note again, turned her chair and stared blindly out the window.

  Ten minutes later, they were on the ground.

  She’d thought she’d need to call someone to pick her up, since Casey had insisted on collecting her from her condo the day before. But when they landed and Steven appeared again to open the outer door and let down the stairs, he handed her a set of keys. “Mr. Clay said to use his truck.”

  She automatically closed her fingers around the keys.

  She had no desire to drive Casey’s truck home.

  It would mean he’d have to retrieve it from her at some point.

  “He’ll send someone to get it later today,” Steven added.

  Which solved that dilemma.

  So why did knowing that Casey had covered every detail make her feel so empty inside?

  “Thanks, Steven.” She hitched the tote bag strap over her shoulder and stepped out of the plane.

  The weather was a little warmer than it had been in Denver, which had been overcast when the plane had taken off. Here the sky was clear. The sun promised a perfect autumn day.

  Too bad she was in no mood to appreciate it.

  She descended the steps, went over to Casey’s truck parked next to the little building and drove to Colbys.

  It was Friday. She had work to do.

  Casey could pick up his truck from there.

  She didn’t want there to be any reason left for him to come to her condo.

  It wasn’t yet noon. The grill at Colbys was already open, though Ruby’s just down the street had a lock on most of the breakfast business downtown. The bar side was dark. She flipped on the lights and left Casey’s keys sitting on the end of the bar.

  She could have left them inside his truck. Lots of people did that in Weaver. She was guilty of doing it herself. But she had no idea when he was going to have it picked up or where, and if his disreputable truck was going to be stolen, it wouldn’t be on her watch.

  The money from the bar and grill’s take the night before was in the safe. She paged through the receipts, then took the cash and walked down the street to the bank.

  “Hey, Jane.” Alberta, the middle-aged teller who’d worked at the bank since Jane had moved to Weaver, was at her usual spot behind the teller’s cage when Jane handed over the deposit. “Sorry to hear about your former mother-in-law.”

  She swallowed her surprise. She should have known her personal business would get around town quickly when she’d made no effort to hide it. “Thank you.”

  “Hear you and Casey Clay are an item now,” Alberta went on, smiling slyly. “He’s a fine catch. All of those Clay boys are.”

  Jane’s face felt frozen. “We’re just friends,” she said dismissively. Not even that. Not after the things they’d said to one another the night before.

  “That’s what they all say,” Alberta assured her. Her eyes twinkled as she ran Jane’s cash through the counting machine. “Morning, Dori,” she greeted the next customer who’d entered the bank behind Jane. “How’s Howard doing today?”

  The older heavyset woman with red sausage curls joined Jane at the counter in front of the other window, which was tended by a girl Jane didn’t know. “Ornery as ever. Spraining his ankle thinking he�
�s still young enough to play football with his grandkids just makes him more so.” She looked at the teller in front of her. “You’re new,” she greeted. “I want to cash this check. Give me only fives. And crisp new ones, too.”

  Jane hid a smile. She knew the five-dollar bills were for Dori’s grandkids, who did chores for her every weekend. She also knew that Howard was the widower who lived next door to Dori and, rumor had it, figured they ought to be living together under the same roof but wasn’t willing to marry her to bring that about. The quasi couple ate in the grill often but rarely came across to the bar.

  The counting machine had finished and Alberta handed Jane her deposit receipt. “I was beginning to wonder if Casey would be all work and no play,” she said without missing a stroke. “It’s never good when a young man like that ignores romance for too long.”

  Jane barely kept from cringing. “We’re not a couple.”

  “Sure.” Alberta was obviously unconvinced. “Same as Dori there and Howard aren’t a couple. Everyone’s talking about how Casey stood by, comfortin’ you in your time of need. Going to Montana with you ’n’ all.”

  “Colorado,” Jane corrected her. Hyperactive or not, Weaver’s grapevine was obviously prone to inaccuracies.

  Alberta waved off the detail as unimportant. “Point is, sweetie, he went. Men don’t do that for a girl they’re just—” she sketched a pair of air quotes “‘—friends’ with.” She reached into her drawer and pulled out a flyer that she handed to Jane. “Got a shredder truck coming over next week from Braden, if you need any personal stuff shredded. Bank’s sponsoring up to four boxes a person for free. You mind putting that flyer up at Colbys?”

  “Happy to.” She was desperately glad for the change of topic. “If you give me another one, I’ll be able to put one up by both entrances.”

  Alberta beamed and handed over the second flyer. “You tell that nice boy to behave, now, you hear?”

  Jane managed a weak smile and left the bank with indecent haste.

  Back at Colbys, she taped up the flyers in the window by the grill entrance and on the back of the door of the bar. Both spots already held a collection of other community announcements. She automatically checked to make sure none of them were out of date, then went back into her office.