When he'd asked Elizabeth what they should do next, baking was the last thing on his mind. From the look in her eyes, it wasn't her first thought either. Yet he had given her the option of picking the next Christmas tradition they should share. He couldn't back out of it now; even if he did hate cookies. He wondered if she remembered that and had chosen this as a punishment. He knew she agreed to his plan so she could turn the tables on him. Was this her way of doing it? It wasn't going to work. He loved her too much. Being in her company, even if she tried things he hated, was better than spending his days and nights without her.
His mother had made sugar cookies and they seemed to act like a homing device for Elizabeth whenever the oven was lit. Tonight he'd spend the evening with cookie dough on his hands letting Elizabeth instruct him on what to do with the sprinkles or any of the other items she'd had him buy. She'd given him a list of the things they'd need and he'd come from the grocery store with six bags of ingredients. He hoped he had enough.
Glancing at the clock, he knew Elizabeth would be here any moment. She'd always been prompt. He'd better at least get the sugar off the floor and the counter back to a presentable state.
The doorbell pealed before he finished. Hastily he dumped the grains into the trash. Then dropped the dust pan and broom into the closet and started for the door. At the archway where he'd kissed her he stopped. His heart was beating wildly. Taking a deep breath he waited a moment. He'd been nervous since hearing her voice on the other end of the phone this afternoon, when she'd itemized the things they'd need. After that there was no way he could concentrate on futures, the Dow Jones Index or whether the NASDAQ was up or down. His thoughts were on his beautiful, brown, baby.
The bell rang again, starling him from his reverie.
"Hi," she said with a smile.
It was the old smile. The one that did strange things to his heart. James couldn't do more than grin. The wind was blowing hard. Elizabeth was wrapped in a fur coat and hat. Only her face showed, framed by the dark fur. Her eyes were dancing and her mouth was red and kissable. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and indulge in the urge at the forefront of his mind. He stood back and let her in. Helping her with the heavy coat, he stood close enough to smell the sensuous scent that was hers alone. His body grew warm, a prelude to the familiar reaction he had whenever he thought of her. With her so close he'd have to be careful. Turning away, he took extra time hanging the coat in the closet.
"Did you get everything?" she asked.
"I found everything on the list."
"Good," she said. "Shall we begin?"
James took her arm as she turned toward the archway. Her eyes weren't just dancing, they were brilliant as if she had a secret and was dying to tell it. "Can't we have a drink first?"
"Of course."
Her smile was so radiant; James couldn't help but be suspicious. She'd been so reluctant to decorate the tree, now she seemed to have done a complete reversal. Something was not as it seemed.
He went into the great-room, Elizabeth following him. At the bar he watched her as he poured glasses of white wine. She pulled off the fur hat and used her fingers to pick the short curls. The act was so simple, yet fire alarms were going off inside James. He had to convince her how much he loved her, how much she loved him. He couldn't tell her everything she thought he'd done in the past was Claire's doing. He wanted her to trust him enough to know he would never have done anything to hurt her. Last night decorating the tree he felt he'd broken a little of the ice she had around her heart. Tonight he was going to have to turn the tables and let her know he knew where her ploy was going.
Elizabeth dropped down on the padded bar stool and took the glass James offered.
"You're especially happy tonight," he said. "Something happen?"
Elizabeth took a sip. She was bubbling over with happiness. Something wonderful must have happened to her.
"I got a release today," she paused.
James waited. "A release from what?" he asked after a long moment. He knew it had to be something spectacular. She had a client list that read like a Who's Who in Washington society, but Elizabeth was proud when she did something for people who had little power behind them.
"Not from what. For what." She grinned and took another sip. "The Department of Interior gave permission today for the air show I've been planning."
James came around the bar. "Tell me about it?"
"Three hundred hot air balloonist are going to fly children over the Mall area on the fourth of July. They'll take off and tour the monuments and Rock Creek Park, then land in RFK Stadium. The children will love it."
Elizabeth sat forward on the stool. Her body was poised with an excitement he hadn't seen in years. She glowed with the happiness reserved for children on Christmas morning.
"The balloonists are donating their time to help the Children's Fund." She stood up leaving her glass on the bar. "You'll love it, James. It's going to be a perfect day for a child."
James recognized Elizabeth's favorite charity. He also heard the excitement in her voice include him in her future plans. He wondered if she knew she'd done it, if it were an unconscious slip of the tongue or if she really wanted him in her life. He certainly hoped the latter was true. "What about the airport?"
"No planes in or out for three hours."
"Not even Air Force One?"
She grinned, coming toward him. "Not Air Force One, not the military, not United Airlines, not anybody."
"How long have you been working on this?"
"Months," she said her eyes rolling to the ceiling. "It feels like years, but it's been worth it. I hadn't expected to hear anything until well into the new year. Then today I get a call saying everything's been approved." She looked at him, her face glowing. "I can't tell you how good I feel." Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself and spun around like a top. "Tomorrow night I get to announce it at the Fund's Christmas party."
"Congratulations," James said. Elizabeth's excitement reached him. He went to her and took her in his arms. He kissed her left ear where her earring dangled. Sensation flashed through him at the emotions that flared within him. "I'm almost afraid to ask how you did all this."
Elizabeth leaned back. "I don't know how I did it." Her arms reached around his neck and she pressed herself against him. "And I don't care. It's done and I'm ecstatic."
James couldn't stop his arms from holding her close. He buried his face in her neck as she hugged him, smelling her scent and kissing her soft brown skin.
Elizabeth suddenly changed in his arms. Her body grew still and stiff as wood. He knew she remembered where she was. The excitement of telling him about the children was gone. She was aware of him, the changes in his body and the heat gathering around them. He didn't move, didn't breathe. He knew he had to let whatever happened between them, be her decision. He knew what his would be, but Elizabeth couldn't be rushed or pushed into a relationship. He didn't even know if she was still in love with him. He only knew when he'd kissed her, she'd reacted.
Slowly she leaned back. James didn't prevent her from moving out of his arms if that was what she wanted. He hoped it wasn't. She stopped. He could feel her breath on his cheek. If he turned his head his lips would brush hers. The urge to move was stronger than he was. Leaning back he moved his head. Their breath mingled. His fingers reached into her soft hair. She angled her head toward him. "Thanks for sharing your news with me," he whispered. His lips took hers.
He wanted to take it slow, unhurried, tenderly, but his mouth touched hers and three years of hunger poured through him. His tongue found the sweet nectar of her mouth. Something inside Elizabeth snapped too. She melted in his arms and together they battled for primal supremacy. His hands caressed her, finding familiar places, hearing familiar sounds. Elizabeth was thinner than he remembered, but she was just as hot and just as drugging. She tortured him with her mouth, her touch, the way she felt in his arms, the way her legs brushed against his. He need
ed to stop this torture or soon he'd lift her and carry her to the room he thought they'd share three years ago. Yet his mouth continued to find and battle with hers.
Finally, Elizabeth slid her mouth from his. I love you, Elizabeth. The words reverberated so loudly in his head he was sure he'd spoken them. How had he lived these past three years without her. If he couldn't make her fall in love with him in the next nine days, how was he going to live the rest of his life? He'd grasp at the idea of trying to change her outlook on Christmas, but he really wanted her back in his life.
James's arms tightened around her. She didn't try to pull away. Her breath came in short gasps. James held her, trying to control his own raging emotions. Elizabeth's shoulders shook. At first, he thought she was having as much trouble gaining control as he was. Then he realized she was crying.
***
Elizabeth thought she could do this. She thought she could make James miserable. She knew better now. Her heart wasn't in it. Today when clearance came for the balloon show, she couldn't wait to tell him. He'd been the first person she'd thought of, not Mrs. McCaffrey who ran the Children's Fund or even Mary with whom she shared practically everything. She hadn't even thought of the children who'd be thrilled when they found out. Her only thoughts had been of James Hill. But how could they have been? How could she still want to run to him after what he'd done to Claire?
Nine more days. How was going to survive them? Nine days in James's company, trying to remember how he'd lied about Claire, drove her until she fled from him and lost her life in an accident he'd walked away from. She knew what her brain told her, but her heart ruled when James walked in the door. Her heart remembered the love not the pain. Tonight they should be making cookies, a project she'd chosen because she knew he'd never eat them. James loved chocolate cake with chocolate icing, and even though his mother made the best cookies Elizabeth had ever tasted, James was the only family member who didn't eat them. Elizabeth didn't want to make the cookies now. It was petty. James had come to her with a tree and all the trimmings. His purpose had been to help her, while hers was to make him feel bad. She couldn't do it. She had to go.
"James," she said, pulling herself out of his arms. "I don't feel much like baking cookies now. Do you mind if we do it another night?"
"Why don't we just talk for a while."
Elizabeth hesitated as if she were making a decision. Finally, she nodded and James led her to a sofa. At first, it was awkward, neither of them knew what to say.
"I -- I want to apologize," Elizabeth began.
"Apologize for what?"
"For the reason I agreed to your plan." She glanced at him, wondering what he was thinking. "I know you want to help me to deal with Claire's death. It was at Christmas and I seem to relive it every year." James waited. He didn't say a thing and Elizabeth found it difficult to read his thoughts.
"You wanted to make me pay for the way you felt, make me feel as sad as you do."
"You knew!" She stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise.
"I knew," he nodded. "If you hadn't tried to make any contact with me in the past three years, what else could be the reason for you suddenly agreeing to my company."
"I know you didn't really have anything to do with Claire's death. At the time I was so--"
"Why don't we try to forget it and begin again?"
Elizabeth smiled. She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her. "I'd like that," she said.
***
"Invitation to Love, may I help you." Elizabeth unconsciously lifted the receiver and spoke into it. For the week before Christmas, she was unusually busy. Washington society, where the pace ran non-stop twenty-four hours a day, where emergency crisis cropped up at least once a week, planned their parties well in advance and neither world crisis or war, seemed to interfere. Elizabeth had just finished the three hundredth calligraphic invitation for Mrs. Joy Carson's annual Valentine's Day Ball.
"Well, Little Lizzie, how have you been?"
Only one person in the world called her that. "Theresa!" Elizabeth yelled into the phone. "Where are you, London? or have you come home for the holidays?"
"I'm right here in the Capital City."
"Are you going to be here long? Will we get a chance to have lunch or dinner and talk over old times?"
Elizabeth hadn't seen Theresa since Claire died. She and her sister has been the closest of friends. Although Claire knew many people, she had few friends, but Theresa and she had been inseparable. Claire's death had hit Theresa hard and Elizabeth was sure it was part of the reason she accepted the position in England.
"I'll be here through the New Year, but I'm afraid between family and previous invitations, I don't have a free moment to myself. I will be at James's party so I'll see you there."
"I'll look forward to it."
Elizabeth replaced the receiver. She was smiling. A few days ago a call from Theresa would have brought the bad memories back to her, but today they didn't. Was this James's doing? Could his plan really work? She had enjoyed decorating the tree and spending the evening with him. The fire glowed against his skin with memories of their Christmas in the mountains. Happy thoughts of snowball fights and icicles hanging from the roof filled her mind, not the gruesome details of policeman Officer Robinson, she still remembered his name, coming to tell her Claire and James had been in an accident and Claire was dead. Not even noticing Claire's files when she pulled out her own stored Christmas decorations had put a damper on her night with James.
She looked forward to seeing Theresa and talking to her, even about Claire.
The small bell over the door rang and Elizabeth got up. The day was nearly over and Joanne had gone an hour ago. Elizabeth had to handle everything until she closed.
"Delivery," the uniformed Federal Express agent said. He handed Elizabeth a clip board and showed her where to sign.
Elizabeth scribbled her name on the electronic pad and the agent slipped the five large boxes from his hand truck.
"One more trip," he said. He left, returning moments later with another load of identical boxes.
"Thank you," Elizabeth said, her mind wondering about the delivery. She wasn't expecting anything, but at this time of year, she often received gifts from vendors; some of them elaborate and useless.
With a nod and a Merry Christmas, the Federal Express agent left. Elizabeth pulled the tape away from the first box and opened the lid. The unmistakable smell of sugar filled the air. Dropping the lid to the floor, she opened the first tin inside. She found sugar cookies, gingerbread cookies, cookies shaped like bells, decorated Christmas trees, all sorts and varieties of Christmas cookies. They were perfect. James couldn't have done this, she thought, biting into the sugar cookie. After she left him, he couldn't have spent the night making these cookies. She was sure in his world of buying and selling stocks and bonds, learning to bake wasn't on the top of his priority list. She took another bite. It was delicious.
Laughter bubbled up in her at the picture forming in her mind of James covered in white flour rolling out cookie dough and cutting Christmas shapes. The laughter went on until her eyes were smarting and she thought her sides would split.
"I'm glad you're getting such a kick out of this, especially since you didn't help at all."
James stood in the doorway. He closed the door and came into the room.
Elizabeth took a cookie and went toward him with it. She raised it to his mouth. He brushed her hand aside and caught her around the waist. "I'd much prefer you to cookies," he said before dropping his mouth to hers in a soul spinning kiss. "I suppose it was worth a lost night's sleep for the reward I get."
"Did you do this all by yourself?" Elizabeth pushed herself out of his arms and went back to the boxes.
"I tried. Do you know how many cookies you can make from a five pound bag of flour?"
Elizabeth looked up. "Dozens," she said.
"Twelve dozen," he told her.
Elizabeth stared at the cache on her flo
or. "How many cookies are in here?"
"At last count, that would have been about four o'clock this morning, there were twelve dozen of seven varieties with more in the oven and even more to go in."
Elizabeth laughed.
"This is not a laughing matter, woman," he said with mock annoyance. "I intend to see that you eat each and every crumb before the next sun rises in the sky."
Elizabeth tried to stop, but each time the picture of James stacking dozen after dozen of cookies into tins and boxes came into her mind, mirth overcame her. "If I'd known you'd be so good at cookies, I'd have suggested English Pudding Cake complete with charms." Elizabeth replaced the cover of the cookies and turned back to James.
"Somehow I don't think I'd like whatever the suggestion is you're making."
"You like tradition. You'd love them."
"Would I?" He raised an eyebrow.
Elizabeth had been waiting for him. It was time for her to close. Locking the front door, she walked about the shop turning off lights and preparing to leave. "There are several charms, a wishbone, horseshoe, thimble, coin, and a bell, each with a special meaning."
"The horseshoe or the wishbone could mean good luck and the coin good fortune, what do the others mean?"
"The horseshoe means good luck, the wishbone grants a wish, you're right, the coin does mean good fortune, the thimble blesses the owner and the bell signifies an upcoming wedding."
Elizabeth turned off the lights that illuminated the window displays. Only one light remained illuminated in the back of the counter.
One Christmas Night (Capitol Chronicles Book 6) Page 4
