by Lisa Jackson
“Hey, you’re the only candidate who walked through the door,” she joked, but no trace of humor entered his eyes.
“I’ve never put up a tree before.”
“Oh, sure you have. When you were a kid…” Her voice trailed off when she saw the shadows crossing his eyes.
“When I was a kid, my mother hired a decorator to design a tree—actually a look for the house—around a theme, mind you, and I was never allowed to touch the creation.” He eyed the tiny tree standing in the corner. “One year it was a Victorian theme, with huge bows and fake candles and lace, another something very sophisticated and contemporary—that year the tree was flocked pink. One other time it was sprayed gold and hung with red bells. There were strings of red bells all over the house—up the stairs, over the mantel, around the front door, in the foyer. Whatever some artist came up with, that was our look—but it was only skin deep.”
“Oh, come on!” John said, sure that Hayden was pulling his leg. “A pink tree? And you didn’t get to put it up?”
“Well, there’s no time like the present to learn,” Nadine said, despite the tears threatening her eyes. All her life she’d envied Hayden for his easy existence; she’d never really bought the “poor little rich boy” scenario, but now she wished she could ease his pain, tell him that she cared.
For all her family’s lack of money, Christmastime had been a time of celebration. From the tinsel and candles on the mantel, to Sunday services at the church, where her mother would sing a solo in the choir, to cups of cocoa and bowls of popcorn as they decorated the tree with the meager decorations her mother had collected over the years—the same decorations that were probably trimming a tree on an Iowa farm.
Nadine wondered if her mother still made dozens of Christmas cookies and played her piano after dinner on Christmas Eve. She’d probably never know. The packages and cards she received never seemed to tell her much about Donna’s life as a farmer’s wife in the Midwest. A huge lump filled her throat, and she touched Hayden’s fingers with her own.
“It’s never too late to learn how to trim a tree,” she said, driving away her own case of melancholy. “John will help you try to straighten it and Bobby and I will make some popcorn.”
Bobby bounded from the couch and scurried to the kitchen, and John was all business as he explained what was wrong with the tree and how he proposed to keep it from leaning. “…the problem is,” John confided to Hayden, “…Mom’s a woman.”
“I noticed,” Hayden replied dryly.
“Well, women don’t know nothin’ about man things like hatchets and axes and—”
“I heard that, John,” Nadine called from the kitchen. Smiling, she added, “Better be careful what you say or you’ll be chopping all the firewood yourself….” Winking at Bobby, she plugged in the air popper and couldn’t hear the rest of Hayden and John’s discussion about the “weaker sex.” Usually a conversation in that tone sent her temper skyrocketing, but tonight, with Hayden in the house, she decided not to take offense.
Bobby put a Christmas tape in his boom box, and by the time the popcorn, cranberry juice and cocoa were ready, Hayden and John had revived the little tree. Not only did it stand upright, but the first string of lights was winking between the branches. “How does it look?” John asked proudly.
“Like it was done by professionals.”
Hayden shook his head. “Like it was done by amateurs, the way it’s supposed to be.” They ate the popcorn by the fire, discussed the fact that the boys would be on vacation in less than two weeks and laughed as Hershel tried to steal kernels of popcorn out of Bobby’s fingers. “He knows you’re a soft touch,” Hayden told Bobby. “Be careful of that.”
“I’m not!” Bobby said, and to Nadine’s surprise, Hayden grabbed the boy and wrestled him onto the floor. Bobby giggled and ended up on top, “pinning” Hayden until John joined in the fun. They rolled across the carpet, three bodies clinging together as one, laughing and muttering and working up a sweat.
Nadine watched in horror and awe. She’d seen the boys wrestle before, just as she’d watched her two brothers lunge and fight with each other when she’d grown up. Once in a while she’d even caught her father rolling around with Kevin and Ben. But Sam had never shown an interest in playing so physically with the boys. At the time she’d thought it a blessing, but now, seeing Bobby’s red face and glowing eyes, watching as John leapt onto Hayden’s back and unable to pull him down, started to laugh, she wondered if her sons had been missing out on some natural, primeval male bonding.
They crashed into a leg of the coffee table, and Hayden flopped onto his back. “You got me,” he told the boys breathlessly, though Nadine suspected he wasn’t near as winded as he put on.
“More, more!” Bobby cried.
“Not now, sport. I’m all in.”
“No way,” John said.
“That’s enough, boys. Hayden’s right. It’s about time for bed,” Nadine said.
After the usual protests and the fight over brushing their teeth and scrubbing their faces, both boys climbed into their bunks. Bobby was nearly asleep when Nadine bent over his pillow and kissed him, and John, too, was soon breathing deeply and evenly.
“You’re lucky,” Hayden told her, as he watched her pick up clothes that had been dropped everywhere on the floor. She tossed the small heap into a hamper.
They walked down the steps together. “Lucky? Because of the boys?” she asked, then smiled. “I know. I’ll never regret marrying Sam if only because he gave me my sons.”
“It doesn’t take much of a man to conceive a kid. The hard part’s the next twenty years.” He helped her carry the popcorn bowl and glasses into the kitchen.
“So now you want kids?”
“No,” he said quickly, and he might as well have stuck a knife in her heart.
“You might make a wonderful father.”
His head jerked up quickly and his gaze sharpened. “You think so?”
“From what I’ve seen.”
“I was just playing with the kids. That’s all. It wasn’t a big deal!”
“It was just an observation, Hayden.” She placed the glasses into the dishwasher before she understood his reaction. As the light dawned, her blood began to boil. “It wasn’t a hint, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re the one who showed up on my doorstep.” She slammed the dishwasher shut and turned on him. “Was there a reason you came to see me? I mean something more than just to stop by and insult me? If you haven’t noticed, I’ve done all right by myself these past couple of years. I take care of myself and my sons, and I don’t need help from you or any other man for that matter, so if you think I’m in the market for a husband, you’ve got another think coming!” she said with more vehemence than she expected. She started to stride past him, but he hooked the crook of her arm with a hand.
“I’m sorry.”
The words hung in the air between them, like icicles that wouldn’t melt. She yanked her arm free. “I also don’t need your pity, Prince.”
“Believe me, you don’t have it. I feel a lot of things for you, Nadine—some things I don’t even understand myself. I respect you, I care for you, I admire you and sometimes I even envy you—”
She snorted. “You envy me. That’s a good one.”
“It’s true. But in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never, ever pitied you,” he said firmly. “You know your own mind, take care of yourself, aren’t afraid to stand up for what you think’s right and I’ll bet, if your back’s to a corner or someone threatens your kids, you come out fighting like a she-bear. On top of that, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
She supposed she should be flattered. She supposed she should take pride in his compliments. But all she fe
lt was an empty void. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rubbed away the goose bumps that had risen on her flesh.
“Why did you come here?” she finally asked.
His jaw worked for a second, and the air between them became thick with emotions. “I came because I couldn’t stay away.”
“You act as if that’s a curse.”
He smiled crookedly. “Isn’t it?” His eyes searched hers, and for a second she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Rather than answer, she quickly gathered up the empty boxes, which had held the tree ornaments, and carried them to the garage. Hayden followed her and helped her put the containers back on their shelves.
She started for the stairs to the back porch when he reached for her, gently turning her in his arms and tilting her chin up with one of his fingers. The wind touched her hair and moonlight cast the darkness in silver.
“I was wrong,” he said.
“About?”
“About not wanting you in my life. I don’t understand it and I won’t pretend to, but there’s something about you that keeps me awake at night, something that I can’t resist.” Lowering his head, he brushed her lips with his own.
She trembled and let out a soft little cry as he folded his arms around her and his lips became more demanding. Somewhere in the distance a train rattled as it rode the rails of the old trestle bridge near town, and an owl let out a muted string of hoots from the high branches of one of the pine trees. The lake gleamed pearlescent, rippling as it lapped the shore. Nadine closed her eyes, drinking in the scent of Hayden—leather and soap and musk. Her arms circled his neck, and she didn’t object when his weight dragged them down onto a gentle cushion of grass.
His tongue pressed against her teeth and she willingly parted her lips to him. She quivered when one of his hands reached below her sweater and long fingers splayed against the bare skin of her back.
Lifting his head for a second, he stared into her eyes and swallowed hard. “This is probably a mistake.”
“Not our first,” she said, managing a smile.
“Or our last?”
“I hope not.”
He kissed her again, more fiercely this time, and his body, hard and wanting, pressed urgently against hers. His hands found her breasts and she arched upward, forcing each rounded swell into the gently kneading fingers that caused her blood to heat and pound in her ears. Deep inside, she began to melt. Like slow-burning oil, a liquid inside her began to simmer with want.
His mouth fastened over hers and she clung to him, holding him closer as he quickly discarded her sweater and bra, and found the anxious hard points that were her nipples. A current of electricity jolted through her as his tongue touched the tip of one breast. She cried out and her back bowed. One of his hands captured her buttock and forced her closer to the rock hardness that was his manhood. He rubbed against her and groaned as he began to suckle. Nadine’s thoughts swirled crazily in a whirlpool of starlight and rainbows. She didn’t think, only felt, and when the zipper of her skirt opened with a quiet hiss, she was eager for the touch of his bare hands against her skin.
He was quick. He skimmed her of her clothes and guided her hands to help him remove his own shirt and jeans. Without releasing her, he kicked off his running shoes and writhed out of his jeans until at last, beneath the pale disc of the moon, they were naked, their bodies gleaming white, their muscles straining together.
From the bathroom window, still cracked open, the strains of a soft Christmas ballad filtered over the noises of the woods, and the cool air caused a chill that only stoked the fires of their passion hotter still.
Hayden kissed her eyes, her cheeks and lips before lowering himself along the slim arch of her neck and the circle of fragile bones at the base of her throat. She whispered his name and he moved downward, touching the point of each breast with his tongue and licking a hot path down her sternum and over the soft flesh to her navel, where he pressed a hot, insistent kiss.
Moaning, Nadine arched upward and he captured her hips with his hands, kissing her, nibbling at her, caressing her with his tongue as he explored each crease and curve of her body. She clutched fistfuls of his hair as he smoothed his tongue over her so intimately that she thought she might break. The heat within her became lava from a volcano buried deep in her soul. She cried out as the first quake rocked her.
“Hayden!” she screamed, though her voice was only a throaty whisper. “Hayden, please…”
He came to her then. As her body was still in the throes of pleasure, his lips claimed hers and he parted her legs with his knees. “Make love to me, Nadine,” he growled into her open, waiting mouth. “Make love to me and never stop.”
“Yes, oh, yes—”
He thrust into her then and she welcomed him, sheathing his manhood, becoming one with him, feeling the sweet white-hot heat within her build yet again. Her arms surrounded him and she met each of his thrusts with her own needful movements.
This was so right, so right, she thought as once again she gave herself up to the passion that only he could inspire. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as his rhythm increased and a cry passed her lips. Then his muscles coiled, and he shuddered and fell against her with his own answering call.
“I love you,” he said in a rush of breath. “Damn it all, Nadine, I think I love you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LOVE? HE LOVED her?
Four days later, while driving home from Coleville, Nadine was still trying to absorb this bit of information, but told herself not to believe words whispered in the throes of passion. He’d never said those three magical words again, and she wasn’t kidding herself into believing that he’d meant them.
True, she’d been battling her own conflicting emotions for Hayden, but she’d tried to keep herself from fantasizing that love was involved. Attraction, yes. Lust, definitely. But love? She wasn’t sure that romantic ideal existed. Her own parents hadn’t found happiness, nor had she. Many of her friends had married and divorced; only a handful had stayed together, and they were often unhappy. There were a few exceptions, of course. Turner and Heather seemed blissfully, ecstatically in love and Heather’s sister, Rachelle, was madly in love with her husband, Jackson.
But their marriages hadn’t stood the test of time—though certainly their love had.
Her fingers tightened over the wheel as she rounded a hairpin curve on the west end of the lake and thought about the long hours after making love to Hayden near the lake. They’d returned to the house, drank wine and had cuddled together on the couch until the fire had died.
He’d come back the next night, eaten dinner with them and helped finish decorating the tree. Hayden had even helped John with his science report on the depletion of the ozone layer. Once the boys had fallen asleep, she and Hayden had walked outside and again given into their passion.
She’d seen Hayden each night and looked forward to greeting him at the front door. Sometimes he smelled of sawdust and oil, and she’d known he’d been at one of the mills. Other times he carried the scent of leather or soap with him, as if he’d just come from the shower.
He’d brought wine for her, soda for the boys and had taken it upon himself to fix the chain on Bobby’s bicycle, getting himself greasy in the process and delighting her youngest son. Hayden Monroe certainly knew how to carve his way into her heart.
She couldn’t be falling in love with him, she told herself, and wouldn’t let it happen. Her runaway emotions were on the loose and it was time to rein them in.
“What a mess,” she told herself, and clicked on the radio. She hadn’t wanted an affair with any man and certainly not Hayden, yet she was involved with him up to her neck. She thought about him constantly and, as she had throughout her trip from Coleville, she tried to concentrate on her work.
Elizabeth Wheeler, the owner of Beth’s Boutique,
had been encouraging. She’d ordered three more jackets and two dozen pairs of earrings.
“They’re going like hotcakes. Kids as well as adults,” Beth had confided in Nadine two hours earlier. “If you can’t get them here by Christmas, I’ll want them for spring!”
Nadine smiled to herself. It seemed as if her life was turning around, despite everyone’s dour predictions about Hayden Monroe and his grim effect upon the town. Even Nadine’s father seemed a little happier, and though he wouldn’t confide the reason for the spring in his step when they’d gone to lunch this afternoon, Nadine suspected that he was interested in another woman for the first time in years. He’d hardly dated since her mother had walked out on him, but there was definitely something different about him in the past couple of days and she didn’t believe his change in mood was just because the spirit of Christmas was in the air or because Ben was on his way home. No, the twinkle in her father’s eyes could only be attributed to the attentions of a woman. But whose attentions?
Time would tell, she decided, turning into the drive and spying Hayden’s Jeep.
He was waiting for her, legs outstretched, ankles crossed, hips resting on the fender. Her heart skipped a beat and she wondered fleetingly if there was a chance for them. In a millisecond she pictured herself as Hayden’s wife, living in the manor across the lake, spending hours with Hayden, making love with him, having more children…. Reality broke the spell. Hayden wasn’t going to stay in Gold Creek. He would probably sell his string of sawmills, perhaps even close some of them, and he didn’t want a wife and especially not any children; she’d learned that much. Being the product of an unhappy marriage, with unrealistic goals placed upon his young shoulders, Hayden had decided from an early age to depend upon no one but himself. He didn’t want a wife and kids.
As her silly bubble of happiness burst, she parked near the garage. With Hayden, she had to live for the moment and forget about a future.
Forcing a smile, she slid out of the car and was rewarded with a crushing embrace and a kiss that sucked the breath from her lungs and made her bones as weak as jelly.
