Kerry opened her eyes to see Chris frowning. "Honey, it's Christmas."
"I know, but we wanted to give each other presents, too," Melanie said. "Besides, I've never actually been to his apartment even though they just live a few blocks away, and—well, and I've got a gift for Suzie, too."
"Why don't you wait till tonight?" Chris said. "His family might want some time alone together, too."
Melanie's mouth tightened. "It's the middle of the afternoon. I don't have to spend all day here, do I?"
"You make it sound like a chore."
Kerry sat perfectly still, sorry to witness this quarrel.
"No, it's not a chore, Dad, but I've what's wrong with my spending part of Christmas with Jamie’s family?"
His eyes narrowed, as if he wanted to make a sharp retort. Fortunately he bit it back. "Go on, then. But don't stay too long, all right?"
"Thanks." Melanie hopped up and darted into the living room. A few minutes later, camera and wrapped gifts in hand, she vanished out the front door.
"I hate this," Chris muttered.
"Having to share her?" Kerry began stacking dishes from where she sat.
"The whole business. This kid who looks like a juvenile delinquent, the way he monopolizes her time. But I suppose I'm just another jealous father." Chris spread his hands helplessly. "What do you think?"
"That it's a tough adjustment for both of you," Kerry said. "And that you'll work it out."
"Spoken like a diplomat." He helped carry dishes into the kitchen. "Let's have some wine."
They settled with their glasses in front of the fireplace, where Chris had built a roaring blaze. For once, the weather outside was nippy enough to justify the blaze. Kerry had heard of Southern Californians who turned on their air conditioning so they could build a fire, which she considered a waste of energy.
"What are you thinking?" Chris laid his arm along the sofa, brushing Kerry's shoulders.
"About the environment and wasted energy." Kerry smiled self-consciously. "Isn't that romantic?"
"I have nothing against wasting energy, if it's in a good cause." He tilted his head against hers and nuzzled her gently.
"I wouldn't call that wasted energy." It felt completely natural to turn toward him, to let their lips meet. Chris's arm tightened around her shoulders, drawing her closer.
Her mind felt hazy and relaxed. Kerry’s habitual tension seeped away, leaving her open to the delicious sensation of his mouth exploring hers.
He lifted his head to study her. "The firelight does wonderful things to your skin. There are so many facets to you, Kerry, like a precious jewel."
And to him, too, she thought. The anger of a few minutes ago had yielded to melting tenderness. In his brown eyes, she saw the depths of forested glades, inviting her into a secret hideaway.
Shyly, she reached up to touch Chris's face, tracing his mouth, his clipped mustache, the curve of his ear. In some ways she knew him so well, but this physical closeness was new. And precious.
When Chris drew her to him again, Kerry relished the strength of his hard chest and her awareness of his rising passion. The fire's warmth played over them as they loosened each other’s clothing.
“What if Melanie comes back?” she murmured.
Chris chuckled. “Seems unlikely, but just in case.” With surprising ease, he lifted her and angled her through the room to the inner doorway.
Curling against him, Kerry said, “You’d make a great ballet partner.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t want me to do this on stage,” he teased, and lowered her to the bed.
Then he slid up her light sweater and lowered his head to her breasts. Nothing had prepared her for the fire that raged through her all the way to the core. She’d never experienced anything close to this when she and George had become lovers. Had never imagined she could lose herself so completely, or so deliriously.
Kerry wanted everything Chris could give, wanted to know him intensely and be part of him. When he slipped on protection and united them, she let her eagerness consume her, gasping and crying out in his arms.
All defenses and all barriers burned away. She lost track of who and where she was, until at last their fire mellowed to a shimmer of embers.
They lay in silence for a while before she said, "A penny for your thoughts."
He shifted position, wrapping his arms around her. "I didn't expect that we were going to do this."
"Neither did I."
"It was different from anything I'd experienced before." He sat up, running his hand through his hair. "Kerry, I don't know where this is going to take us."
"I’m not expecting commitment," she answered. "From either of us."
"If I had my way..." His voice trailed off, then resumed. "Well, I don't. The timing—I don't think either of us is ready to cast our tomorrows in concrete."
Part of her wanted to protest that they should be together from now on. But was that really what she wanted? What about dancing and choreographing? What about Melanie's delicate balance as she struggled for independence?
They needed time together to see whether their two worlds might blend, and to make sure they hadn't been sucked too quickly into a liaison that was more smoke than flames.
"Play it by ear?" she said.
He planted a kiss on her nose. "I suppose so. Damn it, I'm not a patient man."
"You don't think Melanie will be back anytime soon, do you?" she whispered.
"She'd better not be," he said, and began caressing her all over again.
"More hot chocolate?" Mrs. Ezell asked.
"Oh, yes, thank you. It's delicious." Melanie felt a little awkward, sitting here in the middle of another family's Christmas.
Although her own house was no mansion, she could understand why Jamie hadn't been eager to show her his home. The apartment was small, with only one bedroom, which Suzie and her mother shared while Jamie slept on the couch. The paint on the outside of the building was peeling, the exterior stairs creaked, and inside everything had a shabby, worn-down air. The furniture wasn't even as nice as the stuff her father had just given to Goodwill. Clean, though.
The tree sported mismatched ornaments and paper angels made in Suzie's Sunday school class. But it was the love that counted, she reminded herself fiercely.
Jamie sprawled across a frayed armchair, reading the instructions to the camera. From the moment she'd produced it, that was all he'd noticed.
Melanie felt a little hurt that he hadn't paid more attention to the Photographers Do It in the Dark sweatshirt she'd bought him. Still, Suzie had been genuinely thrilled by her new ballet slippers.
As Mrs. Ezell returned from the kitchen, the little girl nearly bounced right into her. "Sorry, Mom!" Suzie pirouetted away. "Oh, Melanie, I love them!" She'd put on her tutu so they could witness the effect.
"That was very generous of Melanie." Mrs. Ezell handed her the hot chocolate. "I don't know if I ever thanked you for helping decorate her costume."
"It was my pleasure," Melanie said. "I wish I had a sister of my own."
When Jamie looked up, he hardly seemed to notice she was there. "Could I borrow this?"
"I guess so," Melanie said. "Although my dad may not like it. But it's mine, after all."
"Jamie, Melanie just got the camera," his mother cautioned. "Maybe she'd like to use it first, don't you think?"
Jamie waved the objection away. "I hadn't figured out what to get you for Christmas, Mel, and this gives me an idea. I'll make a video of you dancing. I can use the lights my mom gave me, the ones that used to be my uncle's. Your dad ought to like that, right?"
"Sure." She felt better. It was sometimes touchy being around Jamie, trying to guess his moods, wondering if he resented the fact that she hadn't let him do more than kiss her. Once he got behind a camera, though, everything changed. The way he studied her made Melanie feel beautiful.
"There is something else I'd like to shoot, too," he said. "Kind of a public service project. Okay?"<
br />
"Fine." Melanie could see from his expression that he didn't want to go into detail. She wished he would share more with her. Sometimes when they were together it felt as if they could read each other's minds, and then other times he acted as if he lived on a different planet. "Want to shoot some scenes right now? Of your family?"
Mrs. Ezell's usual worried frown gave way to a smile. "What a lovely idea."
It took only a few minutes for Jamie to get the hang of using the camera and set up his new floodlights. He directed Melanie and Suzie to rehearse a few ballet steps, then shot his mother cutting the apple pie in the kitchen.
"I'm not sure I got the angle of the light right," Jamie grumbled when he was done. "It probably won't look like much."
"We'll have to get a new computer so we can watch it," Mrs. Ezell said. "My old one broke and I haven't replaced it."
"We can watch on my laptop," Jamie said.
"I wish I had one," Suzie muttered.
Her mother bit her lip. Obviously, the budget wasn't likely to stretch that far.
Jamie looked up from tucking the camera into its case. "I've been saving up. I'll buy you one for your birthday."
"Thanks, Jamie." Suzie gave him a hug.
Melanie wished her father were here. He had such rotten ideas about Jamie. He needed to see that Jamie was like any teenager, mixed up at times and kind of a loner, too, but his heart was in the right place.
He glanced up and she caught her breath. The way he looked at her was so full of—did she dare use an adult word like passion? A kind of deep hunger that echoed through her bones. How could one boy be so changeable?
He set the camera down. "Okay if Mel and I go for a walk?"
"Sure," his mother said. "We'll save the pie till you get back." Mrs. Ezell didn't make the least bit of fuss. Melanie wished her father was as understanding.
She and Jamie went out together. The day was cool and overcast.
"I figured we needed to be alone," Jamie said. "For a little while."
Melanie waited for him to say more, but he didn't, so they walked along in silence between houses strung with Christmas lights. A few sported displays of nativity scenes or cartoonish Santas and reindeer.
They hadn't gone far when a beat-up car slowed at the curb. "Hey! Jamie!" It was his friend Russ, a red-haired boy who at first glance resembled a friendly sprite. Unfortunately, after meeting him a couple of times, Melanie had realized his cheery manner masked a lot of anger.
"You guys need a ride?" It was Jerry, sitting in the back seat with Phil. The trio were Jamie's closest friends, although she couldn't understand why. None of them had his sensitivity or his kindness.
"Okay." Jamie started forward when Melanie caught his arm. "What's the matter?"
"I—my dad's expecting me back," she said.
He paused. "Already? Yeah, well, I guess you'd rather spend Christmas with Daddy the cop than with a bunch of nobodies like us."
Her temper flared. "For your information, it wasn't easy getting away! And then you didn't even bother to get me a Christmas present yet. I guess you're the one who wasn't too eager to see me."
He frowned, then waved at his friends. "Some other time," he called. "My mom's got apple pie waiting."
"See ya around!" Russ gunned the engine and the boys hooted as they drove off.
"You don't like them," Jamie observed as they walked back toward the apartment. "Why not?"
Melanie shrugged, hating to criticize his friends. "I just don't. They're not like you, Jamie."
"Maybe you're seeing stuff in me that doesn't exist." He adjusted his loping stride so she could keep up.
"I don't think so. You're special." The breeze stung Melanie's cheeks. "You're talented and people can rely on you. And you can be really generous, like offering to buy your sister that laptop."
"And?" he teased. "What about sexy?"
"Sure." She shifted the weight of her purse against her shoulder, wishing he hadn't brought up that subject.
"I'm not pushing you," he said.
"I'm not ready.” She had to be honest. “It's scary, Jamie. I could get pregnant. That would mess up everything.”
"I don't want to hurt you, Melanie,” he said. “I've never met anyone like you and—oh, hell, let's go get some of that pie.
"Sounds good to me," she said, relieved when they turned into the apartment building.
Tony had taken over one of his own Italian restaurants for the wedding. Designed like a Pompeiian villa with pillars and a sunken interior courtyard, the facility had been transformed by thousands of tropical flowers, ferns, hanging plants and brilliantly plumed parrots perched here and there in large cages.
"It doesn't feel like New Year's Eve," Kerry said as they made their way down the courtyard aisle between rows of chairs set up for the occasion. "More like midsummer."
"Tony likes to do things right." Chris waited while she took a seat, then waved half-heartedly to some acquaintances.
Kerry studied the altar set in front. Draped with a richly woven cloth in an exotic pattern, it was surrounded by sprays of calla lilies and birds of paradise. "They must be going to the equator for their honeymoon."
"I hear he's leased a private island in the Caribbean." Beside her, Chris adjusted the bow tie of his rented tux. "Not bad for a kid who used to earn his lunch money working at a taco stand."
"He and Leila certainly have good taste." Gazing around, Kerry flashed back seven years to when she'd dreamed of her own wedding. George would have insisted on something much more traditional, of course. A New York ballroom, lots of roses and baby's breath, ballet dancers mingling with musicians and society patrons.
Funny, she hadn't thought of that for years. Even immediately afterward, during the darkest days of pain and loss, she hadn't wasted any time regretting the wedding. Now, looking back, she felt only relief.
People slid in beside them, and in the front a trio began to play music with a soft Latin beat. "I hope the bride isn't going to conga down the aisle," Kerry murmured.
Chris flashed her a grin and took her hand.
This past week had been special, even though they hadn't been able to spend much time together. With the opening of Romeo and Juliet fast approaching, Kerry spent most evenings in rehearsal. And, Chris had told her, the detective bureau stayed busy investigating holiday burglaries and robberies, shoplifting and mischief indulged in by kids out of school. Still, they'd managed a couple of dinners together and one stolen evening of lovemaking at Kerry's house.
Studying the man beside her, she wondered how you could know someone so intimately and yet still feel shut out of his inner life. Chris opened to her only in bits and pieces, holding so much inside. But then, didn't she do the same, as well?
Noticing her gaze, he cocked an eyebrow questioningly. "Is my tie crooked?" He tugged at the bow.
"Just admiring your chiseled good looks," she teased.
A rustle around them alerted Kerry that Tony and his brother, serving as best man, had entered to stand by the altar. At the same time, a woman in a colorful sarong swayed down the aisle, followed by a little girl strewing the floor with rose petals.
"Leila's sister and her niece," Chris whispered.
The music changed, and through the Latin rhythm, she heard the strains of "Here Comes the Bride." Craning her neck, Kerry spotted Leila's tall, elegant figure marching with measured step toward the front.
She wore a stunning dress of white silk slashed from shoulder to waist by an inset made of the same bright print fabric her bridesmaid wore. It looped around her slender waist and fluttered scarflike over the floor-length skirt. There was a gasp from the crowd, and Kerry suspected that in a fashion show the gown would have received applause.
With regal decorum, Leila joined Tony and they exchanged broad smiles. They reminded Kerry of happy children indulging in a fantasy.
As the minister began the service, she yielded to a moment of intense envy. Tonight, in splendor and undimmed happiness
, Leila and Tony were making their dreams come true.
If it could happen for them, maybe it could happen for Kerry, as well. Maybe.
Except that, sitting so close to Chris and already hungering to be alone with him, she was no longer so sure what her dreams were.
Chapter Eleven
"Why the hell did he have to go and do that?" Chris glared at the newspaper.
"Something up?" Daryl Rogers paused in the office doorway, his latest reports in hand.
Chris pointed to a photograph on the third page. "Our friend Professor Ahmed has gone and given another speech."
"Maybe he figures things have died down enough." Daryl's mouth twisted in concern. He obviously knew as well as Chris that not enough time had passed for anyone to feel safe.
"You'd almost think he wants his wife and daughters harassed." Chris eyed the article glumly.
"What did he say, anyway?"
"Just more assessments of the Middle East situation." Chris had to admit that nothing in the article should stir controversy. But they were dealing with some kind of nuts here, maybe skinheads or other troublemakers who wouldn't need much provocation to resume their attacks.
"Think we ought to warn him to keep his mouth shut?" Daryl tossed the reports onto Chris's desk.
"And violate his First Amendment rights?" Chris snorted. "Then somebody's sure to make the police department out to be the bad guys. We'll just have to wait and see what happens."
"Good luck." Daryl wandered out. As the robbery-homicide sergeant, he had plenty of his own work to do. Their hold-up maniac and his girlfriend had hit two liquor stores the first weekend in January. Gunfire at one location had left a clerk seriously wounded.
If only they could catch those guys before somebody died.
Chris rubbed the back of his neck. Tonight marked the opening of Romeo and Juliet and he was looking forward to seeing Kerry, even though he suspected she'd be busy backstage most of the evening. He was escorting Melanie, a rare evening together for the two of them.
Damn, she'd practically handed that video camera over to her boyfriend. Chris hadn't gone out and spent all that money to give Jamie a present, yet Melanie had a right to dispose of her property as she wished. The whole situation infuriated him.
By Leaps and Bounds Page 15
