The Twelve Gifts of Christmas
Rita Clay Estrada
To Hank Richmond, for sharing with me his Virginia
Contents
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1
CARLY MICHAELS LAY on the mound of red and gold leaves, fanning her arms up and down. Their swishing, crunching sound blocked out all other noise until she heard a deep male voice speaking loudly.
“Does Sleeping Beauty fall in love when she gets kissed, or does she just slap the hell out of Prince Charming for being a masher?”
The voice was sexy and rich with humor. Startled, Carly opened her eyes, and waited for them to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the trees. Focusing on the man staring down at her, she saw the realization of her worst fears. He was drop-dead handsome—and he was laughing at her.
Mortified, she remained prone in the pile of leaves. As an escape from her daughter, her aunts and her work, she had chosen the small park behind the house to let loose. She’d thought no one would be there to notice.
Obviously, she’d been wrong.
She blinked twice. He was still standing over her, with his hands resting on trim hips and a smile wrinkling his face. His thick, dark hair was brushed casually to one side, and looked as if it had been cut at the best salon in town. “Are you applying for the role?”
His smile deepened. “It depends on the rewards.”
Darn. That voice was fantastic. “What did you have in mind?”
He answered without hesitation. “A white steed that can fly like the wind and a redheaded beauty with an uncanny ability to make angel patterns in autumn leaves.”
Carly knew it was time to sit up and take notice. She pulled her auburn hair back and slung it over one shoulder, hoping it looked a little less like the wild mop it usually was when she wore it loose. “Such a decisive statement. But why not think bigger?”
“I don’t want to. I’m a man with simple needs. I want only what I want, and nothing more.”
Carly brushed off the leaves stuck to her deep gold sweater and tried to ignore the fluttering of her heart. “I hope you get what you want. Anyone who’s so definite should receive nothing less than exactly what they desire.”
His dark brows rose as he extended his hand to her. “Is this to accompany the old adage, Be Careful What You Ask For Because You Might Get It?”
She placed her hand in his and felt the warmth of his clasp as he pulled her to her feet. When she was standing, he still held her hand in his, and she didn’t pull it away. It felt good. “If the adage fits, wear it....”
His sexy grin widened. “I’m asking, I’m asking....”
He might be asking, but Carly had more sense than to take his words seriously. The world of princes and princesses was fairy-tale fantasy. Reality was a far different place. Just because she had been thinking of dating again didn’t mean that she would be granted her wish and find a perfect man. She should be more wary, she told herself; more cautious about strange men in the woods.
Carly removed her hand from his and busied herself with brushing off the leaves from the rest of her body. She didn’t want to admit she would rather stand and stare at him. And she certainly didn’t want to admit that she’d become uncomfortably conscious of how thrown together she must look.
“Are you from around here?” the handsome man asked.
“Isn’t everyone?” She looked around the small woods and stream that most of the neighboring houses backed onto. One of its biggest advantages was that the wooded area gave everyone the luxury of privacy while eliminating the need for fences. Although she was smack in the middle of McLean, Virginia, she felt as if she were hiking in the Shenandoah mountains.
“Which ‘around here’ are you from?”
Carly paused. She lived with her aunts, but she didn’t know all the neighbors. What if he wasn’t one of them? Although she certainly couldn’t imagine him having any bad intentions, she didn’t give her address out to strangers. “Pick a house,” she said, laughing. “Any house.”
“Unfair. I live just over there.” He pointed in the general direction of what everyone referred to as the Mansion in the Woods. But that house had been empty for the past two years. The owner had died and no one had bought the place yet. The asking price was so high, there weren’t many who could afford to make an offer on it.
“Do you really? Then you must live close to me. I live over there, too.”
“Which house?”
Carly glanced at her watch as a ploy to end the conversation and was surprised at the time. She should have taken Karen to her viola lesson five minutes ago. “Oops, gotta go. It was nice to meet Prince Charming. After all, it isn’t every day one comes along.” She held out her hand once more. “Thanks for rescuing me.”
He clasped her hand, but didn’t shake it. Instead, he grasped her other hand and kissed where a wedding ring would have been. Carly wondered if the gesture was to let her know he realized her single status. “Prince Charmings usually get rewards.” His wonderful deep voice vibrated down her spine.
Before she could protest, he drew closer and brushed his mouth over hers in a butterfly-light kiss. Warmth flowed through her blood like a summer heat wave. Then it was over. Dropping her hands, he stepped back and smiled. Damn the man, he knew exactly what she was feeling.
“A slap, I think,” she said, as if musing the point.
He looked puzzled for only a moment before remembering the beginning of their conversation. “Poor guy. I guess I’m grateful I’m not him.”
“Oh, but I thought you were.”
He shook his head, his smile slipping slightly. “Maybe I was once. But that was a long time ago.” Although he spoke teasingly, his voice had an edge of bitterness.
“What a shame.”
“Why?” He looked genuinely surprised. “Girls like bad boys more than Prince Charmings. Besides, there really aren’t that many damsels in distress needing to be rescued.”
“No, you’re right, there. We’ve finally learned to rescue ourselves.”
“So what is an old dragon slayer supposed to do to impress his lady?”
“I have no idea,” she said, fascinated by this man who was showing more and more complexity. “But I would guess that you need to find a proper dragon to deal with, first.”
“I think I might have found one,” he murmured.
“You sound like my students at test time,” she said. “Hope you find the right dragon for you.” Before she could change her mind, Carly turned toward her own home and began the walk back. “Good luck!”
She kicked the multicolored leaves as she went, making the crisp, rustling noise that she loved. She hoped it would block out the sound of the man’s voice that ran through her mind like a seductive memory.
“Wait!” he called. “What’s your name?”
“Damsel!” she called back.
“Damsel?”
“As in, damsel in distress if I don’t hurry!”
His husky laugh echoed through the woods.
* * *
FOR A FLEETING MOMENT, Carly wanted to turn back and ask him who he was and where he was from, and was he married, single, divorced? But she knew better. Most of the good men were married and most of the single men she’d dated had problems with commitment.
Besides, she’d never been that forward in her life, and had no intention of being so now. It wasn’t her nature to “come on” to a guy. Either he was interested or he wasn’t. And that was probably why she had so many male friends and no r
omantic interests. She treated them all like friends instead of lovers. Nor did she feel more than friendly towards them.
“Oh, well.” She sighed, already resigned to never seeing the good-looking stranger again.
Karen, her seven-year-old daughter, waved from the upstairs bedroom window. Carly waved back and continued down the path to the side door of the house she now called home.
As a single parent, Carly found that her entire social life revolved around getting Karen to and from school, Girl Scouts, viola lessons and all her other typical child’s activities. What with her workdays spent teaching chemistry to high-school students and her evenings giving quality time to Karen, she’d rarely had time for herself.
This year, however, was different. Her twin aunts, Cora and Nora, had talked her into moving in with them. They owned a beautiful home in McLean, Virginia, a wealthy, prestigious area just outside Washington, D.C. They enjoyed their busy, active lives, yet had always loved the idea of having children in the house. Since Carly was their favorite niece and already lived nearby, they had made the offer, presenting it as if it were only for their benefit.
True, both women hated driving, and neither could see well at night, so having Carly available for that small duty seemed logical. And true, Aunt Cora had developed a slight heart murmur and liked the idea of someone in addition to her sister being around in case of emergency. But there were many more advantages that were in Carly’s favor. There were excellent schools in the district which gave Karen access to a higher standard of education than what Carly could have afforded if they lived elsewhere. The aunts’ beautiful house was big enough to allow everyone privacy while keeping them together as a family. And Nora and Cora were always available to baby-sit Karen when necessary.
Their offer had been a stroke of luck that had changed Carly’s life and the life of her child. Although Thanksgiving was three weeks away, Carly knew she had so much to be thankful for.
As she opened the side door and wiped her feet on the plush piece of carpet, delicious smells wafted from the kitchen to the utility porch. The aunts were at it again, cooking and preparing goodies for their annual harvest party. Tomorrow, neighbors and friends would be coming to the house to socialize, share anecdotes and stories.
“I’m back!” Carly announced as she headed for the service stairs.
“Did you have a good walk?” one of the aunts called out. Carly couldn’t tell their voices apart.
An image of a handsome man popped into her mind. “Wonderful!” she replied. “I’m taking Karen to viola, now. Back in a little while!”
“Have a quiet time, dear,” they both called out, knowing she cherished the hour twice a week she had to herself waiting for Karen’s lesson to be over. She read, window-shopped or, her favorite, just sat in the small café around the corner and people-watched. What she did not do during that time was grade papers or do anything else that might be connected with teaching. This hour was hers.
Carly entered Karen’s bedroom where her daughter lay sprawled on the floor in front of her Barbie house, playing with her doll. Her dark auburn ponytails glistened in the late-afternoon sunlight pouring through the window.
Carly leaned against the doorjamb and watched, pride filling her heart. Her ex-husband, Ken, was just as proud of his daughter as she was. Although their marriage had been an honest mistake, their daughter was not. Every time Carly looked at her, she was awed by the fact that she could have created someone so special. Without Karen, her life would not be complete. That thought was scary.
“Ready for viola, honey?”
Karen glanced over her shoulder. “Okay. Are we getting a yogurt after, Mama?”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“And can we watch the baseball game at the park? Please? It’s the last one of the season for the Hitter Misses.”
Carly remembered all the other items on her list of things to do. But lists could wait for a little while. Karen’s big love was baseball and if it really was the last game for her favorite female softball team... “Are you sure they don’t have a game next week?”
“Well...” Karen stood and pretended to think hard on the subject. “I might be wrong, but I don’t think so.”
“How about checking after your lesson?”
Karen pulled her sweater out of the closet. “Okay. But Mom? Don’t you love baseball, too?”
“I think it’s a nice game, honey, but it’s not the focus of my life.”
The little girl heaved a dramatic sigh. “Okay, Mom. I’ll try not to focus.”
Carly had to hide a grin. Karen looked like her father, but inside she was just like her mother. Dramatic, quick, and determined to do what she wanted. Carly had to keep a close eye on the seven-year-old or soon her daughter would outsmart her.
“Come on, little one, before you think of some other way to bamboozle me.”
“What’s bamboozle?”
“Something you’re already good at.” Carly laughed. “Let’s go.”
* * *
PETE CADE DOWNSHIFTED his Mercedes convertible as he turned into the commercial area known as Tyson’s Corners. He passed the contemporary office building with the decorative hole in the center of it, and then several more tall, stylish buildings that made up the small business district. Up ahead the green light turned red and he stepped on the brake. Across from him was a little coffee house that still offered outdoor seating. It was a wonderful option on an afternoon when trees were ablaze with color, but in another week or two, sipping coffee and eating pastries outside would disappear with the cold. Right now, it looked European and sophisticated.
Then, as if drawn by a magnet, Pete’s gaze fastened on a mane of rich, dark auburn hair. There was no doubt that it belonged to the woman he’d found making angels in the woods. She sat at one of the tables and held a cup in her hand, intently reading a book propped against a sugar bowl. Her features, highlighted by the sun, were feminine yet strong, her skin clear and her lips full.
He was drawn to her and for the life of him, he didn’t know why. Washington, D.C., and the surrounding suburbs held plenty of good-looking women. In fact, the area was known for them. And since he was single, had old money, and moved in the “right” social circles, he was a prime target for coy glances and flirting ways. But from the moment he’d seen her lying in the leaves, he was attracted to the woman who played in the woods like a child.
It wasn’t really her auburn hair that drew him, although it was thick and beautiful. It wasn’t her bright green eyes with just a hint of laughter lurking there, although he could get lost in them. It wasn’t her figure, even though the fit of her sweater and the hug of her jeans told him she had all the right curves.
It was the essence of her.
The light turned green and a horn honked to let him know it. He accelerated, then turned the corner and drove around the block. When he came back to the main street and headed for the restaurant parking lot, he saw that she was gone. She’d left in the time that it had taken to circle around. He hit the steering wheel with his fist in frustration. He’d lost her twice in one day. Then he remembered and smiled. She lived in his new neighborhood. He would see her again. He’d make sure of that.
His blood raced at the thought. It had been a long time since he’d relished being around a particular woman. Occasionally, he’d had the need for physical satisfication and even less often, followed through on that need.
However, since his divorce four years ago, he hadn’t had any urge to get involved with just one woman. He’d sworn not to do that ever again. There was a small soft spot in his heart that he wanted to fill with the love of a woman some day. But he figured he had enough time later for chasing daydreams, after his daughter, Cynthia, and stepson, Ian, were raised and didn’t need him anymore. Once the bitterness of the divorce had ebbed, he might consider it.
Raised an only child in a wealthy family, he learned at an early age that love wasn’t something that came everyone’s way. The ba
ck of his father’s hand against his head had taught him that love had no bearing on reality. Love was a fool’s fantasy.
His work with Castaways, a shelter for battered women and children, showed him that his childhood concussions were right. He’d seen too many terrible episodes in people’s lives to believe there was such a thing as “happily ever after.”
With a sigh, Pete headed toward his brownstone office. He needed to pick up some files and address a few of the thousand problems that had come up last week when he was out of town. Being CEO of one of the country’s largest chains of shelters for homeless and battered women and children was tough. He was constantly lobbying for fairer laws and begging for funds to keep the doors open. He loved his job, but it sometimes got the best of him. Strong-arming wealthy people into letting go of their money wasn’t easy. And it took a lot of time and effort to keep the shelters high on the public’s agenda. But it was worth it. His charity was one of the most monetarily successful, contributing more than eighty percent of its donations to the cause and using only fourteen percent on accounting, administrative and legal costs. Of course, it helped that he often paid his expenses with his own money. Although he could well afford it, he kept this information to himself, knowing it could make him seem like an easy touch.
Besides, he had other monetary obligations. His ex-wife, bless her black heart, had gotten her share of blood and bones from him before she remarried three years ago, the day after their divorce was final. It had been good news and bad news. Now he was off the hook as to giving her anything beyond child support. The bad news was that Sandra took Cynthia and Ian and moved to California, where he could only see them on long school vacations and over the summer. She’d taken away the only bright lights of his life.
He’d fallen in love with his stepson the moment they met, when Ian was three years old. Almost two years later his daughter, Cynthia was born. From the first time he held her in his arms, he knew that he’d waited all his life to feel this complete. But with his divorce from Sandra when Cynthia was six, the children were torn from him and he’d felt their loss ever since.
The Twelve Gifts of Christmas Page 1
