“Nope. Not even when we came home from school with little handmade decorations. Those went on Consuela’s tree. I think she still has them all. Mother paid a fortune for the perfect tree. She wasn’t about to have the design marred by tacky ornaments made by her children.”
Jessie’s heart ached for the four boys who’d been deprived of the kind of tradition she’d always clung to. When she looked his way again, Luke’s thoughtful gaze was on her as if he was waiting for her reaction to having one of her myths about his family shattered.
“Where are those decorations now?” she asked, clearly surprising him.
“In Consuela’s suite, I suppose. Why?”
“Can you find them?”
He gave her an odd look. “Jessie, there’s no need to get all sentimental about a bunch of construction paper and plaster of paris decorations.”
“I want them on this tree,” she insisted.
Luke shook his head at what he obviously considered a fanciful demand. “I’ll take a look later.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He played along and solemnly crossed his heart. “What about you, Jessie? What was it like at your house?”
“Quiet,” she said, thinking back to those days that had been a mix of happy traditions and inexplicable loneliness. “There were just the three of us. By the time I was adopted, my parents were already turning forty. There were no grandparents. I always thought how wonderful it would be if only there were aunts and uncles and cousins, but both of my parents had been only children.”
“Is that why you were coming back to White Pines this year? Did you want to maintain the ties so your baby would eventually have the large family you’d missed?”
“That was part of it. That and wanting her to know she’s an Adams. I don’t have that sense of the past that you have. I suppose it can be a blessing and a curse—Erik certainly saw it that way—but I envy it more than I can tell you.”
“Why didn’t you ever search for your biological parents?”
She recalled how badly she’d once wanted to do exactly that. “I thought about it right after I learned I was adopted,” she admitted. “But my parents were so distressed by the idea that I put it aside.”
He paused in hanging the decorations and studied her from atop the ladder. “Is it still important to you?”
Jessie felt his gaze on her and looked up at him from her spot on the floor amid the rapidly emptying boxes. “I think it is,” she said quietly. “It’s as though there’s a piece of me missing and I’ll never be whole until I find it. It’s funny. I thought Erik and your family could fill that space, but I was wrong. It’s still there.”
Luke climbed down from the ladder, then hunkered down in front of her and rested his hands on her knees. His gaze was even with hers and filled with compassion. “Then do it, Jessie. Find that missing part. I’ll help in any way I can.”
Something deep inside her blossomed under the warmth of his gaze. And for the first time she could ever recall, it seemed there was no empty place after all.
Chapter Seven
Though it tested her patience terribly, Jessie agreed with Luke’s idea that they not turn on the tree lights until evening. The decision to wait left her brimming with an inexplicable sense of anticipation, almost as if she were a child again. She could recall year after year when she’d huddled in her bed, pretending to sleep, listening for the sound of reindeer on the roof, the soft thud of Santa landing on the hearth after a slide down the chimney. She wanted those kinds of memories for her daughter, those and more.
She wanted Angela to grow up with memories of Christmas Eves gathered around a piano singing carols, of midnight church services, and of the chaos of Christmas morning with dozens of cousins and aunts and uncles. She couldn’t give her those things, but Erik’s family could. And as difficult as it might be at times to be around Luke without touching him, without openly loving him, she would see to it that the connection with the Adamses was never severed.
She glanced up to find Luke’s gaze on her. She smiled, her eyes misty. “We’ll make it sort of a Christmas Eve ceremony,” she said, wondering at the magic that shimmered through her at the hint they were starting a tradition of their own. The memory of it was something she could hold tight, something no one could criticize or take away from her.
And yet, judging from the intent way Luke studied her, there must have been a note of sadness in her voice she hadn’t realized was there.
“Are you sorry you’re not spending Christmas Eve at my parents’ house?” he asked.
There was an odd undercurrent to the question that Jessie couldn’t interpret. Was he regretting not acting more aggressively to get her out of his hair? Or was the question exactly what it seemed? Was he worrying about her feelings?
“It’s not the Christmas I was anticipating,” she admitted, and saw the immediate and surprising flare of disappointment in his eyes. She hurried to reassure him. “It’s better, Luke. No one could have done more to make this holiday special. You made sure I had a healthy baby. And how could I possibly regret the first Christmas with my daughter, wherever it is?”
Luke glanced at the baby she held cradled in her arms. Angela had just been fed and was already falling asleep again, her expression contented.
“She is what this season is all about, isn’t she?” he said. “They say we don’t always do so well with our own lives, but we can try harder to see that our children experience all of the magic of the holidays, that they get everything they deserve out of life.”
His bleak tone puzzled her. “Luke, you sound as if your life is over and hasn’t turned out the way you expected. That’s crazy. There’s still lots of time for you to fulfill all your dreams.”
His inscrutable gaze met hers. Something deep in his eyes reached out and touched her. It was that odd sense of connection she’d felt so often in the past, as if their souls understood things they’d never spoken of.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he said quietly. “I think maybe I missed out on the one thing that makes life worth living.”
“Which is?” she asked, her voice oddly choked.
“Love.”
Something in the way he was looking at her turned Jessie’s blood hot. Her pulse thumped unsteadily. There was no mistaking the desire in his hooded eyes, the longing threading through his voice.
Nor was there any way to deny the stubborn set of his jaw that said he would never act on whatever feelings he might have for her. Fueled by guilt or conscience, he had declared her off limits.
Which was as it should be, Jessie told herself staunchly. Yet she couldn’t explain the warring of regret and relief that his silent decision stirred in her. Stranded here with him, she didn’t dare explore any of her feelings too closely, but she had been reminded sharply of all of them. Most especially she had remembered how a simple glance could warm her, how easily the soft caress of Luke’s voice could send a tremor of pure bliss rippling through her.
At White Pines, with Erik alive, those responses had been forbidden. She had felt the deep sting of betrayal every time she hadn’t been able to control her reaction to her husband’s brother. Now it seemed the denials had gone for naught. Luke had reawakened her senses without even trying. He, thank goodness, appeared far more capable of pretending, though, that he hadn’t. The charade of casual distance between them would be maintained to protect them both from making a terrible mistake.
“I think I’ll put Angela down for a while,” she said, practically dashing from the room that vibrated with unspoken longings.
Only after she had the baby safely tucked into her makeshift bed again, only after she was curled up in a blanket herself did she give free rein to the wild fantasies that Luke set off in her. Dangerous, forbidden fantasies. Fantasies that hadn’t died, after all, not even after her attempt to put time and distance between herself and this complex man who’d found a spot in her heart with his unspoken compassion and strength of characte
r.
“Oh, Lucas,” she whispered miserably. “How could I have done it? How could I have gone and fallen in love with you?”
There was no point in denying that love was what she was feeling. She had fought it practically from the moment she’d first set eyes on him. She had run from it, leaving him and White Pines behind. But three nights ago, when Luke had been there for her, when he had safely delivered her baby and treated her with such tenderness and compassion, the powerful feelings had come back with a vengeance.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t go on denying them with every breath left in her. She owed that to Erik.
More than that, she knew as well as Luke obviously did, the kind of terrible price they would pay, the loss of respect from the rest of the family if he ever admitted what she was beginning to suspect…that he was in love with her as well.
* * *
Luke was slowly but surely going out of his mind. There wasn’t a doubt about it. Another few days of the kind of torment that Jessie’s presence was putting him through and he’d be round the bend. His body was so hard, so often, that he wondered why he hadn’t exploded.
All it took was a whispered remark, an innocent glance, a casual caress and he reacted as if he were being seduced, which was clearly the farthest thing from Jessie’s mind. There were times it seemed she could barely stand to be in the same room with him. She’d bolted so often, even a blind man would have gotten the message.
He couldn’t understand why she, of all the women in the world, had this mesmerizing effect on him. Maybe guilt had made all of his senses sharper, he consoled himself. Maybe he wouldn’t be up to speed and ready to rock and roll, if there weren’t such an element of danger involved. He was practically hoarse from telling himself that Jessie was not available to him ever, and his body still wasn’t listening!
It had been tough enough with Erik alive. His sense of honor had forbidden him from acting on his impulse to sweep Jessie into his arms and carry her off to his own ranch. Erik and Jessie had made a legal and religious commitment to love each other till eternity. Luke had witnessed their vows himself, had respected those vows, in deed, if not always in thought. He’d been tormented day in and day out by the longings he could control only by staying as far from Jessie as possible. With her right here in the home in which he’d envisioned her so often, his control was stretched beyond endurance. He was fighting temptation minute by minute. Each tiny victory was an agony.
A lesser man might not have fought so valiantly. After all, Erik’s death had removed any legal barriers to Luke’s pursuit of Jessie. But he knew in his heart it hadn’t diminished the moral commitment the couple had made before God and their family and friends. Maybe if Luke told himself that often enough, he could keep his hands off her for a few more days.
But not if she impulsively threw her arms around his neck again, not if he felt the soft press of her breasts against his chest, or the tantalizing brush of her lips against his. A man could handle only so much temptation without succumbing—and hating himself for it forever after.
The safe thing to do, the smart, prudent thing would be to retrieve that blasted cellular phone from his truck and call his parents.
And he would do just that, he promised himself. He would do it first thing Christmas morning. Tomorrow, Jessie would be out of his home, out of his life. She would be back where she belonged—at White Pines—and back in her rightful role as Erik’s widow, mother of Harlan and Mary’s first grandchild.
Tonight, though, he would have Jessie and Angela to himself for their own private holiday celebration. Just thinking about sitting with Jessie in a darkened room, the only lights those on the twinkling tree they’d had such fun decorating, made his pulse race. They would share a glass of wine, listen to carols, then at midnight they would toast Christmas together.
And tomorrow he would let her—let both of them—go.
That was the plan. If he had thought it would help him stick to it, he would have written it down and posted it on the refrigerator. Instead, he knew he was going to have to draw on his increasingly tattered sense of honor. He stood in his office for a good fifteen minutes, his gaze fixed on Erik and Jessie’s wedding picture just to remind himself of the stakes. He figured his resolve was about as solid as it possibly could be.
He tried to pretend that there was nothing special about the evening by choosing to wear one of his many plaid shirts, the colors muted by too many washings, and a comfortable, well-worn pair of jeans. Consuela would have ripped him to shreds for his choice. His mother would have declared herself disgraced. He considered it one small attempt to keep the atmosphere casual.
There were more. He set the kitchen table with everyday dishes and skirted the temptation of candles with careful deliberation. He would have used paper plates and plastic knives and forks if he’d had them just to make his point.
Still, there was no denying the festive atmosphere as he heated the cornish game hens with wild rice, fresh rolls and pecan pie that Consuela had left for his holiday meal. The wine was one of his best, carefully selected from the limited, but priceless, assortment in his wine cellar. The kitchen was filled with delicious aromas by the time Jessie put in an appearance.
She’d dressed in an emerald green sweater that had the look of softest cashmere. It hung loosely to just below her hips, suggesting hidden curves. Her slacks were a matching shade of wool. She’d brushed her coal black hair and left it to wave softly down her back.
“Something smells wonderful,” she said peering into the oven. The movement sent her hair cascading over her shoulder. She shot him an astonished look. “Cornish game hens? Pecan pie?”
“Consuela,” he confessed tightly as he fought the desire to run his fingers through her hair.
Her gaze narrowed speculatively. “She must have suspected you’d be having a special guest here for the holidays.”
Was that jealousy in her voice? Luke wondered. Dear heaven, he hoped not. Jealousy might imply that his feelings were returned and he knew without any doubt that all it would take to weaken his resolve was a hint that Jessie felt as he did.
“Not suspected,” he denied. “Hoped, maybe. Consuela is a hopeless romantic and my bachelor status is a constant source of dismay to her. She stays up nights watching old videos of Hepburn and Tracy, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I think she’s worn out her tape of An Affair to Remember. She wakes me out of a sound sleep with her sniffling.”
Jessie smiled. “A woman after my own heart. Maybe we should watch an old movie tonight. Does she have It’s A Wonderful Life or Miracle on 34th Street?”
“I’m sure she does, but I refuse to watch them if you’re going to start bawling.”
“Can’t stand to see a woman cry, huh?”
Certainly not this one woman in particular, he thought to himself. He would shift oceans, move continents if that’s what it took to keep Jessie happy. His brother had broken her heart.
As soon as the disloyal thought formed, Luke banished it. Jessie had loved Erik. Their marriage had been solid. It wasn’t for him to judge whether Erik’s decisions had disappointed her. He dragged himself back to the present and caught Jessie studying him curiously.
“Nope, I never could stand to see a woman cry,” he said, deliberately keeping his tone light. “I’m fresh out of hankies, too.”
Jessie grinned. “No problem. I saw boxes of tissues stashed in the bathroom closet.”
Luke heaved an exaggerated sigh of resignation. “I’ll find the tapes right after dinner.”
Dinner was sheer torture. Jessie found the candles Luke had avoided and lit them. The kitchen shimmered with candlelight and the glow from the fireplace. It was the kind of romantic lighting that turned a woman’s complexion delectably soft and alluring, the kind of lighting that stirred the imagination. Luke’s was working overtime. He could barely squeeze a bite of food past the lump lodged in his throat.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Jessie observed.
&nb
sp; “Just enjoying the meal,” he claimed.
She eyed his full plate skeptically. “Really?”
He was saved from stammering out some sort of explanation by the sound of whimpers from the bedroom. “Angela’s awake,” he announced unnecessarily and bolted before Jessie could even react.
With the baby safely tucked against his chest, it was easier somehow to keep his emotions in check. Right now he figured Angela was as critical to his survival as a bulletproof vest was to a cop working the violent streets.
“She’s probably hungry,” Jessie said when the two of them were settled back at the table.
The innocent observation had Luke’s gaze suddenly riveted on Jessie’s chest. So much for keeping his attention focused elsewhere.
“She’s not making a fuss yet,” he replied in a choked voice, clinging to the baby a trifle desperately. “Enjoy your dinner.”
Jessie seemed about to protest, but finally nodded and picked up her fork. Luke kept his gaze firmly fixed on the baby.
“How are you doing, sweet pea? Ready for your very first Christmas? It’s almost time for the big show, the lighting of the tree.”
“It’s amazing the effect you have on her,” Jessie commented. “It must be your voice. It soothes her.”
Luke grinned. “Can’t tell you the number of women I’ve put to sleep by talking too much.”
Blue eyes observed him steadily as if trying to assess whether he was only teasing or boasting. Apparently she decided he was joking. To his amazement, he could see a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.
“I doubt that,” she countered dryly. “I suspect it’s the kind of voice that keeps grown-up women very much awake.”
“You included?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. His heart skidded to a standstill as he watched the color rise in her cheeks. Those telltale patches were answer enough. So he hadn’t totally misread those occasional sparks of interest in her eyes. Nevertheless, a few sparks weren’t enough to overcome a mountain of doubts.
A Christmas Blessing Page 8
