“Nudge?” Cain guessed.
“In a word. She just ghosted down the stairs toward my room.”
Shelley got up and walked quickly down the stairs. She wasn’t worried about Squeeze, but she needed an excuse to get away and finish off a few details.
Billy’s presents, to be exact.
She pulled the gifts out of her closet and set them on the bed. They looked bright and rather odd. She hadn’t remembered until she was home again that she had no wrapping paper. After a fast search, she had found some outdated foil wallpaper samples that worked almost as well.
“No ribbons,” she said. “That’s what I forgot. What are gifts without at least one ribbon? Let’s see. What can I substitute? Yarn, beads, tinfoil flowers . . .
Inspiration hit.
“Perfect. Unless the critter has the rips.”
She went to Squeeze’s glass cage. The snake was definitely sluggish rather than racy. It was lying loosely coiled, slightly cool to her touch. Altogether normal for a reptile that wasn’t sunning itself on a desert rock.
She lifted Squeeze out and went to the bed. With a few quick motions she arranged the boa’s coils around various presents. Then she pulled the blinds, turned off the light, and stood by the closed door in the dark room.
“Cain? Billy?” she called through the door. “Could you come down and help me with Squeeze for a minute?”
Bits of conversation floated down the stairs as the two males speculated on what trouble Squeeze and Nudge could have gotten into in such a short time.
The door opened. Cain’s hand felt around for the switch. He found Shelley’s fingers.
“What the—?”
“Happy birthday, Billy!” she said, flipping on the light.
The boy’s eyes widened in surprise. He looked from Shelley to the bed and then back to her as though he couldn’t believe his luck.
“How did you know? Even Mom didn’t remem—” His voice cracked.
“Squeeze told me,” Shelley said quickly.
Blinking fiercely, Billy went toward the bed. He bent over Squeeze, hiding his face.
“Boy, I’ll never trust you with my secrets again, snake. You’re such a blabbermouth.”
Hesitantly the boy’s fingers touched a brightly wrapped package.
“Well, go on, get to it,” she said. “You can’t expect Squeeze to wrap and unwrap your presents for you.”
Billy looked up for an instant. His flashing yet almost shy smile made Shelley want to cry.
She watched with an ache in her throat as the boy draped the quiet snake around his neck and picked up the first present. He unwrapped the package while keeping up a running commentary on babbling boas and how in heck did Squeeze manage all the sticky tape.
Cain’s hand curled around hers. He lifted it from the light switch to his lips and brushed his lips over her palm.
“You’re a special woman, Shelley Wilde.”
His fingers tightened and he kissed her hand again, pulling her close, rubbing his cheek against her hair slowly, savoring the unique fragrance and feel of her. Smiling, she relaxed against his warmth, taking pleasure in the feel of him against her back.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Billy hasn’t had an easy time of it lately.”
“No thanks needed. I haven’t had so much fun since I was a kid myself.”
Billy whooped as he pulled a book out of the stiff wrapping paper.
“Cool! His newest book. I didn’t even know it was out yet. And it’s illustrated by one of my favorite artists.”
Eagerly he read the first few paragraphs. He turned the page, devoured a few more lines, then remembered where he was. Carefully he set the book aside and went to work unwrapping the next present.
“How did you know what he likes to read?” Cain asked against her ear.
“Snakes are very talkative creatures.”
“Chicken feet.”
She smiled. “Would you believe a little breaking and entering?”
“Billy’s room?’
“Actually, Lupe let me in. After that it was just a matter of time. His room is like he is. Vivid and open.”
The boy gave another whoop and waved an art book in their direction.
“Look, Uncle Cain! Now I can show you what Gorpian fighting slugs look like, and Tannax Four weirdmasters, and . . .” He scanned rapidly through the index. “Cherfs! They even have cherfs!”
Shelley felt the silent laughter go through Cain as he pulled her even closer.
“I can hardly wait,” he said to his nephew. Then he spoke very softly against her ear. “What in hell is a cherf?”
“Don’t ask. Dreadful creatures.”
They nearly lost Billy to an art book with exquisitely drawn alien landscapes, but finally the lure of the last, biggest package was too much. He lifted it, rattled the box cautiously, and began unwrapping it slowly. Though he was eager to see what was inside, he was reluctant to open the last present.
Gradually a glittering silver dragon emerged from the mounds of tissue paper. With a sound of awe and disbelief, he lifted the sculpture and turned it reverently in his young hands.
“It’s . . . it’s way, way beyond cool,” he said. “Look at those scales and teeth. And the claws!”
“Careful,” she said. “The artist made everything very pointy.”
He touched the curving fangs and claws.
“Sharp, too,” he said admiringly. “This dragon is no wimp. Bet he eats knights for breakfast and armies for dinner and kings for dessert.”
Squeeze shifted on Billy’s body. Human warmth was beginning to make the snake lively. A dark, forked tongue flicked rapidly over the dragon. The snake rested its head on the silver dragon and gave Shelley a long, unblinking look.
“Do you think he approves?” Cain asked her.
“I think it’s time for Squeeze to go back in the box. Check it out.”
He did, and spotted Nudge stalking closer to the action. He took two steps, scooped the snake from around Billy’s shoulders, and stuffed the boa gently back into the aquarium.
Nudge watched the whole thing with normal cat curiosity but no real bloodthirsty intent.
Cain put the heavy lid in place.
Squeeze tasted the glass and watched the cat.
“Think they’d ever be friends?” Billy asked.
“As long as there was a referee,” Shelley said dryly, “they’d both survive. They might even enjoy it.”
“Let’s not put it to the test tonight,” Cain said. “I’m too tired to referee a bobcat and a boa constrictor. Let’s round up your loot and go back upstairs.”
As soon as he and Billy had an armload of presents, Shelley shut the bedroom door behind them. She raced past them up the stairs, shutting off lights as she went.
“What is this, a test of our night vision?” Cain demanded.
She acted as though she hadn’t heard.
“Ouch,” Billy said, bumping into his uncle. “Your boots are hard.”
“Guys could break a leg in the dark,” Cain said loudly.
“So slow down,” Shelley yelled from the kitchen.
She pulled Billy’s cake from its hiding place in the cupboard. Their voices were getting closer.
“Slower!” she demanded.
Hastily she lit the candles one after another, dancing with impatience as the limp wicks reluctantly caught fire.
Billy and Cain found the dining room table the hard way. Thumps and mutterings came from just beyond the kitchen.
“Close your eyes!” she called.
“What difference would it make?” Cain asked.
“Can I sit down first?” Billy asked.
“I don’t know. Can you?”
From there the conversation degenerated into the amusing kind of crossfire that was more common between brothers than nephew and uncle.
Each time Shelley laughed at a comment, her hand jerked and the match missed a candle.
“Shelley?” Cain called.
“Patience. I’m in here working on my night vision.”
A few moments later, he came into the kitchen with an armload of dirty dishes. When he saw her bent over the birthday cake in the dark kitchen, her eyes alight with reflected fire and her mouth curved in a secret smile, he wanted to dump all the dishes in the trash and carry her away into the night.
But he didn’t. He simply put the dishes in the sink, and watched her, smiling as she was smiling, his gray eyes brilliant with the tiny dance of flames.
Finally all the candles were burning at once. She picked up the cake tray and carefully began walking.
Cain waited for her signal to open the door to the dining room.
“Are your eyes closed?” she asked Billy.
“Yes.”
“Don’t peek.”
He didn’t dignify that with a reply.
When they walked into the dining room, he was sitting upright, scowling fiercely to demonstrate that his eyes couldn’t possibly be closed any tighter.
Once she set the cake in front of him, she began to sing “Happy Birthday.” The good-natured, off-key rumble of Cain’s voice joined in.
As soon as the last word was sung, Billy’s eyes popped open. His expression when he saw the loaf cake was worth every bit of time Shelley had spent on it.
Against chocolate-icing hills and lemon rivers, fantastic animals played, their figures lit by birthday candles. The miniature beasts glittered and ran with flame as though they were actually alive and strolling across their tasty landscape.
For a long time Billy simply sat and stared at the fantasy in front of him. His eyes were wide and bright with unshed tears.
“Make a wish,” Shelley said.
He bent over and blew mightily.
Suddenly the dining room was dark.
“Good job,” Cain said, flipping on the light. “That wish is a sure thing.”
While he dished out ice cream, Shelley wiped icing from the miniature beasts and lined them up by Billy’s plate. He watched her almost shyly. When he caught her eye, he smiled.
“Thank you,” he said.
“My pleasure.” Her hand rested for an instant on Billy’s fine blond hair. “I’m trying to remember. Are you too old for a birthday hug?”
Without getting up, Billy threw his arms around her waist and buried his face against her. He was surprisingly strong, nearly squeezing the breath out of her, but she didn’t complain. She just hugged him in return and silently asked herself again why a child like Billy had been given a mother like JoLynn.
Later, as Shelley helped the boy carry his presents out to the pickup truck Cain had used to transport the dirt bikes, Billy asked his uncle the very question she had been afraid to put into words.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. Climb in. You better carry that dragon in your lap.”
Billy swung lithely into the truck and held out his arms for the box holding the silver dragon.
“A week?” the boy persisted. “A month?”
“A week, maybe less.”
But Cain didn’t sound like he believed his own words.
Probably a lot more than a week, Shelley thought bitterly. And why in God’s name should I feel hurt? It’s Billy who needs Cain in his life, not me.
She looked away from Cain and concentrated on tucking a sack full of presents next to Billy’s feet. When she finished, she straightened and ruffled his hair gently.
“See you tomorrow.”
“Thanks again,” he said.
The smile she gave him was genuine. “You’re welcome.”
She stepped away from the cab, but still didn’t look in Cain’s direction. Her childhood had taught her to hate good-byes.
And this was definitely good-bye.
The pain she felt frightened her, telling her that she had ignored the harsh lessons of her childhood and marriage. She had given too much of herself to Cain, too quickly. Her physical hunger for him was bad enough. Her mental hunger could destroy her.
She had to end it now, right now. It was time to cut her losses and move on, repeating the rituals of her childhood all over again.
“So long, traveling man. Hope everything works out for you in the Yukon.”
Cain heard the finality beneath the polite words.
She turned away without looking back. Quick strides took her away from him, up the dark walkway to her home.
He shut the truck door. Hard.
“Stay put,” he told Billy. “I’ll be right back.”
All Shelley heard was the sound of the truck door slamming. She opened the front door to her home and closed it behind her. Then she stood a few feet inside her home and measured the extent of the damage.
Her hands were shaking. Tears were closing her throat. She wanted to scream at her own stupidity.
I’ve known Cain a few days and already the thought of weeks and weeks without him takes the color out of the world.
Savagely she reminded herself that nothing important had changed. She still had the life she always wanted. She still had a satisfying career, she still had the home she had dreamed of during all the rootless years of her childhood. She had achieved every goal she had set for herself after her divorce.
I have everything.
Except Cain.
The front door opened. He glided inside with the silence and grace of a cat. The door shut behind him with a definite thump. Long arms wrapped around Shelley, dragging her close with frightening ease.
“You forgot something,” he said flatly. “Fight if it will make you feel better, but it won’t matter. I’m stronger than you and fighting it hasn’t done me a damn bit of good.”
He pinned her to the hard length of his body while his mouth broke open hers so that he could find all the softness and heat she was trying to deny him. He devoured her with a force that shocked him. He tried to slow down, to temper the anger and fear that had exploded in him when he had seen her turn her back and walk away as though he were no more than Billy’s chauffeur.
Only when he tasted her tears running hotly over his lips did he succeed in controlling himself.
“Shelley,” he said urgently, saying her name again and again as he kissed her with ravishing tenderness. “Shelley, don’t ever turn your back on me like that again. I need you too much.”
“But we’ve only known each other a few—”
“I know myself,” he said, cutting across her words. “I’ve needed you forever.”
He kissed her deeply, gently. She trembled and softened against him. Then she kissed him with a hunger that was more than sexual, as though she could store him up against the lonely times ahead.
“You need me, too,” he said, “even though you’re having trouble getting used to the idea.” His arms tightened, then released her. “I’ll come back. And you’ll be here for me.”
The front door opened and closed softly, leaving Shelley alone with silence and tears, the bittersweet taste of a traveling man on her lips.
Chapter Twelve
The math workbook looked as frayed as Billy had before Shelley began helping him. Now she was sitting on the floor near him, because she had discovered that he preferred doing homework where Squeeze couldn’t snake off and hide.
The boa delighted in curling up inside desk drawers, beneath sofa cushions, and in sunny corners behind furniture. After a few frantic hours of turning the house upside down looking for a rosy boa, she had decreed that the snake stayed in her bedroom, where the hiding places were limited.
At the moment, Billy was sitting cross-legged wearing Squeeze coiled around his narrow waist.
“But if they don’t tell me the length or the width of the room,” he argued, “how can I—Nudge, back off—know the area?”
Nudge gave the boy a hurt look and stopped pawing at Squeeze, who was slowly uncoiling from the boy’s waist.
Warily Shelley kept one eye on the wildlife and one eye on the math.
“You do
know the dimensions of the room,” she said.
“I do?”
“Think about it. How long is the room? Not in feet or inches, but as though you were describing it to a friend.”
He frowned and pushed aside a snaky coil that was covering a diagram in the math book.
“Twice as long as it is wide?” he asked finally.
“Good!”
“Yeah, but they want feet and inches and stuff.”
“We’re getting there. Now, if—back off, cat.”
She snagged Nudge by the scruff. The cat batted with sheathed claws at a firm section of boa slithering by.
“If you call the width X—enough, Nudge!—what would you call the length?” she asked.
“Twice X?”
“Close.”
“Oh, two X, like in problem three.”
“Right!”
Dawning excitement lit Billy’s lean features. “Then the area is X times two X, right?”
“Twice right.”
He gave her a quick smile and bent over the workbook.
She held on to Nudge and watched the boy attack the assignment with real enthusiasm. He wrote confidently and rarely erased. Once he had accepted the idea that X could stand for anything, anytime, anywhere, he was happy to put X to use.
As Shelley had guessed, he had a quick, inquiring mind, though at first it had been a test of wills to get him to use his mind for anything other than stubbornness and evasion.
To Billy’s surprise, she had proved to be more stubborn than he was and every bit as quick.
The intercom buzzed.
“That’s probably your mother,” Shelley said. “Go ahead and let her in.”
Squeeze slithered off in a heap as the boy bounced to his feet. The snake started coiling across the room in search of new mountains to conquer.
Billy pressed down the intercom button. “Door’s open, Mother, c’mon in. We’ll be up as soon as Shelley helps me with my last math problem and we put Squeeze away.”
He flipped off the intercom and flopped on the bedroom floor with the coltish grace that only teenagers have.
Shelley stared at him, surprised that he hadn’t run upstairs to say hello to his mother. After all, he hadn’t seen JoLynn for six days.
“This can wait while you say hi,” Shelley said.
Where the Heart Is Page 15
