Starting from Scratch

by Marie Ferrarella

  “You’re not just another place setting.” There, she’d said as much as she could. As much as she dared. But he was a smart man. He was good at deciphering code. And she had just told him that she cared for him, couching it in words that left them both safe. Mostly him. Because if she told him outright how she felt and he didn’t feel anything, that would be the end of it. Words were far more lethal than any physical act they might have shared.

  For all she knew, he might still regard what they’d had as sex. He might, but she didn’t. As far as she was concerned, she had made love with him. Because, dammit, she loved him.

  There it was again, that strange, funny little hitch in the middle of her chest, in the pit of her stomach. Like a huge bipolar reaction, happy and sad by so many turns that it made her head spin.

  “Sure I am,” he told her flatly.

  He was telling her there was nothing between them, she thought.

  Tears came, filling her eyes, filling her soul. Agree with him, save face and be done with it. This wasn’t supposed to have happened anyway.

  But it had, and she couldn’t back away. “No,” she said firmly, “you’re not. You could be the only place setting, but you’re not just ‘another’ one.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Silence that vibrated straight into her soul. Suppressing the sigh that rose to her lips, Elisha said quietly, “I have to go. If I don’t see you before then, have a merry Christmas.”

  And then, when he didn’t say anything to make her remain, she hung up the phone. Burying her face in her pillow, she let the pillowcase absorb her tears. And called herself a fool for feeling the way she did.

  CHAPTER 41

  It really was true, Elisha thought. The more things changed, the more they insisted on remaining the same. She was living proof.

  In the last six months, her life had experienced nothing short of a monumental shake-up. She’d gone from being a single-minded, dedicated career woman to a woman who juggled home and family with her job. Something she’d never thought she would be able to do, even if the occasion did present itself. But she could. That was the “new” Elisha Reed.

  But as far as things went on the romantic front, she was still the old Elisha. Her new evolution hadn’t helped her lose her knack for being attracted to men who weren’t good for her. Men who weren’t going to stick around for the long haul.

  It didn’t matter that she’d told herself that she was past all that. That she’d made peace with never having a husband, a significant other in her life. Had convinced herself that she could just enjoy a night, an interlude of system-blowing, hot sex and be satisfied with that as long as her partner wasn’t a Neanderthal. She’d thought that she’d made herself believe that the experience was an end unto itself.

  It was a lie. She wanted more.

  Wanted more because she’d seen that life could and often did offer more. Nothing was set in stone. She’d learned that. More than anything, she wanted that semi–happily ever after that she’d come to believe lucky people had in their lives.

  That was the life she wanted.

  Where there’s life, there’s hope, right? Elisha told herself as she went around the house, switching off lights. Andrea had had her friends over for a Christmas Eve party and it had been past midnight before the last guest, a boy named Adam Tomlin, had finally left.

  She’d witnessed Andrea and Adam sharing a kiss beneath the mistletoe and had felt a mixture of sweet pleasure and wistful envy at the sight. Adam looked like the type of clean-cut boy parents wished for their daughters, and she was happy for Andrea.

  But really sad for herself.

  There’d been no call from Ryan in the last few days. No calls, no e-mails. Nothing. She had a feeling that when he’d said no to her, he was turning down more than just her invitation to Christmas dinner. He’s said no to the whole idea behind it. To the whole idea of sharing himself with her beyond an interlude.

  For all she knew, that part of their relationship might already be in the past.

  Served her right for making a big deal out of it, she thought ruefully.

  Elisha couldn’t shake the sadness. All during the evening, she’d put on a front—smiling, bantering, pretending that nothing was wrong. But it was. It was very wrong. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  Standing at the foot of the stairs, she paused for a moment just to look back into the living room. The house was locked up for the night. She’d done that first before playing Santa Claus and bringing out the presents she’d hidden in the storage shed behind the garage. She’d placed the lot of them underneath the tree. Just like Henry used to do.

  It had been her brother’s custom to wait until everyone in the house was asleep, then he’d tiptoe down and slip all the gifts beneath the tree. Like Santa Claus. The tradition had begun when Andrea was just a baby. She saw no reason to change it now.

  Elisha felt her eyes growing misty and tried not to think that this was not just the girls’ first Christmas without him, but hers, as well.

  “This one’s for you, Henry,” she whispered, leaving just one light burning on the first floor.

  Where there was life, there was hope, she thought again as she entered her bedroom and closed the door. But she was realistic enough to realize that as far as Ryan Sutherland went, that hope was gone. If she wanted to continue working as his editor, she was going to have to accept that. Get used to that.

  She wasn’t altogether sure she could.

  Love sucked, Elisha thought, changing for bed. Especially the one-sided kind.

  But then, she already knew that. She lifted the covers and got into the double bed that seemed so horribly empty. The sheets felt cold against her body. But then, so did her soul.

  Elisha’s bedroom window faced the front of the house and consequently the driveway. She’d picked it because the room received the first rays of the morning sun. She liked being woken up by sunshine when it was in the offing. But it wasn’t the sun that woke her this morning. The sun hadn’t even had a chance to make an appearance yet. What woke her was the noise. The noise of someone or something in the driveway.

  She forced herself to focus. It felt as if she’d only just finally fallen asleep after hours of tossing around, trying to find a comfortable place on the ordinarily accommodating mattress.

  Was someone trying to break into the house? On Christmas morning? She thought that seemed unbelievably crass.

  Elisha sat up, listening intently.

  Henry’s house was close to being forty years old. When he’d first moved in, he’d done a lot of remodeling and refinishing himself. This was not a structure that groaned and creaked like some houses the same vintage. Even if it had been, these weren’t the sounds of a house settling. This was the sound of a car pulling into her driveway. Of a car door being closed. And a hood being popped.

  She thought about waking up the girls. Should she be calling 911?

  Elisha leaned her head closer toward the window and listened harder.

  Sinclair had volunteered to dress as Santa Claus for Beth’s sake. The author had been almost crestfallen when she’d told him that Beth was too old to believe in that anymore.

  These weren’t the right kind of sounds for an invading Santa Claus.

  Besides, as good as his intentions were, there was no way Sinclair would have arrived at her house at six-thirty, shrouded in the shadows of fading moonlight. He would have come to dinner, dressed in the red suit.

  Her heart in her throat, Elisha got out of bed and crept toward her window. She looked out. And saw a Hummer. The black vehicle was sharply contrasted against the fresh blanket of snow that had fallen after ten last night.

  Santa drove a Hummer.

  She smiled ever so slightly. Opening her window, she looked out, then toward the front door. But from her angle, there was no way she could see who was standing there. The view of the front door was hidden from her.

  Elisha withdrew. She closed the window and gr
abbed her robe as she flew out of the room. Struggling with it, she’d just managed to push her arms through the robe’s sleeves when she got to the front door.

  At times like this, she wished she had a dog. A big, snarling Doberman or German shepherd. Something fierce that could rear up on its hind legs while she held on tightly to its collar. Just in case the “robber” wasn’t who she thought it was. But what kind of robber drove a Hummer?

  The only one she knew of who had one of those overpriced vehicles was Ryan.

  Taking a deep breath, she yanked open the front door. A blast of cold air rushed in, surrounding her. Elisha hardly noticed it. She was too focused on the man on her doorstep.

  She was looking down at the top of his head.

  Ryan was caught bending over, placing the last of the foil-wrapped packages he’d brought with him. Gifts he’d gotten up early to wrap because he’d bought them all just last night. Up until that time, he’d resisted making the purchases. Resisted giving in to what making those purchases implied. That, like it or not, he was part of something greater than himself.

  He heard the door the instant she’d begun to open it. Caught, Ryan raised his eyes to hers. “Go back to bed, you’re dreaming.”

  “No, I’m not,” she replied, fighting hard to keep from laughing out loud.

  “And why aren’t you asleep?” he asked, snarling out the question.

  There was no point in telling him he was the reason she couldn’t drop off to sleep. He was here now, which was all that mattered.

  “I was,” she told him. “But then a noise woke me up. I decided to come down and check things out because I thought I heard Santa Claus making a last-minute run before he went back to the North Pole.” She looked at the gifts on the doorstep. There were at least ten in all. All with gift tags hastily applied. One tag had fallen off. Ryan quickly picked it up and pushed it beneath the ribbon. The latter was askew.

  This seemed so out of character for him, for a second she thought she was dreaming.

  Elisha grinned, her eyes catching his. “Apparently, I did.”

  CHAPTER 42

  He’d thought he could just leave the gifts on her doorstep and make a quick getaway. Obviously not. Why did Elisha always manage to complicate things at every turn?

  Ryan began to back away. “Look, I have to leave.”

  She cocked her head, doing her best to look innocent. “We’re not the last house on your run, Santa?”

  His face clouded. He was embarrassed at being caught doing something nice. Ryan cleared his throat. “Max, I’m not—”

  “Not Santa Claus? Yes, I know. But your secret’s safe with me.” Elisha hooked her arm through his and began to gently but firmly pull him inside. “However, I’m not above a little blackmail. Girls,” she shouted over her shoulder, in case she needed reinforcements. “Company’s here.”

  He began to tug his arm away and found that she had one hell of a grip. For a little thing, she was certainly a lot stronger than he would have thought.

  “Let them sleep,” he ordered gruffly.

  Elisha was pretty sure she was witnessing the rise of color in his face. The man was embarrassed, she thought with a secret note of triumph.

  So you are human after all. Nice to know.

  “This is Christmas morning,” she pointed out as she succeeded in getting him over the threshold. “Nobody really sleeps late on Christmas morning. They start waking up one minute past Christmas Eve.” Her eyes swept over him as she did a quick calculation, weighing pros and cons. “If I let go of your arm, will you bolt?”

  He met her gaze with an unwavering one of his own. Elisha couldn’t begin to read what was going on inside his head. She only knew what she wanted to be going on in there.

  “Can’t make any promises.”

  Well, at least the man didn’t lie. That put him way ahead of a lot of other men she knew.

  “Just promise me that one,” she requested. “I won’t ask for anything else.”

  Ryan made no reply, but something in her heart told her that she could trust him to stay put. At least for now. Slowly, she released her hold. He remained where he was. She grinned at him. Inside her chest, her heart was doing somersaults.

  “Good, now make yourself useful and bring in that loot you just planted on my doorstep.” She stooped down beside him to help. Her robe tangled with the pile she picked up and she had to pull it out of the way. “Why would you do that anyway?” she wanted to know. “Why wouldn’t you just knock and come in with your presents?”

  Grudgingly, he followed her into the house, his arms laden with the gifts he’d wrapped less than twelve hours ago. “Because I didn’t want this.”

  She set her small pile in front of the tree, gesturing for him to do the same. “This?” she repeated.

  His face was as dark as thunder as he placed his armload next to hers. “A fuss.”

  “A fuss,” she echoed. Elisha shook her head and laughed as she looked at him. “Mister, if you think this is a fuss, then you have no idea what the word really means.”

  Behind her, she could hear the pounding for two sets of feet as her nieces came running down the stairs. For rather petite creatures, Andrea and Beth could sound like a herd of charging elephants when bounty was involved.

  “Look who’s here, girls,” she tossed needlessly over her shoulder.

  “Mr. S.! Merry Christmas!” Beth’s greeting was filled with pure joy as she rushed over and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him before he had a chance to place any gifts between himself and the little girl.

  It was clear to Elisha that Beth was hungry for male influence in her life. And she had targeted Ryan to be that male. The little girl could have done a lot worse.

  From where she stood, Elisha felt they both had a lot to gain from the interaction. Beth still needed a father figure and Ryan could do with the kinder, gentler influence of a family-type setting to draw on.

  “Here, I’ll take those,” Andrea offered, making a straight line for the gifts that had just been deposited in front of the tree.

  “Of course you will.” Elisha could feel her eyes smiling as she watched the two girls. “Obviously, you think they’re for you.”

  “At least some. Right?” Andrea raised her eyes in Ryan’s direction.

  He raised a broad shoulder beneath the pea jacket he had favored since his early days in the navy and then let it casually drop again. “There might be some with your name on them,” he allowed.

  Beth tugged on the bottom of his jacket. “Me, too?” she asked, her small face turned up to his. It was a long distance between faces.

  The frown lines that were so much a part of Ryan’s face faded as he nodded and said, “You, too.”

  The girls quickly divided the loot, placing their gifts on the side of the tree they had staked out the night before. Right for Beth, left for Andrea. There were several gifts in the middle. Those were intended for Elisha.

  The gifts she had for the guests who were coming to dinner had been placed to the rear of the tree, out of possible harm’s way until Christmas morning was officially over. She’d seen the girls’ exuberance when they opened their gifts and was taking no chances.

  Ryan found himself standing close to Elisha. And reluctant to draw away. The issue of his own survival, his own space, was no longer as compelling as it had been even a few minutes earlier.

  In for a penny, in for a pound, Ryan thought. He looked at Elisha. “Aren’t you going to ask if there’s a gift for you?”

  There was nothing coy or calculating in her face as she shook her head. “I don’t have to. I already got my gift. You’re staying for dinner.”

  He hadn’t said so in so many words, even though he’d reversed his decision about dinner late last night. Still, he’d wanted to be the one to say as much. Ryan kept a poker face. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  “That’s not negotiable,” she informed him simply. Her eyes shone. “You’re staying for dinner. Even if it me
ans I have to handcuff you to the table.”

  There was a certain twinkle in his eye as he said, “You’d be surprised what I could do with a pair of handcuffs.”

  She lifted her chin, unfazed. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Aunt Lise, there’s one in here for you,” Beth declared. From the center of the silver foil-wrapped gifts, she plucked a small square box and held it up over her head like a trophy.

  “One more,” Andrea added. For Elisha’s benefit she held up what appeared to be a gift-wrapped index card, five by seven in length and as flat as a dime. Delicate brown eyebrows drew together over the bridge of her nose as Andrea looked first at the foil-wrapped gift, then at Ryan. “Did you flatten this by accident?”

  “By design,” he told her. “Always by design.” He looked at Elisha. “You can open that one second.”

  “You’re the boss,” she allowed.

  He laughed in response. He had no idea she could lie so smoothly. “And if I believed that, where’s the bridge you want to sell me?”

  “Later,” she quipped. Taking Ryan’s gift from Beth, she waved both girls back to their pile of presents. “Go ahead, start ripping.”

  Beth needed no more encouragement than that. As for Andrea, Christmas had a way of penetrating her bored-teenager-in-search-of-herself facade, turning her back into the Andrea everyone else had always known and loved. The girls went at their piles with gusto.

  Turning back to Ryan, Elisha thought she detected an uneasiness in him. That was definitely a first. She’d never seen the man anything but confident before. But then, it was a morning for firsts.

  “What made you buy the girls presents?” she asked.

  He shrugged again. Reaching over, she began to unbutton his pea jacket. He gave her an incredulous look, then finished the job himself. “I figured I owed them something for decorating the tree.”

  She smiled knowingly. The man just couldn’t admit to having a softer side. “I see.”