Mick regarded her intently. “You certainly seem to have done just that.”
Maybe it was the season, because she wasn’t usually that open with her feelings. “I’m not very conformist. I’ve met handsome men I would never give a second glance because they just aren’t my type. I don’t like them shallow, and I don’t like arrogance. I’m not into cocktail parties and getting a manicure, but would rather mow my yard or tackle fixing a leaky faucet. That’s not very feminine, I guess. If you’re looking for someone who will put on a little black dress and stay on your arm at Hollywood parties, you’d better move on.”
He just seemed amused. “If you think for a minute I haven’t already figured that one out, you underestimate me. I hate to disabuse you of the notion that all I do is rub elbows with the elite, but I like quiet evenings in even more.”
“Then how about a fire and a glass of wine?” She really wasn’t sure what she was getting into, but it was going past the ankle-deep level and she might be up to mid-calf. “Maybe some philosophical discussion about life, and I’m sure Jangles will want to give his two cents. He might even think about sitting on your lap.”
Mick lifted his brows in mock alarm. “I think I’ve had enough of animals sitting on me for one day.” Then he added, “Otherwise, it sounds perfect.”
7
HE COULDN’T VERY well tell the truth, so Mick said neutrally, “It’s certainly been an interesting trip so far. How’s New York?”
His mother answered, “Busy, brilliant, definitely full of holiday spirit. There’s nothing like seeing The Nutcracker at Rockefeller Hall. What was so interesting in the wilds of Wyoming?”
Well, he should have known he wouldn’t get off the hook so easily. “A certain woman that, oddly enough, I think you might like.”
He was sitting in his car outside Raine’s house, gazing at her enchanting but unusually decorated tree through the large front window.
“Why would it be odd if I liked her?”
“She’s definitely a small-town girl, an artist, and though I bet she could catch one without any problem, I doubt she owns a set of fish forks to serve the trout. By the way, thanks for the tip on the purse. Her daughter is now my biggest fan.”
“She has a daughter?”
“She does.”
“So she’s divorced.”
“Actually, no.”
There was a judgmental pause. He expected nothing else. Better to get it out in the open now.
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. Raine turned down Slater’s proposal because she thought in the long term that a marriage between them wouldn’t work. They parent together and have remained friends. It seems like a reasonable arrangement and Daisy is a happy, well-adjusted kid.”
“Slater...as in Slater Carson?”
“He’s Daisy’s father, yes.”
“That’s sounds complicated, Michael. Don’t you handle a lot of the backing for his films?”
To his friends he was Mick, but to his mother he would always be Michael. As patiently as possible, he said, “He’s happily married, has another child, and in fact, a third on the way. He cares about Raine as the mother of his daughter but he doesn’t have an issue with my having feelings for her.”
“You sound definite enough,” she said, but it was grudgingly. “I’ll have to trust your judgment.”
Considering he’d been a grown man for over two decades, he could point out that she had no say one way or the other—but then again, he’d always believed that it was a mistake to become involved with someone your family disliked. It added an unwelcome dimension to something that was supposed to enrich your life and make you happy.
It surprised him that the big, sometimes boisterous Carson family was comfortable for him when he’d grown up very differently. It also surprised him that he was so attracted to Raine when she was the antithesis of the women he’d dated before, and it surprised him even more that she seemed to feel the same way about him. He wasn’t a free-spirited artist, or a tried-and-true cowboy.
“She’s—” he sought the right description “—like a warm breeze on a sunny afternoon.”
“Oh no, now you’re getting poetic? It must be love. Darling, have a wonderful evening. Now I need a martini. Merry Christmas.”
He couldn’t help laughing at himself all the way up the snowy sidewalk, but he thought it was a good description and would stand by it. When Raine opened the door at his knock, she gave him a quizzical look. “What’s so funny?”
He smiled. “Let’s just say I think my mother likes you.”
“Um, I’d ask why you were talking about me to your mother, but something tells me I’d rather not know. Come on in. Fire and wine are in place. If I eat again in this lifetime I’ll be surprised, but Harry sent cookies and turkey sandwiches. If you get hungry, speak up.”
“I will.” He was certainly hungry, but he wasn’t thinking that much about food and he had a feeling she knew it. He really wasn’t like this with women, more pursued than the pursuer most of the time, but there was some serious chemistry going on his part anyway.
He was lucky that the lion didn’t have an entire pride waiting for him. Mr. Bojangles barely let him get in the door before he launched a sneak attack, darting out from his super-not-so-secret hiding place and nailing his ankle again. It added comic relief that when the critter went back under the tree, his bushy tail was fully visible, even if his ample body was hidden.
“He must have trained with the special forces. The ambush was perfect, but he may have skipped class on hiding day.”
Raine observed wryly, “He’s not quite figured out that his size is a problem. I’ve thought about getting a bigger tree just to make sure he doesn’t get insecure about his ability to be stealthy.”
“That would be the compassionate thing to do.”
She’d changed into soft, drawstring pajama pants, a flowing top with the same pattern, and slippers with raccoon faces on them. How that could be sexier than a slinky nightgown he wasn’t sure, but it worked for him. There was a nice fire, and two glasses of wine on the coffee table.
The mixed signals were driving him crazy. He was invited—or maybe he’d invited himself by suggesting they spend the evening together—and yet she was dressed like she was going to a sorority slumber party. She’d told him flat-out she was unsure how she viewed things between them, but agreed to have him over again anyway.
The agreement was good. The rest of it was up in the air.
“What smells so good in here?”
“That candle from the local store that Grace bought for me. She knows I love vanilla.” Raine sat down and visibly relaxed, cradling her wineglass in her slender fingers, propping her feet on the coffee table and wiggling her toes in those ridiculous slippers. “I love Christmas at the ranch, but a little peace and quiet afterward is nice, too. I always manage to forget how exhausting a big crowd can be. I go out to lunch with friends now and then, but mostly I’m by myself all day, at least during the school year.” She smiled. “I love my daughter—that goes without saying—but the quiet is nice. Feel free, by the way, to take off those Italian loafers and put your feet up. Formality is almost a dirty word in this house.”
“My mother would faint if I put my feet on your coffee table, but taking off my shoes sounds great.” He slipped them off. “Solitude can be a friend or an enemy, depending on the person. I know far too many people who can’t stand to be alone, almost never eat at home, and in general love the bustle of a big city.” He relaxed, too, just enjoying the view, and he wasn’t looking at the sparkling tree or the fire. “Is this the beginning of our deep philosophical discussion?”
“Or maybe just two people talking. You still worry about what your mother thinks of you?”
“I wouldn’t say worry, exactly. But I try to keep
on her good side.”
“Good for you.” Her tone was approving. “I like that.”
“Hopefully that isn’t the only thing you like about me.”
“No.” She smiled playfully. “You have great hair.”
He shot her a look. “Not quite the compliment I was angling for. I was hoping to hear my intellect amazes you and my charm is unsurpassed in your experience.”
“Both those things could be true, but I just can’t get past the hair. Do you have a stylist?”
“You think you’re so funny, don’t you.”
She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Kind of.”
“No, I don’t have a stylist. I get it cut and I wash and comb it. Surely there’s something else you like.”
She pretended to think it over. “Now I suppose I have to mention those gorgeous movie-star eyes and high cheekbones. Nice shoulders, too, unless there’s padding in your shirts.”
“And here I thought I wasn’t in Hollywood...throw me a bone here.” He was laughing, too, but also serious.
Her smile faded as she held his gaze. “I trust you are a good man. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
It was exactly the type of compliment he might have expected from Raine—frank and straightforward—but he was aware that she meant what she said. “And you wouldn’t be giving me your grandfather’s property. We’ll have to talk over that one again later. You really can’t do that.”
“I talked to Slater. He said it was a sound idea. Drake agreed and Mace was with it, too. One of the reasons I like you so much is that they all trust you. Those are some pigheaded, stubborn men, but they’re some of the best judges of character that I know. And lucky for me, they don’t even think about your hair.”
“But you do?”
“In the context of maybe running my fingers through it, I do.”
“Feel free.” He certainly meant that. Time to carefully consider your next words, Branson. He studied the flames in the fireplace for a moment. “I don’t think it’s a secret I’d really like to spend the night making wild, passionate love with you, but that’s entirely your call.”
“Are you wild and passionate, Mr. Boardroom?”
“I was more thinking about you being that way. I’ve thought about it quite a lot. After making a spreadsheet detailing your personality traits and comparing them to mine, I’ve come to the conclusion that you are in the lead in those departments.”
She almost spat out her sip of wine and swiped her mouth with the back of her hand, laughing. “Damn you, Branson, don’t do that to me.”
“Do what?” He put on his most innocent face, but he was laughing as well.
“We could be the most unlikely couple in the world.”
“Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But I never did like doing the predictable.”
She set aside her wine. “I think your hair might be pretty messy in the morning.”
* * *
What was she doing?
It could be foolish, but it didn’t seem like that. Maybe she’d regret it in the morning, but Raine really wanted to lie in his arms as the snow fell softly outside.
And tumble head over in heels in love.
Not too much to ask, right?
Maybe it had already happened.
She had to admit that Mick was deliciously male lounging on her couch, and she’d never before been tempted to stray over the line she’d drawn for herself.
Nothing casual.
No males who would love her and leave her. That was for her own well-being.
No long-distance relationships. They didn’t work as far as she could tell.
No one who would break her daughter’s heart if he decided to decamp. It wasn’t like Daisy didn’t have a grounded support system, but still she had parents who lived separate lives and introducing Mick into the mixture was a risk. Mick could be all of those things. A love-’em-and-leave-’em sort, a potential scoundrel, as her grandfather would have put it, but maybe something else also...
“Do you have the manuscript I gave you in your car?”
“Of course.” He looked like Daisy had when Raine had asked about the infamous purse on the snowy ride. “Why?”
“I need to see it.”
“Sure, fine, if you’ve changed your mind about giving it away—”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind. I just need to look at it.”
He seemed baffled but obligingly went out in the snow and a minute or two later returned with the box. Flakes of snow glistened on his hair and dusted his shoulders. He set the manuscript on the table. “It’s still just coming down lightly and there isn’t even a breath of wind but I get the feeling it’s going to really snow. I think they’ll enjoy their midnight excursion.”
Daisy would love it. Her sense of adventure had made her a handful as a young child, but Raine had that same enthusiasm, so she could hardly fault her daughter for her eagerness to experience new things and maybe take a risk now and then. “I would bet on it. She’s a pretty happy kid and Slater is a wonderful dad.” She gestured to the box on the table. “Pick a page.”
“What?”
“Just pick one at random out of the manuscript and hand it to me.”
“Raine. Why?”
“Because I asked you to?”
“Fair enough.” He shuffled through the manuscript. “Any page?”
“Yes. Just pick one.”
He flipped through the manuscript, selected one and shrugged. “Here.”
She stepped to him, plucked the page from his fingers and read the first line: He kept his emotions close, like a beloved jacket, worn and well-used, the one he would wear out into a howling storm. He was not a man easy to read, yet she trusted him.
So she should.
Raine handed back the page. “That was what I wanted to see.”
“A random page?”
“It sure seems that way, doesn’t it? Kiss me.”
He’d fallen into a dream.
There was Raine, pressed against him, her mouth soft against his, warm arms around his neck and he couldn’t be more enthusiastic about the idea. This wasn’t like the brief kiss at the cabin either, or the more arousing one as he’d left the night before. It was hot, and he didn’t need the encouragement.
At all.
What made her go from wary to passionate he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to argue, either. She kissed him back with sensual promise and he didn’t miss the signal.
He tightened his arm around her waist to bring her body more fully against his so he could feel every curve, every nuance. She did like vanilla. Her hair held a sweet scent of it, and was like fine silk under his fingers.
“Bedroom?” he murmured against her mouth when they both came up for air.
She whispered back, “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”
“You lead the way.”
Her choice the whole time. This was what he wanted, hands down, but she needed to be on the same page.
She was. She ran her fingers through his hair. “Um, we do have one problem though. I’m not on birth control. I think I mentioned I’m kind of a hermit most of the time.”
He traced the curve of her cheekbone with a finger and figured he might as well confess. “I have condoms. I’m not saying I thought this would be a sure thing, but I was hopeful anyway. Boardroom executives are master planners and always arrogantly anticipate the best outcome possible. I took two flights and endured a four-hour layover just because I was hoping for the kiss of a lifetime. I got it.”
Oh, whoa, did I just say that?
“Of a lifetime? No pressure.” Her eyes held a knowing look.
He was used to calling the shots, but she was definitely
in charge. “Trust me, you didn’t disappoint.”
“Bedroom is this way.”
He followed her. She could have been leading him off a cliff and he probably wouldn’t have noticed anything besides the sway of her hips and her fluid stride.
As she walked in front of him, she took off that loose, less-than-sexy pajama top he found so inexplicably arousing, then tossed it down on the hallway floor. The graceful curve of her back almost did him in right then and there.
“Raine.” It was said on a groan.
She glanced back. “Don’t lag behind.”
“Are you kidding? I’m following at warp speed.”
Her laughter was warm and infectious, and he couldn’t help but think that this was what life should be about. The joy of another person’s presence, and definitely the magic of their laugh.
Raine’s bedroom was a reflection of her personality, from the colorful artwork on the walls right down to the unusual black bedspread that was patterned with bright red poppies. The headboard looked antique, intricately carved, and he’d examine it later but right now that wasn’t his focus at all.
Raine was shimmying out of her drawstring pants. “You seem kinda overdressed to me, Branson.”
She was stunning with every stitch on, and naked...he’d dream about that image. Long legs, firm breasts, a taut stomach...heaven.
His hands had forgotten how to follow brain signals. Mick fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and finally got enough undone to be able to strip it off, though he was fairly sure at least one button went rolling. Socks next, then pants, and by this time Raine had pulled back the exotic bedspread and her dark hair was spilled enticingly over the pillow.
He even surprised himself when he said, as he joined her on the bed, “This is what falling in love should be about.”
She brushed his hair back. “You didn’t just say that.”
“I think I just did.”
“I’m so not ready for your direct approach.”
He nuzzled her throat. “You aren’t ready for us, and I’m not either, but I’m ahead of the game as I’ve been thinking about my options for quite some time. I can pretend you haven’t captured my interest like no woman I’ve ever met, but it doesn’t work. The first time I saw you I was sixteen again and my locker was next to the one of the prettiest girl in school.”
A Snow Country Christmas Page 7
