'Tis the Season

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “We’ll have to walk single file. Want to lead or follow?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Lead,” she said, “if you’ll loan me your flashlight. It has a stronger beam than mine.”

  “It’s all yours,” he said, and smiled as he handed it to her.

  “That sounded like a loaded remark.”

  “It was.”

  She switched on the strong beam and started down the path. Raising his eyes to the dripping skies above him, Sam mumbled a quick thank you to the powers that be for this incredible gift that almost hadn’t been his tonight.

  “I should change into dry clothes when we get to my house,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Just bring them,” he said, knowing he couldn’t stand around twirling his thumbs downstairs while she stripped upstairs. The very thought would send him straight up there into her bedroom, and that wasn’t the right place for this to happen.

  When they emerged into the clearing of her backyard, he moved up beside her and circled her waist with one arm. “I’ll take care of the fire and lock the back door while you round up some extra clothes.”

  “All right.”

  “By the way, the weaving project looks beautiful. My grandmother would have liked it, I think.”

  “I’d meant to finish it tonight,” she said as they held hands and climbed the steps to the screened porch.

  “We’ll come back early tomorrow. I’ll cook for you, pack, whatever, so you can work until you have to leave. I want to be an addition, not a detraction in your life.”

  As they entered the kitchen, she smiled at him and squeezed his hand before releasing it. “I don’t have much doubt which you are. I’ll be right back.”

  He watched her go and then closed his eyes as anticipation gripped him with hot hands. In minutes they’d locked her house and he was helping her up onto the seat of his pickup. “If I didn’t live in the city, I think I’d have a truck like this.” She settled on the tweed seat cover. “You could do so much more with it than I can with my little compact.”

  “You could always leave the city,” he suggested before closing the door. Might as well start putting his cards on the table. He rounded the cab and climbed behind the steering wheel. Then he realized with a jolt the hand he was playing. They could be lovers without her leaving the city for good. Asking her to move permanently to Sumersbury indicated he wanted a whole lot more. He glanced at her to gauge her reaction to his last comment.

  “My work is there, Sam.”

  “Work you said you’re growing tired of.”

  “Maybe, but—”

  “Never mind.” He started the engine. “I didn’t mean to talk about that now, anyway.” He put his arm over the back of the bench seat and looked behind him as he backed down her driveway. “Besides, talking has its limits.”

  The rain had stopped, so he didn’t have to fool with the windshield wipers, and they weren’t going far enough for the heater to do much good, either. “I’ll bet you’re freezing,” he said, glancing over at her.

  “My own fault,” she said. “You’re the one who should be complaining. If it hadn’t been for my trek into the woods, you wouldn’t be all wet.”

  “If it hadn’t been for your trek into the woods, we wouldn’t be headed for my house right now, so don’t expect complaints about a few damp clothes and a little chill in the air. You are worth every bit of it.”

  * * *

  What a crazy way for the evening to turn out, Anna thought as they covered the short distance to his house. Not long ago she’d been standing in the rain, convinced that she’d spend the evening alone. She’d told Sam the truth about having fun with her little adventure. She hadn’t mentioned how the fun had drained away once she’d discovered that his truck wasn’t parked in its usual place in front of his house.

  And then, miracle of miracles, he’d shown up in his own backyard. If the result of taking chances was being here, soaked but happy with Sam, she’d have to take more chances in the future.

  He parked the truck and they hurried inside. “Stay right here,” he said, leaving her in the parlor beside the blackened hearth. “I’ll get you some towels and some warm things to wrap up in before I start the fire.”

  In a moment he was back with a pile of towels in his hands and his grandmother’s blue woven blanket slung over his shoulder. “You can climb out of that wet stuff and dry off while I bring in some wood,” he said, offering her the towels. “Then I thought you might like to wrap up in this.” He laid the blue blanket across the pile.

  “Sam….”

  “Humor me, Anna. From the first time you touched this blanket, I’ve had a fantasy of seeing you wrapped in it.” He tipped her chin up and captured her gaze. “For the sake of adventure?”

  “And here I thought you were a sedate tree farmer.”

  “No, you didn’t. You never thought that, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  A sensual thrill ran through her as she imagined the soft wool blanket caressing her bare skin. “Go get the wood,” she said.

  With a look that would melt a hole in the polar ice cap, he turned and left. She quickly nudged off her shoes and removed her sodden yellow sweat suit and damp underwear. With a whisk of the topmost towel, she dried her chilled skin and reached for the blanket. She was curled in it on the sofa when he returned with an armload of wood.

  He stopped in the doorway and swallowed heavily. “Fantasies are such pale things next to reality,” he said.

  “Finish your work,” she murmured, meeting his gaze.

  Without a word, he walked to the fireplace and dumped the wood into the bin beside it. Then, with a glance back at her, he stripped off his jacket and flung it over one of the ugly vinyl chairs before hunkering down in front of the hearth to build the fire.

  “I’m becoming obsessed with you, Anna,” he said quietly, his back still toward her as he arranged kindling and larger pieces of wood on the grate. “I can’t remember a woman ever getting underneath my skin this way. After all my lectures to myself, I still drove to your house tonight, just to have contact with you—any contact.”

  “You sound almost angry with me.”

  “I don’t mean to.” He shoved crumpled newspaper under the grate and struck a match. “But this feeling of wanting you is overwhelming.” The flames licked upward from the paper and enfolded the kindling. As it caught fire and sent tongues of flame toward the large logs, he stood and turned toward her. “No matter how I try to laugh and joke, I still ache for you. Sometimes I think it will drive me crazy.”

  She trembled with excitement as he approached. The glow from the fire behind him and the lamp beside the sofa were all that lighted the room. The only sound was the pop and hiss of the flames moving greedily over the dry wood. She felt a lot like that wood, slowly turning into a living flame.

  “Have you ever wanted someone that much?” he asked, standing before her and slowly removing his shirt.

  Unable to speak, she nodded.

  “Is that how you feel now?” He kicked away his shoes and unfastened his jeans. Before he pushed his jeans over his hips, he reached into the pocket and took out a foil-wrapped package, which he tossed on the end table beside the couch.

  Wordlessly, she nodded again.

  He continued undressing without flirtation, as if removing his clothes was an insignificant chore that he must perform. His full attention, reflected in the intensity of his gaze, was focused completely on her.

  His urgency, coupled with the sight of his aroused body, so hard and angular compared to hers, fed her longing, igniting raw hunger. She expected him to join her on the sofa, but instead he startled a small cry from her as he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the braided rug before the fire. It was right, she realized, as he settled her against the firm support of floor and braided cloth and lay beside her, the blanket the only cushion. There was nothing soft about this emotion between them, at least not this time.

  “Anna.” His voice was rough as h
e drew aside the blanket. His gaze followed the path of his caress over her breasts and her ribs. When his fingers tunneled through the curls below her stomach and found her drenched with wanting him, his breath caught and he closed his eyes.

  “That,” he whispered, gazing into her face as he stroked her there, “is the nicest thing you can do for a man.”

  She clutched the back of his neck and moaned. “And that…is one of the nicest things…you can do for…a woman.”

  Changing his rhythm but not the location of his hand, he leaned down to suckle her breast.

  She arched like a hunter’s bow drawn tight by the curl of his tongue and the coaxing flutter of his fingers. But when she thought she would snap, he seemed to know, and he paused to kiss his way to her other breast and run his knuckles lightly along the inside of her thighs.

  Before long the assault began once more, and she tossed her head from side to side and cried out his name. She held his face, knowing she was begging. “Get the condom. Get it now before you drive me insane with this teasing.”

  “I like you when you’re insane,” he replied, but he rose and retrieved the package anyway. “You’re sure you’re ready for this to be over?” he asked gently. “Because once I’m inside you, I can’t promise forever.”

  “I haven’t got forever,” she replied, breathing hard. “Love me, Sam.” And he did as she asked. When he pushed into her, she felt as if the cavalry had arrived, and she gladly met the charge. They’d both been right. Neither of them had forever. Neither of them had much time at all before the rush of completion overtook them and left them crying out with the depth of their satisfaction.

  The impact left Anna limp and dazed but filled with overwhelming happiness. If she’d thought she knew what making love meant, Sam had just pointed out a huge gap in her education, a gap he seemed most willing to correct.

  He slumped against her and his head rested in the hollow of her shoulder. Judging by the brace of his elbows, she suspected he wasn’t giving her his full weight, though. No matter how much passion drove him, he was the kind of man who wouldn’t allow his lovemaking to be clumsy or selfish.

  She traced her name across his back, and he lifted his head.

  “Again,” he murmured.

  She wrote her name once more, made a plus sign under it, and wrote his name below that.

  He smiled down at her. “You can say that again. Are you comfortable enough?”

  “I feel terrific, but—”

  “Yeah, this rug wasn’t meant for long-term occupancy. I have an idea. I’ll bring the mattress down from upstairs, and we’ll stay here by the fire all night. How’s that?”

  “Lovely. Want some help?”

  “That’s okay. I’ll do it,” he said, easing away from her. “While I’m bringing down the mattress, you can stoke up the fire.”

  She glanced at him and lifted an eyebrow.

  “Right. Both fires,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll also bring down more of those little packages.”

  In short order the wood was crackling again in the fireplace, and Sam had created a cozy love nest for them in front of it.

  “There,” he said, stretching out beside her and pulling the blue wool blanket over them. “And if you’re hungry, we can have a picnic right here.”

  She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m already having a picnic.”

  “So am I,” he said, kissing her lightly. “Mmm.” He returned for another sip.

  “I’d like to stay right here all weekend,” she murmured between kisses.

  “You won’t get your weaving done that way.”

  “At this moment, I don’t care.”

  He groaned softly and buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. “This isn’t fair. I know the weaving is important to you—shoot, it may even be important to me. But so is making love to you, and you’re only in Sumersbury forty-eight hours out of every week.” He glanced up at her. “Think you could clone yourself?”

  She chuckled. “This is kind of funny. All summer I sat around doing virtually nothing each weekend, and suddenly I’m sliding off in more directions than a centipede on roller skates.”

  “Just so you keep skatin’ toward me, darlin’.” He nuzzled her earlobe.

  She laughed. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

  He lay quietly for a moment while Anna stroked his back. Finally he lifted his head and grinned at her. “I have the solution.”

  She tensed, wondering if he was about to suggest she quit her job and move in with him so that she’d have more than enough time for decorating his house, weaving and making love.

  “What’s wrong?” His grin faded. “You look frightened to death.”

  “Sam, don’t say it. I’m not ready to talk about it.”

  Nine

  “Don’t say what?” Sam asked, frowning. “What could you possibly think that I—Oh, I get it.” His puzzled expression changed to one of disappointment, and he glanced away. “Scared you, did I? That’s certainly flattering.”

  “It’s just that I—”

  “It’s not often a guy gets an answer to a question without asking it. At least I know where I stand, so I won’t make any foolish assumptions.”

  Her heart wrenched at the knowledge that she’d hurt him. And unnecessarily, it seemed. He hadn’t been thinking about living together at all. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  He looked into her eyes without saying anything.

  “Please, tell me what you’re thinking,” she said, concerned by the damage she’d caused to their wonderful mood.

  “If I told you, you’d only get scared again. You want to make love with no strings attached, right? No planning for the future? Don’t be afraid to tell me the truth. I just need to know the rules, that’s all.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “No rules,” she said, laying her palm against his cheek.

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I beg to differ. A minute ago you told me not to bring up a certain subject. That sounds like a rule to me. Are there any others?”

  She dropped her hand and turned away. “I’m not ready to—”

  “I get that, loud and clear. But what else? For example, am I allowed to mention that I’m falling in love with you?”

  Heat flew to her cheeks, and a rushing sound filled her ears. Slowly she lifted her gaze to his. “Are you?”

  “There’s a distinct possibility.”

  Joy flooded through her, surprising her with its intensity. “Oh, Sam.”

  He stared at her in wonder. “You’re happy,” he whispered.

  She nodded as tears pricked her eyes.

  “You crazy woman.” He slid his hand behind her hair and caressed her nape. Then he leaned over and kissed the outer corners of her eyes, where moisture gathered.

  She knew the moment was hers forever, no matter what happened after it. Emotion nearly closed her throat, and she had to swallow twice before she could speak. “Am I allowed to say I’m falling in love with you?” she asked, gazing up at him.

  The look in his eyes made her tears start afresh.

  “No rules with me,” he whispered, as if he, too, had difficulty speaking. “None.”

  “Because I think I am. You’ve filled my life with more happiness in the past week than you’ll ever know.”

  “Then that makes me the luckiest man alive,” he said, his voice cracking. He kissed her wet cheeks, her nose and her eyelids. Finally, with a sigh, he fit his mouth to hers and pulled her close as the magic began once more.

  * * *

  Late the next morning, they sat cross-legged on the mattress drinking coffee and discussing Anna’s plans for the two remaining upstairs bedrooms, the dining room and the kitchen.

  “Can we finish all that by the first week in December?” Sam asked.

  She wrapped both hands around her coffee mug and savored his tousled, carefree appearance. They’d showered together, and he’d convinced her that getting dressed was useless until she
was ready to leave for New York and they’d finally run out of time to make love. Consequently he’d put on his bathrobe and handed her one of his flannel shirts. “We can’t finish the decorating if we spend all our time in bed,” she teased, “if that’s your question.”

  He stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout. “I was afraid you’d say that. Somebody sure messed up when they invented five-day weeks and two-day weekends. It should be the other way around.”

  “Speaking of that, what was your suggestion about my weaving? You never said.”

  He grinned. “I’m no fool. If a woman tells me she’s falling for me and proceeds to show me in many delicious ways, I’m not about to change the subject.”

  A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine. “You’d better tell me your idea about the weaving,” she said, putting her mug on the hearth and moving closer to him, “because I can feel that same distraction taking hold of me again.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, so can I.” He leaned over and set his coffee on the floor. Then he pulled her onto his lap. “You have too many buttons fastened on that shirt.”

  “The weaving,” she reminded him as he undid the buttons with practiced dexterity.

  “Mmm.” He slipped his hand beneath the shirt and cupped her breast.

  “Sam, you’re not listening.” She marveled at how quickly she reacted to the lazy brush of his thumb across her nipple. All he had to do was look at her the way he was looking at her now and touch her like this, and she trembled with longing. “The weaving,” she prompted without much conviction. “Tell me.”

  “It’s simple,” he murmured, continuing his caress. “We’ll move the loom to New York.”

  “To New York?” Her concentration wasn’t great, anyway, and she couldn’t quite take in what he’d said.

  “Sure. I’ll follow you home in the truck.” He ran the tip of his tongue around the curve of her ear. “Maybe you’d even invite me to spend the night.”

  “I can’t have the loom. We’re using it as a focal point in the parlor,” she protested weakly as he nibbled on her earlobe.

  “I thought of that.” His breath warmed her ear. “Tessie has a loom, almost the same kind. We’ll ask to borrow hers for a couple of days.”