A Very Romantic Christmas

by Lorraine Bartlett

  ‶Come in.″ He closed the door with a mock bow. Taking several steps into the room, he faced her.

  Elizabeth turned to speak. James′s nearness stopped her. She found her mouth too dry to utter a sound. In the brightness of the room, his tree-bark brown skin radiated health. He crossed his arms, evenly distributing his weight on his legs. The action drew Elizabeth′s attention to his broad shoulders and strong biceps hidden under the grey sweat shirt with a faded insignia of the Howard University Athletic Department. She could almost feel herself wrapped in his embrace. He stood three inches over six feet and she had to tilt her head back to see his eyes. His strong square jaw could be harsh and demanding or tender and loving. The man exuded sex appeal. She nearly swayed toward him without the least invitation.

  ‶Where is it?″ Elizabeth asked, drawing on an inner strength she didn′t recognize. She wanted to be out of here as soon as she could manage it. All he had to do was give her back the package and she′d be on he way.

  ‶Where is what, sweetheart?″

  ‶James, I don′t have time to play games. It′s Christmas time. I′m late for a party. Please give me the package and let me go. And don′t call me sweetheart.″

  ‶My, you′ve changed, Elizabeth.″ She noticed him look her over. She fought the urge to gather the cape closer around her. It would show her fear and she didn′t want James to know how weak he made her just by being in her presence.

  ‶You′ve cut your hair. It was longer when we -- parted.″

  Elizabeth′s head was splitting. Her attempts to ward off the pounding pain had failed. The day had been a disaster and she still had to attend the Hereford′s party.

  ‶I don′t want to talk about my hair.″ It had been long enough to touch her shoulders. She wore it cut above her ears with wispy curls covering the top of her crown. ‶I want the box delivered here earlier tonight. It′s been sent to the wrong address.″

  ‶I like it,″ James said, ignoring her demand. ‶It emphasizes your eyes.″

  He was making fun of her.

  ‶I always said your eyes were your best feature.″

  He′d said lots of things and gullible Elizabeth had believed every one of them. But not tonight. Ignoring him she searched the room. The familiar white box with her logo on the side was no where to be seen. Leaving James, she went toward the library. Shoving the sliding mahogany doors aside she went into the dark room. The electric switch on the wall threw the room into brightness. Elizabeth blinked at the sudden stab of pain. Her hands immediately shaded her eyes until they became used to the light. The room was paneled with heavy tufted. leather sofas and floor to ceiling bookcases. James′s antique desk dominated the room. In the daylight Elizabeth had expected the room would be dark, but the custom-made windows captured light and spread it around the room from all angles.

  ‶Don′t you want to take your coat off?″ James followed her. He lifted the cape from her shoulders. Elizabeth swung around backing away from him. His fingers, through the thick piled fabric, had touched her as surely, as if she were naked.

  ‶I see your fashion hasn′t changed.″ He made a wide circle around her. Elizabeth forced herself to stand still. ‶You′re still the best dressed woman on Capital Hill.″ Elizabeth held her breath. The fur-trimmed cape had been warm against the outside. Without it she wore a strapless gown with white fur adorning the straight line bodice and circular hem of her Christmas-red gown. Under James′s glare Elizabeth′s lungs didn′t work. The air was stifling. He was tall and lithe, a predator, if she′d ever seen one. The urge to run was so strong she had to dig her heels into the Aubusson carpeting. ‶Of course, the ruby necklace would go with that dress much better than that gold chain.″

  Elizabeth stopped her hand from going to her neck. James had given her a ruby necklace for an engagement present. She had dutifully returned it directly after they broke up.

  ‶James--″

  ‶What′s it been, Elizabeth -- three, four years?″ he interrupted. ‶Can′t we even have a drink before you rush out into the night?″ James dropped her cape on the sofa and moved around her.

  She moved away from the heat of him. ‶I don′t want a drink, I′m driving.″ Did he really not know how long it had been? Why did that make her heart sink? How often did she think of him? When they′d parted, she′d thrown herself into Invitation of Love, using her business as a substitute for a broken relationship. Yet tonight, on some subliminal level she′d pulled his address and given it to Joanne. Did it have anything to do with Christmas? It had been another Christmas when she′d stormed out the door she′d swept through tonight. Then she spied the current copy of Black Enterprise on the coffee table separating two leather sofas before the imposing fireplace. A smile stole across her mouth.

  ‶You′ve been gone a while, right?″ she led him.

  ‶Until recently my work meant I traveled a lot. Usually I spend Christmas in New York.″

  ‶You work there too?″ Elizabeth knew the answers to all these questions.

  ‶Not any more. I′ve been back in the District for several months.″

  She wasn′t disconcerted. She would have been, except James′s brother, Mark, made it a point to drop by at least once a month and give her regular updates. She supposed he did the same for his brother. But in case he didn′t, James still knew a lot about her.

  With deliberate slowness Elizabeth crossed to the table. She bent forward, lifting the magazine with her face on the cover. The slick surface flapped up and down like bird wings as Elizabeth walked to where James stood. She held the book toward him. As he reached for it she let go. It dropped it at his feet.

  They both looked down. The magazine lay open to a photo of her in the Oval Office. Next to her stood the President of the United States, a package of personalized invitations in his hand. Both smiled at the camera.

  Her stare was level as he raised his eyes. She wanted to laugh at the small victory, but decided against it.

  James bent down and picked up the magazine. He stared at the photograph for a long time before closing the booklet and returning it to the table. ‶It says you bargained with the President to allow a wedding and reception to take place in the Red Room. In exchanged you got the White House business. In the world of small business, you pulled off the coup of the century. Do you know how many people wish they were in your shoes?″

  Elizabeth did know. In reality, her negotiations had been with the White House advisors. It was happenstance that had the President within earshot of her request. She hadn′t needed the article in Black Enterprise to bring in business. Twenty-four hours after the contract with the White House was signed, she had more business from the Washington elite than she and Mary could handle. But she loved it. After the initial overwhelming deluge she′d taught Mary some of the handwriting techniques. Her assistant seem to excel with the Spenserian Penmanship. Together they were a team and Mary′s Christmas present this year would be a full partnership in Invitation to Love.

  ‶James, I can′t stay here talking to you all night. I need to get that package to the right address and then go to Charles and Lidia′s. Please give it to me.″ She dropped her head, the pounding was getting worse and soon she′d need to sit down. She didn′t want to sit here. She wanted to be in her car speeding away from Rock Creek Park.

  ‶You′re going to a party alone.″ James′s voice snapped her attention. ‶I thought you never went anywhere without an escort.″

  ‶Please, James.″ She held up her hands. ‶Let′s not argue after so many years. Your address got mixed up with someone else′s and a package was sent here. It really must get to the right man before eight o′clock.″

  ‶The right man?″ His eyebrows rose. He approached her, watching her take a step back. Lifting her hand he checked her ring finger. ‶Is he your right man?″

  Elizabeth snatched her hand away. ‶You have no right to ask that question.″

  ‶I′m the man with the package you want. That gives me a lot of rights.″
James walked to the bar in the corner and set two crystal goblets on the leather surface. He reached under the counter where Elizabeth knew there was a small refrigerator. He came up with two chilled bottles of Perrier water. Pouring them into the globes, he walked back to her. Elizabeth accepted one.

  Taking a sip she hoped the cold water would help to cool her. ‶James, why don′t you give me the package and I′ll be out of your life?″

  ‶You′re assuming I want you out of my life. We were friends -- once.″ He hesitated a moment. ‶Maybe I′d like to hear about you, what you′ve been doing in the past few years. Things that aren′t covered in Black Enterprise.″ He gestured told the coffee table.″

  Elizabeth felt like she was being manipulated. ‶You know damn well how business is. As for my personal life, it′s none of your concern. Now give me the box and let me go.″ She turned the glass up and drained it, then went to the bar and slammed the delicate crystal onto the leather top.

  James lounged against the back of the tufted-leather sofa, apparently in no hurry to give her what she wanted. ‶Why are you doing this? Do I have to search for the box?″

  ‶You could start in our bedroom,″ he grinned.

  Elizabeth stopped short of gasping. ‶We don′t have a bedroom.″ The implication that they never would rang clear in the air between them. She wouldn′t go to his bedroom. In fact, she wouldn′t go another step. Chantel Hartman-Lawrence could have been a valuable contact for her business, but Invitation to Love had survived other mishaps. She′d simply go to the address and explain to Mr. Hillery. She knew she′d have to confront Ms. Hartman-Lawrence, but Elizabeth would rather fight her than James.

  ‶It′s that way.″ He pointed to the door behind her.

  Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment. Then she grabbed her cape, swung it over her shoulders and headed for the door.

  ‶Elizabeth!″ He vaulted over the sofa and reached the door in front of her. ‶Don′t leave in anger. You left that way the last time. We were friends.″

  ‶That was a long time ago, James.″

  ‶Don′t you think we could be friends again?″

  ‶No, I don′t. Please move. I′m late.″

  His shoulders dropped. Elizabeth′s defenses said relax, but she held them tight. This could be another of his games.

  James sighed. ‶Wait here. I′ll get the package.″

  He disappeared into the back of the house. She knew there was a great-room there with enough windows to let the sun warm it on cold wintry days. It too had a fireplace as did all the rooms. Three Christmases ago, the two of them had drunk a toast to a room full of friends on their impending marriage. Elizabeth didn′t know what made her move, but she walked to the arched entrance. In the darkness, the glass walls vaulted to the sky. Another lighted Christmas tree had been set up here. It was in the same space it had occupied when she stood before it, James at her side, a smile on her face.

  ‶Do you know where you′re standing?″ James whispered. He stood in front of her. She hadn′t seen him. She′d been lost in the past. Looking up Elizabeth saw the ball of mistletoe hanging over her head. Moving her gaze back to James, she froze at the desire she saw in his eyes. She went to step back, but his arm encircled her waist and pulled her against him. ‶Merry Christmas,″ he murmured then lightly touched his lips to hers. Elizabeth felt a tremor run through her. James lifted his head enough to look in her eyes. Then his mouth came down on hers in a ravishing kiss.

  Three years of misery and frustration melted away as James′s arms slipped inside the cape and it pooled to the floor in a rug of red velvet and fur. Elizabeth′s arms connected around his neck as desire swept through her. It felt good to be held, to press herself against him, feel his arms, the hard length of him and know he was solidly there, not the elusive substance of her dreams. She leaned into the kiss, her mouth open as James devoured the inner contours. Elizabeth didn′t know how long they stood there, just that she didn′t want the moment to end. James slid his mouth from hers.

  ‶Are you the woman at the door?″ he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

  Confused and disoriented Elizabeth frowned a moment. Then she realized the package contained an acrylic rose with a man′s wedding band hooked onto one of the leaf petals. A hand engraved note inscribed with the message: Marry the woman at the door was included. She pushed herself away from him.

  ‶No!″ she nearly shouted.

  He held the card stock rectangle of snow white paper in his hand. Elizabeth knew her handwriting without looking at it.

  ‶You opened it.″ Snatching the note and the box, Elizabeth rushed from the room, through the front door and into her car. Her cape lay on the floor at James′s feet. She refused to go back for it. She never planned to enter that house again. Or to see him. In less than half an hour she′d found herself back in his arms, as soft and pliable as candle wax.

  The chilling air made her shudder. She jumped into the car, throwing the hated parcel on the seat and gunning the motor in her effort to put distance between herself and James Hill.

  Just as she came out of the park, Elizabeth passed the stone slab bathed in white light. Welcome to Washington had been carved deeply on one side of the marble square while Welcome to Maryland adorned the other side. Traffic skittered around the circle, their drivers unaware of the turmoil taking place inside the white Corvette that turned toward downtown Washington. Elizabeth pulled the car to the soft shoulder and cut the engine. She slumped over the steering wheel and cursed herself.

  How had she let that happen? How could she let James revive feelings she′d fought to bury these last three years. She pounded the steering wheel trying to keep the sensations he′d stirred from raging out of control.

  ***

  James had no breath left after Elizabeth′s hasty retreat. She was the last person he expected to find on his doorstep, wrapped like a present in a velvet coat trimmed in white fur. He remembered her with shoulder length hair; her eyes bright and dancing, a ready smile always present. Even in anger her dark champagne-colored skin glowed with health. Only her eyes betrayed her. He′d told her her eyes were her best feature. They were also her most revealing. At one point they were dark and mysterious while at other times they were open and full of hurt. He hated to think he′d been responsible for putting the hurt there.

  Their names had been linked since childhood. He′d been in love with her since the fifth grade, and three years ago he thought he′d be married to her, but then Claire had come and everything between them had changed. Tonight when the package arrived, he′d been too afraid to think, too afraid to do more than let it sit on the counter. Then she was the woman standing at the door, he thought the world had tilted in his favor, but she was only there to retrieve it and deliver it to its rightful owner.

  He picked up the velvet wrapper. The white fur was soft and feathery, the way her hair felt when he′d dig his fingers into it. He liked the way she looked now and the way her body knew the familiar contours of his.

  Looking at the coat in his arms, he remembered another white fur and him wrapping her securely in it. Her brown eyes were huge and warm then, not like the cold ones that had looked at him tonight, but she still had the fire. The kiss had told him that and her fire burned for him, just as much as his burned for her.

  ‶Damn!″ he cursed. ‶Why did Claire have to pick that day to drop her bomb?″

  Chapter 2

  James guided the Lexus into the flow of traffic on Sixteenth Street in Northwest Washington and headed toward downtown. His intention after the gym tonight had been to shower and turn in early. It had been a grueling week. Most industries, except retail, slowed down at this time of the year. Not the stock market. At the eleventh hour, everyone panicked buying and selling, pushing incomes into the new year or quickly investing in high risk stocks.

  He been tired both physically and mentally, but after Elizabeth′s unexpected appearance the thought of being alone between the cool sheets of the Lincoln
-size bed, was unappealing. And as usual, thoughts of her forced all other women from his mind. Pulling out his tuxedo he changed his mind about attending Charles and Lidia Hereford′s annual Christmas dance. He′d refused their invitations for the past three years, yet an hour ago Charles Hereford heartily laughed into the phone when he′d asked if it were too late to accept.

  Caught by the light at Military Road he listened to the engine hum then turned right, heading toward Wisconsin Avenue and his parents′ house. The Washington, D.C. license tag, reading MHH-MD, on the Mercedes parked in the driveway told him his brother, Dr. Mark Howard Hill, was here. With three additional parking places available at the Cathedral Avenue address, James blocked him in, a grin spreading across his face. Leaving the car he paused to study the red brick house next door -- Elizabeth′s house. The ‶for sale″ sign stood askew on the front lawn. No matter who bought it or how many families lived there, he′d always think of it as Elizabeth′s house.

  Pulling himself out of the past, he rang the doorbell of the house in which he′d grown up.

  ‶James!″ The look of surprise on Winton Hill′s face quickly turned to joy as he faced his second son. ‶What are you doing here? I thought you were too tired for anything except an early night.″

  ‶I changed my mind,″ James said, following his father past the soft muted shades of the grey and mauve living room to the one beyond. They entered the family room-library where he′d practically grown up. As a family, this was the room they lived in. It was where he′d told his parents he and Elizabeth were getting married. Where Mark announced he′d been accepted into Meharry Medical College and where his mother, Opal, had told them she′d been diagnosed with breast cancer. It was also the room in which he′d notified them of his impending arrest. Happiness and crisis surrounded the book-lined room. James supposed it was why he′d come to his parents′ house.