A Very Merry Christmas: WITH Do You Hear What I Hear AND Bah Humbug, Ba

by Lori Foster

  When she remained silent, he kept talking, keeping his voice matter of fact. “You know my name. How about returning the favor? I promise I’m not an ax murderer. My worst sins are leaving the cap off the toothpaste tube and occasionally washing my whites and my darks together.”

  Her eyes were large and expressive, and he hadn’t missed the wariness hidden in their depths nor her defensive posture.

  She responded to his teasing with a faint smile. Her voice was soft but clear. “I’m Madison. Madison Tierney. Most people call me Maddy.”

  He ladled vegetable soup into two bowls and carried them to the table. Before sitting down, he grabbed a beer from the fridge for himself. He settled across from her and smiled. “So…Miss Maddy Tierney. Want to tell me why you were wandering alone in the woods in a snowstorm?”

  Her cheeks flushed under his steady regard. She took another sip of her chocolate, bending her head and allowing a riot of ginger-red curls to obscure her delicate profile. “No.”

  He chuckled, charmed by her obstinate honesty. “Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?” He leaned forward and tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her neck for a brief second.

  She flinched and he removed his hand. He took a spoonful of soup and watched as she did the same. She ate with ladylike manners, but the fact that she was starving couldn’t be missed.

  He allowed her to eat in peace for several minutes, while he cut hunks of bread for each of them and buttered them. In no time she had emptied her bowl.

  He reached for it. “More?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m fine. It was delicious.”

  He carried the dishes to the sink and returned to the table, determined to crack her silence. She cradled the mug of hot chocolate between her palms, her expression pensive.

  He sighed. “You might as well tell me. We’re going to be snowed in for several days.”

  Her head jerked up, her face shocked. “Several days?”

  He frowned. “Did you really not check a weather forecast before you set out? The snow won’t end until morning. The temperature is supposed to drop tonight. We’ll be lucky if the power stays on.”

  Her mouth drooped. “Well, that’s just peachy.”

  He realized that his masculine pride was a bit piqued. He knew at least a handful of women who wouldn’t consider being snowed in with him such a bad thing. Clearly Maddy was not of the same mind.

  He ground his teeth together. “Spill it, Maddy. What was so important that you risked your life? You do know you nearly died.”

  She glared at him. “Of course I know that. Despite evidence to the contrary, I’m not stupid. I’ll admit I made a few bad choices.”

  He snorted. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

  She nibbled a piece of bread, her eyes shooting sparks at him. “Why do men have to be so damned judgmental?”

  He handed her another piece of bread as she finished off the first. Then he stood and paced. “Why do women have to be so suicidally impulsive?” He wasn’t shouting, but it was close.

  They each stopped dead, staring sheepishly at one another. Her lips twitched. “Nothing like a little hidden baggage to spice up a meal.”

  He sat down again, groaning and dropping his head in his hands. “Hell, I’m sorry. Can we start over?”

  She sighed. “You’re right. You do deserve an explanation. But I don’t know where to start.”

  “Anywhere will do. I promise not to be judgmental.”

  She grinned. “Don’t be so rash. You haven’t heard my story yet.”

  Grant felt a funny little jerk in the vicinity of his heart. Rested, and with a bit of food in her stomach, Maddy Tierney was regaining her spunk. The lively intelligence in her eyes and the gamine charm of her quick, expressive gestures delighted him. She was feminine and soft and yet clearly not a pushover. Her face, unadorned by makeup, radiated health and youth. He guessed her to be in her midtwenties.

  He poured her some more hot chocolate, adding a handful of miniature marshmallows, and opened a second beer. “I’m all ears.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It started out innocently enough. My friend Mimi is a schoolteacher. Most of her family is out in California, and this year she couldn’t afford to make the trip home for the holidays. Another friend, Daphne, just got divorced, and her family is the ‘I told you so’ kind, so she didn’t want to go home for the holidays. The three of us agreed to spend Christmas together, and we decided it would be fun to walk part of the Appalachian Trail. We thought we might stay in one or two shelters, but when it was practical, we would walk off the trail and stay in a town. The first night out the shelter had mice. At the second night’s shelter a group of rowdy Boy Scouts kept us awake.”

  “No offense, Maddy, but you don’t strike me as the hiker/outdoors type. You weren’t even wearing boots.”

  “There’s a reason for that. I was wearing boots to begin with. But they got pretty muddy the first day and I didn’t want to get my sleeping bag dirty. I set them just outside the shelter that night, and some animal dragged them off.”

  “Ah.”

  “It’s the truth. I didn’t know that would happen. I had tennis shoes in my pack as a backup. I hadn’t intended on wearing them.”

  “So where are your friends?”

  She scooped out a gooey marshmallow with her fingertip and sucked it. Grant’s breathing quickened. Hell, he’d had too much alone time, apparently. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look at something other than Maddy Tierney’s little pink tongue.

  She was still speaking. “The novelty wore off pretty quickly. My friends decided they wanted to go home. Mimi came down with a cold and was feeling crappy, and Daphne’s mom called on her cell phone and gave her the big guilt trip. They both left this morning to head down the mountain and rent a car.”

  He frowned. “They sound like fair-weather friends to me. A woman hiking alone is an easy target. They shouldn’t have abandoned you.”

  She bristled. “They’re the best friends in the world. We spoke with a family group who was hiking at the same pace we were, and made sure they would be at the next shelter so I wouldn’t be alone tonight.”

  “But you never actually made it to the shelter.”

  She shrugged. “The weather was a wildcard.”

  “Why didn’t you leave with your friends?”

  Her face closed up, shutting him out. Her chin jutted. “I wasn’t ready to go back.”

  He tapped his fingers on the table. Something didn’t add up. But he could wait. The snowstorm had brought him an unexpected Christmas gift, and he was prepared to unwrap it a bit at a time.

  He stood up. “Let’s sit by the fire.” With the stove turned off the kitchen was getting chilly. She didn’t move immediately, and he raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to carry you?”

  She lifted her chin, her cute little nose in the air. “Of course not.” She got to her feet, clutching the blanket like a lifeline, and made her way to the sofa.

  Despite a strong urge to join her there, he stationed himself away from temptation in an armchair on the other side of the coffee table. She was flustered, he could tell. Her cheeks were bright red, and she was avoiding his gaze, her fingers picking restlessly at the fringe on the blanket.

  Now that the immediate danger was past, he allowed himself to enjoy the novelty of having a woman in his rural retreat. He propped his feet on the coffee table, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “So why weren’t you ready to go back? Isn’t the week of Christmas kind of an odd time to be away from home? Do you need to call family and let them know you’re okay?”

  She bent her head. “No,” she sighed, her teeth mutilating her bottom lip. “Not necessary. But I’ll call Daphne and Mimi later and let them know where I am. They’ll be freaking out when they hear the weather report.”

  For a brief moment her expression revealed a bleakness that bothered him. Was it his mention of family? Unable to keep
his distance, he went to her and scooted down on the sofa, sitting close but not quite touching. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m being too nosy, and you’ve had a rough day.”

  She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  He smiled. “I believe you. You’re tough, I can tell.”

  “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “Collapsing on your doorstep was an anomaly. I can take care of myself.”

  He held up his hands. “I was being serious. Not everyone would have survived getting lost in the woods in a snowstorm. My cabin is at least a quarter mile off the AT. I’m not sure how you managed to find it.”

  “I saw a light through the trees. I decided it was my only hope. I kept walking and walking, and every time I wanted to quit, I forced myself to focus on the light. It sounds a little overdramatic, I know—”

  “I’m glad I was here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I only arrived yesterday.”

  They sat in silence for long seconds, each realizing how close she had come to death. Maddy sniffed, and he reached in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” She blew her nose. “You want to know what I thought about when it got really bad?” Her voice was so soft, he had to strain to listen.

  “Tell me,” he urged, his tone equally low.

  “I hated it that I was going to die without ever having been in love.”

  Her bald statement hung in the air between them. Grant cleared his throat, at a loss for words. What could you say to a pronouncement like that?

  She went on, apparently unconcerned with his silence. “Of course, that’s assuming there’s any such thing as love.”

  He cocked his head, surprised by the depth of cynicism in her voice. If he’d been a betting man, he would have pegged her as a dyed-in-the-wool romantic. He took one of her hands, playing with her fingers. “You don’t really mean that.”

  She half-turned, her expression defiant. “Have you ever been in love?”

  He opened his mouth and then shut it. Damn, she had him there. “No,” he said reluctantly. “Not really.”

  She shrugged. “I rest my case.”

  He twisted a braided gold ring on her right hand. “How does a woman your age not believe in love?”

  She pulled her hand out of his grasp, tucking it beneath a fold in the blanket. “Six months ago I would have told you my parents were a shining example of love for the long haul—”

  “But…?”

  She bent her head, her hair obscuring her face. He was beginning to think that little move was intentional.

  He reached for a stack of mail on the table and pulled a rubber band from a magazine. Without asking for permission, he gathered her long, thick hair at the nape of her neck and secured it. He tipped up her chin. “But?”

  Her chin trembled just the tiniest bit. “After thirty-five years of marriage they decided they don’t have anything in common.”

  He winced.

  She went on, her eyes dark and sad. “The divorce was final at Thanksgiving. They each decided they needed to find themselves. Daddy is on safari in Kenya, and Mother is cruising the South Pacific.”

  Grant had a sudden real urge to find the elder Tierneys and knock their heads together for not having more compassion than to leave their daughter at Christmas, especially when she was still adjusting to their newly dissolved marriage. He probed carefully. “Brothers and sisters?”

  “I’m an only child,” she said simply. “I have aunts and uncles and cousins, and they’ve all invited me for the holidays, but I told them I would be traveling.”

  Now he understood. She was enacting the adult equivalent of running away from home. “So that’s why you let your friends leave without you today. You didn’t want to go home.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, and then clearly changed her mind.

  “Maddy? Was that it?”

  “Not exactly,” she muttered. She looked at the fireplace. “Don’t we need more wood?”

  Maddy watched her host as he carefully stacked three new logs on the fire and poked it until the flames were once again licking greedily up toward the flue. His squatting position pulled his faded jeans taut over a truly noteworthy butt. His shoulders threatened to split the seams of his soft flannel shirt. She had enjoyed sitting cozily with him on the sofa, way too much, if she was honest with herself. He exuded the kind of dependability and caring that made a woman feel protected.

  A man as stunningly masculine and virile as Grant Monroe was probably tired of women throwing themselves at him. It would be terribly selfish of Maddy to use his kindness as an excuse to insinuate herself into his affections. On the other hand, nearly dying tended to change a woman’s perspective. Carpe diem and all that. From now on she would reach out and grab the opportunities life sent her way…And Grant Monroe was the most delicious opportunity she’d met in a long, long time.

  As he moved around the room, she watched him surreptitiously. He was surprisingly graceful for his size. She wondered if he was big everywhere, and then she had to choke back a giggle as she realized the direction her wayward thoughts were taking.

  He must have sensed her amusement, because he turned around and raised an eyebrow. His hair was dark, and she could see the shadow of late-day stubble. “Am I entertaining you?” he asked with a gentle smile.

  Her nipples tightened, and her breathing was shallow. His smile was lethal. She licked her lips. “I was just thinking about something that happened on the trail the other day. It had nothing to do with you.”

  His knowing glance made her squirm, but he went back to his task. He disappeared for a few minutes and came back with coat hangers and marshmallows. He held up the bag. “Want some?”

  She nodded. “Sure. But I don’t think I can manage this blanket and cook at the same time.”

  He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “I threw your clothes in the dryer. They’re probably done by now.”

  He headed back toward the kitchen and returned minutes later, triumphantly bearing her pants. “The shoes are still damp.”

  She took the jeans from him. “Turn around.”

  He put his hands on his hips, ignoring her demand. “Spoilsport. Surely you know I got an eyeful earlier.”

  She looked down her nose at him. “That was different. That was a medical situation. You were saving my life.”

  His teasing smile faded. “Those long legs of yours nearly stopped my heart. You’re beautiful, Maddy.”

  The simple sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. One minute they were exchanging banter, the next he was looking at her like a prospective lover. She stood mute, not knowing how to respond. The air grew thick and heavy. She focused on his lips, full and firm. Eminently kissable. What would he do if she launched herself into his arms?

  A log popped and hissed, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. It broke the strange spell holding them hostage. He turned back to the fire, his shoulders stiff. “I won’t peek,” he said gruffly.

  She dropped the blanket and wriggled into her jeans. They were toasty warm from the dryer. She relinquished the blanket reluctantly. It had afforded a certain amount of protection.

  She picked up one of the coat hangers and speared a duo of plump marshmallows. Grant already had one toasting deep within the fire. When he extracted it, it was a deep golden brown. He blew on it and then held out his hand. “Open your mouth.”

  She obeyed like a spineless puppet. The sweet, gooey sugar melted on her tongue.

  Grant’s finger seemed trapped somehow between her lips, and he flushed as her teeth grazed it when she sucked the last of the residue from his skin. She managed to swallow without choking. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Her own breathing was jerky.

  “Delicious,” she said, shivering as he traced her bottom teeth with his fingertip.

  “Damn.” His sudden exclamation shocked her until she followed the direction of his gaze. The marshmallows she held over t
he fire were an unrecognizable black glob. Grant took the coat hanger from her hand and raked the burning mess off onto a log. He glanced at her wryly. “I take it you weren’t a Girl Scout.”

  “Hey,” she said, frowning. “That wasn’t my fault. You distracted me.”

  “I distracted you?”

  She nodded vigorously. “You’re the one who was feeding me. I can’t help it if I got sidetracked.”

  He stared at her mouth, making her stomach quiver with nerves and something else much more dangerous. “Your lip is sticky,” he muttered, leaning forward.

  She froze, afraid to respond. He moved slowly, closing the gap between them. When his lips brushed hers they both sighed. It was sweet and delicious and scary as hell. Her heart was pounding and her legs trembled.

  “You taste better than the marshmallows,” he muttered. He stepped back and turned on a lamp, flooding the room with additional light.

  She walked to the sofa on unsteady feet, unsure if she was disappointed or glad that he had called a halt. The man was a stranger. Despite the confidences she had shared with him, he had offered nothing of his own background.

  She watched moodily as he put on his snow gear and took the dog out. The silence in the cabin when they left seemed overpowering. She wandered down the hall and found a bathroom. After taking care of her most urgent need, she glanced in the mirror and winced. She looked like a cat dragged through a bush backward. She washed her face and found a comb in a drawer. She took down her hair, straightened it as best she could, and then resecured it with the rubber band.

  Listening carefully for Grant’s return, she rummaged in a small zippered pocket of her pack and found some flavored gloss. It wasn’t nearly as yummy as the marshmallows, but it put a faint shine of color on her lips. After a quick call to reassure Daphne and Mimi, she returned to the living room.

  When Grant and the dog entered some minutes later, she was sitting on the sofa reading the latest National Geographic. She looked up as they came in, feigning an expression of mild interest. “How is it out there?”

  Grant looked at her like she was demented. “It’s snowing,” he said, irritation in his voice. “What did you think?”