by Arlene James
He opened his mouth, closed it again and seemed to pull back. "This conversation's getting a little deep," he said carefully, "and I'm really too tired for it. I think I'll call it an early night, too."
Caroline sighed and shook her head as he rose to his feet.' 'You left out something earlier, Jesse, when you were talking about yourself. You said you'd had the perfect childhood, parents, home, brother. You even mentioned the ranch. But you left out your wife, Jesse. Why is that?''
He stared down at her, his face going rigid. ' 'Good night, Caroline," he said tightly, and walked away.
Caroline braced one arm on the back of the sofa and put her hand in her hair. "Why is that, Jesse?" she whispered. "If you loved her so much, why did you leave her out? And why are you trying to leave me out, too?"
Chapter Nine
1 he light rap of knuckles on the office door skittered up his spine, punctuating the state of his nerves. Nevertheless he steeled himself and called out in a steady voice, "Come in."
She^ opened the door, peeked around it and beamed an electric smile before slipping inside and closing it behind her, just as he'd intended. Jesse sat back in the creaky old desk chair and measured out a friendly smile of his own. "Caroline. Thanks for taking the time for this. I'll keep it short and sweet." He picked up the envelope and transferred it to the front edge of the desk. Cautiously she stepped up to the desk and reached out a slender hand. "Merry Christmas," he said, tucking his hands behind his head as he leaned back in the chair.
Caroline looked over the plain white envelope carefully, turned it and flipped up the flap, extracting the check with the tips of her fingers. Impassively she read the number printed on the check face, and her eyes widened briefly. Then she merely slid the check back into its envelope, smiled wanly and said, "Thanks."
She made no effort to hide her disappointment, and Jesse made no effort to hide his exasperation.
pf'"
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"For pity's sake, Caroline, that's a generous Christmas bonus if I do say so myself."
"Yes, it is," she conceded baldly. "Too generous. Frankly, I'd be happier with a pretty scarf or a nice wallet or, God forbid, cheap perfume, anything personal."
"Personal," he echoed, wanting to kick them both, her for being so damned difficult, himself for caring. He slammed forward in his chair and snatched up an ink pen, fixing his gaze on the forms spread out before him. "Yeah, well, personally I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your disappointment to yourself," he grumbled. "That's considerably more bonus than I've given either of the hands, and they've been here a hell of a lot longer than you have."
He assumed that would be the end of it, and only then realized just how much pleasure he'd taken in setting down the amount. Stupid little hen. Didn't she realize that it was her own generosity that had prompted his? He knew perfectly well what a full day at the local spa was costing her, but he knew, too, that she would take as much joy in the gift as his mother would, perhaps more so. He wanted to aid that, dope that he was, and look what it got him. But then, what had he expected?
He pushed that question to the back of bis mind, even as he became aware that she had not moved away from the desk, merely around it. He turned his head toward her just as she settled herself on the corner of the desk next to him. Leaning back again, he put a little distance between them and waited while she studied the envelope in her hand.
"Sorry," she said finally, her voice pleasantly husky.
Jesse waved a hand negligently, ready to forgive her anything and not nearly as upset by that fact as he ought to be. "Forget it," he said.
She folded her arms, tapping the edge of the envelope against her chin. "I've told myself for a lot of years that money isn't anything important, and it isn't, unless you don't have it when you need it, but it sure can make important things seem easy at times, like being able to give somebody something you want them to have." She tossed the envelope down in front of him and leaned back slightly, her upper body weight balanced on the heels
of her hands and braced on her arms. "I like to be extravagant sometimes," she said.
He chuckled indulgently. "Doesn't everyone?"
"Probably. You obviously do."
"Aw, it's not that," he said. "I just—"
Suddenly she leaned forward. "You just wanted to make it easy for me to be extravagant in my giving. You're giving me this money because you're afraid I'm spending too much on your mother's Christmas gift."
He cleared his throat, quite as pleased with himself now as he had been when he'd inked in the amount on the front of that check, and dismayed at the same time. Was there no winning in this situation? Must her understanding and gratitude come with such awareness? How could he hope to please her and not heighten this damnable attraction between them?
"I made a snap judgment," she said. "I thought you were trying to avoid any personal involvement."
"I am," he said honestly, running a hand through his hair in frustration, "or I would if I could just figure out how."
She slipped off the corner of the desk and gently, determinedly inserted herself between it and him. As she levered herself up onto his lap, he groaned, partly in outright fear, partly in helpless delight. Sweet heaven, had a woman ever felt so good? Had doom ever felt so close at hand? She placed her arms around his neck and pressed her weight against him, forcing the chair to lean back with both of them.
"I won't let you," she whispered. "I can't, Jesse. You're too perfect. I want you too much."
He was shaking his head slowly side to side. "I'm not perfect, honey, and that you could think so just proves that you don't know—"
She didn't let him finish. Catching his head between her hands, she molded her mouth to his with exquisite precision. He couldn't have kept his hands to himself then if his very life had depended on it. He didn't even try. When touching her was as much punishment as pleasure, what was the point? One hand went to her waist. The other settled on her thigh. Then he took them both where he really wanted them, reflexively cupping one breast and
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inserting the other between her legs to rub gently at their apex. She closed her hands in his hair and worked her mouth over his, her tongue lashing and licking and finally driving between his teeth. Within moments he felt her dampness, confirmation that she did, indeed, want him there. He couldn't bear any more.
He dropped bis hand from her tightening breast and pulled the other from between her thighs, clutching the arms of the chair. Gradually, the heat of her mouth on his cooled as she broke the kiss and laid her forehead against his. He enjoyed holding her on his lap a few moments longer, then firmly, determinedly set her off. She stood over him, one hand on her sweetly rounded hip, the other delicately sweeping across her lips, a wealth of unspoken desires in her eyes. He nodded in complete understanding. Then with a strength of will he hadn't even known he possessed, he pulled his chair a little closer to the desk and looked around for his pen. Where had that thing gone? He didn't remember letting go of it, dropping it, swallowing it. Spontaneous combustion, perhaps? He wouldn't doubt it. She brushed a hand against his cheek, picked up her check and, mercifully, left him to try to bully his mind and body back into compliance with his battered, besieged mind.
Eventually he gave up looking for his pen and simply faced the facts.
He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell. The attraction was simply too potent. Before this was over, somebody was going to get hurt, both of them probably. The only question now was how bad it was going to be. But he'd do his best He'd go down fighting, by God. He couldn't live with himself any other way— and maybe not even then.
They laughed at her but not with derision. Haney shook his head and said that he'd never seen anyone have such fun with pine boughs and string. Jesse said he wouldn't know he was indoors instead of out if not for the warmth and the furniture. Sarah just marveled at her energy and inventiveness, saying that it had been years since the house h
ad been truly decorated for the holiday season. What they couldn't understand, of course, was that it was a dream come true for Caroline: a family Christmas in a
warm and loving home. Even if she wasn't a member of the family, she wanted everything to be perfect. So she decked the house in boughs gathered for her by the men and die finery collected over Sarah's lifetime, each piece placed with careful, joyful .deliberation.
The tree was a special joy. Jesse and Tiger took her out with them on a Sunday afternoon to choose and cut it. They hauled it home in the back of an old ranch truck, shook the snow from its swaying boughs and wrestled it into the house. It was an immense thing, seven feet tall and fat. Sarah had a place cleared in front of a living room window, and they stood it there, taking forever to get it straight in the special stand that Haney had constructed when Jess and Rye had been boys. With Sarah's direction, Haney and Jesse outfitted the tree with strand after strand of multicolored lights, then sat back to gobble popcorn and tease Caroline about the meticulousness with which she hung the ornaments over which Sarah rhapsodized.
Sarah had a memory for every bulb and snowflake, some of which had belonged to her great-grandmother, but the antiques and other beauties weren't closest to her mother's heart. Every crudely shaped and sloppily painted, grade-school-era clay Santa brought out a story about one of her boys. Every poorly carved, semipolished lump of knotty pine elicited a teary reminiscence that Caroline soaked up like a sponge. Her own personal favorite, however, was the delicate bisque and velveteen angel that claimed the place of honor on the tip of the tree. Passed down through the family for generations, it had been fashioned by some long-dead maiden aunt. Caroline considered it a work of art, a priceless family treasure. She sat late at night after everyone else had gone to bed, watching the lights blink and staring at that ageless angel, hoping that the one who had fashioned it still shared in the joy it brought and praying for good things for this special family.
She baked every festive goody in Sarah's Christmas cookbook. Haney teased her by saying that she'd used a crate of sugar and a barrel of food coloring. Jesse said that Haney ought to know since he'd eaten half of it himself, though Jesse said it as he munched the leg off a cookie reindeer.
Gaily wrapped gifts appeared beneath the tree as if by magic.
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Haney set a Yule log to soaking in rum and spices. Sarah put on some Christmas music. The place was packed to the hilt and fairly reeked of Christmas by the time Rye and his family arrived for the holiday early on the evening of the twenty-third.
Caroline couldn't have been more thrilled if they'd come expressly to see her. As it was, she stood back, watching with delight as the newcomers affectionately greeted family. Rye, Kara and Champ were not what she expected. For one thing Rye was not so large as his older brother and father, and his thick, wavy hair was almost completely gray. In some ways he was almost a throwback to the cowboys of old, from his drooping mustache to his run-down boots. But his gray-blue eyes were pure Wagner. Kara was a big, busty blonde as cowboy as he was. Completely free of artifice, she wore both her jeans and her femininity with a casual self-assurance that Caroline admired and with which she identified. Champ's Native American blood dominated his appearance, making him seem a miniature version of Shoes Kanaka, his late mother's cousin. They seemed an odd mix, those three, gray Rye, blond Kara, Indian Champ, but they were happy and very much a family despite the short time they had been together as one.
Rye made much over his mother's appearance, exclaiming that she now looked more like his sister than his mother, given his gray hair and her new soft blond. The glance he shared with Jesse said that he didn't miss the increased stiffness of her movements, however. Kara gave hugs and kisses to everyone but was especially exuberant with Jesse, so much so that Caroline admitted to herself that she felt an unaccustomed spurt of jealousy, but only a spurt, for it quickly became evident that Ryeland Wagner and his bride could not keep their hands off each other. Every glance required a touch, as did every change of subject, every smile, every shift of weight, every breath, it seemed. Those two were so in love that they ached with it and made Caroline ache for it.
When all the family had been greeted, Sarah called Caroline forward and made the introductions. Champ spared her a polite wave and busily began perusing the gifts beneath the tree; Rye and Kara, however, each captured one of her hands and held it between their own.
"So this is the amazing Caroline," Rye said. "That we've heard so much about," Kara added. "Mom and Jess both say you're the best thing since sliced bread," Rye went on.
"And too pretty to look at," Kara continued. It was as if they spoke—arid thought—as one. Caroline laughed, delighted with the pair of them. "Gross exaggerations," she said demurely.
Sarah had joined Haney in helping Champ ferret out his gifts from those beneath the tree. Rye cut a look at his mother, and Kara followed suit. "I don't think so," he said. "I've never seen Mom looking better."
"The spa must have helped the arthritis some," Kara said. Caroline sighed. "For a time it did, but she's hurting again, though she'll do her best not to let it show."
Rye nodded. "That's just what I expected. I've done some research, and I think we've found a place that can help her. Dad actually mentioned it a while ago, and it turns out he was right." "Jesse told me. I'm so glad."
Rye smiled. "He told me how fond you are of her. I appreciate that, Caroline."
She shook her head. ' 'No one seems to understand how good Sarah's been to me. All the Wagners, really."
He chuckled. "Glad to hear it." He looked around the room then. "Man, this place looks and smells great. It's like every Christmas I've ever had here all rolled into one."
"That would be Blondie's doing," Jesse said, joining the group and tugging teasingly at Caroline's hair. "She's decorated this place within an inch of its life and baked her little heart out into the bargain."
"Sounds like my mom," Kara said wistfully. "I think she stripped half,the trees in New Mexico this year. Looks like I'd have gotten some of that, doesn't it? The cooking and nest-feathering just isn't my thing, though."
Rye slid an arm possessively around her waist and pulled her hard against his side. "Girl, are you beating that mule again? You're all the woman I can handle now and twice the cowboy
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as any ten men I know. Besides I'd rather have you riding next to me wielding a rope than a frying pan anytime."
Kara wrapped both arms around him and squeezed. Rye kissed her nose. Jesse shook his head and said to Kara, "Speaking of your mom, how's Pogo doing?"
It was Rye who answered. "Happy as a tick on a fat dog."
"That's a honeymoon that's definitely not over yet," Kara said meaningfully.
Jesse chuckled. "Must be catching."
"No, really," Kara said, hanging on Rye, who was rubbing a hand up and down her back. "I think they were happy to get rid of us so they could have the place to themselves for a change."
Jesse just grinned. Caroline knew what he was thinking. These two were oblivious to the fact that they weren't alone! She was happy for them—and so envious that she could barely contain it. How often did she have to clasp her hands together to keep from touching Jesse? Did he ever want so desperately to reach out to her? Would the time ever come when they would do so as unselfconsciously as Rye and Kara?
Sarah and Haney were exclaiming with Champ over the size and weight of a certain package with his name on it. They called Rye and Kara over and set about wheedling Rye into allowing Champ to open the gift early. Of course, they were successful. Champ whooped when he saw the electronic game inside. Then everyone spent the rest of the evening trying to get the thing hooked up to the television in the den.
Caroline mulled cider for Champ and wine for the adults, and soon everyone was pleasantly warm and relaxed. Champ went to sleep sprawled over his grandparents' laps, and Caroline hopped up, saying she'd get his bed ready. Rye got up to carry his son
upstairs, but Jesse did, too, saying, "No, let me. I don't get the chance to do this kind of thing much." So Rye sat back down and wrapped his arms around his wife, and Jesse gently gathered up the boy.
Haney tucked Champ's arm over his chest so it wouldn't dangle uncomfortably, while Sarah smoothed his raven black head and pressed a kiss on its crown. Jesse turned toward the hallway, and Caroline ran on ahead to ready the bed hi the guest room by
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the light from the landing through the open doorway. It was ready when Jesse got there with the boy. He brought Champ in and laid him gently on the bed, then began tugging off his boots. Caroline joined in, helping nun remove the boy's shut, jeans and socks. Champ slept through it all, a gently snoring deadweight. Leaving the boy in his lightweight insulated underwear, Jesse folded the covers up and tucked them around him before placing a tender kiss in the middle of his forehead.
