Murray was the first to notice them. He stared, then slid his headphones off his ears and slowly stood. Taking two steps forward, he was brought up short by the headphones still around his neck.
His actions caught the attention of some of the others until they were all staring at Lexi and Francesca.
Or make that staring at Francesca.
She wore a cool little smile and stared back.
“Hi, guys,” Lexi said. “This is my roommate, Francesca.”
“Hello, Francesca,” they chorused in unison.
She wiggled her fingers.
“Lexi, is that you?” Spencer stuck his head out of the doorway. “I’ll be another couple of minutes.” He noticed Francesca, then looked at his fellow researchers, who’d apparently turned into zombies. “Oooh, boy.”
Lexi walked over to him. “I brought you cookies to say thanks for charming my parents.”
He nodded toward Francesca. “That’s not all you brought.”
“She wanted to come over here. I hope that’s okay.”
Spencer was still watching. “I don’t know yet.”
Lexi pried off the box lid. An aroma of chocolate and vanilla wafted out. “Want a cookie?”
“Not before...” Spencer sniffed. “Homemade?”
“You betcha. The ones on top are still warm.”
Spencer popped one into his mouth, took another and then the entire box, which he carried to the snack area. “Hey, troops, Lexi made us cookies.”
That seemed to break their spell.
“No kiddin’?” Murmuring their thanks, they seemed to come back to life.
Everyone, except Francesca, shuffled back to the snack area. Francesca did not shuffle. Francesca undulated. Undulated on high-heeled sandals.
Sandals in December? Her roommate was nutty, Lexi thought.
On the other hand, every eye in the place, including Spencer’s, watched her progress. Francesca hopped onto the counter and crossed her legs. Within moments, a soft drink appeared in her hand.
“Why, thank you,” Francesca drawled in a Southern belle voice.
Since she’d come from Indiana, this was totally fake, but Lexi doubted anyone noticed.
“Now, which month were you?” she asked Murray, who’d given her the drink.
“March and August.”
“You shaved off your beard!”
Murray rubbed his day-old beard.“I’m growing it back.”
“Oh, but why? With the beard, I didn’t realize what a sexy mouth you have. That full lower lip just makes me want to...” She broke off with a selfdeprecating laugh. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.”
“I don’t mind!” Murray said quickly.
“Did you want something else to drink?” asked one of the others.
“Or a cookie?”
“I’ve got chips over here.”
“And doughnuts—”
“Not those, man!”
Francesca laughed and swung her leg back and forth as they crowded around her. “I know you—you’re July!”
There was more laughter as the men visibly relaxed.
“Your roommate’s all right,” Spencer murmured in Lexi’s ear.
“Yeah, she is.” Lexi caught Frankie’s eye and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
Francesca grinned.
“You want to slip out now?” Spencer asked.
“I thought you weren’t ready to leave yet.”
Spencer looked down at her, and a slow smile warmed his eyes. “That’s before I saw you.”
6
BUSTERS MANAGED TO BE both bright and dark at the same time. Since Rocky Falls catered to tourists, all the businesses had a clean-scrubbed veneer and Busters was no different.
College kids crowded the tables and dropped peanut shells on the floor. An old-fashioned jukebox played country-Western music.
The pool tables were in the back. Spencer took her hand as he led Lexi past the booths. She spotted several of her students who gave her exaggerated signals that they approved of Spencer.
There was no hope that he hadn’t noticed.
“Shouldn’t you be practicing?” she scolded them good-naturedly as she walked past.
The truth was, Spencer couldn’t help attracting attention. He had a commanding presence, not to mention that his picture was probably on display in every dorm room at Littletree right now.
He was a decade older than some of the young males sitting in the booths, and it showed in the confident way he moved, the firm line of his jaw and his filled-out shoulders. In contrast, most of the male students couldn’t yet grow a full beard.
Put Spencer next to them, and, well, Spencer was very much a man.
And Lexi found that she didn’t like the assessing looks he was drawing from the college women. Walking faster, she closed the gap between them.
He grinned down at her and marginally slowed his stride.
Take that, you college nymphettes.
The pool room was quieter, since it was located away from the music and the electronic beeping of the video games. There was a faint smoky smell but overall, it added to the atmosphere without being objectionable.
“I reserved a table,” Spencer told her, “but we’re early. What can I get you to drink? You can have anything you like, but I’m hoping you won’t go white wine on me.”
Lexi laughed. “Nope. How about a beer?”
“Good choice.” He turned her around so she faced the wall. “Now all you have to do is decide which one. There’s the menu.”
Hanging on the back wall of the pool room was a gigantic wooden plaque on which had been shellacked the labels of at least two hundred kinds of beer.
“Texas is loaded with microbreweries. You ought to give some of them a shot.”
“I will. It’ll be like finding undiscovered talent.”
They passed the next several minutes discussing the merits of various flavors, whether Lexi preferred a “full” flavor, dark, lager, stout, even raspberry flavored.
The thought of raspberries in beer gave Lexi a few queasy moments. “I give up. Pick me something that goes with peanuts—unsalted peanuts.” She peered closer. “Wait a minute, have you ever had that one?” She pointed to a splotch of wild color amid the browns, golds and tans.
“Yeah.” Spencer seemed to approve of her choice. “I like it a lot. What made you choose it?”
“There’s a psychedelic longhorn on the label. I figure that took guts, so it must be a gutsy beer.”
“I suppose that’s one way to describe the flavor.”
Spencer ordered two bottles of the beer, then he and Lexi sat on bar stools and watched the pool games in progress. She felt far more relaxed with him than she’d anticipated, considering neither of them had referred to the humdinger of a kiss they’d shared last night. Probably because for Spencer, it had neither hummed, nor dinged.
Lexi sighed inwardly as she reluctantly doused the little flare of hope for a closer relationship with Spencer—the one her parents thought she had.
It was funny how they could influence her thinking. Her cousin Emily who had found the perfect man notwithstanding, Lexi had found committed relationships difficult to maintain when both partners had strong goals that threatened to take them in different directions. A relationship took work, and Lexi had eventually realized she was the one who was expected to make all the sacrifices for its sake.
Maybe someday she’d be ready, but she supposed she was too selfish right now. She had a lot she wanted to accomplish before she put another person’s desires and needs ahead of her own.
She remembered the first time she’d been expected to choose between her music and a man. He hadn’t been a musician and couldn’t understand that she needed uninterrupted time to practice. It wasn’t that she loved music more than him, but realized his impatience was a clue to their future. The relationship was doomed. Music wasn’t the culprit. He couldn’t accept that she had something equally as important in her life as he was.
Spencer
was probably the same way. Just watching his face as he talked about the mechanical hand he was designing told her the project meant everything to him.
Not much room in his life for anything—or anyone—else.
Lexi understood. She even agreed with him. So she should quit whining about what she didn’t have and be grateful for what she did have—a nice, casual evening out with an intelligent man who was easy on the eyes.
And the beer wasn’t bad, either. She took another sip. It had a full beefy flavor with an unexpectedly zingy aftertaste—just like the label.
Spencer cracked open a peanut. “So how much do you know about pool?”
“I have no idea of the rules, except that when the cue ball leaves the table, it’s a bad thing.”
“That’s right. You don’t want it to go into a pocket,”
“No, I mean bouncing off the table.”
“Ah.” Spencer rubbed behind his neck. “How old were you when you did that?”
“Eight. It hit the concrete floor in the basement and chipped. Grandfather never let me play after that.”
“That happens to all of us at one time or another.”
“Maybe not at the same time you break the Tiffany lamp over the table with the pool cue.”
“You did that too?”
“Only because Les—that’s my twin brother—spilled his cherry Kool-Aid over my hand.”
Spencer winced. “Was your hand on the table at the time?”
“Of course. I was trying to shoot.”
“That’s when the ball went bouncing off the table.”
“And I jerked up and hit the lamp with the cue.”
Nodding, Spencer said, “I see your grandfather’s point.”
They ate peanuts, sipped their beer and chatted about inconsequentials until a bell sounded, signaling the end of the pool session.
“We’re at table three.” Spencer indicated the one just in front of them. “Let’s choose you a cue.”
Ninety percent of the cues racked on the wall were the same length, so Lexi didn’t see that there was much choice. However, Spencer examined several, looking down their length, testing their flexibility and weight.
“You must play a lot of pool,” Lexi commented.
“Not really. Just trying to impress you.”
“Give me that!” Lexi laughed and grabbed for the cue he held.
“I suppose you’re going to want this, too.” In his hand, he held a small blue square.
“Definitely. Chalking the cue was my favorite part. We’d use the chalk after every shot and make piles of blue dust.”
Spencer shuddered in mock horror as he racked the balls and positioned the point of the triangle over a well-worn spot on the table. “Your poor grandfather.”
“Actually, Grandmother cleaned up the mess. Do I get to break?” she asked.
“Not literally.”
Lexi was still laughing, now utterly at ease with Spencer. So when she positioned the cue ball, then bent over the table trying to remember how to hold the cue, she wasn’t anticipating her reaction when Spencer ever so casually leaned over her to correct her position.
It was a heart-jarring shock when her body went from buddy-buddy mode to full sexual awareness in a fraction of a second.
The distinctive click as the balls cracked into each other, the murmurs of the other players and the music all faded away as Lexi’s complete sensory attention was focused on Spencer and his nearness to her.
Part of her back was flush against his chest, the same chest that greeted her each morning. Funny how his fingers no longer had quite the same allure, though there they were, in the lamplight, tangling with hers.
His cheek, with the faint shadow of beard, was inches away. He was telling her something, but she was registering only the vibrations his voice made against her back. She shifted her position, bringing more of him in contact with her body.
“No, like this.” He leaned over farther as he placed her rubbery fingers around the pool cue. Her right hip and thigh now met his. The bottom edge of her sweater pulled out of the waist of her jeans, exposing a couple of inches of skin.
He leaned down, trying to get to her eye level to line up the shot, saying something about physics and geometry, concepts her mind couldn’t quite grasp at this moment.
“Got it?”
Well, no. If she could only find a way to indicate that he needed to adjust her position, maybe by putting those long fingers in direct contact with her waist—
“Okay, now shoot.”
“Do I have to?”
He chuckled and she smiled as the deep rumbles caressed her back. “I’ve got a hold of the back end here,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
Lexi sighed. All good things must come to an end.
Just then, Spencer gently traced the edge of her hair over her temple and lifted it behind her shoul der, making a whole new area of her body aware of him. Tingles zinged down the side of her neck and lodged in her elbow.
Her muscles wouldn’t respond. But they had to, or he’d guess what was wrong.
Sharply pulling the pool cue back, she horribly overcompensated and heard the “oomph” sound Spencer made when the cue met his stomach—or worse.
She missed the cue ball completely.
“Ohmigosh!” She jerked upright and her head crunched against his.
Lexi whirled around.
Blinking rapidly, Spencer hunched over and held his hands over his nose.
“Oh...I’m so sorry!” Before she realized what she was doing, she found herself rubbing his stomach about where she judged the cue’s point of impact to be.
“Too high.”
She moved her hand lower.
Inhaling, he grabbed her wrist. “Still too high, but thanks for the thought.” His voice sounded stuffy.
“Your nose! I’m so sorry! Should I get an ice pack from the bartender?”
“Nah. I’ll be okay.” Gingerly he explored the contours of his nose, then squinted at her. “You mind if we sit for a few minutes?”
“Of course not!” Lexi searched for an empty table or booth. “Those people are leaving.” She grabbed the bottles of beer, and stood by the booth until the waiter had swiped off the peanut shells.
Spencer gingerly slid across the vinyl seat. “Pool isn’t your game, is it?”
“But it could be.” Lexi sat across from him. “I want it to be. That was just a silly mistake. The cue stuck against my fingers, or something.” As she looked at him, an angry red spot marking the impact site of her head was forming above the bridge of his nose.
She wondered where the pool cue had hit.
She wished she’d worn a tight low-cut sweater and Francesca’s fake breasts to take his mind off the pain.
Except that might cause more pain in the area of the cue mishap, so it was probably just as well that she was sitting across from him “unenhanced.”
“What are you thinking?” he asked her.
“Why?”
“You have the weirdest expression on your face.”
“Well, I’m—” not going to tell you about Francesca’s breasts “—I’m horrified and embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.” He waved away her words and gave her a smile whose potency wasn’t diminished one bit by his slightly swollen nose. Withdrawing a folded piece of paper from his pocket, he sniffed and said, “We needed to talk about a few things, anyway.”
He unfolded the paper and Lexi saw that it was a checklist.
“I think I made a good impression on your parents,” he said questioningly.
“That’s an understatement.”
At her dry tone, he glanced up from reading the list. “I thought that was the whole idea.”
“Yes.”
“But...?”
With her thumb, Lexi traced the damp outline of the longhorn on her beer bottle. How was she supposed to tell him her parents thought he was the greatest achievement of her life? That she hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted
to see the pleased approval on their faces until then? And what was it that they approved of? Him. None of her accomplishments mattered. In fact, it was obvious that her mother didn’t consider Lexi worthy of Spencer.
She hadn’t expected the knowledge to hurt as much as it did. “I guess that until last night, I hadn’t realized my parents considered me deficient without a man,” she told Spencer.
He appeared to give her words serious thought. “Do they have any grandchildren?”
Lexi shook her head.
“That’s probably it. They’ve just got grandchild fever.”
Even though Lexi hadn’t ever heard her mother talk about wanting grandchildren as anything other than ammunition against the two Emily had presented to Aunt Carolyn, Lexi let his reasoning slide by. She’d already gone wading in the pool of embarrassment this evening. No need to go scuba diving.
He took out a pen. “I need some information about you. Brothers and sisters?”
“A brother, Les—”
“The twin, right.” Spencer wrote down the name. “I’m trying to picture a male version of you, and I can’t.”
“That’s okay. We’re not identical,” she said with a straight face.
He started to write, then looked at her from under his eyebrows. “Very funny.”
“People do ask.”
“Mmm. Just you and your brother?”
Lexi drew a deep breath. “Unfortunately, no. There’s Gretchen, my little sister. She’s the reason for the family gathering.”
She looked at Spencer diligently making notes and thought about how obviously busy he was, yet he’d taken not one, but two evenings of his time to get to know her. All she’d asked of him was that he show up on Christmas, but he’d figured out a lot more was required. Had he complained? Had he cried foul? Had he said, “Forget it!” because he’d already met her father? No, he’d set out to do the best job he could.
And she was leading him right into Norman Rockwell as interpreted by Salvador Dali.
Moaning, Lexi put her head in her hands. “I can’t stand the guilt any longer. I’ve got to tell you what you’re getting into.” She met his eyes. “This is going to be the worst Christmas of your life.”
Not a chance.
The Christmas he’d walked back from the bus station in the dark to his boarding school dormitory was the worst. He’d had to break a window to get back inside because the whole school was shut down for the holidays. He’d left the window unlocked, but the ever-vigilant custodian, Mr. Sayers, must have discovered it during a final check.
Mr. December Page 8
