by BETH KERY
“I see that. Thank you. You really shouldn’t have gone out in the storm. You might have gotten lost.”
He stood at the stove, pouring coffee into the cups. His only response to her statement was to shrug his broad shoulders. He glanced up at her face as he handed her the mug. Some ice crystals clung to his dark goatee. She resisted an urge to feel them melting beneath her stroking finger.
She reached for the coffee instead.
“You’d better come and get warm by the fire,” she muttered, averting her gaze.
She followed him into the living room. They needed to talk about this in the rational light of day. What had happened last night had been wild—aberrant. Words would help to contain the power of their potent tryst. An honest discussion—it was a crazy mistake. Let’s just forget it ever happened—would put everything neatly into perspective.
Angeline opened her mouth to begin this difficult, but necessary containment. Unfortunately, her gaze fell on the mussed sleeping bags. The memory of falling asleep with Alex’s arms surrounding her swamped her brain.
“Angeline?”
She blinked, realizing Alex stood with one hand upon the mantel, watching her as she gaped at the cozy nest where they’d shared each other’s body heat all night. She looked at him, her mouth still hanging open.
“Merry Christmas.”
His simple greeting took her so off guard he might as well have proclaimed that it was snowing roses.
“I… Merry Christmas. I’d forgotten about it…with everything.”
His gaze dropped to her shaking hand. He stepped forward and took the trembling coffee cup, setting it on the mantel next to his. He turned, grabbing her still-outstretched hand. When he started to draw her into his arms, Angeline flinched and took several steps back. His expression went rigid, but she forced herself to meet his fierce stare.
“Alex, it was a mistake. Surely you must see that.”
That obstinate, insolent look she’d become all too familiar with yesterday settled on his features. “I see no such thing.”
He picked up his cup and took a sip of coffee.
“How can you say that?” she demanded. “We don’t even know each other!”
“I thought we made a pretty good start last night. Nothing to stop us from continuing to get acquainted if you want to find out more about me, though,” he drawled. Angeline saw the small smirk that gorgeous mouth highlighted to perfection with that dark goatee and knew he was trying to provoke her. The realization stiffened her spine with anger.
“I hardly think adding to the crime is going to make things better.”
She tensed when his small smile faded and his eyes turned to blue chips of ice. “I think you’d better go clean up in the bathroom, Angeline.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s the only other room in the house that’s reasonably warm. I put the heater in there earlier.”
“I don’t understand how that relates to—”
“It relates because if you make one more stupid comment about last night being a crime, your ass is going to end up under my palm. Like I said, best you go into another room at the moment.”
“Alex, threatening me when we need to discuss this is hardly help—”
She stopped in the middle of her protest when she saw the hard gleam that entered his eyes. Heat surged into her face and pussy, causing her to replay in her mind what he’d just said. Her own body seemed to be able to interpret that look in his eyes better than her brain could. Alex was irritated at her, but the idea of spanking her had aroused him, as well.
Just like it had her, on some deep, primal level, apparently.
He took a step toward her and Angeline took a step back.
“It wasn’t an idle threat. Better go,” he said quietly, his tone carrying a hint of warning.
She spun around and retreated. She refused even to look at him—although she felt his stare on her—as she retrieved her bag and stalked down the frigid hallway toward the bathroom.
Alex regretted his bitter response to Angeline’s words, but not enough to apologize when she re-entered the living room over an hour later. He’d begun to wonder what the hell she was doing in that bathroom, seeing as he’d heard the shower running for all of three minutes. He already knew from firsthand experience that one didn’t tend to want to linger in an ice-cold shower, and it’s not like there was any electricity for blow-dryers or curling irons. But the bathroom door had remained closed for the next hour, not a sound emanating from the interior.
When she walked into the living room, he shifted the book he’d been reading with varying degrees of success as he alternated between focusing on the printed page and possible sounds coming from the end of the hallway.
Without sparing him so much as a glance, Angeline set the kerosene heater she’d been carrying in the middle of the space in front of the sofa and before the fire. Her actions struck him as aggressive, somehow. She seemed to be trying to tell him something, given the stubborn tilt of her chin.
He strongly suspected that something was that the space in front of the fire was reserved for the heater, not for mind-blowing sex.
She wore her hair down around her shoulders. Some of the tendrils in the back were still damp with moisture. She’d donned a pair of jeans and a red cotton sweater that clung enticingly to her generous breasts.
As if she sensed his gaze on the front of her sweater, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts in a guarded gesture and sat down stiffly on the opposite end of the couch from him.
“Do you have some kind of battery-operated radio? Something so we could hear the weather report on the highway conditions?”
“Don’t tell me you’re holding out for Mitchell to drive through a blizzard.”
She shot him a frosty look. “If you want to know the truth, I’m anxious to know when I can leave. Is it any wonder? There aren’t many people who would choose to put up with your rudeness for long.” She shook her head as she glared at him. “For the life of me, I can’t imagine…”
Fury flared in his brain when her voice faded. He set his book aside and placed his arm on the back of the couch, leaning toward her. “What can’t you imagine? How debonair Mr. Smooth Mitchell Carradine could have such an animal for a son?” His eyes narrowed when she started to say something, but then stopped herself. “That was what you were thinking, wasn’t it? You didn’t seem to mind it rough last night.”
“Stop it.”
His mouth twisted in frustration when he heard the tremor in her low voice. Jesus. This was going from bad to worse. It’d been so good holding her while she slept and the sex had been beyond great. How could she go and ruin it all by saying it was a mistake? By comparing him negatively to his father?
By saying that their lovemaking had been a crime?
He noticed the paleness of her cheeks and knew he needed to retreat, like it or not. He leaned away from her, granting her some distance.
“So. You regret it all, is that it? You want to just pretend like it didn’t happen?” he asked evenly.
“I told you I wanted to talk about it like adults. You’re the one who insists on being such a…a…bullying brute instead!”
“So for clarification sake—talking about us making love last night like adults involves you calling it a crime.”
Pink stained her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that. You misunderstood me.”
He raised his hand from the back of the couch and gave a permissive wave. “Go on, then, by all means.
Her usually velvet-like eyes didn’t look so soft at the moment. “It would help if you stopped being so sarcastic, Alex.”
That made his anger bubble up to the surface again. “Excuse me for the weak defense of a sharp tongue. See, the thing of it is, Angeline, I don’t regret it like you do. So it’s not really a picnic to sit here and listen to you tell me how it was all a mistake. If that,” he pointed significantly to the floor where they’d nearly scorched a burn mark in the carpe
t last night, “was a mistake, I’ll gladly forego being right for the rest of my life. So don’t sit there and tell me I have to take your rejection of me like a nice little boy.”
It took him a second to take in the shocked expression on her face. It took an additional second for him to realize he no longer sat back casually, but was leaning toward her aggressively.
Had he really just said that as loud as he thought he had?
He sighed in frustration and leaned back again. So much for giving her some distance.
“Alex…I’m not rejecting you.”
He peered at her warily, not sure what to make of her softened tone. “What are you trying to do then?”
She threw up her hands helplessly. “Are you going to try to tell me you’re not confused about all this? Unsettled? That what happened between us makes perfect sense to you?”
“I think I have been telling you that,” he muttered dryly. “It’s you who doesn’t want to hear it.”
She stared at him incredulously, her mouth hanging open.
“Alex, I was seeing your father. Have you forgotten that? It may not bother you that you’ve betrayed him, but it bothers me.”
“You two couldn’t have been that serious if you hadn’t even slept together yet.”
She made a disbelieving sound. “That’s what you think? That since your father and I hadn’t slept together yet, I was fair game?”
“I told you yesterday I wanted you from the first second I saw you four years ago. There’s nothing unusual about that, let alone criminal about it. I’m a healthy straight guy, you’re a healthy straight female…who’s to say us being together is wrong?”
“Are you so angry with your father that you would do this to hurt him?”
He started, caught off guard by the double blow of both her words and the sudden evidence of her vulnerability. He hadn’t told himself to move, but suddenly his hand cradled her jaw and his thumb whisked across her satiny cheek, as if trying to erase that lost look from her face.
“My making love to you had nothing to do with Mitchell Carradine. Nothing. Do you understand me?”
He found his gaze pinned to her full, pink lips. Against his will, a rush of heat swept into his cock. He stiffened against his thigh.
Jesus. He really was the animal Angeline accused him of being.
Her lips parted and he found himself drawing closer.
“But, Alex…you don’t even know me.”
He blinked at her whispered words. He opened his mouth to tell her he knew enough. His reaction to her was singular in his experience. Maybe she was right to think of him as a brute, because the fact of the matter was, Alex didn’t even bother to logic out his overpowering need to possess her. He may be single-minded, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew what he wanted when he saw it, and he wasn’t stupid enough to deny it when the object of his desire was suddenly thrown into his path. There was a time for rational thought and there was a time for action.
Alex took one more look at the doubt and confusion on Angeline’s face and decided now might be the time for a little thoughtful re-trenching, however.
He brushed the pad of his thumb across her full lower lip—retreating didn’t mean he was a saint—and let his hand drop to his lap.
“So let me get to know you better.” When he saw the suspicion that flickered into countenance, he couldn’t help but smile. “Not like that. Not now, anyway. Let’s do something together.”
“Alex, there’s a blizzard going on outside. There’s no electricity. We can’t even watch television. What are we going to do?”
He could tell by her wary look that she still suspected of him of trying to get her beneath him again. Not that he didn’t want to get her beneath him, above him…in front of him, restrained to his bed, screaming in pleasure and need…but hell. In all reality, he did also want to listen to her voice, see her smile…find out everything about her.
He shrugged. “It’s Christmas Eve. We could pull out my old Christmas decorations, see if there’s anything that’s not broken, moldy, or serving as a mouse’s house.”
A doubtful smile curved her lips. “You always wait to put up your Christmas decorations on Christmas Eve?”
“No,” he said, sounding more matter of fact than he felt as he stared at Angeline’s mouth. He stood. There was a sealed box of decorations shoved into the back of one of the spare bedroom closets, if he recalled correctly. He wasn’t a Scrooge, necessarily, but the decorations up at the lodge had been more than sufficient for him when it was just him in the house.
“I wasn’t going to put anything up at all,” he explained as he headed toward the glacial hallway. “But from what you told me, you’re used to a tree. I cut one down for you this morning. It’s drying out in the garage.”
Chapter Eight
Angeline was still sitting in the exact same position when Alex returned carrying a huge cardboard box a minute or two later. His casually spoken words had frozen her in shock. Her brain replayed the memory again and again.
But from what you told me, you’re used to a tree. I cut one down for you this morning. It’s drying out in the garage.
He plunked down the box in front of her and sat next to her on the couch.
“Don’t expect much.”
She gave him a curious sideways glance—had there been a hint of vulnerability in his tone?—before she peeled back the flaps on the box and withdrew a velvet bag. When she reached inside, she first drew out an exquisite little beaded apple, then a pear, and then a dove, the detailing and color choice making each item a work of art.
“Where did you get them? They’re darling…perfect,” she exclaimed as she examined a little toy soldier.
“My grandmother made them for me. She can make anything. She can take a coffee can and make it into a family heirloom.”
“You really love your grandparents, don’t you?” she murmured as she continued to admire each beaded gem before she carefully placed it on her lap.
“Uh-huh.”
“Why didn’t you move near them?” she asked as she ran her fingers over a tiny brown-and-white-spotted cow.
“I thought about it. Nearly bought a little resort a couple hours from my grandparents’ house, but…” She glanced back at him when he faded off. “I sort of fell for the land hereabouts. Besides, it’s not that far of a trip to St. Paul.”
“And where did you live when you were in Chicago?” she asked conversationally as she withdrew yet another bag and gasped in delight as she drew out first one white and clear glass-beaded snowflake, then another, slightly different in design and with silver beads. “Oh, these are beautiful, Alex. Look,” she murmured as she held up a snowflake and the flames from the fire made it flash and sparkle as it twirled on its string. “Ideal—given the weather and all.”
She turned, her smile fading when she saw the way he watched her.
“Where did you say you lived in Chicago?” she asked again, hiding heated cheeks by bending back over to look in the box.
“On Diversey. Near the lake.”
“So, do you sail or golf?” she asked wryly, referring to the fact that his location would have giving him access to one of the few city driving ranges as well as a popular harbor.
“I sail. I leave the golfing to Mitchell,” he replied.
She glanced up to see if mentioning his father’s name had irritated him. Angeline was growing to hate the bitterness between the two men. Maybe because you’ve stupidly thrown yourself into the middle of their conflict.
He leaned back on the couch, his arms spread along the back. No, she thought with a sigh of relief, Alex hardly looked irritated as he watched her finger another delicate snowflake.
“What about you?”
“Me?” she asked, temporarily confused by the warmth in his blue eyes, not to mention his virility, his nearness…his largeness.
“Oh, I love to sail, actually. My mother taught me how in Lake Superior. She learned to sail in the village where she grew
up in Greece. We just had a little Sunfish, nothing fancy. I suppose you had something much larger?”
He shrugged. “Sailing skills are the same, no matter the size of the boat. Access to Lake Michigan is actually one of the few things I miss about the city.”
“What else do you miss?” She bent to withdraw a smaller cardboard box resting in the larger one, watching him from the side of her vision as she fumbled to open the box.
“A Bears game at Soldier Field during a snowstorm, Daley Plaza at Christmastime.” He fingered his goatee thoughtfully. “My barber at Truefitt and Hill.”
She laughed before she could stop herself. Much to her relief, he didn’t look offended at her mirth over the fact that Alex Carradine missed what was the equivalent of a male day spa. She tried to picture him sitting in the most elegant barbershop in the city, getting a straight razor shave and his shoes shined while classical music played in the background.
Her smile widened when she realized she could picture it perfectly. Alex may have the fit, muscular body of a born athlete, but there was a definite male grace and elegance to his movements as well.
He grinned suddenly and it was like a light went on in the room. She paused and stared, her laughter fading.
The man could turn a female to warm mush with that smile.
“You’re shocked that a brute like me would value an English barber?”
She swallowed thickly and forced her gaze away from his mouth. “Alex, I don’t think you’re a brute,” she muttered, wondering if he’d noticed the unintentional huskiness of her voice. His words had brought to mind his lovemaking. It hadn’t been brutish at all, but it had been primal and powerful, and it had pushed at the limits of how she saw herself sexually. Despite his dominant, demanding manner, his touch had been so gentle at times, his kiss so hot, so cherishing…
She glanced back at him hesitantly. “You know…I love Daley Plaza at Christmastime too.
“Not too touristy for you?” he asked, that drop-dead smile still lingering on his lips.
She shook her head resolutely as she turned back to the box of ornaments. “I love it. I try to be there every year when they light up the big tree. I like buying all sorts of different yummy chocolates in the German Village they put up. Oh, look,” she breathed out in amazement as she held up a tiny reindeer carved in wood. It wasn’t a cutesy parody of a reindeer, but instead a fine piece of craftsmanship worked by someone with a skilled hand and an eye that knew how to observe nature.
