Be Mine at Christmas

by Brenda Novak

  “You did?”

  “Sí.”

  “Even my jeans?” She nodded. “Sí.”

  He didn’t act as if that was normal, but he didn’t complain. There’s the Jacuzzi room and the gym. But you can do that later. It’s time to get started on this.” He gestured at the bags.

  He’d bought tons of Christmas decorations—glittery rope, tinsel, red and gold balls and other ornaments, fresh pine boughs, lights. “You want me to…put this up?”

  “That’s right.” He pulled a nativity set from one of the bags. “Christmas is in less than a week.”

  She’d been in the States long enough to know that most Americans decorated for Christmas. A lot of people in her country did, too. Guatemalans had Christmas trees and nacimiento—nativity sets—and presents under the tree. Although they focused more on Christ than Santa Claus, and the adults exchanged gifts on New Year’s, their traditions weren’t too different. But, other than buying presents for his family, she hadn’t expected Ken to bother with any of the usual Christmas trappings. Was his family coming for dinner? “Is it company?”

  “Company?” he repeated.

  “Company…it is coming?”

  The nativity set he’d bought looked expensive. She liked the sight of his large hands removing the fragile porcelain figurines from the packaging, which had Lladró written on the side.

  “No.”

  “And yet you spend…so much money?” That seemed completely impractical to her. After getting to know him, at least as well as she had the past two days, she couldn’t imagine that he was truly concerned about Christmas decorations.

  He set the porcelain manger on the counter with the rest of the stuff. “Why not? Women like this sort of thing, don’t they? Look, it’s pretty. You like it, don’t you?” It was pretty. But as far as she knew, she was the only woman who’d see it. Had he bought all of this for her sake? To cheer her up because he’d known she’d be sad that he hadn’t been able to find where she belonged?

  Although he’d deny it, she suspected that might be the case. Christmas decorations, no matter how beautiful or expensive, didn’t solve her problems, but the gesture was so thoughtful she didn’t want him to feel he hadn’t pleased her. Especially because it did please her. “Sí. Of course.” She fingered the Christ child that would remain absent from the nacimiento of her fellow Guatemalans until placed there on Christmas Eve. “This is…pretty, as you say.”

  “Cierra…” A serious expression claimed his face.

  “Yes?”

  He hesitated as if he didn’t know how to say what was on his mind. Instead of trying, he ran a finger down the side of her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  At his touch, her disappointment vanished beneath a giddy excitement the likes of which she’d never experienced before. She couldn’t breathe. At first, she’d tried to tell herself that she preferred Brent to his more complex brother, but it wasn’t true. Brent just seemed safer. And he probably was—because she wasn’t attracted to Brent in the same way. “You—you have nothing to be sorry for,” she managed to say. “You have been very…generous to me.”

  When his finger reached her chin, his gaze dropped to her lips. “You’re shaking,” he murmured. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.” But she was afraid of how he made her feel. She couldn’t fall for a man with whom she had a far better chance of getting pregnant than getting married. In her situation, she had to make sacrifices, had to trade her youth, beauty and sexual favors for marriage, money and citizenship. Maybe what she had to do was too mercenary for most Americans to understand, but that was her reality. And there was no way that deal would hold any interest for Ken, who could have any woman, even the gorgeous blonde from the diner. Marrying another man like Charlie was the best Cierra could hope for. She had to be practical, understand her limitations. Her sisters were counting on her.

  “I think maybe I’m a little afraid of you,” he said.

  She would’ve laughed, except she was pretty sure it wasn’t a joke. “Do not worry,” she said. “I will be gone soon. I promise.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KEN DIDN’T UNDERSTAND what had come over him in the kitchen. All the while he’d had lunch with Russ, picked out the tree, which he’d strapped to the top of his Land Rover, and shopped for the decorations, he’d been cursing whatever had led Cierra to his doorstep. And yet he would’ve kissed her a few minutes ago if she hadn’t backed away.

  He should get on the phone, see if he could find someone else who might be able to hire her as a cook or a housekeeper. Maybe one of his married football buddies needed a nanny for his kids—except he couldn’t imagine any wife being pleased about living with another woman as attractive as Cierra. There was a reason that men having affairs with their nannies had become a cliché. Also, because she wasn’t a citizen yet, he’d have to be discreet in his inquiries, which would take time, and it was spending time with her that worried him. When he’d told her he hadn’t been able to find the address she seemed to think would be her salvation, she’d tried so hard to bear up under the disappointment, to show her gratitude for the little he’d done, that he’d wanted to pull her into his arms.

  He would’ve assumed that reaction came largely from a desire to protect and console the less fortunate, except that whenever he imagined holding her, they were both naked. That was the part that shocked him. He’d pointed a finger at Mr. Baker for having a prurient interest. He certainly didn’t want to be guilty of the same thing.

  “Can I ask you a question?” He’d already dragged in the tree and wrestled it into its stand. Now they were putting on the lights. So far, they’d worked mostly in silence, probably because Ken hadn’t been able to think of anything except the softness of Cierra’s cheek and the way she’d looked up at him when he’d touched her, which wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Her rapt expression had sent a charge of sexual awareness through him, and he was still fighting its effects. He was pretty sure she knew that—and understood that getting involved with him would not be good for her. Every time they accidentally brushed hands or stood too close, she moved out of reach.

  “Cierra?” he prompted when she didn’t respond.

  Her expression remained guarded. “You may ask, sí.”

  “Will you answer?”

  “Maybe yes.” She gave him a tentative smile. “Maybe no.”

  He’d tried convincing himself that her personal life, especially her sex life, was none of his business. But ever since she’d mentioned her seventy-something-year-old fiancé, he’d been burning with curiosity. “Did you sleep with him?”

  She didn’t bother pretending she didn’t know who he was talking about. “Why do you ask, Señor Holbrook?”

  It was too intrusive a question. He’d been aware of that. “Well, señorita—” he winked as she grinned at his response “—my mind keeps going back to it.”

  “Because…”

  Because he was a man and any man would wonder. Because he was turned on by her. And because he didn’t like what she’d been through.

  In the interests of keeping things simple, however, he chose Answer Number Three. “Allowing the old men of one country to exploit the young women of another because of economic need is…wrong.”

  “But I was grateful to Charlie,” she explained. “Without him…I had no hope for…so many things.”

  Now that Charlie was gone, was that hope lost? It had to be, right? Her situation had grown even worse. And yet Ken couldn’t help being glad that old Charlie had kicked the bucket. Picturing someone fifty years her senior pawing at her made him cringe.

  She continued to talk, picking her words slowly, carefully. “He offered me…a fair offer, one I…say yes. I make the choice.”

  But she’d had no choice. Not really. Not with her sisters’ well-being on the line. “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said.

  No longer willing to meet his gaze, she insisted they finish winding the lights around the tree. “We
were engaged. And I was living with him.”

  “Only the two of you were there?”

  “Sí.”

  “For how long?”

  “Two months.”

  “But you knew his ex-wife.”

  “She was angry, bitter. She come over to argue with him about divorce all the time.”

  “Did he have kids?”

  “No. He said that was what he wanted from me. A baby.”

  “So that’s a yes? You slept with him?”

  A grimace twisted her lips. “He said we were married…in our promise to each other, sí? And I was afraid…I was afraid he think I no keep my word.”

  She’d feared he wouldn’t help her sisters if she refused. That was the real story, and it was exactly the type of thing Ken had been afraid of. “That’s definitely a yes.”

  She didn’t confirm it, but she didn’t deny it, either.

  Stuart Baker cornering a young woman in the high school lavatory didn’t seem a whole lot different. Cierra had felt cornered, too, or she never would’ve agreed to marry this Charlie, let alone allow him to touch her. If he’d really wanted to help someone in a third-world country, why hadn’t he donated to the Red Cross?

  Because he wanted to help himself, first and foremost. It was the self-interest driving this “buy a bride” scheme that bothered Ken. That and the inequitable distribution of power in such an arrangement. “And?”

  The question surprised her. “And?” she repeated as they finished with the lights and added garland.

  “Was it as bad as I’m imagining?”

  Lines formed on her forehead. “I no want to talk about it.”

  Ken interrupted her as she reached into a box of ornaments. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  She stared at the angel she’d grabbed. “No.”

  Could he believe her? Maybe. Maybe not. But he had one other concern. “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” In his view, that was the only way her situation could get worse.

  “No.”

  He released her. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “How positive?”

  “Stop! I know because…he could not…could not…” She sighed in frustration as she struggled to find the right words. “Father a child. You understand?”

  “You mean he was sterile? Or impotent?”

  “I don’t know the meaning of those words.”

  “He couldn’t get it up, couldn’t get hard?”

  Face flushing crimson, she whirled around to hang her angel ornament on the tree.

  “That’s right, isn’t it?” he pressed.

  “Sí.” Her answer was muffled, but he heard it.

  “So how could he expect to father a child?”

  “He said a doctor would help.”

  “So how did he have sex with you.”

  She waved him off. “Stop!”

  “Okay.” He waited until she finally looked up at him. “Just tell me one more thing.”

  “What?” she asked suspiciously.

  “How’d you get through it?”

  Climbing the short ladder he’d brought in, she began hanging ornaments on the upper branches. “I close my eyes.”

  “And pretended he was someone else?”

  She didn’t respond but a guilty smile gave her away.

  “Who?” he pressed. “An old boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  He handed her another box of ornaments. “Who?”

  Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she attached several snowflakes to the tree. “I can no tell you!”

  “Why?”

  “You will laugh.”

  She tried to return the empty box, but he wouldn’t take it. “Now you have me really curious.”

  “The cowboy lawman in…a movie, okay?”

  “What movie?”

  “It was called…High Noon?” She scratched her head as if puzzling out whether or not she’d named the correct one. “Sí, that is right. High Noon. May I have more snowflakes?” He did laugh. “Where did you see that old show?”

  “Charlie played it for me after I arrive.”

  Accepting the empty box, he passed her some icicles. “So you think Gary Cooper was handsome?” “Sí.”

  “I’m sure my mother, and her mother, would agree with you.”

  Her hair caught in the tree, and Ken got up on the ladder to free it. “How did it feel when Gary Cooper made love to you?” he murmured as they stood there together, only inches apart.

  He thought she’d refuse to answer this, too. It was more inappropriate than anything he’d asked so far. But she surprised him.

  “Like it should, I think.”

  “You’ve never been with anyone else?” he asked.

  “No. My father, he was…very strict.” She made a fist to show “strict.”

  “A woman who is not a virgin is no worth much.”

  She wasn’t a virgin now. But that didn’t matter to Ken. “Your father planned to sell you?”

  “Sell me? No! Make a contract.”

  Wasn’t it the same thing? In a situation like that, how was a marriage license any more than a piece of paper? “That’s what you call it?”

  “He had heard of others…doing the same. But he no want to do it. Only if…if things get bad…really bad.”

  “Desperate.”

  “Sí. Why else would he send me away?”

  Learning that even her father planned to use her upset him enough to curb the arousal playing havoc with his thoughts and emotions. He wouldn’t take advantage of her. He wanted to help her without making her feel she had to perform any “services” for him. Granted, Ken was tired of Russ creating his own problems and then flailing around, looking for someone to rescue him. But Cierra wasn’t like that. Cierra was a victim of circumstance.

  Stepping off the ladder, he plugged in the lights. “What do you think?”

  “Beautiful,” she whispered.

  “That’s what I think, too,” he said, but he wasn’t talking about the tree.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THAT NIGHT, CIERRA LAY in bed awake, staring up at the ceiling and breathing in the scent of pine, which pervaded the whole cabin since Ken had brought the Christmas tree inside. After they were done decorating, he’d lit a fire while she grilled the steaks he’d taken out of the freezer and they’d eaten together.

  Being with him was completely different without Brent. It was far more intimate and, because of that, more unsettling. Every once in a while, she’d glance up to find him watching her. She knew what he wanted. She was pretty sure she wanted the same thing. She’d never made love to a man of her own choosing, a man as virile as the lawman she’d always fantasized Charlie to be.

  Ken had reminded her of that lawman from the beginning. Perhaps she’d never have another chance to be with someone she found even more handsome than Gary Cooper. She’d soon leave this place and, she hoped, get work until she could secure another husband via the website. Who knew how old the next guy would be?

  But everyone she met in America was temporary—white faces that would soon pass out of her life. Someday, she’d be able to go home. And she didn’t plan on taking an illegitimate baby back with her.

  The floor in the hall creaked. She could tell that Ken was as restless as she was. At first she thought he might come to her room like Charlie used to. Although she’d allowed him into her bed, she’d insisted on having her own room until the wedding. But then she remembered the moment she’d been standing on the ladder with Ken, when he’d made the decision not to touch her, and how determined and resolute he’d acted since. He’d laughed and teased her, shown her a romantic movie and given her a T-shirt to wear to bed, but he’d kept his hands to himself.

  “How did I end up here?” she whispered into the silence. She could never have imagined a place like Dundee, or a man like Ken, while living in Todos Santos. Maybe she should be grateful to have shelter, but it was torture being in the same house with him. She cr
aved the pleasure Charlie’s fumbling hands had on rare occasions hinted was possible, knew Ken could deliver what Charlie had been unable to. But she doubted they’d be having this problem if Brent had stayed at the cabin. Without him, they had too much privacy to explore what they were feeling.

  Earlier, Ken had offered to let her use the Jacuzzi. He’d said it would help her sleep. She hadn’t taken him up on it because she didn’t have a swimsuit. But she was interested now.

  She waited until she was almost certain he’d gone back to bed, then found her way to the gym mostly by touch. The Jacuzzi was located to one side of it, enclosed in glass. Except for patches of moonlight that filtered through the pine trees outside, the room remained cloaked in darkness that felt as thick as the steam rising from the water.

  She liked this place, with its smell of chlorine, its wooden pegs draped with fluffy white towels and the moon and stars reflecting off the snow outside. Wondering what the people of her village would make of a glass room that looked out on a snowy mountain, she smiled wistfully as she dipped her foot in the water.

  Hot. Just as she’d hoped…

  She pulled off Ken’s T-shirt as well as her panties, since they were the only pair she owned, and stepped into the water. The inky blackness made her feel safe despite her lack of clothing—until she came up against a man’s leg. She could feel swim trunks, but it still surprised her. She gasped and might’ve screamed if Ken hadn’t spoken when he did.

  “It’s only me.”

  Only? “I—I did not realize you were here. I am sorry to interrupt you…your Jacuzzi bath. I will leave.”

  He caught her wrist. He didn’t tug her toward him, but he didn’t release her, either. She got the impression he was waiting to see how she’d react.

  “Ken?”

  “Are you sure you want to go?”

  “I should.” That didn’t really explain what she was thinking and feeling, but he seemed to understand.

  “Yes, you should.” He dropped her wrist, but still she couldn’t bring herself to get out.