To Santa With Love

by Janet Dailey

  After the dishes were washed and Robbie was tucked into bed, Jacquie avoided the living room where Choya and Sam were, in favor of her bedroom. She had decided that she had to make another attempt to appeal to her father. By now her mother would have softened him up, even though Jacquie hadn’t gotten up the courage to call the Dallas number from the study phone. She was going to send a carefully worded letter that would explain the pickle she’d gotten herself into without alarming them.

  When she sat down to write the first draft, she found it wasn’t easy to strike just the right note. No matter what, her father tended to fly off the handle. If she were to say that Choya had made an offer she couldn’t possibly refuse and they came out here to rescue her from his villainous clutches, Sam and Robbie would be confused and upset. And if they got the idea she couldn’t be trusted with a car or a debit card or a handsome man with golden eyes, they’d never let her out of their sight again, even though she was over twenty-one.

  The several sheets of crumpled stationery in the wastebasket revealed her number of failures. Finally Jacquie crinkled up the last partially written letter and threw it in the basket with the others. A letter was not the answer. Tomorrow while Sam was taking his afternoon nap, she would phone them again.

  If her father answered, she would change her voice and say that Miss Jacqueline Grey was calling collect, just to test him. If her mother answered, she would be herself.

  The house was silent as she stepped from her room. She paused in the hall, glancing at her watch. As impossible as it seemed, it was after ten o’clock. The absence of any sound indicated that everyone else was in bed. She walked across the small hall to the laundry room and bathroom, piling her long hair on top of her head and fastening it with two bobby pins as she went.

  A brisk shower chased away the tension and frustrations that had built when she’d been trying to compose the letter. She still had no idea what she would say when she talked to her parents on the phone.

  With most of the water from the shower spray patted off, she wrapped the oversized bath towel around her and tucked the fold securely. The terry cloth material nearly reached the middle of her thighs, its soft roughness warm against her skin.

  Her cosmetics were on the shelf above the sink. Reaching for ajar of moisturizing cream, she removed the lid and began creaming her face. Jacquie felt a large dab slide down her nose and splat into the sink. She swore under her breath—she’d used too much and she didn’t want to wipe up the mess with a washcloth, not when she was the one who was doing the laundry. Tissues, tissues—there were never any around when you needed them. She went back into her bedroom, accidentally hitting the bathroom light switch with her elbow and turning it off.

  It didn’t matter. The lamp by her bed spilled its illumination into the hall and it was enough to see by.

  She sat down on her bed and reached for her purse, looking through it for a packet of tissues. Good thing she’d brought her own. Beauty necessities weren’t things that old Sam would ever think to provide.

  There was a fresh pack and she took it with her on her way back to the bathroom. Jacquie stifled a scream when the light switched on—she hadn’t touched it—and stumbled against Choya.

  She stepped back, angry. “What are you doing in here?” she snapped.

  “Looking for aspirin. We keep a bottle in the medicine cabinet down here.” He opened it to show her. “And there it is. Sorry if I startled you.”

  She glared at him just the same. Her heart was racing. And she knew what she looked like with her face halfcreamed: goofy as all get out.

  He grinned. “The light was off. I really didn’t think you’d be beautifying in the dark.”

  Jacquie took a hasty step in the direction of her clothes, then stopped. “You still could have knocked,” she said sharply. She wasn’t going to flounce off and make him laugh. Clumsily, she dabbed more cream on her face.

  “I could have,” he agreed, walking over to the stand by the sink where Jacquie was.

  Unwillingly her gaze slid to the male reflection joining hers in the mirror. The ruggedly hewn features were unreadable as he watched her intently.

  “What are you looking at?” Jacquie asked with studied indifference. She wished for the robe that was in her room, although its short length would not have offered much more cover than the towel did.

  “It’s been a long time since I watched a woman getting ready for bed,” Choya commented.

  Interesting thing to say. His offhand tone didn’t fool her. Her stomach began somersaulting nervously and she rubbed the cream more vigorously to give her cheeks some color. She didn’t believe for one minute it was a casual remark and nothing more. She lowered her lashes, unwilling to reveal the feelings he’d stirred in her. Even without darkening mascara, they lay long and thick, a light brown against her skin.

  “Really?” she said as casually as she could, still rattled. She hadn’t forgotten not being able to find a single clue as to his social life. Her curiosity had been put on hold. Choya came and went however and whenever he wanted to, and he had been away from the ranch for hours at a time more than once. But never at night.

  So what? She hadn’t been living with him long enough to draw conclusions.

  She stared at herself in the mirror briefly, not liking the knowledge that she’d kept track without having a reason to. Why should she care when he didn’t finish what he started with her?

  Not for anything did she want him to know the way his nearness was disturbing her. The breadth of his shoulders silently intimidated; his height made her feel too short to challenge him.

  Choya seemed to withdraw, watching her with an aloofness that was unnerving.

  “What’s on your mind, Choya?” she asked tartly. “I’m beginning to think that you didn’t come in here for the aspirin. If you wanted to ambush me, you succeeded.”

  “I really didn’t know you were in here and I actually do have a headache. A bad one.”

  She turned her gaze to him, handing him the small bottle at the same time. “Here you go. Take two and and don’t call me in the morning. Now out. I’d like to get to bed.”

  He cleared his throat. “Don’t you want to know why I have a headache?”

  “Not really.”

  “Robbie’s teacher stopped me today to see if congratulations were in order. It seems there’s a rumor circulating that I’ve remarried.”

  “I certainly didn’t start it,” Jacquie said. A little too quickly.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know who did, would you?” His tawny gold eyes had narrowed on her.

  “How could I?” she managed to laugh. “I haven’t spoken to anyone in a fifty-mile radius except you, your father, and Robbie.”

  “I think we’re straying off the subject,” Choya reminded her. “Let’s get back to that pesky rumor that you seem to be avoiding.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Do you think it’s possible that my father or my son might have mentioned you?” Choya persisted.

  The conversation with Robbie was fresh in her mind. The memory must have flickered across her face, because his expression hardened.

  “Of course it’s possible,” Jacquie hedged, reluctant to admit that Robbie had let his classmates believe that she was his new mother.

  “It’s even possible that my son talked to his classmates and teacher about you in such a way that they might believe we’re married, isn’t it?”

  “I really don’t know,” she lied, shrugging one bare shoulder.

  “If you did, you certainly wouldn’t condone or encourage Robbie, would you?” His jaw was set in a tense line.

  Nervously, Jacquie moistened her lips, wondering how much Choya actually knew and how much he was only guessing.

  “That’s a silly question.” Her tone made it clear that his question was ludicrous.

  “Then answer it,” he challenged.

  “Robbie is not the type to lie or tell tales. He would never claim that I was his new mother
when he knows I’m not,” Jacquie stated in an attempt to avoid a direct answer.

  “Robbie phrased it a little differently. He said you agreed to be his ‘pretend’ mother.”

  Jacquie took a slow, deep breath. So much for the ability of little boys to be truthful. “He did? That was wishful thinking. I didn’t encourage him.”

  “I’d like to believe that. But I’m still not sure he’s giving me the straight story. He kept changing the details until I confronted him with the questions his teacher asked me,” Choya stated.

  “You’re taking this too seriously. To him it was probably a harmless game of pretend.” She screwed the lid back on the jar of moisturizing cream. “Kids do it all the time.”

  “Yes, they do. Especially when they want something badly enough. If what they want is a new video game or dirt bike, then it’s harmless,” he said quietly. “But Robbie wants a mother. He seems to think you’ll do just fine.”

  “I can’t help what he thinks and I didn’t put ideas in his head,” Jacquie protested. “Robbie knows I’m not his mother and never will be.”

  “He might say that. He might even believe it right now, but you won’t be pretending to leave when you go. You’ll be gone.” He put a definite emphasis on the last word.

  Jacquie replaced the jar on the shelf and turned to face Choya. “Guess so. But that’s not news to you. We’ve had this—discussion—before I agreed to move out here.”

  “I remember it.”

  She threw him an accusing look. “You’re still afraid he’ll become too attached to me. But you willingly took that risk when you proposed this arrangement.” She was silent for a second, then added, “Which, by the way, is not working.”

  She had to say something to keep him at bay and the words just popped out. But there was truth in them.

  He studied her for long, measuring seconds through half-closed eyes. “I take it that you mean it’s not working for you,” he said in a low voice. “What’s wrong?”

  She seized on the obvious. “There isn’t much for me to do and there really isn’t a reason for me to be here. You three can manage just fine. That’s clear.”

  “What are you saying?” he asked uneasily. “That I lured you out here?”

  Jacquie took a deep breath. “Look, I came of my own free will. I can’t say I understood exactly why at the time—” She broke off. She did now, though she hadn’t then. The man was irresistible, his son was adorable, and she’d had no alternative whatsoever.

  “Well?”

  “Choya, I didn’t have much choice. My car—”

  “Just take it and go, if that’s what you want. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “And you’re going to drive me into Tombstone in the middle of night? The garage is closed. Brad is dreaming of carburetors jumping the fence.”

  “Right. What was I thinking?” He propped an arm against the doorjamb and rested his head against it.

  She pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and adjusted the towel. Then she jabbed a finger at him. “You’re thinking that it’s my fault Robbie said something at school that embarrassed you. It isn’t—and it’s not that big a deal. Go in and explain to the teacher and get it over with. Robbie’s seven years old. He gets to make mistakes.”

  He straightened and folded his arms. “I can do that. But I still wish it hadn’t happened,” he said quietly.

  “Choya, it seems to me that Robbie’s doing fine.”

  “That’s because you’re here.”

  “For less than a week.” She shook her head, a tiny movement. “He can’t be that attached to me. He has you and he always will. And his grandfather.”

  Choya sighed from the bottom of his soul. “Something else is happening. You’re the cause.” His golden eyes moved over her thoughtfully. “I wanted you here and I was willing to take a chance if it were for a few weeks. But if he’s thinking that you’re about to become his mom—maybe you should go, if that’s what you want to do.”

  The words felt almost like a blow. She fended them off with coldness. “Not yet. It’s not like I can call a taxi, right?”

  A muscle was twitching uncontrollably along his cheek. Choya didn’t seem to want to believe that she shared his concern for his son. Or that she wanted the best for the boy, just as he did.

  They’d gotten distracted. The way they kept falling into each other’s arms and breaking the rules hadn’t helped at all. Robbie was vulnerable and he had to come first. She’d speak her mind one last time on that subject while she had the chance.

  “Robbie doesn’t have to get hurt, you know.” She kept her eyes on Choya’s impassive face. “The game of pretend only started today. Make it clear that it stops now. You can lay down the law with him in a way that I can’t.”

  Choya didn’t reply for several seconds. “I guess I’ll have to. Damn it. I wanted this to work and it doesn’t look like it’s going to.” He scowled fiercely as he added, “I could have done better by you and I didn’t.”

  The remark didn’t exactly constitute an apology but it was sincere. On impulse, she reached out and stroked his lean cheek with the tips of her fingers. “Don’t think twice,” she whispered. “We both tried. Maybe it’s nobody’s fault it didn’t work out.”

  She had the sensation that he’d moved closer to her even though he hadn’t taken a step. His voice was raw when he spoke in reply. “I think about you all the time, Jacquie. I’m not going to stop just because you’re not here.”

  There was a second to blink at his unexpected declaration. In the next, she was being swept off her feet, an arm pinned between her body and his chest. The other was caught in his encircling grip. Blood hammered in her ears, her breath taken away.

  “No. Don’t. We shouldn’t.” Desire and reluctance mingled in her voice.

  Choya shoved the bathroom door open wider with his shoulder. Jacquie twisted and strained against his hold as he carried her to the bedroom. Her blue-covered bed loomed in the dark. He settled her on it in one swift, sure move.

  The center of the bed dipped beneath his joining weight. Jacquie opened her mouth, but her instinctive cry was silenced by his kiss. She was pinned beneath the hard length of his body. Dizzying waves of sensual response washed through her, but she fought them back.

  When her long fingernails began to dig into his muscled shoulders, it seemed to excite him more. The heat and pressure of his body was irresistibly and deeply pleasurable.

  Choya shifted slightly, using one large hand to caress her and the other to capture her chin. Once more his mouth closed over hers in frank possession.

  He broke off the kiss but only for a second to brush his thumb over her lips, then tasted the honeyed sweetness of her mouth with renewed passion. His sensual expertise sparked an animal response within her, forcing her to struggle with herself as well as Choya.

  With her efforts divided into two battlefronts, her strength weakened. Alternately she fought his kiss and returned its fire. His hand slid from her chin along her throat and over the nakedness of her golden tan shoulders. The rough, very masculine caress sent quivers down her spine.

  Sensing it, Choya followed the trail of his hand, nibbling at the sensitive area below her earlobe and the hollow of her shoulder. A willing sigh of delight escaped her lips. While his mouth continued an exploration of her pleasure points, his hand moved downward, encountered the protective towel and pulled at the tuck that held it in place.

  Jacquie hung on to it. “Stop—let me get my breath,” she begged, stalling for time.

  In answer he lifted his head, studying her for a moment, then bent down to nuzzle her, rubbing his lean cheek against the flushed skin of her face. The seductive tickle of faint stubble made her arch in arousal until he stopped—she didn’t want him to. He just looked at her. Desert starfire flickered through the window to bronze his features.

  Never had he seemed so stunningly male or so disturbingly attractive as he did at that moment. He opened his hand to spread strong fin
gers through the molten silver of her hair.

  “What do you want?” His lips quirked.

  “You.”

  His mouth began its descent.

  Capturing hers with persuasive ardor, he kissed her like she’d never been kissed before, not even by him. Jacquie’s hands caressed his neck, tangled in his hair, then moved down to test the delicious strength of his muscled arms. Then—she couldn’t help it—they slid to the solidness of his back. The wildfire racing through her veins burned the last bridge of inhibition. The searing longing inside her for his possession was transmitted in the hungry response to her lips.

  His workshirt was rough-soft against her skin, stimulating her nerve ends to a fever pitch of awareness. She could feel his heart drumming in his chest, racing to the tempo of her own.

  When he changed position slightly, trying not to crush her, Jacquie was still caught in the spell of his seductive touch. She was frozen, incapable of movement at the momentary withdrawal of his body heat. Every fiber pulsed with her need of him.

  “Choya,” she whispered in an aching plea for him to return.

  An arm slipped beneath her and he half lifted her toward him. There was another movement, then she was being pressed back against the coolness of the sheets, the bedcovers cast aside. He was pulling off his shirt. Fast.

  Afraid he would leave her again, she reached out to cling to him. Her hands slid around the rippling bareness of his shoulders, drawing him down. The fiery warmth of his skin melted away the last vestige of chill.

  The hungry demand of his kiss removed the fear that he might stop. Jacquie gloried in the knowledge, her breasts swelling under his arousing touch. The world had spun away, leaving only the two of them in the universe.

  His lips opened warmly over hers, then lifted. In the momentary lull of sensation, Jacquie floated slowly back to ordinary consciousness. The mindless bliss began drifting away. She closed her eyes tightly to shut out the reality—that she was actually inviting him to make love to her. She shivered against him when she failed to block out the knowledge. He gathered her more closely to him, brushing a gentle kiss on the silken mass of hair near her ear.