To Santa With Love

by Janet Dailey

  His tenderness was too much to take. She would never be able to leave if she gave in to it, no matter how much she wanted him. This time she would do the refusing.

  Tentatively, her hands pushed him away. “We shouldn’t be doing this. For a thousand reasons. Leave me alone. Go away.” Her voice was strangely calm.

  Choya tensed as if to employ his superior strength and Jacquie held her breath.

  At the shifting movement of his weight off the bed, her heart cried out for him to stay and to hold her tightly in his arms. Stiffly she stayed where he had left her, listening to his nearly silent movements and holding back her pain until he had left the room.

  One tear fell, then another. More and more flowed freely down her cheeks into the pillow beneath her head as she lay there, unmoving. She turned and buried her face in its dampness to muffle her sobs.

  Chapter 8

  Her eyes opened reluctantly. The full light of a morning sun streamed through the window. For an instant, she couldn’t even remember where she was. Then it all came back to her.

  Throwing back the covers, she slid from the bed. A corner post offered support—she was standing but still not quite awake. Her glance out the window focused on the shiny, spreading stalks of a cholla cactus.

  Choya. He hadn’t come back. She’d slept alone.

  Memories assailed her—good and bad. How close they had come—the desire had been mutual, the attraction nearly too powerful to resist. Ultimately, she’d done the right thing by telling him to go, but she still wanted to crawl beneath the covers and hide from the bright light of day.

  Jacquie walked to the closet and chest of drawers, dressing without any particular concern about her appearance. The lateness of the hour was sinking in. She figured that Choya didn’t want to talk to her. That had to be why she had been allowed to sleep so late. He or Sam must have made breakfast and gotten Robbie onto the school bus.

  She owed it to all of them to follow through and not let her emotions get in the way of doing what had to be done. Jacquie went back to the bed, shoving the blanket and bedspread to the foot, and began stripping the top sheet from the mattress.

  Footsteps stopped outside her door. The knob turned and it swung open. Jacquie glanced over her shoulder, her blank gaze focusing on Choya framed by the doorway. Tall, vitally masculine, he paused there.

  The light in his tawny eyes was one she had never seen before. Not that she cared. At this moment, she didn’t care about anything.

  “I thought I heard you moving around,” he said quietly. “I guessed”—his alert gaze swept appraisingly over her—“you would sleep late.”

  Jacquie turned her head away. “I guess everyone had breakfast.” Her voice was as flat as her spirit.

  “Sam took care of it,” Choya replied.

  Shrugging her lack of interest, she started tucking the ends of her shirt into her jeans. She was aware that he was still standing there watching her, and his presence disturbed her.

  Her nerves still tingled in response to Choya’s presence.

  A stride or two and Choya was near her. Jacquie was aware of it, but focused doggedly on what she was doing. When he stopped behind her, she didn’t acknowledge him with so much as a look.

  His hands lightly gripped the sides of her waist, their touch unexpectedly paralyzing her for an instant. She didn’t resist when he drew her back against the muscled hardness of his chest or when his arms crossed around the front of her. The lusty scent of his maleness, familiar and intoxicating, made her heart skip a beat.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Jacquie saw the dark gleam of his brown hair. Then he buried his mouth along the side of her neck.

  “Jacqueline.” He said her name in a huskily caressing tone.

  For an instant, she relaxed against him, finding solace and comfort after the sensual whirlwind of last night. But his tenderness was going to get them both in trouble again.

  Last night they had gone too far, thinking only of themselves and no one else once they’d fallen into each other’s arms. He couldn’t come here this morning and expect her to surrender to the incredible sensations he caused again. She was fully awake, if not rested. Her exhaustion couldn’t get in the way of her ability to reason.

  Jacquie turned in his embrace. She wedged her arms against his chest, gaining distance from his bent head. The smoldering light of his gaze roamed possessively over her upturned face.

  “Look, what I said last night still holds,” she told him with chilling aloofness.

  He drew back sharply, his gaze narrowing to a piercing intensity. The brilliant fire in her eyes left Choya in little doubt of her determination.

  “Dammit, Jacquie, I—”

  “What do you have to swear about?” she interrupted, twisting free of his arms to glare at him indignantly. “This isn’t just about you and me. Think about that.”

  “Stop it.” Choya caressed her shoulders.

  A finely arched brow lifted as she freed herself from his hands. “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” she assured him.

  He took a deep breath to control the emotions she’d aroused. “You know damn well that’s not what I meant.” His lips were compressed into a grim line and his whole body seemed tense. “And I’m not here to apologize for what I didn’t do.”

  “If you didn’t come here for that, then you must have had another reason.” She began tucking in her shirt again.

  “I do,” Choya declared. “Want to hear it?” His gaze moved over her almost unwillingly, stopping at her face.

  “As usual, I don’t have a choice.” Jacquie gave an exaggerated sigh and shook back her hair.

  “Why do you insist on making this difficult for me?” he snapped.

  “Difficult for you?” she taunted. “What’s the matter, Choya? Are you feeling guilty for taking it that far last night? Let it go. I was more than willing. But not today. It’s not all right and we both know it.”

  “I had no expectations,” Choya replied tightly, a muscle twitching along his jaw. “I just wanted to see you.”

  “Why?” She rounded her eyes. “Are you planning to talk me out of going? You’d better not.”

  He glared at her. “You could do me the favor of listening. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Right now, yes. Anyway, I take full responsibility for agreeing to stay on. It isn’t good for Robbie—”

  “We went over that. There’s more to it.” His fingers encircled the soft flesh of her upper arm. He pulled her closer.

  Jacquie didn’t flinch from the emotion in his eyes or attempt to struggle out of his grip. She actually wasn’t afraid of him. “Choya, you and I hardly know each other. We’re not in love. We shouldn’t be playing house—”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  She leveled a look at him. “It’s accurate. I wouldn’t call my responsibilities work, would you?”

  “Jacquie, please shut up. Just listen without interrupting.”

  “Nice of you to throw in the ‘please,’” she said sarcastically. “Choya, I can say whatever I want and I will. You really have no idea who I am and what I’m all about.” She hated the nasty edge in her voice, but she had to do whatever it took to put him off.

  “Give me a chance.” He sounded almost desperate.

  Jacquie tipped her head, the silken curtain of her hair swinging to the side. “That’s not a good idea.”

  Choya reached out as if to touch it, but dropped his hand, as if the remembered softness of her hair against his skin would be too much for him. His jaw was clenched. A fiery gleam was in his eyes. He pivoted sharply and walked from the room with long, impatient strides.

  When the outside door slammed shut, Jacquie sank limply onto the bed. Her words had been self-protective—and meant to protect Robbie from further harm—but they left a bitter taste in her mouth. The throbbing ache in her heart hadn’t eased. Trying to put an end to a relationship that never should have happened was much more complex than just taking off. The unexpecte
d discovery confused her. At least the details—like getting her car back and letting her parents know—remained to be worked out. That was something else to focus on.

  She headed for the kitchen. She would have to force herself to eat something. Jacquie paused on the threshold, looking around the room. The table had been cleared but there was something under the napkin holder, folded crookedly in half and decorated with stickers. Robbie had printed her name on it.

  Oh no. She could keep his father at arm’s length but not him. She couldn’t pretend she’d never seen it, not if she was going to get it together and leave today or tomorrow. No, she would have to look at the card he’d made—and respond.

  Slowly she unfolded it. Several unpasted stickers fell out and she scooped them up in her hand as she read the note. The printed words swam in front of her.

  I am sory about what I did. I hope you ar not mad at me. Plese do not be mad. With lov from Robbie. P.S. the xtra stickers ar for you!

  Had he decided to apologize on his own or had Choya asked him to do it? She brushed away her tears and swallowed hard. Either way, he was forgiven. But her resolve to leave was shattered.

  No matter what Choya thought, she would do right by Robbie and that meant sticking around. If she took off now, so close to Christmas, the little boy would think that his minor mistake had been the cause.

  It wasn’t.

  During the next few days, Choya was studiously polite. He had to have read Robbie’s card to her but he chose not to mention it. Apparently he was waiting for her to make a move.

  Let him wait. She was in no rush to answer questions he wasn’t asking. He could see that she wasn’t going to walk out on Robbie. Jacquie stuck to the established routine as far as the little boy was concerned. She had thanked him for the card, of course—and accepted his apology as sincerely as he had offered it. Robbie didn’t seem to have an inkling of what had passed between her and his father, and that was exactly how it should be.

  Choya was going to get tired of holding back, she knew that. Every time he was in a room with her or sat down at the table to share a meal, the conversation was limited to safe topics and didn’t vary. She could sense that he was unable to figure her out and found that irritating. Tough luck.

  When circumstances forced them to be together, his gaze rarely left her, but his self-control never allowed her to see what he was thinking. He didn’t come near her or indicate the slightest desire to touch her again.

  Her relief was genuine. Yet, maddeningly, there were times when she would glance at him and remember the exciting caress of his hands and the mastery of his kiss. Then she would grow hot all over and have to excuse herself from the table or the room to escape his alert gaze and rid her mind of its wayward thoughts.

  Giving in to them or him wasn’t an option. Neither was giving up on his kid.

  On Saturday, Robbie claimed her company. He conducted Jacquie on a grand tour of the ranch yard and his favorite places to play. The last stop was the barn. The shadowy darkness was a welcome change from the glare of the sun.

  “I come here a lot,” he informed her, scuffling through the scattered pieces of old straw on the cement walkway. “There’s a lot of neat places to play. I even have a secret hiding place in here.” He darted her an uneasy sideways glance an instant after he said that. “I’d like to show it to you, but—” He frowned.

  Jacquie guessed the reason for his obvious dilemma. “If you showed it to me, it wouldn’t be a secret place anymore,” she reasoned.

  “You don’t mind, then?” Robbie breathed anxiously.

  She smiled. “Of course I don’t.”

  “Come on.” He started off again. “I’ll show you my horse, Apache.”

  A gentle-eyed palomino leaned his head over a manger, whinnying at the small boy who approached. It was a small horse, a little over fourteen hands, the perfect size for a growing boy.

  “You can ride him if you want,” Robbie offered as he stroked the velvet nose thrust toward him. “He won’t throw you or anything like that. Dad says he doesn’t have any bad manners.”

  Jacquie stroked the sleek neck. “Thanks, Robbie, but I’m afraid I don’t know anything about saddling a horse. Maybe another time.”

  “I can show you,” he assured her hopefully.

  “Ah, no. I don’t think so,” Jacquie said.

  “ ‘Another time’ will be too long from now,” he protested. “And he won’t stall like Gramps’ old truck.”

  “Maybe so. But Apache could spook and throw me.”

  “Can you ride, Jacquie?”

  At the sound of Choya’s voice, Jacquie whirled around. Her sudden movement startled the palomino, his hooves scraping through the straw to the concrete floor as he backed hurriedly away from the manger.

  With the same cat quietness that had enabled him to enter the barn unheard, Choya walked toward them. His tawny gaze inspected her expression of wary alarm.

  “Yes, fairly well,” she replied. She wondered why he wanted to know.

  “I told her she could ride Apache,” Robbie piped up.

  Choya glanced down at the boy. “Why don’t we let her ride Johnnycake instead?”

  “What’s that? The worst horse in the stable?” The cantankerous answer was softened with a smile for Robbie’s benefit. She didn’t have to let Choya Barnett bring out the worst in her.

  “Johnnycake?” Robbie questioned with a hooting laugh, missing the edge in her tone of voice. Choya didn’t seem to think her comment was funny. He surveyed her coldly. “He’s real gentle, Jacquie.” He glanced at his father. “She doesn’t know how to saddle a horse, Dad. I was going to show her.”

  “Would you like to learn?” he challenged.

  Jacquie hesitated. She wanted to do nothing that would bring her into prolonged contact with Choya, but she did want to depart on good terms and leave Robbie with happy memories. If that meant getting on a horse, she would do it.

  “I—I guess so.”

  “I’ll get Johnny out of the corral, Rob.” Choya glanced briefly at his son. “You show her where the tack is.”

  With the gear collected, they met Choya at the corral fence. He didn’t show her how it was done. He told her how to saddle and bridle a horse. His instructions were clear and concise and Jacquie discovered it wasn’t as difficult as she had thought.

  When the buckskin was saddled, Jacquie mounted and rode him around the yard. He was a lot more tractable than some of the stable horses she’d ridden in Dallas. The growing tension of the last several days vanished from her mind and body. She was brimming with confidence when she cantered him back to the barn.

  Her smile faded as Choya caught at the bridle and stopped the buckskin beside him. “You’re welcome to ride him whenever you like,” he told her briskly. “But don’t leave the yard unless someone is with you.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll keep riding and forget to come back?” Jacquie asked in a low voice. Maybe she’d let him stew for too long if he really thought she couldn’t be trusted not to cut and run.

  “That would be a dangerous thing to do,” he replied in a matter-of-fact voice. “Even Robbie knows that.”

  “Oh, I know you would come after me,” she said lightly.

  “The danger is being alone in the desert.”

  “Is it?” she mocked, and slid from the saddle.

  “He’s a good horse, isn’t he?” Robbie came forward.

  “Yes, he is.” Jacquie directed her attention to unsaddling the horse.

  Robbie swung himself up on a hay bale and watched her, beaming. “Aren’t you glad you’re staying here with us?”

  She flashed a glittering look at Choya. “It’s certainly been an experience.”

  The line of his jaw tightened at her innuendo. He shoved the reins into Robbie’s hand and walked away with a muttered comment that he had other things to do. His abrupt departure seemed to take the sting out of her resentment. Her gaze followed the wide shoulders, a hint of melancholy in its jewel d
epths.

  On Sunday, Jacquie rode again, keeping to Choya’s edict to stay close to the house. Her ride on Monday was longer, a reconnaissance tour of the land surrounding the ranch yard. The following day her previously unused muscles began protesting the vigorous exercise.

  A hot shower that night eased much of their stiffness, but they still ached with uncomfortable soreness. Sleep promised to be elusive and Jacquie tied the sash of her robe around her waist and walked into the kitchen. A cup of cocoa before going to bed might help.

  The microwave beeped when the back door slammed. Jacquie tensed, knowing it had to be Choya since he had been out earlier, checking on fences or something like that. She’d assumed he had come back already, but his appearance in the kitchen proved her wrong.

  Her heart turned over at the sight of him, so tall and vital despite the lines of weary concern etched around his mouth. She turned quickly back to the microwave, trying to hide the clamoring reaction of her senses to his masculinity.

  “I’m fixing myself some cocoa. Would you like a cup?” she offered.

  “Yes.” He walked to the cupboard, removed a mug and set it on the counter near Jacquie. His cool gaze raked her from head to toe. “Don’t you ever wear anything under your robe? Or are your pajamas packed? Did you, uh, ever make a decision about what you plan to do? Keep me in the loop.”

  Jacquie colored. “Drop it.” She took her cup out of the microwave and prepared his mug to replace it. “I just showered,” she added defensively. The searing memories of their pleasurable encounters rushed forward in all vividness.

  A chair leg scraped the floor as Choya yanked it away from the table. “Whatever. I’m not in the mood to argue.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve had a long day and I’m tired.” He rubbed his forehead as he drew the words out through a tightly clenched jaw.