He paused by the bed, watching her, her eyes closed, her face so peaceful and full of dreams. She was glorious and sexy and everything he’d wanted her to be. She pushed aside the blankets, exposing a long length of bare thigh, and he almost stayed. Almost climbed back into bed, burying himself in her body, burying himself in her heart.
But people like him, the ones who lived in the sordid shadows, didn’t get the cheerleaders of the world. They never would. One day he’d wake up from a nightmare, and she’d ask about it, and he would lie. And the lies would go on from there. The knot tightened inside him, telling him to run. There were some secrets he’d never share.
He swore quietly, pulled on his coat and left.
* * *
Rebecca knew the second Cory left her side. She kept her eyes shut, listening to the rustle of clothes, fighting the sting of one wayward tear that seemed to want to escape. No regretful tears over a one-night stand. She’d bet that that was one of the rules. The door closed and Rebecca buried her head in the pillow.
* * *
When Cory got downstairs, the lodge was awake, people ready and waiting for Christmas. The seconds ticking past, bringing the holiday closer and closer. It wasn’t Christmas specifically that made him antsy, any holiday would pretty much do it for him. Any time when families got together and outsiders were treated, well, like outsiders.
When he was a kid, he’d tried to do the right thing, knowing one wrong word, or look, and he’d be cast from the house faster than you could say “emotional difficulty.”
That’d worked for a while until 1984. His fourth foster family, the McGraws, had had him for nearly two months. Then Mrs. McGraw had left the house for a long weekend in Atlantic City, leaving Cory alone with Mr. McGraw, who was the first pervert Cory had come across. Less than twenty-four fun-filled hours later, Cory hit the streets. Fuck me once, shame on you. Fuck me twice, shame on me.
After that, he’d gotten tougher, smarter, faster. When situations got dicey, Cory was gone, out the door, no looking back. This time, he had to get past a maid rushing up the stairs with a breakfast tray. And Mrs. Krause who was carrying a pile of towels. She spotted him and stopped.
He tried to avoid looking guilty, but Cory had looked guilty his entire life. “Morning.”
“Leaving so soon?” she asked, cutting right to the chase.
“Yeah. Figured I’d move out as soon as the roads were plowed.”
“They are clear. Mr. Trevayne said his goodbyes an hour ago. Too bad you’re leaving, though.”
“Yeah. You have a nice place,” he offered.
“If you’re heading toward town, maybe you can take a couple of guests to the train station. They were looking for a ride.”
Cory glanced away. “Sorry. Going the opposite direction.”
Mrs. Krause clicked her tongue.
“I should get out of here,” he stated, because he could feel her niceness drawing on him, pulling him back toward the warm confines of the lodge, of Rebecca.
“Be careful of the ice. Mighty slick. Could drive right into a ditch and disappear altogether.”
And that was the idea. “Thanks for the warning.” Cory gave a halfhearted wave and headed out the door.
As soon as he was gone, Helen Krause hollered for her husband. “Roland!”
Roland Krause came from the kitchen, scratching his head. “You don’t have to yell. Not deaf yet.”
“Cory Bell just left. Tell me how far he’s going.”
The old man gave her a knowing wink. “Not far without the battery cables.”
“You think he’ll check it?”
“Probably. But with all the young hooligans running around in this area—whoo-ee, makes me wish I was forty years younger—”
“When you were one of those young hooligans.”
He patted her on the rear, and she felt a blush in her cheeks. “I could chase you around the living room if you’d like.”
“Not now, Roland. We have guests.”
“All right, Helen. For you, I’ll wait. Forever if I have to.”
Helen watched her husband walk away, still doing her heart good after all this time. She sighed, quit her mooning and returned to work. There was still much too much to do.
“MY, MY. Back again?”
Rebecca greeted him at the door in the terry-cloth robe and this time, her red wool socks. He tried to ignore the thump-thump-thump in his chest.
Which immediately put him on the defensive. “Don’t start. They took my battery cables. Tell me what kind of whack job disables cars in the middle of a snowstorm?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Battery cables, huh?”
“You want to go down there and see for yourself?”
“No, I believe you,” she answered in a voice that called him a liar.
Ah, hell. He should have known she wasn’t the “forgive and forget” type. Rebecca Neumann looked as if she could hold a grudge forever.
“Okay, I shouldn’t have left like that. I’m sorry, but I’m doing the right thing here. You should understand that. I’m doing the right thing.” The hard slate-gray of her eyes didn’t seem to comprehend the truth in his words.
“I don’t need you to do me any favors.”
“And you don’t need my problems, Rebecca.” It was the understatement of the year.
Time to start over, he decided. She was leaving on Tuesday. He could stay a day, maybe two, if only to show her that he wasn’t worth the effort. Cory planted a small smile on his face. “Look. I’m still stuck, so let’s make the best of it, okay? What do you want to do today? Sky’s the limit, and well, actually the weather’s the limit, but I’m game to whatever you want to try.” There weren’t many options, and in Cory’s mind, most didn’t involve clothes. It was a win-win all the way around.
“Let’s go outside,” she said. He examined the froufrou paraphernalia she had littered around the room. Outside?
“In the snow?”
“Well, duh. We could walk to town.”
Cory made a rude noise. “Bunch of antique stores? No, thank you,” he said, still thinking an afternoon lying in bed would be prime. “We could go ice-skating,” he offered. A compromise and better than antiques.
“I can’t skate.”
“Good. You can learn.”
“You can?”
“Hockey. Junior high. Put a stick in my hand and I can fly.”
“So you could teach me?”
“Hockey?”
“I think I have to learn to skate first. You’ll have to teach me.”
“I can’t teach.”
“I can’t, either, but they did pay me for it.”
She had that sultry gleam in her eye, and he knew she’d beaten him. Maybe deep in his black heart he’d wanted her to beat him. Fan-tastic. Today was whatever Rebecca wanted. “I’ll try, but if you break your ankle or something, I’m not liable.”
* * *
After breakfast, they went to the lake situated close behind the inn. There was a small crowd, couples, a few families, but most people seemed to have stayed in.
Rebecca eyed the ice nervously. It seemed very hard, very cold. “Maybe we should go back.”
“Now who’s being a chicken-shit?”
“My blood runs deep yellow.”
“I thought you wanted to do this. Do it.” He dragged her out on the ice, skating backward, guiding her around in a slow circle. It was like a glorified car-tow.
“You should move your feet,” he told her.
“But then I’ll fall. Car-towing is good.”
“Come on,” he said, his voice warm and coaxing, and for a second she caught a glimpse of Cory the Seducer. How many high school girls parted with their virginity because of that crooked attempt of a smile? The dark eyes never quite bloomed alive, but sometimes you saw a flash of humanity, a flash of a man who should’ve been.
Her feet stuttered in perfect time with her heart. Then one foot slid in front of the other.
/> “Do it again,” he said, still coaxing, still seducing.
Rebecca kept moving along, a shuffling gait more suited to a senior citizen’s walker than ice. She didn’t enjoy being gawky or flawed, especially in front of other people. But she didn’t do it for her, she did it for him. The momentary flash of his smile made all the embarrassment worthwhile.
“See, you’re skating,” he said, a complete overstatement. Then he let go of her hands. She screamed and promptly fell on her butt. He moved behind her, steady arms hooked under hers, easing her upright. Just as she was ready to fall again, he quickly propped her back up.
Rebecca felt the need to restate the ground rules. “No letting go. I don’t like falls. They hurt.”
He shrugged casually, a man accustomed to pain and falls.
Rebecca didn’t want him to hurt. She wanted to ease the falls and heal the pain, but she knew she couldn’t. Cory wasn’t her Charlie Brown Christmas tree. She couldn’t wrap him in a blanket and bright ornaments and have him suddenly come to life, because life wasn’t a thirty-minute TV special. Scars didn’t heal. They stayed. They burned, and they never went away, no matter how hard you tried. This, Rebecca knew only too well.
For a while, Cory towed her around, but sometimes he did let go. The first time, she froze. The second time, she skated. Two glides before falling, but it counted all the same. As a childhood educator—former childhood educator—she knew the power of positive reinforcement, no matter how small and insignificant the accomplishment.
“Excellent,” he announced, his face ruddy from the cold, but the eyes were endearing. He had no idea how powerfully he was growing on her. Cory Bell from P.S. 35 was an adolescent girl’s fantasy. Cory Bell, the man, had grown into much, much more. Even if he did have a tendency to run.
She lost her balance, tilting into him, possibly—probably—on purpose.
He stared at her mouth, and she heard his indrawn breath. She wanted to feel his mouth, breathe life there, into his heart. He lowered his head, and she waited. Just when she could feel his warmth, feel the whisper inside him, he drew back, his eyes guarded once again. “That’s probably enough for today.”
Rebecca tried to smile, possibly—probably—failed. “Sure.”
As he removed his skates, she again noticed the scars on his palms. Maybe there wasn’t anything that would help. Maybe she should give up the fight, but that wasn’t Rebecca. She’d always been blessed (or cursed) with what her mother called “razor-sharp focus.” Frustrated, Rebecca began removing her own skates. With the skates safely returned, he walked ahead of her on the narrow path to the lodge, giving her his back. She’d dealt with abused kids, she’d seen what worked, what didn’t. But he wasn’t a kid anymore, and she wasn’t sure how to handle a man who buried his pain so thoroughly.
Rebecca trudged through the deep snow, feeling the cold build up inside her. Why couldn’t he open up to her, admit that he was having fun? Because he was stubborn, that’s why.
So, she had no choice. She gathered a fistful of snow and rolled it into a rocklike ball of ammunition.
Rebecca fired.
Dead hit, right on the back of his head.
Perhaps there was a smirk on her face when he turned. Quickly she wiped it away.
“What was that for?”
“Having some fun.”
His eyes narrowed. “You fight dirty, Miss Neumann.”
“And your point would be?”
He laughed. Low and full of retribution. She should have been fearful, but Rebecca had her jets firing. Those same jets had made her homecoming princess by a landslide, snag James Anders Hardy from bitchy little Monique O’Neal and beat out snotty Heather Patterson for the Modern Manhattan Prep job. Now, Rebecca was two seconds away from a full-blown conniption, and as anyone who had experienced Miss Neumann’s class knew, a conniption was a moment to be feared.
She watched as he picked up some snow and trudged forward. One step, two. Closer to her. His eyes weren’t nearly so empty now.
“Bring it on,” she mocked.
He reached for her, and promptly dumped his handful of snow inside her coat. Down her shirt.
Rebecca gasped, her nipples sharpened into frigid icicles. Deftly she shook out the snow, but there was no feeling in her chest anymore. Rat bastard.
He snickered, dancing away from her, her fists flying.
She grabbed more snow, packing it tight, wound up the pitch, and let it fly.
He ducked.
Damn.
Cory advanced, hands held up. “Truce.”
Rebecca, noticing the curve of his mouth and heated light in his eyes, felt the exquisite thrill of victory, and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Fine.”
He hooked a finger on her coat and pulled her toward him. She shouldn’t have seemed so breathy, so girly, so…eager, but this time when he lowered his mouth, she was ready. Oh, she was more than ready. The hard bark of a tree bit against her back, the hard feel of Cory crushed against her front, and everything in between was starting to melt. She knew he could kiss, knew how good he could kiss, and frankly, it confused her why he avoided the whole kissing thing.
As far as Rebecca was concerned, two people could stay here, mouth to mouth, forever. As long as it was Cory. As long as it was her. A sigh welled up inside her. Longing and loneliness combining forces to overwhelm her. She had never imagined she was lonely, aching for this. But now…she never wanted to be alone again.
Cory lifted his head and stared, the pulse throbbing in his throat. His dark eyes were rabbit-still, and she could see the panic radiating from within him. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, merely waited for the instant to pass. She would wait as long as necessary because no man had ever made her want so badly.
The wind danced through the branches of the tree above them, snow falling to the ground.
I know what you want for Christmas, and there you’ll find it under the tree. The words from the letter came back to her, and she felt the magic. The air shivered with it, whispering in her mind, stunning her with it. This was her Christmas present. He was her Christmas present. A bubble of laughter welled up inside her. She’d been so wrong to doubt for one second the magic of Christmas.
She smiled up at him, still waiting.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that,” he said, the light completely dimmed from his eyes. She felt the laughter inside her dim, as well. Now wasn’t the time for sorry. Now was the time for the “I’ve been waiting forever for you” speech. Now was the time when the cupids and cherubim plucked at their harps and lyres, and carolers burst into glorious song.
She waited for the moment, but the moment passed.
Instead Rebecca bit the inside of her mouth, hard.
Chapter 7
Sunday, December 22
Being surrounded by all this “happiness” and “joy” was starting to make Cory jumpy, as if he was inside some undercover operation, pretending to be something he wasn’t. Rebecca made him want to pretend.
When the sun rose on Sunday morning, he didn’t even think about running away. Didn’t even act like he wanted to. She just rolled over next to him, throwing an arm over his side, keeping him close. Cory went back to sleep. Dreamless sleep. He didn’t need dreams, he was sleepwalking through one. Happily.
He knew she saw things in him—some real, some imagined—and somewhere he’d stopped worrying about it.
Rebecca would be leaving soon.
They had until Tuesday morning, Christmas Eve, and then she would leave for her parents’ place and he’d be on his way to Canada. Until then, he would stay. Have a good time. It was sex, nothing more, then he’d dash out the door without saying goodbye—the patented Cory Bell method of retreat. Goodbye wasn’t a word in his vocabulary.
He woke again and watched her sleep. He kept repeating the plan in his head, but it felt off, like driving in a nail and missing the stud. As he stroked the softness of her hair, he knew that for now he wasn’t going to worry. Now he was
going to pretend that his past had never existed, that the scars in his palm had never existed, that the black hole inside him didn’t exist, either. At the moment, the only thing that existed was her.
She woke a few minutes later, and they took a shower together, before Cory brought up breakfast from the dining room. She’d just finished eating when her cell phone rang. Cory glanced at the display, didn’t want to seem overly curious, but didn’t want to see some guy’s name, all the same.
It was Natalie. Rebecca ignored it.
“Why aren’t you picking up?”
She flipped off the phone. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”
Yeah, ignorance worked a lot for him, too. He understood that. He wasn’t sure what the plans were for today, but the way she was rubbing her feet, it seemed like ice-skating was out. He suggested a sleigh ride later in the afternoon, and judging by the way her eyes lit up, that was definitely on the agenda.
Gee. In his rational mind, he was all sarcastic and smarmy. In his not-nearly-so-rational heart, he knew he wouldn’t deny her anything.
“How do you know Natalie?” he asked, curiosity finally overcoming caution.
She pulled three sweaters out of her suitcase and held each one up to the mirror.
“We worked together.”
“She’s a teacher, too?”
Rebecca decided on the blue one, and then lined up four sets of boots. Yes, the woman loved her shoes.
“Tell me about your kids,” he said, after pointing to the pair with low heels. Thankfully she didn’t argue.
He kicked back on the bed and watched her morning routine. After the shower, there was the skin treatment, then the makeup, then the hair. Rebecca was not speedy in the morning. He thought it was cute. While she towel-dried her hair, she started to talk, laughing sometimes, the sound making him smile. He’d gotten to where he’d ask her ordinary questions about her life, just to hear that laugh.
“Well, mainly they’re spoiled, with demanding parents, and more money than any one family should have. They have toys that cost more than some apartments. And when they do something wrong…” She laughed. “Never tell a parent their child is not perfect.”
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