Santa's on His Way

by Lisa Jackson

  Liam gave a soft whistle to the dog and stormed outside. Annie closed her eyes while rocking the baby. What a horrid predicament. With Carol smack-dab in the middle of it. As the rocker swayed she tried to sort out her life and came up with no answers. A few days ago, before the baby had been left on her doorstep, everything had been so clear, her days on a boring but regular track. Now she felt as if every aspect of her life was careening out of control. She loved Carol and was sure to lose her. She loved her sister, but was confused about Nola’s intentions and she loved Liam . . . She stopped rocking. No way. She didn’t love Liam O’Shaughnessy; she didn’t even know the man, not really. What she felt for him was lust. Nothing more.

  The baby let out a tiny puff of air and snuggled against her and Annie felt a tug on her heartstrings unlike any she’d ever felt before. Precious, precious little girl, how am I ever going to bear to give you up?

  “I can’t. I just can’t,” she whispered, her throat as thick as if she’d swallowed an orange. She thought to the future—first steps, learning to read, going off to school, soccer and T-ball, first kiss and high school prom. Oh, no, no, no! Annie couldn’t not be a part of Carol’s life. She blinked hard, realized she was close to tears, and finally, after Carol was asleep, placed the baby in her bassinet.

  Sliding her arms through her jacket and wrapping a scarf around her neck, she walked outside where she donned her boots and gloves. She heard Liam before she saw him, the sound of an axe splitting wood cracking through the canyon. He was standing near the woodpile by the barn, the axe raised over his head. Gritting his teeth, he swung down and cleaved a thick length of fir into two parts, the split portions spinning to either side of the stump he used as a chopping block. Snowflakes clung to his blond hair and settled on the shoulders of his suede jacket. He reached down for another length of oak and set it in place.

  “You want something?” he asked without turning. The axe was lifted skyward and came down with a thwack that split the wood easily as darkness fell.

  “To explain.”

  “No need.”

  “But Liam—”

  “So now it’s ‘Liam,’ is it?” He slammed the axe down again, wedging the blade in the chopping block and turned to glare at her. “Just tell me one thing, Annie. What is it you expected to accomplish by drawing in the police?”

  “I—I—just needed some peace of mind. You came in here like gangbusters, arguing and carrying on and threatening to take Carol away and I . . . I needed help.”

  He glanced at the sky and shook his head. “Did you get it? Peace of mind?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Me neither.”

  Swallowing back all of her pride, she lifted her head and stared him down. “Now it’s your turn,” she said. “You tell me just one thing.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What is it you want from me, Liam O’Shaughnessy?”

  “Good question.” His face softened slightly, the shadows of the night closing in. “I wish I knew.”

  She shivered, but not from the cold night air. No, her skin trembled from the intensity of his gaze and the way her body responded. She licked suddenly dry lips and willed her legs to move. “I . . . I’d better see about the horses.”

  “What is it you want from me?”

  Like the icicles suspended from the eaves of the barn, his question seemed to hang in the air between them. I want you to love me. Oh, Lord, where did that wayward thought come from? She stopped short, her breath fogging in the frigid air. “I—I just want you to leave me alone.”

  His smile was as hard as the night. “I already told you what a lousy liar you are, so try again. What is it you want from me?”

  “Nothing, Liam,” she said and marched to the barn. She couldn’t, wouldn’t let him see how vulnerable he made her feel. Each day she’d snapped lead ropes to the horses’ halters and walked them around the paddock for nearly an hour so that they trampled a path through the drifts, then returned them to their stalls with fresh water and feed and brushed the clumps of snow from their coats. They’d already been exercised for the day, but she walked into the barn and took in deep breaths of the musty air. From somewhere behind the oat bin, she heard the scurry of feet, a rat or mouse she’d startled.

  She sensed rather than heard him enter. Give me strength.

  “Annie.”

  Oh, God. She wrapped her arms around her middle, took a deep breath, and decided she had no choice but to meet him head-on. “Look, O’Shaughnessy—” Turning, she ran straight into him and his arms closed around her.

  “No more lies,” he said and she caught a glimpse of his eyes before his lips found hers in the darkness. She shouldn’t do this, knew she was making an irrevocable mistake, but as his weight pulled her downward onto a mat of loose straw, she gave herself up to the silent cravings of her body. His lips were warm, his body strong, and she closed her mind to the doubts that nagged her, the worries that plagued her about this one enigmatic man.

  She shivered as he opened her coat and slowly drew her scarf from around her neck, trembled in anticipation as he drew her sweater over her head and unhooked her bra, swallowed back any protest as he lowered his lips to her nipple and gently teased.

  Warmth invaded that private space between her legs, and desire ran naked through her blood. Her fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his jacket and he shrugged out of the unwanted coat, tucking it beneath them, along with hers.

  “I want you, Annie,” he said as he threw off his sweater and her fingers traced the corded muscles of his chest and shoulders. His abdomen retracted as she kissed the mat of golden hair that covered his chest and he groaned in anticipation as she tickled his stomach with her breath.

  “I want you, too,” she admitted. “God forgive me, but I do.”

  His smile, crooked and jaded, slashed in the darkness. “It’s not a sin, you know.”

  “I know,” she agreed, but wasn’t convinced. Only when his lips claimed hers again and his hands lovingly caressed her did she sigh and give up to the sorcery of his touch. His fingers tangled in her hair and he pressed urgent lips to her eyelids, the corner of her mouth, her throat, and lower still.

  He skimmed her jeans over her hips and followed his hands with lips that breathed fire against her skin and through the sheer lace of her panties. She squirmed as he sculpted her buttocks, lifting her gently and kissing her with an intimacy that she felt in the back of her throat. Through the thin barrier he laved and teased until the barn with its smells of horses and grain disappeared into the shadows and she felt him pull away the final garment to reach deeper.

  “Ooooh,” she cried, wanting more, blind to anything but the lust that stoked deep in her soul. “Liam—”

  “I’m here, love.” In an instant he kicked off his jeans and was atop her, parting her knees with the firm muscles of his thighs, kissing her anxiously on the lips, breathing as if it would be his last.

  She couldn’t close her eyes, but watched in wonder as he made love to her, gasped and writhed, catching his tempo, following his lead, feeling as if her life would never be the same again.

  “Annie,” he cried as her mind grew foggy and she was swept on a current of sensations that brought heat to her loins and goose bumps to her flesh. “Oh, God, Annie.” He threw back his head and squeezed his eyes shut. With a shudder, he poured himself into her and she convulsed, her body clamping around him, her mind lost somewhere in the clouds.

  He collapsed against her and she willingly bore his weight. Dear God in heaven, how would she ever be able to give him up, to give this up? Her heart was pounding erratically, her breathing short and shallow.

  You could get pregnant, Annie.

  Would that be so bad? The thought of carrying Liam’s child deep inside her was soothing rather than worrisome.

  The doctor said you’d miscarry again, that you can’t go to term.

  But it was worth the risk.

  Don’t be a fool, Annie. Think!

/>   Liam’s arms tightened around her and he sighed into the curve of her neck, closing off all arguments with her rational mind. She knew he couldn’t promise his undying love, realized that what she felt was not only one-sided but foolish as well, and yet she ached to hear the words that would bind him to her forever, inwardly cried to have him swear his undying love.

  Slowly he lifted his head. Eyes still shining in afterglow, he pushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “There’s something I want to tell you,” he said, his voice still husky and deep.

  Her heart did a silly little flip. “What’s that, O’Shaughnessy?”

  He winked at her and offered her that slightly off-center grin she found so endearing. “Merry Christmas, Annie McFarlane.”

  “To you, too, O’Shaughnessy.”

  “I think I’ve got a present for you,” he added and his voice was rougher, more serious. She felt the first glimmer of despair.

  “What’s that?” she teased but saw that he was stonecold sober.

  He cleared his throat and plucked a strand of straw from her hair. Gazing into her eyes as if searching for a reaction, he said, “Jake found your sister.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right.” He kissed her on the temple. “He’s bringing Nola here sometime after the first of the year, after the storms have passed, and she’s done dealing with the police and Peter Talbott.”

  Annie was stunned. The thought of seeing Liam with Nola and their baby, Carol, her baby, was overwhelming. “Good,” she said without a trace of enthusiamsm. It had to happen sooner or later.

  “Once we talk to Nola, we’ll figure everything out.”

  Annie’s heart seemed to dissolve. She was going to lose them—both Liam and Carol. She knew it as well as she knew that tonight was Christmas Eve.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Will you marry me?”

  Annie stopped dead in her tracks. They’d been walking from the main house back to the cabin, through the mud and slush still lingering in the forest. Liam was carrying a front pack with Carol sleeping cozily against him.

  “Marry you?” Her voice seemed to echo through the forest.

  Liam took her gloved hands in his and as rain drizzled through the fir and oak trees, he smiled down at her. “Carol needs a mother—someone who loves her.”

  Annie’s heart plummeted. For a second she’d expected him to say that he loved her. In the past two weeks of being together, never once had he uttered those three wonderful words. “I—I—well, I told myself I’d never marry again.” This was happening too fast—way too fast.

  “I thought you wanted to be with Carol.”

  She bit her lip as she saw Carol’s blond curls peeking up through the top of the front pack. “I do, more than anything, but—”

  His smile faded and he rubbed his jaw. “Look, Annie, I never thought I’d ever marry. I liked being a bachelor, but then I didn’t realize that I was going to be a father, either. I’m glad about that. Ecstatic—and I want what’s best for my daughter.” He brushed a moist strand of hair from her eyes. “Carol couldn’t have a better mother than you.”

  Her throat became swollen and he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Would it be so bad, married to me?”

  No, she didn’t think so. Though she’d barely known him for two weeks, she loved him. Foolishly and reverently. Maybe in time he would learn to love her and, if the truth be known, she couldn’t imagine living her life without him. He’d proven himself, exonerating himself of the crime in Washington, refusing to prosecute Nola for her false claims against him, sticking by Annie through the holidays and helping her care for the main house, cabin, and livestock as the frozen countryside thawed, creating floods and mud slides. Also, more importantly, it was obvious that he was completely taken with his daughter.

  They’d laughed together, fought a little, spent hours upon hours at each other’s side only to make love long into the night. He’d helped clean the gutters, thaw the pipes, and repair the roof when icy branches had fallen on the old shingles. He’d exercised and fed the horses, shoveled the driveway, fixed her pickup that refused to start after being packed in snow for ten days, done the grocery shopping, and kept the fire stoked until the old furnace kicked in. He’d been a gentle lover, a concerned father, and, it seemed, a man determined to clear his name. He’d watched Carol as Annie had reconnected with her clients and worked on her word processor, but the bottom line was that he didn’t love her. At least not yet.

  “But . . . how? Where would we live? Wait a minute, this is all so fast.” She held up a hand and he captured it in his larger one.

  “We’ll live here. I’m moving out of Washington anyway. I’ll sell my house and start my own company, either in Portland or Vancouver. If it’s money you’re worried about—”

  “No, no.” She shook her head. Money was the last thing on her mind. In fact, she hadn’t told him but she was three days late in her monthly cycle. Not a lot, but, considering that her periods came and went like clockwork, something to think about. Something very pleasant to consider.

  “You can keep your job, or become a full-time mother. We’ll buy a place of our own eventually, when the time is right.”

  “Are you sure?” Good Lord, she shouldn’t even be contemplating anything so ludicrous.

  Smiling, he used the finger of one gloved hand to smooth the worried furrow from her brow. “As sure as anything I’ve done lately. Come on, wouldn’t you love to be Carol’s mother?”

  “You know I would,” she admitted, wondering if she was about to make the mistake of her life. She’d suffered through one divorce and she wasn’t about to go through another. If and when she married again, it would be for life. “What about Nola?” she asked, concern gnawing away at her optimism. “She’d be your sister-in-law.”

  Liam glanced to the gray sky and frowned. “As long as she doesn’t live with us and doesn’t interfere with Carol, it’ll be okay.”

  “She accused you of murder.”

  His smile was cold as ice. “Don’t worry about Nola, Annie. I can take care of your sister.”

  “I don’t think anyone can take care of her.” They hadn’t seen Nola nor heard from her, though, according to Liam’s friend Jake, she’d turned in her boyfriend, Peter Talbott, who had embezzled funds and killed Bill Arness when he was startled while doctoring the company books. Talbott had coached Nola into lying about Liam’s participation in the crime, then skipped town, leaving Nola, who had been in love with him, alone to hold the bag. She’d gone to meet him somewhere in Idaho, but he’d never shown up and Jake had confronted her and convinced her to turn state’s evidence against Talbott, who was already long gone, probably hiding out in Canada.

  All that trouble seemed far away from their private spot here in the forest. Carol gurgled in the pack between them, a fine Oregon mist moistened their faces, and somewhere not too far off Riley was barking his fool head off at a rabbit or squirrel or some other creature hiding in the ferns and bracken.

  She could be happy here with Liam and Carol, she thought, warmth invading her heart.

  Hand in hand they walked back to the cabin where, despite the rumble of the furnace, a fire was burning and near her desk stacked with correspondence, the small Christmas tree still stood, draped in garlands and shimmering with tinsel. From the oven, the smell of pot roast and potatoes filled the air.

  Liam carried Carol into the bedroom and placed her tiny body in the crib he’d purchased just two days earlier. The baby found her thumb and snuggled her little head against a gingham bumper as Annie adjusted her covers. There was still so much to do. Social Services, upon learning that Liam was the father of the baby, had been lenient about Carol’s situation. Marrying him would make the adoption all that much easier. And certainly Nola would comply. Though Annie hadn’t spoken with her sister, she didn’t doubt that Nola wanted her to care for the little girl. Liam had even gone through the formality of a paternity test, though the results wouldn’t be confirmed for a
few more days.

  “Okay, Annie, what’s it gonna be?” he asked and there was an edge to his voice she didn’t recognize, a nervousness. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom, the firelight from the living room glowing behind him. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” The word was out in an instant and Liam picked her up, twirling her in the small confines of the room. Startled, she gasped, then laughed. Carol let out a soft puff of a sigh. In the dim bedroom where only hours before they’d made love, she wrapped her arms around Liam’s neck and kissed his cheek. “I’d love to marry you, Mr. O’Shaughnessy.”

  His smile was a slash of white as they tumbled onto the bed together. “We could fly to Reno tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Why wait?”

  Yes, why? For years she’d wanted to become a mother. She thought of all the painful disappointments of her miscarriages, the guilt, the dull ache in her heart, the fear that she would never have a child. And now she had only to agree to marry the man she loved to become a mother. “All right,” she finally agreed. “Tonight.”

  * * *

  “ . . . Mr. and Mrs. Liam O’Shaughnessy.” The justice of the peace, a robust man of about sixty, rained a smile down on Liam, Annie, and Carol while his wife, dressed in polka dots, sat at the piano and played the wedding march.

  “That’s all there is to it?” Annie asked as she and Liam walked out of the small, neon-lit chapel and another couple took their places. Outside, the traffic raced by and a wind cut through the dusty streets of Reno.

  “It’s legal and that’s all that matters.” Liam took her arm as she shielded Carol from the noise and cold night air. The city was ablaze in lights; the crowds, oblivious to the frigid temperatures, wandered in and out of the hotels and casinos lining the main drag.

  Annie followed Liam back to the hotel where they’d booked a room for the night. She remembered her last wedding six years earlier—a church with stained-glass windows, a preacher in robes, three bridesmaids, Nola as the maid of honor, a flower girl, and a ringbearer. Ribbons and rose petals, David’s sister singing a love song, candles and organ music, and all for what? Nothing. A marriage that had turned to ashes all too soon. This time there were no false promises, no stiff ceremony, nothing borrowed, blue, old, or new. And no love? her ever-nagging mind reminded her.