The Christmas Proposition

by Cindy Kirk

  Attitude dripped from the last word and out of the corner of Rachel’s eye she saw Derek’s expression darken.

  “We had some business to discuss,” Rachel said.

  “Even if you didn’t, you were a part of their family for a good number of years,” Derek said. “I’m sure you had a close relationship during that time. It’s only natural they’d want to keep in touch.”

  Mickie rolled her eyes.

  “Honey.” Rachel stepped close and placed a gentle hand on the child’s shoulder. While she didn’t want to ruin the afternoon, she couldn’t let such behavior go unchallenged. “Rolling your eyes is rude. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again.”

  Mickie’s bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry.”

  Motherly love rose up inside Rachel. She wrapped her arms around the girl, pulling her close, planting a kiss on the top of Mickie’s curly head. “Forgiven.”

  Rachel lifted her head and her eyes met Derek’s. His slow smile of approval sent warmth coursing all the way to the tips of her toes.

  She pulled her gaze away, her heart full, but at the same time, light. “Why are we standing around? We’ve got a tree to decorate.”

  “It’s bee-u-ti-ful.” Mickie clasped her hands together and stared at the large tree, her eyes as bright as the lights gracing its branches.

  “We did good,” Derek agreed.

  Instead of a tedious task, hanging the ornaments and stringing the lights had been a joyous endeavor, thanks mostly to Rachel. She’d made it, well, fun. Before they started, she’d insisted he look through his friend’s vast CD collection for some Christmas music. Surprisingly, they’d found not only traditional holiday classics but some children’s tunes as well. Right now a tune from “A Chipmunk Christmas” blared from the Bose speakers.

  Rachel stood beside him, gazing at the tree. The glow on her face matched the wonder on the child’s face in front of her. Derek fought an almost-uncontrollable urge to slip his arm around her shoulder. Only the knowledge that such an action could ruin the moment kept his hands at his side.

  “Look.” Mickie pointed to the large floor-to-ceiling window almost obscured by the large tree. “It’s still snowing.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “Ohmigod.”

  Derek moved past her to the glass. The thick blanket of white covering the ground had grown significantly since they’d gotten home. The way the flakes were falling, the snow was destined to get even deeper.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it was getting so bad.” Rachel’s fingers curved around his arm as she leaned close for a better look.

  Derek inhaled the clean fresh scent of her. The dulcet sounds of Kenny G’s sax had replaced the raucous Chipmunk music and the candles they’d lit earlier added a warm intimacy. For several heartbeats he stood, reveling in the moment which seemed suspended in time.

  Until Mickie wiggled between them. “Are we snowed in?”

  The child couldn’t have sounded happier if Santa Claus laden with gifts had dropped from the chimney.

  “I’m sure we can make it home.” Though the words were confident, Rachel’s voice wavered and concern filled her blue eyes.

  A blast of wind hit the windows. The house shuddered.

  Derek shook his head. “It’s not worth the risk.”

  “We don’t want to get in an accident,” Mickie said.

  Hiding a smile, Derek glanced at Fred asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace. It was as if the dog had already settled in for the night.

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” Derek turned and met Rachel’s gaze. “You’re going to have to spend the night.”

  “With you?” Rachel’s voice came out on a high-pitched squeak.

  When Derek grinned, it made her feel even more foolish.

  “Well, I don’t think my bed is big enough for the four of us,” he said, and she swore she saw a twinkle in his eyes. “But there are three extra bedrooms, so I’m sure you’ll be comfortable.”

  Although his expression gave nothing away and he was being a perfect gentleman about the situation, the electricity crackling in the air told her if Mickie wasn’t present, his answer may have been different.

  Still, Rachel hesitated. What would Mickie’s case worker think if she found out they’d spent the night with a single man? Especially one as handsome and charismatic as Derek Rossi.

  “You can’t put Mickie—and yourself—at risk,” he said softly, as if he’d read her thoughts. “The only sensible thing is to stay.”

  “My uncle Wayne went into a ditch once when it was snowing,” Mickie piped up from in front of the fire where she now sat, scratching Fred’s neck. “I was in the backseat. I hurt my head.”

  “Oh, my,” Rachel said.

  “It wasn’t even snowing as hard as it is now,” Mickie continued. “But Uncle Wayne had been smoking those stinky little cigarettes, the ones that made his eyes all red. I don’t think he could see very well.”

  Derek stiffened and muttered something Rachel couldn’t make out.

  “You’ve convinced me.” Rachel prayed she was making the right decision. “We’ll stay.”

  “Yippee.” Mickie scrambled to her feet and Fred lurched to a standing position beside her. “I want to see my room.”

  “Derek can show it to us later,” Rachel said. “Closer to bedtime.”

  “But I’m tired now,” Mickie protested. “Fred and I want to go to bed.”

  Rachel tilted her head, confused. “Now? It’s only nine.”

  Even though only moments before she’d looked wide awake, Mickie yawned loudly and flung her arms out in a big stretch.

  “I can’t help it that I’m tired,” she said.

  “You have had a big day.” Rachel slanted an apologetic smile in Derek’s direction. “I guess we’ll go to bed now.”

  “No. No. No.” Mickie practically shouted the words. “You stay up and…talk…to Mr. Rossi. I’m not a baby. I can go to bed by myself.”

  The child’s generosity touched Rachel’s heart. “But you’ll be in a strange bedroom.”

  “I’ve slept in a lot of strange bedrooms. Besides—” Mickie slipped her arm around the bloodhound’s neck “—I have Fred.”

  “If you’re sure…” Rachel said, still not convinced.

  “I’m positive.” Mickie’s lips curved into a smile. “Absolutely positively positive.”

  Chapter Eight

  “She’s never gone to bed so easily.” Rachel sank into the overstuffed leather love seat facing the stone fireplace.

  A rustic end table separated her sofa from Derek’s chair. While she was getting Mickie ready for bed, Derek had added more wood to the fire and brought out a bottle of wine.

  He leaned forward and handed her a glass. “This is the perfect way to end a wonderful day.”

  Soft piano music played in the background. The light from the candles cast interesting shadows across his face. Rachel could see why he always had a beautiful woman on his arm. Not only was he intelligent and an all-around good guy, but he was also super sexy.

  She pulled her gaze from him and took a sip of wine. The full-bodied red was smooth against her tongue. She let the delicious taste linger for a moment before swallowing. “This is fabulous.”

  Derek’s lips quirked upward. “It’s a very good year.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me,” Rachel said, waving her glass in the air.

  “If Mickie weren’t here, you’d probably be right.” His eyes glittered in the dim light and the sexy intent in his gaze thrilled her.

  Rachel laughed. “Promises. Promises.”

  Some might accuse her of playing with fire, but Rachel knew she was in no danger of getting burned. This casual flirting was just that, flirting. And as close as she planned to get to the flame.

  As she’d expected, Derek simply smiled. He leaned back, holding the stem of the wineglass loosely between his fingers. “Tell me about your husband.”r />
  The fire that had been flickering quite nicely in Rachel’s belly was quashed by a splash of cold water. “Why?”

  “I’m curious.” Derek lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. “Unless it’s hard for you to speak of him.”

  “Not at all.” Although it was awkward to discuss her husband with the first man who’d inspired salacious thoughts since Tom had passed away.

  “Tom,” she said, savoring the feel of the name against her tongue, “was a geologist. He worked for the U.S. Geologic Survey.”

  “That tells me what he did,” Derek said, his gaze hooded. “Not what he was like.”

  It was a valid point. Tom’s career as a geologist hadn’t defined him any more than Derek’s pro-ball career defined him.

  “I called him my ‘gentle giant.’” Rachel’s laugh caught in her throat. “He was a big man, six-four with broad shoulders and a full beard.”

  “You thought he was the most handsome man in the world.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Rachel widened her eyes. “How did you know?”

  “I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Strangers were often intimidated because of his size and because he didn’t have much to say.” She’d found it odd that people were always quick to point out her husband’s reticence—as if it was a negative—when it was that same quiet strength that had drawn her to him after her parents died. “He was a kind, sweet man and I loved him with my whole heart.”

  “Sounds like a great guy.” Derek took a sip of wine. “Did you grow up together around here?”

  Rachel swirled the wine in her glass. “Actually, we both grew up in Wisconsin. We met in college, married after graduation, then moved here. Tom loved Wyoming. Called the state a ‘geologist’s paradise.’”

  The comment earned her a quick smile. “Was it hard to leave your family?”

  Family. Her heart twisted. She didn’t have a family. Not anymore.

  “My parents died in a car accident my freshman year in college. Tom was close to his family.” Rachel glanced down at her hands. “When we married I’d hoped I could be close to them, too.”

  Derek sat his glass down and steepled his fingers beneath his chin, giving her his full attention. “Something tells me that didn’t happen.”

  “Given more time, it might have,” Rachel said, wanting to be fair. “But we got off to a rocky start. They thought Tom should wait a few more years before marrying. And they were completely opposed to him leaving Wisconsin. He assured them that moving here was his idea—which was the truth—but his mom and dad blamed me.”

  “Nice.”

  “It was what it was.” Rachel shrugged. “Tom and I had a good marriage. A happy one.” She paused and her lips quirked up in a smile. “Made even happier by the fact that there was thirteen hundred miles between us and his family.”

  Derek chuckled, then sobered. “Yet they still call you.”

  “Once a year.” She tightened her fingers around the stem of her glass. “The first year they called me on the day he died. I put a stop to that.”

  “Too hard?”

  “Yes, of course,” Rachel said with a sigh. “But more than that, there were so many good things about Tom to remember…why focus on that last horrible day?”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to him?”

  Rachel studied the flickering flames. It was amazing how a life could burn so brightly one minute, then in an instant be snuffed out.

  “It happened three years ago.” She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second. “Christmas was five days away. We were so excited. This would be the last Christmas we’d celebrate, just the two of us.”

  Derek’s head cocked to one side.

  “I was pregnant.” Her voice quivered slightly. “Twenty-two weeks.”

  Even though he covered it well, she could see the surprise in his eyes. “What happened?”

  The question appeared wrung from his lips.

  “We both had the day off work. We slept late since we’d been out caroling with some friends from church the night before.” Rachel gazed into the dark liquid in her glass and familiar fingers of guilt wrapped around her heart. “Instead of going out, we decided to eat at home that morning. But I was craving orange juice. While I made breakfast, Tom made a juice run to the convenience store not far from our apartment.”

  While the story never came easily, this time she found herself choking on the words. Maybe because she’d just spoken with Tom’s parents. Perhaps because in only eight days it would be the twentieth of December.

  Derek didn’t press her for more details. Instead, he sipped his wine and waited. Even in the dim light she could see the sympathy in his eyes.

  Rachel cleared her throat. “While Tom was at the store a man came in and demanded money from the female clerk. The clerk resisted and when the robber hit her in the face with his gun, Tom intervened and was shot. He died on the floor with the carton of orange juice still in his hand.”

  “That must have been horrible for you.” Derek placed his glass on the table, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “The sheriff came to the door.” Rachel pulled her gaze from his and focused on a spot over his left shoulder. “All I could think of was that breakfast was almost ready. How silly was that?”

  “Not silly at all.” His words were soft as a caress. “You were in shock.”

  “I did my best to hold it together,” Rachel said. “I always thought I was a strong person, but I felt so lost. So alone. Tom had been my anchor and suddenly he was gone. There was just me…and the baby. Our poor sweet baby.”

  Her voice broke and a few more tears slid down her cheek.

  Without a word, Derek rose, then dropped to her side, his arm slipping around her shoulders. She told herself to push him away. Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “The baby came early. There were complications,” she whispered, although there was no one around except the two of them. “I almost died. When they told me our son hadn’t made it, I wished I had died.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.” Derek leaned his head against hers, his voice soft as a whisper against her cheek.

  “It was just so hard…” Rachel said with a sigh.

  “I wish I could have been there for you,” he said, his blue eyes dark as midnight.

  For a long moment neither of them spoke.

  Although she hadn’t known Derek long, Rachel trusted him. She rested her head on his shoulder and let herself draw comfort from his strength.

  Rachel wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the warmth from his body. All she knew was her lids were suddenly too heavy to keep open. She closed her eyes…only for a second.

  Mickie waited until almost midnight before creeping down the stairs, her heart pounding like a great big drum. If there was any kissing going on, she needed to see it. Kissing would confirm they were making progress.

  She told herself she wasn’t spying. She simply wanted to make sure Mr. Rossi and Rachel were…getting along okay.

  At first she couldn’t find them. It was Fred who finally located them curled up together on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Rachel’s head was pressed against his chest. Mr. Rossi’s arms were tightly wrapped around her.

  Mickie’s heart pounded so loudly that she worried the sound might wake them. She was still standing in the shadows, trying not to breathe, when she heard Mr. Rossi murmur something in his sleep and kiss Rachel’s hair. When Rachel smiled and snuggled even more tightly against him, Mickie let out the breath she’d been holding.

  This was even better than she’d dared hope. Not only had Mr. Rossi kissed Rachel, but she was also napping with him. Mickie couldn’t wait to tell Addie.

  After Rachel and Mickie left, Derek spent the rest of the day working out and watching baseball films. But even though his calendar was clear, he had the feeling that he was forgetting something. It wasn’t until almost eight that he realized that something was his mother’
s birthday.

  Although in California most people would consider 8:00 p.m. to be early, his mom wasn’t in California. She was vacationing in Florida where it was 10:00 p.m. If Derek was going to call, he needed to do it now. Or risk taking the chance of catching her after she’d gone to bed…with Jim?

  Derek shoved the disturbing image aside before it could take hold and become imprinted on his brain. He didn’t know—didn’t want to know—if his mother was intimate with her longtime man-friend. In terms of his mother’s romantic activities, Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was his motto.

  Grabbing the cocoa he’d just made for himself, Derek took it and his phone into the living room. This way, while he offered his mother birthday wishes, he could admire the tree.

  He paused in the doorway, taking in the white lights, the colorful ornaments and the elaborate silver star at the top of the tree.

  Although it was designer beautiful, Derek found himself thinking of his childhood trees. He didn’t need to close his eyes to remember the spindly pines decorated with items he and his sister had made in school…and the special ornaments his mother gave them every year. He wished he’d thought to get Mickie some sort of ornament to mark this year, her first Christmas with Rachel. Her last Christmas with Rachel.

  A wave of sadness washed over him. Mickie deserved a family. She deserved a mom and dad who would give her not only love, but also stability. She deserved a dog like Fred. Derek wished he could adopt the little girl, but his hours were crazy. No, Mickie deserved more than he could give her at this point in his life.

  With the cup firmly in his grasp, Derek crossed the room and plopped down on the sofa where he’d slept last night. Correction. Where he and Rachel had slept last night.

  He smiled, remembering the look on her face when she’d opened her eyes to find herself snuggled up against his chest. Her cheeks had turned bright red, the desire in her eyes overpowered by regret. So, instead of kissing her, he’d made a joke. And then he’d thrown together a quick breakfast for the three of them.

  He hoped she’d relax, but the beautiful blonde’s shoulders remained stiff all through breakfast. In fact, she’d kept her eyes fixed on the door as if looking for an opportunity to bolt. Talk about an ego crusher.