Gage’s hand slid under the hem of her sweatshirt, his fingers splaying against the small of her back. His touch burned to the core of her, starting a deep, throbbing pulse in the pit of her stomach, a hunger so powerful it frightened Kelsey into some sense of what she was doing.
Wrong.
The thought beat sluggishly in her brain. No matter how right it felt, it couldn’t be. Couldn’t be. This was wrong.
Wrong.
Gage tried to push the thought away, but it refused to go. This was wrong. Kelsey is Rick’s wife. Your best friend’s wife. What are you doing? She’s another man’s wife. Rick’s wife. Rick’s wife. Rick’s wife.
Kelsey’s hands flattened against his chest just as Gage lifted his head. They stared at each other, smoky gray eyes meeting electric blue. Between them lay the rubble of what they’d thought their relationship to be—destroyed in the blazing force of that one kiss.
My God, what have I done? Gage stepped back from Kelsey, staggered by the sheer magnitude of the disaster looming before them. She’s Rick’s wife—his wife, for God’s sake.
What was I thinking? Kelsey’s hands jerked back from Gage’s chest as if his shirt had just caught fire. This was Gage. Her friend, Rick’s best friend. Oh, God. Rick. What had she done?
“Kelsey, I—”
“That was a surprise, wasn’t it?” she interrupted in a tone of such false brightness that it made her teeth hurt.
She had to make this right, had to smooth it over. She could see the look in Gage’s eyes, see the shock and guilt. He’d leave. He’d leave and never come back. She couldn’t lose him. Not him, too. They could fix this. They could get past it. They had to, she thought frantically.
“A surprise?” Gage said slowly.
“I guess that must really be mistletoe.”
“I guess so. Kelsey, I didn’t—”
“Neither did I.” She stopped and drew a quick breath. This time her smile was a little less forced. “Let’s not blow this out of proportion, Gage.”
“Out of proportion?” His arched brow made it clear that he thought that would be hard to do. “Kelsey, what just happened—”
“A kiss. That’s all that happened. Things just got a little out of hand.”
Gage looked as if he doubted her sanity, but Kelsey kept her expression perfectly calm. Or as calm as was possible when her skin tingled with awareness and her pulse was still double its normal rate, not to mention the fact that her knees were not quite steady.
“A little out of hand,” Gage repeated slowly, as if trying to connect the trite phrase to what had just occurred between them.
“We’re adults. We know better than to let something like this cause problems.”
Please, Gage. Please don’t let it cause problems. I need you in my life. In Danny’s life. We can get past this. We can pretend it never happened. Please, Gage.
Maybe he read the plea in her eyes. Or maybe he realized that she was right, that the only way to deal with what had happened was to pretend there was nothing to deal with. Whatever the reason, he nodded slowly.
“No reason it should cause problems,” he said quietly, his eyes shuttered. “It was just a kiss.”
“That’s right,” Kelsey said, her voice too loud and too bright, almost echoing in the quiet house. “No big deal,” she added for emphasis.
There was a brief silence, taut with things unsaid, unacknowledged. Kelsey had the sudden, frightening thought that she’d never be able to look at him again without remembering how it had felt to have him hold her, kiss her.
Mumbling something that could have been either “good night” or a stifled sob, she slipped past him and all but ran down the hall to her room.
Gage stayed where he was for what seemed like a very long time. Staring at the dying fire, he tried to sort out what had happened, how things had gotten out of hand. He glanced over his head at the dusty little sprig of leaves and berries. Reaching up, he tugged it loose, cupping it in his hand and studying it as if it could provide the answers he needed.
But the only thing that was clear was the fact that he’d kissed Kelsey the way he would have kissed a lover. Kelsey—Rick’s wife, his friend. Kelsey, whom he’d promised himself—and Rick—he’d take care of.
She’d made it clear that she wanted to simply put the moment behind them, pretend nothing had happened. She was right. Anything else would make things untenable.
Gage walked over to the fireplace. Tugging open the door, he threw the sprig of mistletoe onto the bed of coals. For a moment, it lay there, untouched by the heat. Tendrils of smoke curled up around the edges of the leaves. The little red ribbon bow burst into flame first, followed an instant later by the mistletoe itself.
Gage stood watching until it burned to ashes, trying not to think about how good Kelsey had felt in his arms.
And how much he’d like to have her there again.
By morning Gage and Kelsey had virtually forgotten all about the kiss they’d shared under the mistletoe. Of course they had. Neither of them gave a thought to the heat they’d generated. Certainly not.
And neither of them thought it at all significant that Gage chose to drive to Los Angeles a day early just to be sure he wouldn’t miss his plane. It was perfectly understandable that he’d rather spend the night on a sofa in his brother’s studio apartment than sleep in his own bed in the room he rented from Kelsey. The most natural thing in the world.
And if there’d been any lingering thoughts about that incendiary kiss, they certainly had faded by the time Gage came home again. No one remembered something like that for six months. Perhaps there were one or two uneasy moments, a certain awareness, but that soon faded, and by the time Gage had left again, everything was back on its old footing. The whole incident was completely forgotten.
Really.
Chapter 5
“I wish you could come back with Danny, Kelsey.”
Kelsey winced at the wistful tone of her mother’s voice. “I wish I could, too, Mom, but this is a busy time of year for me. The gardens are in full swing, and I’ve got a lot of orders to fill. It’s not like Minnesota, where you’ve still got a foot of snow on the ground.”
“We do not!” Viola Sinclair never failed to rise to that particular bait. An avid gardener herself, she was openly envious of her daughter’s year-round growing season. “We haven’t had snow in weeks!”
“We haven’t had snow in years,” Kelsey teased. She shifted the phone from one ear to the other to ease the strain on her neck. It was a good thing they hadn’t invented an affordable video phone yet, she thought as she sorted through a pile of laundry. Talking on the phone was some of the most productive time she had.
“Never mind about the snow,” Vi said, refusing to be sidetracked. “Have you given any thought to what your father and I suggested at Christmas?”
“That Danny and I move back to Minnesota?” Kelsey stared at the half-dozen child-size socks lying on the bed. How was it possible to have so many socks and have none of them match any of the others? What did Danny do with them? Trade them with friends at school so they could all drive their mothers crazy trying to find matched pairs?
“There’s plenty of room here, and the schools are good. You wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
“I like my work, Mom.”
“And you wouldn’t have to worry about making ends meet.”
“My ends are meeting pretty well these days.” Kelsey dropped the unmatched socks into the dirty-clothes basket. Maybe if she ran them through the wash again, they’d miraculously turn up with mates.
“Your father and I rattle around in this big old house. You and Danny would have lots of room.”
“We’ve got room here, Mom. This house is plenty big for the two of us.” She rubbed two fingers over the ache building across the bridge of her nose. They’d had this same conversation half a dozen times since Christmas, and she got the same headache every time. She knew what was coming next, could almost have recited t
he dialogue.
“It’s a cute little place but it’s not really family-size, is it? I mean, there’s really only room for you and Dan- ny, isn’t there?”
“Danny and I are a family, Mom,” Kelsey said, trying not to sound impatient.
“I know you are,” Vi said quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t. But if you were to get married again, there’s no room for more children.”
The ache became a throb that spread outward to encompass her entire forehead. Carrying the portable phone with her, Kelsey headed for the kitchen and the aspirin bottle. She means well. She means well. Kelsey recited the phrase like a mantra.
“I’m not even dating anyone. I think it’s a little soon to be worrying about where our children will sleep.”
The childproof lid on the aspirin bottle proved to be in a recalcitrant mood. Tucking the phone between her shoulder and her ear, she listened as her mother reminded her that she was still a young woman; Rick would never have wanted her to spend the rest of her life alone. It was time she started thinking about the future. Danny wouldn’t be with her forever, you know.
“I’ve got another twelve years or so before I have to start worrying about an empty nest.” Kelsey lined up the arrows, as instructed, and tried to pry the lid off with her thumb. It didn’t budge.
“You probably think I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Vi reflected.
“Actually I do think that,” Kelsey said, driven to honesty by her throbbing head. “But I know it’s because you love me,” she added into the shocked silence.
“I just don’t think you should mourn forever,” Vi said, her voice a little stiff. “It’s been over four years since Rick’s death, you know. He’d want you to get on with your life.”
“I know, Mom. It’s not Rick’s memory that keeps me from dating. It’s that I’m just too busy to think about it. My life is full. I’m happy.” Except at moments like this.
In desperation she banged the aspirin bottle on the edge of the sink. The lid popped off abruptly, shooting toward Kelsey’s face. Startled, she jerked back. Aspirin flew from the open bottle, pattering onto the kitchen floor like fat white raindrops.
“I really don’t mean to be a pushy mother but I worry about you.”
“I know you do, Mom.” Kelsey crouched down and began picking aspirin up off the floor. Make a note, Kelsey. Don’t ever tell Danny you’re worried about him—the most guilt-provoking maternal line ever invented. “You don’t need to worry about me, though. Danny and I are doing just fine. We’ve both got lots of friends here. In fact, Clair Miller called a few days ago. She’s living in Santa Barbara now and she’s coming over for lunch later today.”
“I thought Clair was married and living in Europe somewhere.”
“She was.” Kelsey breathed a silent sigh of relief that her mother had been distracted from her favorite topic. “But she’s divorced now and she’s decided to open a boutique in Santa Barbara. We’ve talked on the phone a few times, but this is our first chance to get together since she got home. In fact, I hate to cut this short but I’ve got a lot to do before she gets here.”
It took her another twenty minutes to get her mother off the line. Vi couldn’t hang up without mentioning—again—that there was plenty of room for her and Danny in her childhood home and, by the way, had she mentioned that Mrs. Armato’s son had moved home? Hadn’t Kelsey dated him in high school? He was a lawyer now and still handsome as sin.
Kelsey rolled her eyes. Kenny Armato might look like a Greek god, but she was willing to bet that he still had more hands than an octopus had tentacles. She murmured something noncommittal and carefully selected two relatively dust-free aspirins from the fistful she held. She put them in her mouth and washed them down with the cold remains of her morning cup of coffee while her mother expounded on the advantages of raising a child in a small town.
Kelsey could have pointed out that she wasn’t exactly living in a booming metropolis, but it would have been a waste of breath. As far as Vi Sinclair was concerned, California—and most particularly Southern California—was one vast, sprawling, smog-bound city.
Her mother was finally starting to wind down when Gage walked into the kitchen. He caught the harried look in her eyes and paused on his way to the refrigerator. His gaze took in the phone caught between her chin and her shoulder, the empty aspirin bottle on the counter, the pile of aspirin next to it and the cold cup of coffee she clutched between her hands.
“Your mother?” he mouthed.
When Kelsey nodded, he gave her a look of such profound sympathy that Kelsey nearly choked trying to turn a laugh into a shallow cough. She sent him a stern glare and received an unrepentant grin in return.
Listening to her mother expound on the virtues of Kenny Armato and his law degree, Kelsey briefly considered mentioning that Gage was home for a few weeks. It would certainly change the subject but it would only lengthen the conversation. Vi Sinclair’s second-favorite source of maternal concern—coming right after the fact that her daughter didn’t seem interested in finding another husband—was the fact that Gage lived in that same daughter’s house.
It wasn’t that she had anything against Gage personally, she’d said repeatedly. He’d seemed perfectly nice when she met him at Rick and Kelsey’s wedding, and she certainly appreciated that he’d been a great help to Kelsey since Rick’s death. It was their living arrangements of which she disapproved. She didn’t like the idea of her daughter’s sharing her home with an attractive man, even if it was only for a few weeks out of every year.
This might be the nineties, but times hadn’t changed that much, she’d said in a tone that brooked no argument. A man and a woman, alone in a house together—and never mind Danny, who was too young to count—well, there wasn’t much question about where something like that was likely to lead, no matter how late in the century it happened to be.
Ridiculous, Kelsey thought. She and Gage were friends. No matter what her mother thought, it was possible for a man and a woman to have a platonic friendship. True, there’d been that one incident, she remembered uneasily. But that had been almost a year and a half ago. They’d put that behind them, dismissed it as nothing more than temporary insanity. Gage was her friend.
He opened the refrigerator door and took out a can of cola. He popped the aluminum tab and lifted the can to his mouth. He’d been working outside, clearing land for the greenhouse she’d bought—hot, thirsty labor. Kelsey watched his throat work as he swallowed.
Her eyes drifted from there to the corded muscles in his arms. He was wearing a ratty blue tank top, streaked with white from some long-ago laundry accident, torn in so many places that it should have been relegated to rag duty ages ago. The cotton knit, worn thin with age, clung lovingly to his muscled torso. With his arm lifted as he drank, the hem of the shirt rode up, revealing the taut flatness of his stomach and the silky dark hair that arrowed downward to disappear into the waistband of the faded cutoffs that rode scandalously low on his narrow hips.
Kelsey realized where her eyes, not to mention her imagination, were headed and turned abruptly away. Her fingers tightened painfully over the phone, her mother’s voice a vague mutter in her ear. Her cheeks felt flushed, as if she’d been caught in some crime.
What on earth was the matter with her? Staring at Gage like that? As if he were...something other than a friend. As if he were a man. Which he was, of course. But she wasn’t supposed to think of him that way. She didn’t think of him that way.
Kelsey closed her eyes, struggling to get a firm grip on her spinning thoughts. It was really her mother’s fault, she decided. With all her mother’s talk about second marriages and urging her to get on with her life, she’d been thrown off-balance.
Relieved to have someone to blame for the disconcerting direction her thoughts had taken, Kelsey returned her attention to the voice on the other end of the line. Luckily her mother didn’t require much help to keep a conversation flowing and
she hadn’t noticed anything lacking in Kelsey’s occasional mutters of agreement. Kelsey reminded her mother that she had a guest coming for lunch, agreed to think about what the other woman had said—though which part she was supposed to consider, she hadn’t the slightest idea—and promised to give Danny a kiss from his granny and grandad when he got home from school.
“The Minnesota-is-heaven-California-is-a-den-of-iniquity speech?” Gage asked as she pushed the antenna back into place and set the portable phone on the counter.
“Pretty much,” Kelsey agreed. She turned to look at him and was relieved to find that her pulse stayed steady and her hormones didn’t start doing handsprings. The smile she gave him was bright with relief. “Don’t forget Clair is coming for lunch.”
“Clair?” He gave her a blank look.
“Clair Miller. I mentioned it a couple of days ago.”
“The girl you went to school with, right?” He closed his fist over the empty soda can, crushing it with easy strength before dropping it in the recycling bin under the sink.
“That’s the one. You met her at the wedding. She was one of the bridesmaids. You sat with her at the reception.”
Gage pulled another can of soda out of the refrigerator and turned to look at her. He was frowning slightly. “Does she have red hair?”
“She’s a brunette. Or at least she was then. I haven’t seen her in a few years, so it might have changed. Very pretty. Great figure.”
Kelsey told herself that she wasn’t pleased when Gage shrugged to indicate that the description didn’t mean anything to him. Or, if she was just the tiniest bit pleased, it was simply because she’d played second fiddle to Clair all through high school and it was nice to know that there was one man at least who hadn’t been bowled over by her looks.
“You’ll recognize her when you see her,” she told him, and then was ashamed of herself for hoping he didn’t. “You’re welcome to join us for lunch.”
“Thanks, but if you haven’t seen her in a while, I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about. I think I’ll give Cole a call and see if he wants to grab a burger somewhere.”
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